"Blasting Into the Past,Humano Morphs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spenser M D)

Then he said those awful words I dreaded every day.

"OK, let's all open our history books now," Mr. Wicker said, suddenly glaring at me. "And I hope you've all done your homework!"

Only, I hadn't done my homework. Like I explained before, I hate history!

And I could tell that Mr. Wicker knew I hadn't done my homework.

"Let's start with — oh, why don't we begin with Benjamin," he said, emphasizing my name. "Benjamin, will you tell us what great evil in this country was a major cause of our Civil War? I'm sure you read your homework assignment last night, hmmmm?"

Mr. Wicker had been looking down at the book in his hands until he came to that last word. Then he had looked up at me with an expression that I found frightening when he said that one word: "hmmmm?"

It was creepy, though I had seen that look many times before. There was something in his eyes. But no one else in my class ever seemed to notice this.

Not even my best pal, Taylor, who sat right next to me.

I noticed it, though. Mr. Wicker's eyes looked far away, as though he was remembering something horrible and painful. At the same time his eyes seemed furious — almost red with hatred and disgust!

To me, they looked like the eyes of some killer maniac!

Whyl Why did he hate me during every history class?

That look in his eyes made my stomach ache and my blood run cold. I prayed each night never to see that look again.

It always made me feel as if Mr. Wicker actually wanted to hurt me! My own teacher looked as if he wanted to wrap something tight around my throat and strangle me!

"Uh, well... sure, yeah, I read my homework, of course," I lied.

"Then be good enough to tell the class what you read about last night in your history book, Benjamin," he replied with a nasty smile.

"OK, sure. Well, uh . .. uh, well there was this thing. Uh, and it was, well... it was pretty bad and the North and the South decided they had to get rid of it except..." I stammered.

"Enough!" Mr. Wicker interrupted angrily, slamming his book on a desk. "I think we can all see that you haven't read your homework! If you had, you would know about this major reason for the War Between the States. Maybe someone else can tell Benjamin. Yes, Patty?"

"It was slavery, Mr. Wicker," Patty answered smugly, turning around in her seat to sneer at me —

me, the smart kid who had given the dumb answer. "I did my homework assignment last night, just like you told us."

"Very good, Patty! Yes, you're right. Slavery is the correct answer," Mr. Wicker said, scowling at me. "Slavery has been a terrible, terrible problem around the world for many centuries. Once it was a problem in our own country. Wealthy farmers in the South actually owned other people! Can you believe that? Owned black people as if they were cattle or horses or sheep. And the farmers sometimes kept these slaves in chains and sometimes whipped them until they bled."

Mr. Wicker was still looking right at me as he talked.

"Oh, and sometimes they killed the slaves too, right?" Patty added.

"Yes, Patty. You're right. That's what they did to slaves who didn't obey the rules, and to slaves who didn't do what they were told," Mr. Wicker said. He walked over to my side and glared down at me with the expression of a cold-hearted murderer. "Punishment! Severe, brutal punishment! Swift, cruel punishment! That's what slavery was like. Do you understand me,

Benjamin?"

"Uh, y-y-yes," I said, even though I didn't understand why he was saying this to me.