6 A REAL PICKLE

CHAPTER 6 A REAL PICKLE The next day, Stermont Elementary was even colder. "Good morning, Salamander," said Nikki. She and Rip were bundled up near the classroom door. "Hey," said Alexander. The onion smell had faded, but he snapped his goggles into place. Just in case. "Ugh," said Rip, rubbing his tummy. "I overdid it yesterday with the ice cream. Next time I'll stop at eleven scoops."

"Hopefully today's lunch will be back to normal," said Alexander. Mr. Plunkett bounced into the room. "Take your seats," he said. "Today's lesson: forks! If you're going to be good waiters tomorrow, you need to know your silverware!" "Sheesh," Alexander whispered to Nikki. "I'm not looking forward to serving the grown-ups at the Chili Supper." Mr. Plunkett tacked a chart to the wall. "Now, which fork is best for spearing a pickle?" he asked. Alexander stared up at the chart. I feel like a pickle, sitting in this crispy, cold, metal room, he thought. That's it! The whole school has been turned into one big... refrigerator!