Malcolm Webster, (Sertified) 6th-Grade Superstar

By Dakota B. Klaes

Malcolm Webster is all set to begin 6th-grade. He's still crazy about science and junk food, but the whole homework thing - yeah, that's still a bummer he'll do almost anything to avoid.
As the 1st day of school nears, Malcolm realizes he never even started his summer reading assignment. Whoops! Now, he'll never finish it in time. And, his report card will be doomed from day 1!
But, Malcolm won't give up that easily.
Somehow he'll get away with not doing the reading. Even if it means teaming up with the school bully, Dennis, and borrowing some technology from his alien pal, Steve.
Together, they'll visit a distant land. But, this time, their adventures won't take them into outer space. No. If they want to survive 6th-grade they'll have to travel much further. Millions of years into the past, in fact. To a time in which the Earth was icy...and the saber-tooth tigers were slicey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798350926446

Book preview

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Malcolm Webster, (Sertified) 6th-Grade Superstar

© 2023 by Dakota B. Klaes

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Print ISBN: 979-8-35092-643-9

eBook ISBN: 979-8-35092-644-6

Contents

CHAPTER 1 Summer is Sweet

CHAPTER 2 Definitely Not Sweet

CHAPTER 3 The Final Countdown

CHAPTER 4 Could it Be?

CHAPTER 5 Casseroling My Eyes

CHAPTER 6 Day 1

CHAPTER 7 Enter Mercer, Mr.

CHAPTER 8 It’s Whiz Kid, Not Quiz Kid

CHAPTER 9 A Short One

CHAPTER 9 PART 2 A Slightly Longer One

CHAPTER 10 Get Back

CHAPTER 11 Time to Find a Löopholé

CHAPTER 12 Rush Hour

CHAPTER 13 Shipwrecked Stroller

CHAPTER 14 Blastoff!

CHAPTER 15 Terror Bird

CHAPTER 16 Big, Scary Animals and Me

CHAPTER 17 Back to School

CHAPTER 17.5 Classmate Chaos

CHAPTER 17.925 Wake-Up Call

CHAPTER 18 This is Bad

CHAPTER 19 A Laughable Notion

CHAPTER ? (AKA Mom’s Contribution) Can You Believe She Forced Me to Let Her Co-Write a Chapter?

CHAPTER 19/? MOM JOINS US!!!!!!

CHAPTER 20 Yearbook? What Yearbook?

CHAPTER 21 Town is Down

CHAPTER 22 A Bit of Action-Packed-Mega-Mayhem

CHAPTER 23 Hungry, Hungry Tigers

CHAPTER 24 Ambush

CHAPTER 25 Mama Drama

CHAPTER 26 MORTAL KOMKAT

CHAPTER 26 II RESURRECTION

CHAPTER 27 One Shot

CHAPTER 27.9 Mercer’s Mania

CHAPTER 28 Saber-Toothed Tetris

CHAPTER 29 Need for Smilodon Speed

CHAPTER 30 Lessons Learned, Lessons Ignored

EPICLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

Summer is Sweet

"Steve, you better get in here!" I said.

As if from thin air, or at least regular-width air, an entity materialized at the entrance to my bedroom. Its presence emerged from nothing in a puff of glittery smoke. The only thing missing was a poof sound effect.

The fog cleared, revealing a silver, squatty, and somewhat serpentine nightmare of a creature with elasto-arms and torture-device hands—also known as Steve, my best friend. The overhead lights shined on his steel-colored skull, bright and metallic like a Hershey’s Kiss wrapper.

Steve reached up and knocked on the door with an arm that was equal parts toy Slinky and overcooked fettuccine, if said Slinky could rip your head off and use it as a Caesar salad crouton. He tapped gently on the wood. I looked at him sideways, which after a couple of seconds started to give me a headache. So then I looked at him in the regular way and just laid down on my side to convey the same message.

Do you plan to answer the door? Steve asked me.

I rolled my eyes like . Steve, you’re already inside. There’s no need to knock on the door.

While visiting another world, it is of utmost importance to comply with your host planet’s customs, regulations, and standards for polite social exchange, he said.

Right, I said with a smirk. Please enter my room.

Access granted.

Steve glid (that is the past tense of glide, right?) into the room and inched toward me. I turned back to my desk and called out the window. Dennis, you too! I’d left it open a sliver, just enough to let the soothing smells of summer (for example—a neighbor’s hot dog cookout) inside without letting any scary-looking bugs check in for the night.

In response came a thumping sound, like a water buffalo backpedaling up a waterslide. The Earth practically rocked as my pal Dennis trotted along the length of a drawbridge that connects our houses.

***

Right now you may be wondering how a sixth grader ends up with his own personal drawbridge that leads right to his best friend’s place. Well, folks, when you save the world and hook an alien race up with a lifetime supply of its favorite food, there are some perks—drawbridges included.

As a thank you, the aliens offered to gift me an item of my choice from anywhere on Earth. Naturally I opted for an epic way to connect myself to my bully-turned-buddy’s house. It’s been awesome. We can hang out, do science projects, forget to do our homework, and watch YouTube all afternoon, or at least until it’s time to head home for some Movie Theater Butter Butter Lovers Butter Scotch Peanut Butter Popcorn.

As an added bonus, the bridge cuts right through the backyard of my old homeroom teacher, Mrs. Dawkins. I’ve got a drawbridge and you don’t! I saved the world and you didn’t! I would tease her, if she wasn’t secretly a terrifying alien just like Steve (but in disguise).

***

Dennis stomped toward us with so much force I doubted he’d be able to slow down in time to avoid panini-pressing us into the wall. I stumbled for cover, but before I could even stand, the Dennissaur let out a yell that was half sick elephant, half irate taekwondo master. I froze, accepting my demolition derby fate. Steve leaped up and hovered above me in midair. The clumsy, soon-to-be-sixth-grade steamroller bowled through Steve’s slight frame with an overly enthusiastic elbow to the windpipe.

Impact was inevitable and painful. The three of us entwined in a game of human Jenga gone wrong. We landed somehow on the desk, above the desk, and below the desk.

As the dust (spilled Frito crumbs from earlier) settled, my swivel chair swiveled and smacked my forehead with an armrest. I heard a light pop followed by a hiss. I turned to find that one of Steve’s finger blades (see Exhibit 1.1 for reference) had ripped right through my seat cushion.

Exhibit 1.1:

Dennis belched and laughed. In fact, he baughed.

Steve put a claw to my cheek. There, there, he said. Apologies for desecrating your furniture. I’ll find a way to make it up to you. His mucky palm rubbed back and forth in a way that someone might find soothing, assuming they could hold back their gag reflex.

***

We helped each other shake off the seismic smash, and, wait—maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here with the finger claws, alien drawbridges, and sixth-grade swivel chairs, since you’re probably still dying to know: how did an esteemed scientific mind like Malcolm Webster get mixed up with slice-and-dice space creatures and a kid who puts the bull in bully? Did he actually save the world? And where can I buy some of that Movie Theater Butter Butter Lovers Butter Scotch Peanut Butter Popcorn he mentioned? What is this all about!?

You’re sure asking a lot of questions. If you’d like to read about how I held off an alien invasion, saved the world (not to brag), and passed fifth grade’s scariest assignment in the process, check out my first story on Amazon, or wherever books are sold. I’d recommend ordering a copy as soon as possible because it was an awesome adventure. Plus, Mom said I could install a chocolate fountain in the basement if I made the best-seller list, so I’ll take all the help I can get. Trust me, though, I’m not giving you any homework. If you don’t want to go back and read Part 1, I’ll make sure to give you just enough detail in Part 2 that you won’t miss anything.

Speaking of Part 2, let me get back to that. First, though –

Editor’s Note: Malcolm did not finish writing this sentence as he’d already left the room to microwave a bag of Movie Theater Butter Butter Lovers Butter Scotch Peanut Butter Popcorn.

CHAPTER 2

Definitely Not Sweet

"So, young Malcolm, Steve said. What inspired the urgency with which you summoned us?"

You’ll see, I said. I settled back into my deflated desk chair, still shaking off the best-friender-bender.

Steve took up a perch next to me, like a bite-sized Buckingham Palace guard. Dennis dragged himself to the other side, stumbling like he’d suffered a break-dancing injury.

I reached across the table for my iPad. As I inched the tablet closer, the edge of the device got stuck in a splotch of leftover BBQ sauce. The jarring stop flipped it sideways and over, sending it on a parachute-less plunge off the table.

Dennis swiped to catch the tablet at the exact moment Steve’s razor wrist also went for the grab. Meat, flesh, and nails collided in midair. The two rivals flexed their fist-muscles, ready to engage. Steve unfurled his claw-nails a couple of inches while Dennis’ forearm rippled with middle school macho.

Dennis, Steve said, speaking with a calmness that can come only from having a couple hundred teeth, Malcolm clearly intended to share the contents of this device with me.

Hand it over, or you’ll get a nerd pounding, Dennis barked back.

They faced off like a Giant Monster versus Other Giant Monster movie poster. My dog, Randy, whimpered beneath them, knowing my secondhand bedroom furniture wouldn’t survive a battle pitting a dolphin-skinned space alien against a twelve-year-old tyrant who was almost always armed with a slingshot. They huffed and puffed, and I knew I had to stop them because I’ve heard what that can do to the structural integrity of houses.

Guys, stop! I shouted.

My cry snapped them back into reality. Their hands parted ways for a moment, temporarily reducing the gravity of the situation.

You’re going to spill the extra sauce, I said, slipping between them. I dipped a beef jerky stick into the molasses-y mess and tore off a bite.

Steve’s attention remained locked on Dennis, his face stone. Silence is intimidating. So are fangs.

Dennis backed away slowly, like when Randy encounters a rude Rottweiler at the park.

Don’t forget I know how to work the Pinch-O-Matic, Dennis said, spying the device on my desk. And I’m not afraid to use it on you.

Lest you forget, Dennis, I invented the Pinch-O-Matic 5150 and perfected the latest model, Steve said. With a finger fling, he retrieved the ominous box and placed it squarely on one of the ceiling fan blades. This left the gruesome grabber out of anyone’s reach, except for King Ghidorah’s, or mine, if I had a pogo stick and someone had planted a sack of tortilla chips up there.

Gentlemen and gentlealiens, please. Can we cool it with the drama for a second? I set the tablet down and pushed the screen back so we could all see. I’ve got something big here. How about I show you both?

A few clicks later, I had booted up our favorite web series. Actually, it’s the favorite web series of anyone who has ever seen it. Its name? Beasts of Yesteryear.

***

What?! You’ve never seen it. Well, prepare to have your mind blown.

There’s this super smart scientist (seriously, she’s at least two-thirds as bright as I am and has a much fancier lab coat) and each week, she introduces the audience to a different species of extinct animal from millions of years ago that’s totally huge and epically terrifying. She runs through all the species’s key stats—from height and