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Warren never even wanted to sign up for this field trip.
Mrs. Hughes had vehemently encouraged him - used brute force, as the boy would have put it - to join her and the others, and his father agreed to sign the permission slip. All the adults around him were always trying to get him to do things he had no interest in. So what if he hardly talked to any of his classmates? So what if he preferred to stay in his bedroom on weekends?
As he held his clammy palm over a rusted metal doorknob, he knew he was right all along; he would have been better off alone.
The class had arrived at a nature preserve that was home to hundreds of different plant and animal species. Birds chattered, squirrels rustled among the underbrush, and the wind shook the thick oaks that towered above the children. Not long after their arrival, two of Warren's regular tormentors snuck off and came across a dilapidated shed with tangled ivy hugging the dark, weathered wood that was just barely keeping it upright. The boys peered through the windows and the darkness stared back at them. They could make out little more than cobwebs and dense layers of dust scattered over the floorboards.
They returned to the rest of the group and threatened to make Warren lick one of the toilet seats in the restroom if he refused to take up their challenge. That is, he would have to enter that sad little hut - alone - and stay there for two minutes without screaming or crying. The possibility of getting in trouble for leaving the class was bad enough! But... he had no choice.
And there he was, tentatively cupping his hand around the doorknob before one of the other boys roughly pushed him inside. The bullies laughed as they slammed the door shut. Warren stood in the dead silence. He wrapped his arms around himself and felt something touch his shoe. He jolted and broke into a cold sweat as he stumbled further away from the door. Were there roaches in here? Rats? Still he heard nothing; no skittering of legs or paws. He took one, two steps back, and then - crash! The floor gave way and sent him tumbling down. "Oww!"
The dust settled as he rubbed his back and tried to get his bearings. He opened his eyes to find that he was surrounded by dozens of small red lights. Ones that blinked.
For the moment, they all remained perfectly still. Then the red eyes began to squeal and scurry about like a mad nest of mice. Warren, feeling just as crazed and panicked, tried to dig his fingers into the dirt walls of the hole so he could begin to climb out, but to no avail; the soil was packed so tightly he could hardly grip it. No! I gotta get out of here! he thought desperately as he tried to fight the sting of his tears.
Suddenly, a tired-sounding voice reached his ears. "Why's everyone yelling?"
The red-eyed things quieted down and slowed their frantic movements as they stared at the back wall. A small figure emerged with some worn brown fabric wrapped around itself and a strange lamp that spat forth blue flame. Finally, Warren could actually see what lay before him - an army of mysterious creatures barely larger than the palm of his hand, with pale fur and stubby horns. And the bigger one, the one who spoke, seemed to be half his height and had brown eyes, a big pink button nose and huge ears with roundly pointed ends. It reminded the boy of a bat. It gasped. Warren's heart beat wildly, but he didn't say a word.