Free 97 Ways to Train a Dragon by Kate McMullan Page A

is how to peck, pinch, punch, and puff fire. And pipling poo poo? Pew!”
    â€œSir?” Bragwort called. “Can we do extra-credit reports on piplings?”
    â€œPerhaps,” said Dr. Pluck. “Now-”
    â€œAtten-tion!” boomed a voice. Headmaster Mordred swept into the room. His red velvet cloak billowed behind him.
    â€œStudying piplings—are you, Pluck?” said Mordred. “Well, lads! I have some serious news! Sometime before St. Globule’s Day, School Inspectors will make a surprise visit to Dragon Slayers’ Academy. If this school isn’t up to snuff, they will CLOSE ME DOWN!” His booming voice caused the badly cracked ceiling to quiver.
    â€œLook out, sir!” cried Wiglaf as a huge chunk of stone came crashing down, barely missing the headmaster’s head.
    â€œZounds!” cried Mordred, leaping out of the way. He glared up at the hole in the ceiling. “Somebody ought to get that fixed!” He brushed dust from his cloak. “Anyway, I’ve come to say that all classes are canceled!”
    Several boys started to cheer.
    â€œI’ve canceled classes so you Class I boys can participate in the very first DSA Scrub-a-Thon!”
    â€œYea!” cried Harley Marley, who wasn’t paying attention.
    â€œThe Class II and III boys are in charge of fixing and patching,” Mordred said. “You Class I lads get to clean, sweep, mop, dust, wash, scrape, scour, polish, shine, and scrub everything!” said Mordred. “DSA will pass inspection!”
    All the pupils groaned. Even Erica.
    â€œAnd if you see anyone goofing off?” Mordred added. “Come and whisper in my ear. Enough little whispers, and you know what you’ll earn?”
    â€œThe Tattle-Tale Badge,” called Bragwort.
    â€œYes!” said Mordred. “A beautiful yellow badge it is, too.”
    Wiglaf didn’t want the Tattle Tale Badge. It was one of the few badges that Erica did not have stitched to her tunic.
    â€œNow, lads, here is a new badge,” Mordred held up a black patch with pink letters: D.P. “I need volunteers for a very special assignment.”
    Wiglaf and Angus slid down in their seats. They knew better than to take a “special assignment” from Mordred.
    â€œI need boys,” Mordred continued, “to pick up all the junk that I dumped—er, I mean, that someone dumped from the DSA castle to the banks of Swamp River!”
    Wiglaf and Angus slunk so far down that they were practically on the floor.
    â€œWhoever I pick must be back at DSA by breakfast time,” Mordred added. “That way they can join in the scrubbing with everybody else.”
    â€œI’ll go!” called Erica.
    â€œNot you, Eric,” Mordred said. “I have a special scrubbing job for you.” His plum-colored eyes bounced from boy to boy. Wiglaf did not allow himself to breathe.
    Just then Wiglaf felt a tickle on the back of his neck. Behind him, Harley Marley snickered. Wiglaf tried to brush whatever it was away. It felt ... furry. Yikes! It was a hairy spider! The spider clamped its jaws down on Wiglaf’s finger.
    â€œYAAAAAAA!” shrieked Wiglaf. He jumped up, shaking his hand to rid it of the spider. The thing was the size of a guinea pig!
    â€œAh ha!” Mordred called. “A volunteer!” He pointed at Wiglaf, who had finally managed to shake off the spider.
    Harley Marley snorted with laughter.
    â€œWiglaf and who else?” Mordred’s eyes lit on the boy sitting next to Wiglaf. “Nephew!” he cried. “All you do around here is eat my food! You need exercise!”
    â€œNo, uncle!” Angus begged. “Not that!”
    The headmaster grinned. “And you shall get it running to Swamp River tomorrow morning, picking up trash! Get your trash bags in the gatehouse at IV:00 a.m.! Nephew! You and Wiglaf are the very first members of Dawn Patrol!”

Chapter 2
    Wiglaf