Free Leon and the Spitting Image by Allen Kurzweil

away.
    Lumpkin closed in. Leon tried to duck, but Lumpkin was too strong and too fast.
    “I hereby crown you ‘Sir Panty Hose.’” Lumpkin shoved the stockings over his victim’s head.
    A gagging sensation rose up from Leon’s stomach as the stretchy material flattened his nose and turned his lips into a pair of plump slugs. The two useless legs flopped to the sides like a pair of liver-colored rabbit ears.
    “Now beat it,” Lumpkin said.
    That was one order Leon was only too willing to obey. As soon as he had broken free, he whipped off the panty hose and gasped for air.
    Leon ran inside the school and headed straight for the boys’ room, where he splashed some water on his face, hoping to wash off whatever invisible panty-hose residue might still be clinging to his skin. Once he had removed all trace elements of his defeat, he stormed back to the classroom, bent on revenge.
    The room was deserted.
    Leon went straight for Lumpkin’s desk and looked inside. The desk contained a nearly complete animile—a unicorn made from camouflage material.
    It’s not fair, Leon said to himself. How come a bonehead like Lumpkin can make things I can’t?
    He gave the animile a long slow squeeze. Too bad I can’t rip Lumpkin limb from limb as easily as this unicorn….
    Leon looked at the wall clock. Ten minutes remained until the end of recess. That gave him plenty of time.
    He dashed over to the supply cabinet. As usual, it was padlocked. But a quick tour of the room turned up a pair of scissors next to the pencil sharpener. Leon took them back to Lumpkin’s desk.
    Snip. Snip. Snip
.
    In no time flat, Leon had amputated the horn from Henry Lumpkin’s unicorn. Doing so removed what little magic the beast possessed. It now looked a lot like a donkey.
    Perfect!
Leon told himself.
    Then, as he was cramming the horn and body back inside Lumpkin’s desk, a
second
, more daring, idea presented itself.
    Leon checked the clock again. Five minutes left. He could do it. There was still enough time.
    He scrounged about for a needle. He took it as agood omen that he found one already threaded. He grabbed the horn and body and briefly contemplated the two pieces before setting to work.
    It was the first time all year Leon had actually
wanted
to sew.
    A dozen basting stitches later, he had reattached the unicorn horn. Only he fixed it to a new location—a location where it absolutely did
not
belong.
    A location better left unspecified.

T EN
The Birdcage
    T he instant Miss Hagmeyer learned of Leon’s radical surgery, she went straight to the phone in the teachers’ lounge and called Emma Zeisel.
    The hotel operator answered the call after the fourteenth ring. “Trimore Towers—where we
try more
every day! How may I direct your call?”
    “Finally! I wish to speak with Emma Zeisel.”
    “Sorry, ma’am,” said the operator. “She has her Do Not Disturb light on. She’s probably sleeping.”
    “At two forty-five in the afternoon?” sputtered Miss Hagmeyer. “Get her up at once!”
    “I’m sorry, but—”
    “At once!” Miss Hagmeyer repeated. “This is about her son.”
    “About Leon?” gasped the operator. “Hold on. I’ll patch you right through.”
    Emma Zeisel sat bolt upright the moment she heard Miss Hagmeyer’s voice. “Is Leon hurt? Is everything okay?”
    “Your son is not hurt, Ms. Zeisel. However, everything is
not
okay. I believe you should come down toPrincipal Birdwhistle’s office immediately.”
    Emma Zeisel squinted at her watch. Her shift started at four, which didn’t give her much time. “I’ll be there in half an hour,” she said, pulling herself up off the living-room couch, which doubled as a bed.
    When Emma Zeisel entered Principal Birdwhistle’s office, she was frothing at the mouth—or so it seemed, because toothpaste still clung to her lips. “Sorry,” she said breathlessly. “It took ages to find a taxi.”
    Leon was tempted to ask what country her cab driver had come from, but