Simon Thorn and the Wolf's Den Read Online Free Page B

don’t know, all right? Because they hate me. Because they want to make my life miserable. Because they think I can talk to animals. I don’t
know
.”
    â€œSo you
were
talking to the pigeon.”
    â€œOf course not,” he said. “That would be crazy.”
    He tried to move past her again, and this time she let him go. Simon stormed down the steps, silently seething. He didn’t need Winter to make fun of him, too.
    â€œHey, Simon,” she called after he’d joined the crowd on the sidewalk. “You’re not the only one.”
    He stopped. “I’m not the only what?” he called, his view of the stairs momentarily blocked by a group of tourists.
    But by the time the group passed, she was gone. Weaving through the crowd, he returned to the base of the steps and looked around. Winter was nowhere to be found.
    Simon thought about her words as he cut through the corner of Central Park on the way home. Had she meant he wasn’t the only one who was picked on? A small part of him held out hope that she had meant he wasn’t the only one who could talk to animals, but of course that wasn’t it. That was crazy.
He
was crazy.
    When he spotted the bench with the plaque—the same bench where he’d met the eagle that morning—Simon stopped and sat down. Maybe the eagle would return and explain how he knew his mother. It was a long shot, but he couldn’t go home yet anyway, not when a neighbor might spot him and tell his uncle, so instead Simon pulled out his book and waited. It was peaceful in the park, and though a few chatty squirrels stopped long enough to ask him if he’d seen any acorns, for the most part the animals left him alone.
    Simon didn’t mean to lose track of time, but the pages flew by, and over an hour passed with no sign of the eagle. A chorus of laughter echoed through the trees. In the distance, he spotted some of the kids from school, and he quickly gathered his things and stood. If he walked fast enough, he could make it home before anyone caught up to him.
    Halfway down the trail, the air seemed to change, and Simon looked up. Perched on a branch above him was the golden eagle. “Hello, Simon Thorn.”
    â€œI’m kind of in a hurry right now,” he said, walking faster and glancing over his shoulder. He could make out Bryan’s head bobbing above the others.
    The eagle ruffled its feathers. “I thought you wanted to know more about your mother.”
    Simon stopped. The eighth-grade boys were getting closer. “Is she okay?”
    â€œFor now,” said the eagle. “The longer you stay here, the more danger you are in, Simon. It is only a matter of time before the mammals find you, and once they do, we will no longer be able to protect you.”
    â€œProtect me from what? Chipmunks?” said Simon. One of the boys shouted his name, and he inched down the path.
    â€œFrom the most bloodthirsty beasts in the animal kingdom,” said the eagle. “They are coming for you, Simon Thorn, and if they find you, they will kill you.”
    â€œ
Kill
me?” he blurted. “Why?”
    â€œThere is no time to explain. They are closing in as we speak. If you would come with me—”
    Another snarl cut through the air, exactly the same as that morning. Startled, the eagle took flight. “Run, Simon, before it is too late!”
    Simon cursed. “Wait—come back!”
    But the eagle flew away, leaving him alone on the path. With the eagle’s warning rattling around his brain, Simon hurried away from the bushes and the creature that had snarled. It definitely hadn’t sounded like a chipmunk.
    Before he could get very far, Bryan Barker appeared from behind a thicket on the other side of the path, flanked by three eighth graders. “You really are crazy, aren’t you, Psycho?”
    â€œLeave me alone,” he said, skirting around them. Four pairs of footsteps