The Breakfast Club meets Stranger Things in this middle grade horror novel that the New York Times calls "wickedly funny" for fans of Goosebumps! Detention turns even scarier when a group of classmates discover dangers lurking in their school. When classmates Hallie, Angelo, Gustav and Naira are forced to come to school on a Saturday, they think things can’t get much worse. But they’re wrong. Things are about to get seriously scary. What has dragged their teacher underground? Why do the creepy caretakers keep humming the tune to Itsy Bitsy Spider? And what horrors lurk in the shadows, getting stronger and meaner every minute . . .? Cut off from help and in danger each time they touch the ground, the gang’s only hope is to work together. But it’s no coincidence that they're all there on detention. Someone has been watching and plotting and is out for revenge . . . " Wickedly funny ." — The New York Times " A creepy tale that boasts both thrills and authentically complex characters." — Kirkus Reviews "Between nail-biting chase scenes and elegantly wrought character development, hardly a moment is wasted in this arachnophobia-inducing thriller, making for an icky-fun adventure full of scares and gallows humor ." — Publishers Weekly Jennifer Killick is the author of the Dread Detention and other series for kids. She lives in Uxbridge, in a house full of children, animals and Lego. When she isn't busy mothering or step-mothering (which isn't often) she loves to read, write and run, as fast as she can. 1 Club Loser There aren’t many worse things than being in school, but being in school on a Saturday is one of them. Water drips off the trees that loom like ancient sentinels over the path to the locked gates and circle the grounds all the way to the Dread Wood that backs onto the school. I wonder how many weekend detentions they’ve watched over. How many groups of irritated kids scuffing up the gravel lane, wishing they were somewhere else. An icy droplet falls from a low oak branch, rolls down my neck and under the collar of my sweatshirt, but I see the others--three of them--waiting up ahead, so I make sure I don’t flinch. When I reach the gates, I keep my head down so I won’t make eye contact. “I’d honestly rather be dead than here right now,” Hallie says. I know it’s her without looking up because it’s the kind of stupid thing she’d say. “Really?” someone snorts. It’s Gus, the kid who seems to live his life by a different set of rules from everyone else. I have no idea what they are--he’s unpredictable as a dog in a field of squirrels. Like walking chaos. “This is a seriously grim way to spend a Saturday, but I’m not sure it’s as bad as death.” “Of course it isn’t,” the other girl snaps. Naira. Uptight, overachiever, 100 percent perfect, on the surface. Spends a lot of her time using her brilliance to make other people feel worthless. “And let me make it clear right now that none of you are to talk to me for the duration of this consequence. I don’t want anything to do with any of you losers.” Gus laughs. “If we’re losers, Naira,” Hallie says, “then welcome to the club.” “Club Loser!” Gus whoops, jumping up and grabbing a tree branch, sending a shower of water drops over everyone else. He swings there for a few seconds as Naira shrieks and Hallie swears, both of them swiping at the droplets like they’re being stung by wasps. I let the water roll down my face, enjoying the thought that it’s been on an epic journey, falling from the clouds high above, then trickling through the tree, and finally landing on me. I look up at Gus. “We should make a badge, guys!” he shouts. “I’ll use my best pens to draw a logo. And we simply must have a motto.” He puts on a fake snooty voice for the last part. “Have some respect for the tree, lamebrain,” Hallie says. “It’s like a million years old. If you break that branch, I’ll break your arm.” Hallie uses her anger for both good and evil--it seems to me she has a ton of it stored up and she loudly puts it on display. There are unauthorized pins on her sweatshirt declaring her pride in being vegetarian, an LGBTQ+ ally, and a welcomer of refugees. “It’s just a dirty lump of wood and dry leaves,” says Naira, glaring upward while smoothing her hair back. “I know we’re not friends, but describing me like that is hurtful, Naira.” Gus drops from the branch, and I let out a snort of laughter, even though I didn’t plan to. “So he is listening,” Hallie says, hands on her hips like she’s just won a game. Gus’s eyes open wide, and he clutches Hallie’s arm. “Wait. Do trees have ears?” “She meant Loner Boy over there.” Naira tilts her head in my direction. “Table flipper.” “Yeah, all right, tray launcher,” I say. “I seem to remember it was you who started the whole thing.” I regret speaking as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Just like I regret lasting less than three months in seventh grade before getting involved in a situation that the