On Wednesday afternoon Monster Academy students and teachers gathered in the lobby near the school's main entrance.
A white sheet covered a huge object that sat in the middle of the floor.
"We'll finally get to see Mr. Freaky's sculpture," Winnie said to Ben.
"Yep." Ben held up his notebook.
"I'll be writing about it for my newspaper article."
He looked around for Pixel, who was weaving in and out of the crowd with his camera.
"And Pixel will take some great photos of it."
"Lots of them!" the ghost chimed in.
Ms. Van Ghoul stood close to the sculpture with Mr. Freaky.
She clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Listen up, students!"
"And please remain calm, everyone!" Mr. Freaky called out.
"I know it's hard on such an exciting day!"
Zzz. Zzz. At the back of the crowd, some zombies were snoring.
"Well, I won't keep you waiting for one more minute."
Mr. Freaky reached for the sheet covering his sculpture.
With a quick yank, he pulled it away.
Ben's eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped.
"What a piece of junk!" Mog burst out.
Ben blinked.
Mog was right—the whole thing was made from junk and metal scraps.
Car bumpers and hoods, along with fan blades, antennas, tools, and other metal objects had been welded together to form one gigantic junk sculpture.
The artwork rested on six mismatched wheels.
A blob moved closer for a better look. "Um, Mr. Freaky . . . What is that thing?"
Mr. Freaky puffed out his chest as Pixel started taking photos.
"I call it Moving Inspiration!"
"Moving?" somebody said.
"It's just sitting there. It looks like a junkyard to me."
"Oh!" Mr. Freaky slapped his forehead.
"I forgot to plug it in!"
He plugged a long cord into the wall.
With a cough and a sputter, the massive sculpture began to whirl in place.
Ben snickered. "Now it looks like a junkyard on wheels," he whispered to Winnie.
Ms. Van Ghoul was beaming.
"Remember, students—art is in the eye of the beholder.
That's the magic of art and Art Week.
We learn to appreciate new forms of beauty!"
"I wouldn't exactly call that thing beautiful."
Ben scratched his head.
"How on earth will I describe it in my story?"
"That's going to be a challenge," Winnie said.
"I'm sure Mr. Freaky is expecting very positive reviews of Moving Junkyard.
I mean, Moving Inspiration." They both laughed.
Then Winnie glanced at a clock on the wall.
"I've got to get back to the gym. We started painting today."
"How's it going?" Ben asked.
"Are you guys making progress?"
"Slow progress," Winnie said.
"We still have a lot to do before Friday, but I think it'll be okay."
"It'll be more than okay," Ben said.
"Your flying painting will be the big hit of Art Week—bigger even than da Creepy's new painting."
"I don't know about that," Winnie said.
"But thanks for the vote of confidence."
With that, she hurried off, and Ben went over to interview a skeleton.
"Do you have a minute?
I'd like to get your opinion about Mr. Freaky's sculpture."
The skeleton spoke in a low voice. "Is this on the record?"
"Actually, it is," Ben replied.
"It's for my article for the school paper."
"Sorry! I'm super busy right now!"
The skeleton clattered off down the hallway.
With a sigh, Ben spun around and scanned the monsters who were still hanging around the lobby.
Who would say something positive about—
"Mog!" Ben hurried over to his friend.
"What do you think of Moving Inspiration?"
Mog glanced at the sculpture and rubbed his chin.
"It's okay, I guess. I mean, at first I didn't get it.
I didn't know you could make art out of junk."
Ben jotted down some notes.
"So it sounds like you find Moving Inspiration . . . inspiring?"
Mog nodded. "Yeah, I think I do."
"Psst! Mog!" a voice said.
Ben and Mog looked over.
The Doppel Gang stood nearby, waving for Mog to join them.
"Want to walk around school and check out some more art?" Carly said.
"Sure," Mog said.
Ms. Van Ghoul smiled.
"Why don't you monsters go to the art room?" she said.
"The mummies are building pyramids out of straws.
I'm sure they could use some help."
"That sounds fun," Larry said, winking at Mog. "Come on!"
"Be careful, Mog," Ben said under his breath as he watched them go.