Looniverse #1: Stranger Things (A Branches Book) Read online

  LOONIVERSE

  STRANGER THINGS

  BY DAVID LUBAR

  ILLUSTRATED BY

  MATT LOVERIDGE

  BRANCHES

  SCHOLASTIC INC.

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  table of contents

  1: A SILVER SURPRISE

  . . . . . . . 1

  2: A NUMBER OF WORDS

  . . . . . . . 9

  3: MEAL ON WHEELS

  . . . . . . . 17

  4: DANGEROUS STORIES

  . . . . . . . 23

  5: MICE TO MEET YOU

  . . . . 29

  6: SHAKING UP IS HARD TO DO

  . . . . . 37

  7: CURIOUS ANSWERS

  . . . . . . . 47

  8: NEED A LIFT?

  . . . . . . . . 55

  9: DIG DOG

  . . . . . . . . 65

  10: STRANGE TRUTHS

  . . . . 73

  11: NORMALLY STRANGE?

  . . . . . . . 81

  For Joelle and alison—dl

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this

  publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in

  or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether

  electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of

  the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions

  Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Lubar, David.

  Stranger things / by David Lubar ; illustrated by Matt Loveridge. p. cm. — (Looniverse ; #1)

  Summary: When ordinary third-grader Ed finds a coin with the words “strange” and “stranger” on both

  sides, weird things start happening around him—but when his friends start blaming him for all the

  weirdness Ed wonders if this coin is not too strange for comfort.

  ISBN 978-0-545-49602-5 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978-0-545-49601-8 (reinforced hardcover library binding : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978-0-545-49685-8 (ebook)

  1. Coins—Juvenile fiction. 2. Magic—Juvenile fiction. 3. Friendship—Juvenile fiction. [1. Coins—Fiction.

  2. Magic—Fiction. 3. Friendship—Fiction.] I. Loveridge, Matt, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.L96775St 2013

  813.54--dc23

  2012024838

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-49685-8

  Text copyright © 2013 by David Lubar. Interior illustrations copyright © 2013 by Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.

  SCHOLASTIC, BRANCHES, and associated logos are trademarks

  and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  First Scholastic printing, May 2013

  Illustrated by Matt Loveridge

  Book design by Liz Herzog

  I was walking home from school on a Friday

  afternoon when I stumbled across the coin.

  And I do mean stumbled. Right after I crossed

  Ridge Street, I tripped on the curb and fell.

  Luckily, I landed on a soft strip of grass. A

  silvery circle flashed and glittered beneath

  my nose.

  chapter

  1

  A SILVER

  SURPRISE

  I stared down at a large coin. As soon as

  I touched it, the strangest thing happened.

  The moon rose like a hard-smacked, high fly

  ball. It set just as quickly, dropping out of a

  bright blue sky.

  “No way,” I said.

  Maybe I’d fallen harder than I thought.

  The coin felt icy cold, even though the air

  was warm. The same two words were on each

  side of it:

  STRANGE, STRANGER.

  Ed

  That sure wasn’t

  the sort of coin

  anyone would ever

  give to me. I’m as

  far from strange as

  possible. Everyone

  else has talents, hobbies,

  or adventures worth talking about. Not me.

  I’m just plain old normal Ed, a third grader

  at Complex Elementary

  School.

  I started to get up,

  but then froze. A man

  was shuffling along the

  sidewalk in the oddest

  way. After every couple

  steps, he dropped to

  his knees, moving his

  head like a hunting dog

  and running his hands

  through the grass.

  Step, drop, search, stand.

  Step, drop, search, stand.

  It was almost like a dance.

  When the man got closer, I recognized

  him. It was Mr. Sage, the owner of the New

  Curiosity Shop. My mom goes there when

  she needs a present for someone who has

  everything. I thought “curiosity” meant you

  wanted to know something. But Mom said

  that a curiosity can also be an interesting

  object. That shop sure has plenty of those!

  When Mr. Sage reached me, he dropped

  to his knees and ran one hand through

  the grass right next to my face. His sleeve

  smelled like old books.

  I wrapped my fingers around the coin.

  “Did you lose something?” I asked.

  “No. I’m trying to find something,” he

  said. He didn’t seem surprised that I was

  lying there.

  Derwin

  “What are you trying to find?” I asked,

  hoping it wasn’t a coin.

  He laughed. “I won’t know until I find it.”

  “Good luck.” I realized I’d been squeezing

  the coin real hard.

  “Thank you.” He stood and walked past

  me, then continued his weird step-drop-

  search-stand routine. Maybe being normal

  isn’t so bad, I thought as I got up.

  I headed down

  the block to meet

  my little brother,

  Derwin. He goes

  to kindergarten

  at Albert Camus

  Primary School.

  He was just

  coming out the

  door when I got

  there.

  When Derwin spotted me, he jumped like

  he’d been startled. “Amazing! What a great

  idea!” he shouted. Then he raced right past

  me like he was riding a rocket.

  I stuck the coin in my pocket and headed

  home. What was Derwin so excited about? I

  wondered.

  I found Derwin in the living room, working

  hard at something. I could tell that he was

  working hard, because his mouth was open

  and his tongue was hanging out. It made his

  face look sort of like an untied shoe.

  “What are you writing?” I asked him.

  chapter

  2

  A NUMBER

  OF WORDS

  “Words,” he said, not looking up. He barely

  seemed to notice I was there.

  I glan
ced at the papers spread out around

  him. They were filled with rows of words.

  “That’s a lot of words,” I said.

  “It has to be,” Derwin said. He stopped to

  sharpen his pencil.

  I read one of the pages:

  I waited for Derwin to explain what he

  was doing, but he just kept writing. I went

  to the kitchen table and did my homework.

  After that, I fed my pets.

  By then, it was almost

  dinnertime. When I came

  back into the living room,

  Derwin was still working.

  “Nine hundred ninety-

  eight,” he said as he wrote.

  “Nine hundred ninety-nine. One thousand!”

  He gathered up all of the papers and dashed

  out the door.

  Okay, this was getting stranger. I couldn’t

  resist following him any more than I could

  resist a chocolate fudge brownie.

  Derwin raced down the street and around

  the corner. He ran up to a small yellow house

  and knocked on the door. I stayed nearby,

  waiting to see what would happen next.

  A tall, thin man stepped onto the porch.

  Derwin handed him the papers. The man

  studied each sheet. Then he held up his

  index finger and said, “Very good. Wait here.”

  The man went inside. A moment later, he

  returned and gave something to Derwin.

  “Thank you,” Derwin said. He stepped off

  the porch and headed toward me.

  The curiosity was killing me. “What is it?”

  I asked when Derwin reached the sidewalk.

  “A picture,” he said. He held up a fabulous

  painting of a dragon.

  “It’s wonderful. But why’d he give it to

  you?” I asked.

  “I gave him a thousand words,” Derwin

  said. “Last week, you told me

  ‘A PICTURE IS

  WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS’

  when you were

  explaining the difference between African

  and Asian elephants. Remember?”

  I remembered telling him that when I’d

  found the photos online. Until now though,

  I’d assumed it was just a saying. It looked

  like Derwin had made it become real.

  I’d love to get my own amazing picture.

  I thought about bringing a thousand words

  to the man in the yellow house. But I knew

  it would be a waste of time. I wouldn’t get a

  picture. Or if I did, it would be a picture of a

  mud puddle, a broken egg, or something else

  I didn’t want.

  That’s just how things seem to work for

  me. Sure, I’d found a coin, but it wasn’t all

  that special.

  Derwin walked off, humming.

  I watched him go. He’d always been

  strange, but he’d never done anything this

  strange. Then, at dinner, things got a whole

  lot stranger. . ..

  My older sister, Sarah Beth, loves art. She’s

  always drawing, painting, and sculpting. She

  even makes things out of food. Last week, at

  dinner, she built a model of the Eiffel Tower

  using carrot sticks. Our parents don’t stop

  her, because they like to encourage creativity.

  chapter

  3

  MEAL ON

  WHEELS

  Sarah

  Beth

  Sarah Beth creates her

  biggest projects on the

  holidays, when there’s

  lots of food on the table.

  Tonight wasn’t a holiday,

  but we had tons of food.

  We were having what my

  parents call “Practice-Giving” dinner. They

  get so worried that everything won’t be

  perfect on Thanksgiving, when all the

  relatives come here, that they make practice

  dinners in September and October. That’s

  strange, but fine with me. I love turkey and

  gravy. Besides, parents are supposed to be

  strange.

  Even though there was room at the big

  table, Sarah Beth, Derwin, my little sister

  Libby, and I sat at the kids’ table. That’s part

  of the practice. As soon as we took our seats,

  Sarah Beth grabbed some slices of cranberry

  sauce and leaned them against a stack of

  turkey. She tied the whole thing up with

  string beans.

  Rex

  Willow

  “What are you making?” I asked as I

  helped myself to mashed potatoes and a

  drumstick.

  “Guess,” she said, giving me a big grin.

  “Is it a truck?” I asked.

  “Nope—it’s not a truck.” Sarah Beth stuck

  an olive on the turkey part, near the front.

  Then she balanced another olive on top of it.

  I glanced at my parents. They were so

  used to Sarah Beth making things that they

  didn’t seem to notice what she was doing.

  Derwin and Libby

  weren’t paying

  attention to

  her, either.

  My dog, Rex,

  and my cat,

  Willow, paid

  attention, hoping

  something tasty

  would fall to the floor.

  “Is it a bus?” I guessed as I drowned my

  potatoes in gravy.

  “You’re getting warm,” she said. She

  grabbed the pitcher from me and poured

  gravy into the tower of olives.

  I took another guess. “A subway car?”

  “You’re warmer,” she said. “Guess again.”

  I watched the steam from the gravy rise

  out of the olives “A train!” I said, suddenly

  realizing that the olives were a smoke stack.

  “Yup,” Sarah Beth said. “It’s a chew chew

  train,” she joked.

  The train rolled off her plate. “Whoa!” I

  gasped as it chugged across the table, right

  toward me!

  I sat there, too amazed to move, as the train

  pushed my plate onto my lap.

  “Wow —I guess it turned out to be a steam

  train,” Sarah Beth said.

  “No kidding,” I said as the steaming hot

  gravy dripped on my shoes, and my drumstick

  rolled off the plate. She’d really meant it

  when she’d said I was getting warmer.

  chapter

  4

  DANGEROUS

  STORIES

  Rex grabbed the drumstick and ran off.

  Willow batted a string bean across the floor.

  “Ed, stop playing with your food,” Dad

  said.

  “And clean up that mess,” Mom said.

  “Me? But . . .” I pointed at Sarah Beth, but

  I realized there was nothing I could say. My

  parents hadn’t seen the train chug across

  the table.

  Maybe I hadn’t, either. Maybe Sarah Beth

  had tipped the table. Really, that was the only

  explanation that made sense.

  There was no way the train could have moved

  by itself. Either way, it had made a big mess.

  Sarah Beth helped me clean up.

  That night, Libby brought me a picture

  book. “Read to me,” she said.

  Libby has a wild imagination. If I read a

  story to her about crocodiles, she’ll spend

>   the next day telling me there’s a crocodile

  Libby

  hiding under the

  couch. So I have

  to keep peeking

  under the couch

  to prove to her

  that everything

  is okay.

  “Not tonight,” I told her. “I’ve had a

  strange day, and a lap full of food.”

  “Please,” she said. “I love the way you do

  all the voices.”

  I looked at the title of the book. The Pied

  Piper. That seemed fairly harmless — no

  scary creatures. “Okay,” I said.

  Libby curled up next

  to me, and I read her

  the story. It’s about a

  musician who lures the

  rats out of the town of

  Hamelin by playing his

  flute.

  By the time I was finished, she was fast

  asleep. She was lucky. Even if I hadn’t had

  this whole day full of strange experiences to

  think about, I was too excited to fall asleep.

  My best friend, Moose, was having a pool

  party tomorrow for his birthday. It was going

  to be at the big hotel in town, and it was

  going to be awesome.

  I hope tomorrow isn’t as strange as today, I

  thought as I drifted off.

  It turned out to be much stranger.

  Saturday morning, Libby marched across

  the living room. She was blowing into a soda

  straw and making flute sounds. As I put my

  hand in my pocket and felt the coin, I thought

  about how both Derwin and Sarah Beth had

  suddenly gotten a whole lot stranger.

  Not you, too, I thought.

  chapter

  5

  MICE TO

  MEET YOU

  Yes. Her, too. She had five

  mice at her heels. At least they

  aren’t rats, I thought. As Libby

  marched in circles around the living room,

  the crowd of rodents grew larger and larger.

  I wasn’t afraid of mice, but I