Teeny Weenies: The Intergalactic Petting Zoo Page 4

  Lyle chased after her.

  They ended up waist deep in the warm water. Lyle kept trying to grab the tooth. Debbie held it high, and leaped away every time he lunged for it.

  And then, as she was backing away from Lyle, she slammed into something as firm and broad as the side of a cow.

  “Shark!” Lyle screamed, flinging his hand out again, to point at what was, without a doubt, a very large shark, right behind Debbie.

  Debbie screamed and jumped away.

  The shark rose and opened its gaping jaws, revealing an impossible number of sharp teeth, and one big gap.

  “Here, take it back!” Debbie thrust the tooth into the gap. “It’s yours. I don’t want it.”

  Once the tooth was replaced, the shark snapped its jaws shut. Happily for Debbie, it waited for her to remove her hand first. Then, it swam off.

  “I would have fought it,” Lyle said. He started to wade toward shore.

  “You would have lost,” Debbie said. She followed him into the shallow water. “Ouch,” she said as she stepped on something sharp.

  “What’s that?” Lyle asked.

  Debbie reached down and lifted something from the wet sand beneath the foamy surf. “It looks like a shark’s tooth, but it’s way too big.”

  “It’s not a shark. It’s a megalodon,” Lyle said. “That’s a giant, prehistoric shark.”

  “Giant … prehistoric…?” Debbie asked. She pictured running into something impossibly bigger than the shark she’d just met.

  Lyle nodded. “They’re supposed to be extinct. But some people think they’re still around.”

  In the distance, the water churned, as if something enormous had decided to come closer to the shore.

  “Run!” Debbie screamed as she flung the tooth as far out to sea as she could and made a dash for dry, shark-free land.

  For once, Lyle didn’t argue.

  CAMP MAKAWALLIT

  “Guess what, kids?” Mom said.

  “What?” my brother, Gavin, and I asked.

  “You’re going to summer camp!” Mom said.

  “Yay!” I shouted. I’d been begging to go to camp ever since last year, when all my friends came back from their camps at the end of the summer and talked about what great times they had.

  “Is it Camp Woodside?” That was the one my best friend, Renaldo, went to. It sounded awesome.

  Mom shook her head. “No. That’s not the one.”

  “The summer science camp at Trout Lake?” Gavin asked. That was another one we’d heard great things about.

  “Nope.” Mom shook her head. “It’s Camp Makawallit.”

  I’d never heard of it. And, based on the look on Gavin’s face, neither had he.

  “I thought you said you couldn’t afford camp,” Gavin said.

  That had been her excuse all year long. She needed to save up for a new dining room table. I felt our table was perfectly fine, except for some scratches and dents Gavin and I had accidently put in it over the past two or three years. But my folks talked all the time about getting a new one. They were total furniture Weenies. We had a blue velvet couch in the living room we weren’t even allowed to sit on, and an antique bookcase that was too fragile to hold any books. Mom kept us away from her rolltop desk like it was made of eggshells, and Dad spent way too much time each weekend polishing the cherrywood kitchen cabinets.

  “They are very affordable,” Mom said. “It’s quite a bargain.”

  I wasn’t going to question my good luck.

  Maybe I should have.

  Mom and Dad dropped us off at the camp a week later. A counselor greeted us. He was wearing a ball cap with “Jimmy” printed on it, and a T-shirt with “Camp Makawallit” in big letters. Under that it read: “A crafty place.”

  “I hope they mean ‘crafty’ like spies or silent hunters or something,” Gavin said.

  “Me, too,” I said. It would be fun to sneak around in the woods.

  But right after we put our stuff away in our cabin, Jimmy said, “Time’s a wasting. Let’s get to work.”

  “Work?” I asked.

  “That’s just an expression,” Jimmy said. “You boys are here to have fun with crafts.”

  He led us to a large room filled with tables. There were chairs around each table, and kids in almost every chair.

  Jimmy grabbed two clear bags from a big bin and handed them to us. Then he pointed to a pair of empty seats. I was happy to see that all the furniture seemed pretty sturdy, and was already scratched up, scuffed, and dented.

  My happiness didn’t last.

  I sat down, then looked at the bag. It had pieces of leather inside. There were thin rectangular pieces, and there were strips. There were also instructions printed on a sheet of paper on the table.

  “Looks like we’re making a wallet,” Gavin said. He sighed and dumped the pieces out in front of him. “Maybe we’ll get to go fishing next.”

  “I didn’t see a lake,” I said.

  “There has to be one,” Gavin said. “It’s a summer camp. You’ve seen the ads. They’re always filled with watery adventures.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I got to work on the wallet. It was actually sort of fun at first, and it was nice imagining giving it to Dad, but I got bored before I was finished.

  “Done,” I said after I’d made the last stitch. I slapped it down on the table and turned to find Jimmy right behind me.

  “Great,” he said, picking the wallet up. “You’re a quick worker. That’s excellent.”

  Before I could ask what we’d be doing next, he dropped another wallet kit in front of me. I opened my mouth to tell him I was finished with wallets, but he narrowed his eyes and gave me a look that stopped me cold.

  So I made another wallet.

  And another.

  We made wallets all day. I lost count of how many wallets I stitched together.

  “If I never see another wallet kit, I’ll be happy,” Gavin said as we left the building at the end of the day.

  “Me, too,” I said. My fingers felt like I’d been playing video games for hours with a cheap controller.

  We got our wish. The next day, we didn’t make wallets. We made baskets. We made more baskets the day after that. Then, we started making key chains. After that, it was back to the wallets. By then, I was pretty sure “Makawallit” was pronounced “make a wallet.” It should have been called “Ruinasummer.”

  Camp lasted for two weeks. They didn’t let us call home.

  I was so happy to see Mom and Dad when they came for us, I could barely talk. When I finally blurted out how we’d done nothing but make crafts, Mom laughed and said, “You sure do like to exaggerate.”

  “It’s the truth!” Gavin said. “I’ll show you.” He grabbed Mom’s hand and dragged her to the building where we’d made all the wallets, baskets, key chains, and other crafts.

  “See?” Gavin cried as he flung the door open.

  “See what?” Mom asked.

  I stepped up behind them and looked inside. All the bins full of crafts were gone.

  Meanwhile, Dad had gone off to talk to Jimmy. I saw Jimmy hand Dad an envelope. By that point, all I wanted to do was go home. But Mom and Dad insisted on stopping at a furniture store on the way back, where they paid for their new dining room table. Dad gave the salesman cash, which he took from an envelope in his pocket. The salesman told him he could deliver the table that evening.

  The next day, when Gavin and I were in town, we saw some of the wallets that we’d made for sale in a store. I read the label: Makawallit Brand Custom Crafted Wallets. Below that, it read: Hand-stitched by highly skilled crafters. The last line read: Made in the U.S.A.

  “Come on,” I said to Gavin, “we need to get home.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “We’ve got a table to ruin,” I said.

  SUMMER READING (AND SOME AREN’T)

  The poster in the library promised: Summer Reading Is Magic!

  “Yeah, right,” Drew s
aid to himself as his mother signed him up for the program.

  “You get points for each book you read,” the librarian, Mrs. Folger, told him. She turned toward a shelf on the wall behind her. It was lined with toys, games, T-shirts, and other goodies. “You can use the points to win prizes.”

  That part worked for Drew. He liked prizes. “So how do you know if someone really did the reading?” he asked.

  “I trust you,” Mrs. Folger said.

  That part worked for Drew, too. He checked out three books, and headed home with his mom.

  “I wish we could stop for pizza,” he said as they were leaving the parking lot.

  “If wishes were horses…” his mom said. She didn’t even bother finishing the expression. She said it so often, Drew knew the rest of it by heart.

  If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride.

  He figured it meant that if you could wish for what you wanted, anyone could have anything. That would have worked for him, too. But it was only a saying.

  “You should start reading,” his mom said when they got home.

  “When pigs get wings,” Drew muttered, but not loud enough for her to hear him.

  That was another expression he’d learned from her. She used it when something he wanted absolutely wasn’t going to happen. He’d heard it recently when he’d asked if he could get a motorcycle.

  Drew went up to his room and played a game. He had no plans to do any reading. It wouldn’t be fair to call Drew a lying little weasel of a Weenie. It wouldn’t be fair to weasels, that is. They deserved better.

  At the end of the week, his mom took him to the library. He returned the three books he hadn’t read and checked out three more he had no plans to read.

  “Are you enjoying them?” Mrs. Folger asked.

  “They’re great,” Drew said, which wasn’t exactly a lie. He figured they could be great.

  “That’s part of the magic of summer reading,” Mrs. Folger said.

  Another week passed. And another. Eventually, summer passed. It was time for the summer-reading celebration party.

  There was pizza, which was also fine with Drew. His mom dropped him off, and told him he had to walk home. That wasn’t fine, but it wasn’t all that bad, either.

  And then there was a book discussion, which totally wasn’t fine with Drew. It was less than fine. It was terrible.

  “I’d love for each of you to stand up and tell us a little bit about your favorite book you read this summer,” Mrs. Folger said.

  Drew waited to go last. Actually, he waited to go unnoticed. But he was not very good at avoiding attention. And, as he discovered when he was called on, he was even worse at faking things. It didn’t help that he’d never even bothered to pay any attention to the titles of the books he’d checked out.

  After an uncomfortable minute during which he tried to make up something about any of the books he’d lied about reading, he sighed and shut his mouth.

  “You didn’t read anything?” Mrs. Folger asked.

  “I meant to,” Drew said.

  “Not even one book?” she asked.

  “No,” Drew said.

  “One page?” she asked.

  Drew shook his head. “Sorry.”

  She muttered something he couldn’t quite hear and started handing out the prizes. In the end, when there was only one prize left, she offered it to Drew. It was a green umbrella with smiling orange goldfish on it. Nobody else had wanted it. Drew certainly didn’t, either.

  “Do you have anything better?” he asked. He was tempted to add, “Umbrellas are stupid,” but he didn’t think that would help.

  She shook her head. “No. Real readers got all the other prizes.”

  Glad the whole thing was over, Drew slinked out of the library, walking right past the big Summer Reading Is Magic! poster.

  “I wish I’d gotten a good prize,” he said. “And I wish I didn’t have to walk.”

  “Nay,” someone said.

  No. Not nay. It was neigh.

  Drew found himself facing a horse. It stood right outside the library, as if waiting for him.

  If wishes were horses, he thought. It looked like he wasn’t going to have to walk home, after all. That was fine with Drew.

  He got on the horse. “That’s more like it,” he said. “This is the kind of prize I deserve. I hope Mom lets me keep you.”

  As Drew spoke those words, he imagined what his mom would say when he asked her. He could almost hear her telling him, “When pigs get wings.” And then, he heard a tremendous flapping sound, like huge birds were crossing the sky.

  Even before he looked up, he knew what he was about to see.

  Pigs.

  They had wings.

  They were flying right overhead.

  Unfortunately, they were also going to the bathroom right over Drew.

  “I wish I had that umbrella,” Drew said, before he realized that this was a bad time to make wishes.

  The wish brought more horses. And, since all of this was created by magic, those horses had wings, too. They joined the pigs in flying above Drew. And in raining misery down on him.

  Stinky and wet, Drew finally made it home. As much as he wanted to keep the horse, he managed not to speak his wish out loud.

  Before Drew could slip down off the saddle, the horse bucked him off and ran away, which was exactly what it wished to do.

  WHEEL OF ZOMBIES

  I knew the zombies would come someday. Every kid knows that. I just didn’t expect it to happen when I was so helpless.

  I’ve always been prepared. I kept my hockey stick in my bedroom. Any zombie that tried to attack me there would get his head slap-shot into the next town.

  My backpack was so crammed with books, it weighed about five tons. I could hold off a horde of stumbling brain munchers by grabbing the straps and whirling in a circle, like a guy warming up for the Olympic hammer throw.

  I know this works, because I tried it once with my friends Dewey, Keith, and Megan. I sent all three of them flying.

  My school was filled with all sorts of awesome anti-zombie equipment. There were fire extinguishers in every hall. We had some seriously dangerous liquids in the science lab. The wood shop was filled with sharp objects. The gym’s storage closet had plenty of baseball bats.

  Zombies at home or at school? No problem. I was ready.

  Except, there I was, with Dewey, at the Baker County Firemen’s Carnival. We’re both bigtime carnival Weenies. We love funnel cake, cotton candy, and sketchy sausages. And we love being in the middle of a crowd, with all the noise and action. But we don’t agree at all on what the best part is. Dewey wanted to ride the Ferris wheel. I didn’t. Ferris wheels aren’t exciting. I wanted to play games and win a giant Pikachu.

  The game I was trying sure looked easy. You had to knock three bottles off a table with just one ball to win. I’ve got a pretty good arm. I kept coming close. But I ran out of money, so I couldn’t play any more games.

  Dewey stood there the whole time, rooted for me like a true friend, and watched me lose, but he didn’t play. Thanks to his lack of coordination, he hated games. But he had tons of ride tickets. He offered to treat me to a ride. I figured there was no reason not to go on the Ferris wheel even though it was so boring nobody else was riding it right now.

  It was the open kind—just a seat with a back and sides, and a safety bar that didn’t look very strong. I’m not scared of heights, so I figured there was nothing to worry about. Everything seemed fine, at first. The wheel was spinning pretty quickly, compared to some of the rides I’d been on, so that was good. I liked thrills. But it still wasn’t all that exciting.

  Each time we reached the top, I could see the booth where I’d failed to win a prize. I was staring at it when the change happened. The thing about a carnival is that you don’t notice screams. Not at first. Screams are part of the background noise. They had a couple rough rides, including a parachute drop and a Scrambler, so somebody was always screamin
g.

  But screams are normally only one part of the noise at a carnival. When they become all of the noise, you notice.

  “You hear that?” I asked Dewey as I scanned the ground below us.

  “What?”

  I pointed down at the screaming mob. Nearly everyone was running in the same direction. They were tearing toward the road that bordered the east side of the field. Which meant they were running away from the direction of the cemetery.

  We reached the top again. I saw dozens of zombies staggering onto the fairgrounds.

  “We have to get out of here,” I said.

  “Stop the ride!” Dewey shouted at the operator.

  That’s when I realized the operator had run off along with everyone else. I also realized the ride was speeding up. There was nobody to control it.

  “We have to jump off!” Dewey said.

  I watched how fast the ground sped past us at the bottom of our loop. “We’ll get hurt. We’re going too fast.”

  “It’s our best chance,” Dewey said.

  Before we could argue about it, the zombies reached us. They stood on either side of the platform, trying to grab us each time we swooped past the bottom. I’d always thought it was ridiculous when people in horror movies were frozen by fear. But right now, my brain felt like it was spinning wildly inside my head, throwing off sparks and letting out screams. It had totally quit any tasks involving getting my body parts to move. I had to force myself to breathe.

  “I have an idea,” I said, after my brain decided to start working again. “Get ready to make a run for it when this thing stops.”

  I pulled off one of my sneakers, and took aim at the lever that controlled the ride. Right when we reached the bottom, I flung the sneaker as hard as I could.