Wipeout of the Wireless Weenies Page 9

  “You’re going,” I said. “We’ve been together all summer. You can’t wimp out on us now.”

  “I don’t feel good,” he said.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He walked off. When we were getting ready to head out to the lake, I looked for him in his cabin, but he wasn’t there.

  “Go ahead,” I told the other guys. “I’m going to find Mitch.” I was pretty sure I could do that. I’ve learned all sorts of woodcraft. A couple years ago, I even took a course in tracking.

  So, before the sunlight faded totally, I looked for signs of his passage.

  It turned out to be pretty easy to spot his trail. He’d gone downhill, away from the lake. I jogged along until I heard him ahead of me. The moon was just starting to rise when I reached the old road. He’d already crossed it. I saw him disappearing into the brush on the other side.

  I stepped onto the road. “Mitch, wait.”

  He turned back.

  I wasn’t sure what I expected him to say. I definitely didn’t expect him to scream, “Get out of the road!”

  That was silly. I doubt a car came along more than two or three times an hour. Besides, the road ran straight for a long way in each direction. If a car were coming, I’d see the headlights and hear it in plenty of time.

  “Come on,” I said, “let’s go swimming.”

  “Get out of the road!” he screamed again. “Now!”

  I took another step toward him. “What are you talking about?”

  He pointed past me, toward the horizon. The moon was almost fully visible. “I’m a wereturtle,” he said.

  That was so silly, I had to laugh. “Yeah, right. And I’m a vampire hippopotamus. Come on.” I took another step toward him. Or tried to. My legs felt funny.

  “I bit you,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s not a big deal. You’ll just turn into a turtle during the full moon. Now, would you please get out of the—”

  He never finished his sentence. He fell forward. So did I. I could see my hands changing. My arms contracted. Something heavy pressed down on my back. A shell. I tried to move. It was awkward. I’d never walked with flippers, and I’d never been so close to the ground. I pulled myself forward.

  I barely moved. I was unused to walking this way. And a turtle, even an experienced one, is already unbearably slow.

  I was so busy trying to get off the road, I didn’t even notice the truck at first.

  Luckily, it passed over me.

  The second one didn’t.

  It crushed my shell and flung me from the road.

  I landed in a crumpled heap. I was in human form again. I’d seen enough werewolf movies to know what that meant. I didn’t have long. I could feel my strength draining.

  I heard a rustling to my left. I looked over. Mitch was there. He was still a turtle. His head and front legs moved in a funny way. I realized it was a shrug. For some reason, that made me laugh. Then everything started to fade.

  FEED THE KITTY

  I once counted seventeen cats in Mrs. Schuster’s front yard. I figured there were probably even more than that. Cats are hard to count when they’re skittering all over the place, running across the lawn, climbing the trees, slinking under the rust-spotted car in the driveway, and leaping at each other from ambush positions.

  I’d never seen Mrs. Schuster leave the house. She’d come onto the porch to put out bowls of food, but that was as far as she went. I’d never seen her on the sidewalk, or in any of the stores in town. So I was surprised when she walked onto the playground. I was even more surprised when she sat down on a bench near the basketball court and watched our game.

  Right after we finished our four-on-four half-court game, she got up and approached us.

  “I wonder what she wants?” I said.

  “Who cares. She’s crazy,” Rupert Watson said.

  “No, she isn’t,” I said. “She just likes cats.”

  Rupert threw the ball at my head. I dodged to the side, but the ball smacked my shoulder. “Ow! What was that for?”

  “You called me a liar,” Rupert said.

  I was about to argue, but Rupert’s eyes got that dangerous look. I knew the wrong words would get me punched in the face.

  By then, Mrs. Schuster had reached us. “I’m going away for several days,” she said. “My sister is having an operation and she’ll need my help around the house.”

  Her voice was surprisingly strong and clear. I’d expected it to be some sort of hoarse croak or faint whisper.

  “Who cares?” Rupert said.

  Mrs. Schuster went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “I need someone to feed my kitty.” She held up a fistful of money. “I’ll pay one of you young men to do it.”

  I was about to say, “I love cats,” but I only got as far as the first word when Rupert gave me a shove and said, “I’ll do it. I’m perfect for the job.”

  Mrs. Schuster nodded. “Good. I agree—you’re perfect. Come to my house when you’re finished playing.” She told him her address, and then left.

  I glared at Rupert—after I was sure his back was turned toward me. This was so unfair. I was good with animals. My aunt had two cats. I took care of them whenever she went out of town. I didn’t just dump some food in a bowl and dash out—I played with them and petted them. And I walked my neighbor’s dog when he had to work late. He trusted me enough to give me a key to his house. Rupert didn’t even have pets. I think his parents were afraid he’d hurt any living creature he got his hands on.

  When we were finished playing, I followed Rupert. Maybe he’d mess up, and I could get the job. Or at least I could make sure he didn’t hurt any of the cats. He was the sort of kid who would probably kick a small animal if nobody was looking.

  When Rupert reached Mrs. Schuster’s front porch, I sneaked down the driveway, slipped behind her car, and listened. Rupert knocked on the door. I heard it open.

  “When do I get paid?” he asked.

  I heard the crinkle of bills. That was a mistake. If he got his money now, there was a good chance he’d never do the job. I wanted to warn Mrs. Schuster, but I didn’t want to get Rupert angry with me. If I had to, I’d buy the cats some food, myself.

  “Come in, so you can get started,” Mrs. Schuster said.

  The door shut. I moved closer to the porch. I could still hear them talking.

  “Hey—you said you’d pay me to feed your kitty. But there are tons of cats in the yard,” Rupert said. “I need more money.”

  “Don’t worry. You have more than you’ll possibly be able to spend,” Mrs. Schuster said.

  “No way,” Rupert said. “You have to pay me a lot more than this to feed all your cats.”

  The door opened again. I saw Mrs. Schuster step onto the porch. “Oh, those aren’t my kitties,” she said. “These are just visitors. My kitty is too big to be allowed outside. He gets so very hungry. Thank you for feeding him.”

  She stepped all the way out and shut the door. Then she pulled a large, old-fashioned key out of her pocket, slipped it into the large, old-fashioned keyhole, and locked the door with a solid click.

  “Hey!” Rupert shouted. I saw the knob rattle.

  There was a loud growl from inside, and then a giant bang as something slammed into the door. Actually, I think it wasn’t just something slamming into the door—I think it was something slamming Rupert into the door.

  There were a couple smaller thumps, and a variety of screams. But the cries didn’t last long. After that, I could swear I heard purring.

  I was frozen to the spot, staring at the locked door, even when Mrs. Schuster walked down the porch steps. She turned toward me. “Kitty has to eat,” she said.

  “I guess so.”

  “And that young man seemed like someone who is mean to cats.”

  “I think you’re right,” I said. “And not just cats.”

  “So I’m glad he wanted to feed my kitty,” she said. She gave me a wink, then headed toward her car. A dozen cats chased a
fter her.

  I guess animals really liked her. So did I.

  MUMMY CHASE

  I need to catch my breath. I feel like my lungs have been rubbed with sandpaper and filled with acid. But I can’t stop. I have to keep running, or I’m doomed.

  I never should have swiped the sacred ankh out of the mummy’s tomb when I was on vacation with my parents in Egypt. I thought I could get away with it. I managed to sneak it out of the country in my suitcase. I know it’s wrong to steal, but I was tired of being a total loser in school every time we did show-and-tell. I never had anything good to bring in. Until now.

  When I stole the mummy’s ankh, I hadn’t counted on supernatural powers and ancient curses. That’s a bad combination. The mummy came after me. I guess it was the mummy from that tomb, though it really doesn’t matter. Having any mummy chasing you is definitely not a good thing. He showed up about an hour ago, right after dinner. I saw him through the big living room window, stumbling across my front yard. I thought about tossing the ankh to him and hoping that would be enough. But I had a feeling he was looking for a lot more payback. I ran out the back door.

  I’ve been trying to get away ever since, but no matter how fast I run, and how slowly he seems to shuffle after me, I just can’t seem to escape.

  I have to stop again, just for a second. I can barely breathe. I hate to look back, but I need to see how far away he is. Oh, no. He’s less than half a block from me. He’ll never give up. I’m flesh and blood. Tired, sweaty flesh and blood, with little breath left. He’s bandages and magic. Tireless magic that will never give up. I don’t know what he’ll do when he catches me, but I know it won’t be nice.

  I dig deep for more strength and start jogging again. I stopped trying to run fast. Fast or slow, he keeps up with me. So I’ve been jogging. But even that takes a lot of energy. We’re near the edge of town. That’s when I see my only hope.

  I check my pockets. Yeah. I have enough quarters. I glance back again, even though I don’t have to. I know he’ll follow me. And I think he might fall for it. He’s ancient and wise, but I’d bet he doesn’t know anything about modern life or about all of the inventions that came along in the thousands of years since he’d been wrapped up and shoved into a tomb. I guess I’m betting my own life on his ignorance.

  I race to the entrance of the car wash and put my change in the coin slot. The water starts spraying. I walk in and move through that part as quickly as I can. I get soaked with hot water, but I don’t care. The mummy will get soaked, too. I suspect he won’t care, either. All he cares about is catching me and getting revenge.

  This better work. It should. Everything depended on a lesson I’d learned the hard way, just last month. I move past the spray to the drying area, where the light from the heat lamps overhead is almost blinding. Hot air blasts at me from both walls and the floor. My T-shirt starts to feel tight across my shoulders. That’s the first sign that I might actually survive.

  I stop at the far end and look back. The mummy is there—dripping wet at the edge of the spray. He steps into the heat. As he moves toward me, I can see my plan working. Like a soaked sweater tossed into a clothes dryer, the mummy is starting to shrink. That’s the lesson I’d learned when Mom made me help with the laundry. She’d been really unhappy about the wool sweater after I’d put it in the dryer. Apparently, you’re not supposed to do that with certain types of cloth. I’d gotten in even more trouble when I started laughing at the sight of it. It was ridiculously small.

  With each step beneath the heat lamps, the mummy shrinks a bit. Pretty soon he’s half his original size, and then even smaller. By the time he reaches me, he’s the size of a toddler.

  I stand there and stare down at him. He stretches his arms out toward my neck to strangle me, and I can’t help laughing. There’s no way he can reach that high. He flails at my legs. It doesn’t hurt, even when he reaches up and smacks my knee. I’m laughing so hard now, my stomach hurts. He’s a whole lot funnier than a shrunken sweater.

  I pick him up and tuck him under my arm. He weighs less than a puppy. I don’t even care about the ankh anymore. Not now that I have a shrunken mummy. That’s pretty awesome. I can’t wait for next Tuesday at school. This is going to be the best show-and-tell ever.

  BEING GREEN

  Bethany decided it was her job to save the planet. Her parents and their friends had obviously messed things up to the point where they couldn’t be trusted. But that was all about to change.

  “We’re recycling,” she told her father as she dragged a green plastic bin with the arrow-chasing-itself-in-a-triangle logo into the kitchen. “Clean glass, plastic, and metal go in here.” She pointed to a smaller bin on the kitchen counter. “Compostable materials go in here. Vegetable peels, stuff like that. A little bit of paper is okay.”

  “What about Styrofoam?” her dad asked.

  “We aren’t using that anymore,” Bethany said. “If you must use a disposable container for your coffee, use cardboard.”

  Her father sighed, but he didn’t argue. This was not Bethany’s first campaign to make things better.

  Bethany’s mother also greeted the news with little resistance, though compliance was not perfect. Both parents told her they weren’t trading in their perfectly reasonable four-year-old gasoline-powered car for a battery-operated vehicle.

  “I’m not driving to work in a glorified golf cart,” her dad said. “I have to do battle with trucks every day on the interstate.”

  It’s a start, Bethany thought as she filled her water bottle from the kitchen sink. That was the thing she was proudest of—she wasn’t planning to ever drink another bottle of store-bought water. She shuddered at the thought of all that plastic being used and discarded. Her new bottle—a green and white striped ceramic bottle with a rubber stopper and built-in drinking straw, hand-painted by craftsmen in an African village who were raising money to buy a water pump for their well—was the perfect symbol of the new world, the bright green world, she planned to help build. She’d bought it with her own money, along with a second bottle to give to her best friend, Gia.

  Bethany sipped her water as she walked to Gia’s house. Fresh tap water tasted so much better than that bottled stuff. Everyone should have a bottle like this. She couldn’t wait to give Gia her present.

  The instant the door opened, Bethany held up the paper bag. “I got you something.”

  “For me?” Gia took the bag and peeked inside. “A water bottle. Cool! It’s so pretty. Thanks.”

  “We’re saving the planet,” Bethany said.

  “Come on in,” Gia said. “I’m unplugging all the chargers and power supplies. They suck up so much energy.”

  “For sure.” Bethany followed Gia around the house. As Gia unplugged each power supply, Bethany watched the small red power light wink out like a dying coal.

  After dealing with all the power supplies, the girls decided to go for a bike ride. Bethany refilled her water bottle. She didn’t rinse it or wash it out. That didn’t seem necessary to her. It was just water, after all, so rinsing it would be wasteful.

  The next day, after checking with all the stores on Main Street to make sure they were recycling, Bethany and Gia played basketball with their friends at the park. Bethany couldn’t help frowning at the girls who brought water in plastic bottles. She’d filled her bottle at home, and then refilled it twice from the water fountain. The bottom of the fountain looked a little green, but Bethany was careful not to let her bottle touch that part.

  She forgot to empty the bottle when she got home, but she remembered the next morning when she grabbed it to fill it up before heading out. She didn’t waste the water by pouring it down the drain. She drank every drop that was in the bottle, then filled it with fresh water from the tap.

  She went to the garage and slung a whole bag of crushed aluminum cans over her shoulder. I’m making the world green, she thought as she pedaled her bike to the recycling center.

  The facility was at the to
p of a long road that ran uphill nearly all the way. It was hard pedaling that far in the heat. Bethany was glad she had her water bottle clipped to her bike. She stopped three times to take a drink before she reached the recycling center. But the water wasn’t helping a lot. Her mouth felt strange, like her tongue was fuzzy.

  When she reached the center, she got off her bike, grabbed the bag of cans, and took it to the huge container for aluminum. There was a set of metal stairs at the side of the container. Bethany climbed up the steps and emptied the bag into the container.

  The sun felt brutally hot. As she walked back down the steps, she rubbed her tongue against the top of her mouth. Everything definitely felt weird. She stuck out her tongue and tried to look at it, but that turned out to be impossible. So she scraped the nail of her index finger across it.

  “Green?” she said as she stared at her finger. She had something thick and green under her nail. It almost looked like moss. Something’s wrong with me, she thought. I’d better get home. She tried to run to her bike, but she felt even more sluggish, and could barely walk. When she finally got there, she leaned over, stuck out her tongue, and examined it in the rearview mirror of her bicycle.

  Her whole tongue was coated with something thick and green. So was the roof of her mouth and, as far back as she could see, her throat.

  I need to rinse my mouth.

  She grabbed the water bottle, took a big swig, swished the water in her mouth, then spat it on the ground.

  The liquid—there was no way she could call it water—lay in a splatted puddle on the bare earth. It was too thick to sink below the surface immediately, or to evaporate in the rays of the hot sun.

  That’s what I was drinking?

  Bethany dropped the bottle. It shattered, allowing more of the liquid to ooze out. The inside of the bottle was also covered with a thick green coating.

  Bethany staggered away from the spot, turned aimlessly for a moment as she tried to figure out what to do, then backed against one of the containers.

  “Feel funny,” she managed to say before she sank to the ground.