Stinetinglers 3, page 5
Light poured into the travel box as the lid lifted. I opened my eyes and stared out at Gorri-6 as he stared in at me. I was never so happy to see anyone in my life.
He helped pull me from the box. I stood on trembling legs.
Everyone was there. Even Zellus-8. They all stood staring at me in silence.
“How was it?” Gorri-6 asked, trembling with excitement. “Did it work? Did you really travel to a different dimension? Can we all travel to other dimensions now?”
I lowered my eyes and shook my head sadly. “No,” I murmured.
“No?” Gorri-6 cried. “It didn’t work?”
“I’m so sorry, but it didn’t work,” I answered. “I went nowhere. I saw nothing.”
I raised my eyes to them to finish my lie. “It’s a complete failure. I’m afraid we have to start all over again.”
FISH FOOD
I was always a good kid. I obeyed my parents. I tried to be polite to everyone. I followed the rules in school. In games on the playground, I was always a good sport.
Everyone thought I was a really nice guy. But in my head, I was different.
In my thoughts, I was a lot bolder. I was louder. I was faster. In my head, I did what I wanted—not what people told me to do.
I was thinking about all that when I had the idea for this story. It’s about a boy who doesn’t care about the rules, or being nice, or not cheating. He just wants to win.
What would happen to a guy like that? You’ll see …
I’m Ezra Adams. I’m twelve. And I’ll tell you right now, I’m the kind of guy who likes to win. Rules don’t mean much to me if they get in my way. I’m the kind of dude who likes to color outside the lines.
So I don’t think it was cheating when I pushed my friend Roddy off a cliff.
Roddy and I were in my room, playing my favorite video game, Battle Scars. True, we were supposed to be battle partners. But I didn’t want to share the victory with Roddy. So I pushed his avatar off a cliff.
“Hey, that’s cheating!” Roddy cried. He tossed his game controller onto the floor. “I don’t believe you, Ezra! Did you forget we’re partners?”
I laughed. “Sorry, but you’re a loser, partner!”
He glared at me. “Why do you always cheat?” he demanded. “Ezra, why do you always break the rules?”
“Because it’s more fun?” I answered.
He growled but didn’t reply.
“Roddy, why do you always follow the rules?” I asked. “Be original. Be bold. Make your own rules.”
He growled again.
I could see Roddy was angry. But I knew he’d get over it. He always does.
I reached behind my bed and lifted Murphy off the floor. Murphy is my new cat. I held him in my lap and petted his back. He didn’t react at all. Cats are weird.
Mom walked into the room and let out a gasp. “A cat?” she cried. “Ezra, what are you doing with that cat?”
“I found him this morning,” I said. “I named him Murphy. Can I keep him?”
“Of course you can’t keep him,” Mom said. She rubbed her eyes. “I wondered why I’ve been coughing and sneezing all afternoon. You know I’m allergic to cats.”
The cat jumped from my lap and climbed under the bed.
“But I really want a cat!” I told Mom.
“I don’t care,” she said. “You can’t always have what you want.”
“Seriously?” I said.
She crossed her arms in front of her and frowned at me. “The cat has to go—now.”
“I can take the cat, Mrs. Adams,” Roddy said. “My cousin Darla has been wanting a cat forever. I’ll take Murphy to Darla.”
A smile crossed Mom’s face. “That’s why I like you, Roddy. You are very generous.”
“And what am I?” I asked.
“You’re Ezra.”
“Well, can I have a dog?” I said. “How about a dog? It doesn’t have to be too big.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “You know I’m allergic to dogs, too. You can’t have anything with fur. Understand?”
She and I stared at each other for a while.
She blinked first.
I always win our staring contests.
“Well, what kind of pet can I have?” I asked.
“I have an idea,” Roddy said. “You know how you’re always drawing fish? You always draw fish in art class.”
“I like to draw fish,” I said. “They’re easy to draw.”
“Well, how about fish for pets?” Roddy said. “They have all these cool tropical fish at Mason’s. You know, the pet store next to the post office?”
“That’s excellent,” Mom said. “An aquarium of tropical fish would be fun. And, Ezra, remember you were caught cheating on that math quiz last week? You could do a report about the fish for extra credit. Get back on Mrs. Garnett’s good side.”
“Hmmmm…” I thought about it.
“I’ll go with you to Mason’s,” Roddy said.
“You two can go by yourselves,” Mom said. “You don’t need me. Pick out your own fish. Then Dad and I will go buy a tank for them.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Maybe they have some of those fighting fish. You know. The ones that fight the other fish and eat them?”
* * *
Monday after school, Roddy and I took the bus into town to go to the pet store. We sneaked through the rear door of the bus and took seats in the back row. The driver didn’t see us.
Roddy shook his head. “Ezra, why did we have to sneak onto the bus? Why couldn’t we go in the front door? You know twelve and under ride for free.”
“That’s boring,” I said. “Why do you always want to do the boring thing?”
Mason’s was a big, brightly lit store with rows and rows of dog and cat supplies, birdcages, leashes and toys, pet food, and dog beds. The tropical fish were in a huge tank at the back of the store near a small back room.
A young man came out of the back room when he saw Roddy and me gazing into the fish tank. He wore a blue, long-sleeved shirt over khakis. He had wavy black hair down to his shoulders and a black beard that covered most of his face.
“Can I help you?” he asked. He had a surprisingly deep voice. “My name is Leo. People call me Leo the Lion. I guess because of my long mane.”
I stared at him. He really didn’t look at all like a lion. Maybe a shaggy house cat.
“Ezra wants to start an aquarium,” Roddy said.
“Awesome idea,” Leo said. “We have a good selection.” He tapped his finger against the tank. “See these? They’re angelfish. Good for a starter aquarium. And they’re very graceful and pretty.”
“They’re kinda boring,” I said. “Why do they swim so slow?”
Leo shrugged. “It’s what they do.” He peered into the tank. “You want something faster? How about these neon tetras? Look at them.”
The little fish glowed, and they didn’t swim—they darted back and forth.
“Cool,” I said.
“These would be more fun to watch,” Roddy said.
“They’re different colors, like neon,” Leo said. His finger traced a tetra as it zoomed across the tank.
“What do you feed them?” I asked.
“I’ll give you a package of fish food,” Leo replied. “You just sprinkle a few little pieces into the tank every morning. You have to be careful not to overfeed them.”
I glanced into the back room and saw a round fishbowl standing on a shelf. The bowl had two bright blue fish swimming in it. The fish were pretty big, bigger than anything in the tank. And they kept bumping each other, kind of bumping noses as they swam.
I stepped into the back room. Roddy and Leo followed me.
“What are these fish?” I asked. “I like these.”
Leo shook his head. “Not for sale,” he said. “Sorry.” He turned. “Let’s go back to the tank.”
“But I really like these,” I said. “Why can’t I buy these fish?”
He rubbed his head. “Sorry, kid. These fish are an experiment. I can’t sell them to you.”
“What if I pay double?” I said.
A bell rang at the front of the store. “I’ll be right back,” Leo said. “Have to wait on a customer. Don’t go anywhere.” He spun away from us and went trotting up the aisle to the front.
I glanced at the back door to the store. “Quick,” I whispered to Roddy. “Let’s go before he comes back.” I picked up the bowl of blue fish.
“Ezra, wait—” Roddy said. “What are you doing?”
“I want these fish,” I said. “They are totally awesome.” I pressed the bowl against my chest. “Hurry. Let’s go.”
“But—but—Leo said—” Roddy sputtered.
I grabbed a couple packages of fish food. Then I was out the back door. Roddy followed me as I ran to the bus stop. The water in the bowl sloshed from side to side, but I didn’t spill any.
On the bus, I held the fishbowl carefully in my lap.
Roddy was worried, as usual. “That guy Leo said these fish were an experiment.”
“So what?” I said. “These fish are special. They are seriously cool.”
We found my mom and dad in the kitchen. They were heading out the door. I held the bowl up to show them.
“What an unusual color,” Dad said. Dad is a graphic artist, so he always sees colors first. “I didn’t know fish could be that deep blue. They’re almost navy blue.”
“They are so cramped in that little bowl,” Mom said. “Dad and I are going shopping. We’ll look for a bigger tank for you.”
Roddy still looked troubled. I think he wanted to tell my parents that I stole the fish. But the door slammed behind them before he could get a word out.
I carried the bowl to the living room and set it down on the coffee table. The fish were definitely cramped in there. They kept swimming over each other.
“When my parents get back with the tank, we should get some snails to put in. Do you like snails?”
“Not really,” Roddy said.
I took a pack of fish food from my pocket and tore it open. Then I dumped about half of it into the fishbowl.
“Hey—” Roddy grabbed my arm. “That guy Leo said to just sprinkle a little—”
“These are big fish,” I said. “They aren’t little minnows. I don’t want them to go hungry.”
We watched as the fish rose up to the top of the water and began gulping down the pellets of fish food. “Look at them go,” I said. “It’s making me hungry.”
Roddy and I went into the kitchen for a snack. I pulled a jar of salsa from the fridge, and we opened a bag of tortilla chips. We sat at the kitchen table and crunched away till the bag was nearly empty.
“Did you give the cat to your cousin?” I asked.
Roddy nodded. “I took it over to her yesterday. Darla was real happy,” he said. “But she didn’t like the name Murphy. She changed it.”
“Changed it to what?” I said.
“Buttercup.”
We both laughed. What a bad name.
We walked back into the living room, looked into the fishbowl—and we both gasped.
“Did those fish grow?” Roddy asked.
“I—I think so,” I stammered. I watched them bump each other. “They’re as big as chipmunks!” I exclaimed. “Do you think that food—?”
“We have to get them out of that little bowl,” Roddy said. “Look how they’re squeezed together.”
They were pressed against each other, and their mouths kept opening and closing, like they were having trouble breathing.
“My parents have a big mixing bowl,” I said. “We can put them in that until—”
I stopped when one of the fish almost leaped out of the bowl.
“Wow, they’re strong!” Roddy exclaimed. “A mixing bowl isn’t big enough. Do you have a bucket?”
I started toward the basement door.
“Maybe two buckets,” Roddy said. “They’re growing very fast.”
I found two metal buckets in the basement and carried them upstairs. I filled them two thirds full of water from the kitchen sink. Then I carried them into the living room.
“Whoa!” Roddy and I both cried out as one of the fish leaped from the little bowl into a bucket. A wave of water splashed over the living room rug.
I lifted the bowl and poured the second fish into the other bucket.
We watched them swimming in fast circles around the buckets. “I—I think they grew again!” I cried.
Roddy pressed his hands to the sides of his face. “They’re as big as your cat!” he exclaimed.
“No way! No way!” I kept repeating.
And then the fish started leaping from one bucket to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. Sending up tidal waves onto the rug.
“What are we going to do?” I screamed. “They’re too big for the buckets!”
“How about the bathtub?” Roddy said. “Maybe they’ll stay in the bathtub.”
We both cried out again as one of the fish leaped up—and missed the other bucket. It flopped heavily onto the rug, slapping its tail and making gulping sounds with its open mouth.
I dove forward and lifted it from the rug in both hands. “It—it weighs a ton!” I stammered.
I suddenly saw that the fish had two rows of pointy teeth. As I tried to carry it back to the bucket, it curled its body and sank its teeth into my wrist.
“OWWWWW! It bit me!”
I grabbed my wrist, and the fish slipped from my hand. It bounced off Roddy’s shoes and flopped back onto the rug.
Roddy raised both hands in the air. “I’m not going to pick it up!” he cried.
“We have to,” I said, rubbing my throbbing wrist. “It’ll die.”
I bent to lift it off the rug, and the fish jumped from the floor—and wrapped its teeth around my other wrist. “Help me! Help!” I screamed. I waved my arm in the air. But the fish held on tight.
I lowered my hand into the bucket, and the fish let go.
Both of my wrists throbbed with pain.
“We need help,” Roddy said. “Call the pet store. Quick. Ask Leo what we should do.”
“But—” I started.
“Just do it!” Roddy shouted.
The fish were leaping from bucket to bucket. Snapping their teeth in the air.
I ran to the kitchen to find my phone. It was on the table next to the tortilla chips bag. My fingers trembled as I tried to look up the phone number for Mason’s. I could hear Roddy screaming in the other room.
It seemed to take forever. But finally, a woman answered. “This is Mason’s Pet Store. How can I help you?”
“I—I need to speak to Leo,” I stammered. “Please hurry. It’s an emergency.”
Silence for a moment. Then she said: “Who did you wish to speak to?”
“Leo,” I said. “Please get Leo.”
Another silence. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, “there’s no one named Leo who works here.”
I heard Roddy shouting in the living room. Hard thumps. A crash.
Were the fish attacking him?
“Leo,” I repeated. “The guy with the black beard. Please—”
“I’m sorry. We don’t have a Leo here,” she said. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I hope so,” I answered. “I was there earlier, and I took a bowl with your experimental fish. And—”
“Our what?” she said. “Did you say experimental fish?”
“Yes,” I said. “I took two of them and—”
“I’m sorry, young man. But we don’t have experimental fish at Mason’s.”
“But—but—” I sputtered.
“We have a sale on guppies,” she said. “Are you interested in guppies?”
“No!” I cried. “Please—tell Leo we need help!”
“But we don’t have a Leo.”
I said goodbye and clicked off.
No Leo? No experimental fish?
Who was that guy?
Was he trying to get rid of these fish? Did he want me to steal them?
I ran back into the living room. I saw that two tables had been knocked over. Roddy was down on the floor, flopping his arms and legs. “Help me! Help!”
Both fish were enormous. Big as sharks. Both had their teeth sunk into his waist.
“Nooooo!” A wild scream burst from my mouth.
I raced across the room. I grabbed a fish in each hand—and heaved them off Roddy. I tossed them against the living room wall. Then I pulled Roddy to his feet and dragged him to the front door.
We ran out the door. I slammed it hard behind us.
We were both breathing too hard to talk. Roddy rubbed his hands over his waist. His shirt was torn but his skin wasn’t broken.
We stared at each other, gasping for air. I was bent over with my hands on my knees. But I straightened up when I saw my parents’ car pull up the driveway.
Roddy and I went running to the car. We started shouting before Mom or Dad could climb out.
Dad pushed open the driver’s side door. “What’s up?” he said. “We got you a very nice fish tank.”
“Never mind that,” I said, still breathing hard. “We need help. The fish—!”
“They’re big as sharks!” Roddy cried. “They attacked me! They dragged me to the floor and—”
“They grew and grew!” I exclaimed. “Don’t go in the house! They’re too dangerous. We have to get the police! Or the fire department!”
Mom came around the car and joined us. She had shopping bags in her hands. “Calm down,” she said. “What are you saying? What is happening?”
“Some wild story about the fish,” Dad told her. He started to the front door.
“No! Be careful!” I screamed.
“They’re huge!” Roddy cried. “And they’re mean!”
Roddy and I hung back. Dad pushed open the front door and peered inside. After a short while, he stepped inside. Mom hesitated at the door for a few seconds. Then she followed Dad into the house.
My legs were shaking as I made my way to the front stoop. Roddy stayed close at my side. I held my breath and listened.
Listened … Listened …
Roddy and I both uttered cries when we heard Dad start to laugh. Then Mom was laughing, too. My mouth dropped open as I listened to them both laughing hard.
