42 - Egg Monsters from Mars (2 page)

Kids were wrestling in the runny puddles of yolk on the grass. I turned in
time to see a boy crack an egg over another boy’s head.

“Stop it! Stop it!”

Brandy was screaming at the top of her lungs, trying to stop the egg fight
before every single egg was smashed. I turned and saw Mom and Dad running across
the yard.

“Hey, Anne—!” I called. I climbed to my feet, holding the weird egg
carefully. Anne was frantically tossing eggs at three girls. The girls were
bombarding her. Three to one—but Anne wasn’t retreating.

“Anne—check this out!” I called, hurrying over to her. “You won’t believe
this egg!”

I stepped up beside her and held the egg out to her.

“No! Wait—!” I cried.

Too late.

Anne grabbed my egg and heaved it at the three girls.

“No—stop!” I wailed.

As I stared in horror, one of the three girls caught the egg in midair—and
tossed it back.

I dove for it, making a headfirst slide. And grabbed the egg in one hand
before it hit the gravel.

Was it broken?

No.

This shell must be made of steel! I told myself. I pulled myself to my feet,
gripping the egg carefully. To my surprise, it felt hot. Burning hot.

“Whoa!” I nearly dropped it.

Throb. Throb. Throb.

It pulsed rapidly. I could feel the veins beating against my fingers.

I wanted to show the egg to Mom and Dad. But they were busy breaking up the
egg fight.

Dad’s face was bright red. He was shouting at Brandy and pointing to the
yellow stains up and down the side of the garage.

Mom was trying to calm down two girls who were crying. They had egg yolk
stuck to their hair and all over their clothes. They even had it stuck to their
eyebrows. I guess that’s why they were crying.

Behind them Stubby was having a feast. He was running around in circles,
lapping up egg after egg from the grass, his bushy tail wagging like crazy.

What a party!

I decided to take my weird egg inside. I wanted to study it later. Maybe I’d
break off a tiny piece of shell and look at it under the microscope. Then I’d
make a tiny hole in the shell and try to see inside.

Throb. Throb.

The veins pounded against my hand. The egg still felt hot.

It might be a turtle egg, I decided. I walked carefully to the house,
cradling it in both hands.

One morning last fall, Anne found a big box turtle on the curb in front of
her house. She carried it into her backyard and called me over. She knew I’d
want to study it.

It was a pretty big turtle. About the size of a lunch box. Anne and I
wondered how it got to her curb.

Up in my room I had a book about turtles. I knew the book would help me
identify it. I had hurried home to get the book. But Mom wouldn’t let me go back out. I had to
stay inside and have lunch.

When I got back to Anne’s backyard, the turtle had vanished. I guess it
wandered away.

Turtles can be pretty fast when they want to be.

As I carried my treasure into the house, I thought it might be a turtle egg.
But why was it so hot? And why did it have those yucky veins all over it?

Eggs don’t have veins—do they?

I hid the egg in my dresser drawer. I surrounded it with my balled-up socks
to protect it. Then I closed the drawer slowly, carefully, and returned to the
backyard.

Brandy’s guests were all leaving as I stepped outside. They were covered in
sticky eggs. They didn’t look too happy.

Brandy didn’t look too happy, either. Dad was busy shouting at her, angrily
waving his arms, pointing to the gloppy egg stains all over the lawn.

“Why did you let this happen?” he screamed at her. “Why didn’t you stop it?”

“I tried!” Brandy wailed. “I tried to stop it!”

“We’ll have to have the garage painted,” Mom murmured, shaking her head. “How
will we ever mow the lawn?”

“This was the worst party I ever had!” Brandy cried. She bent down and pulled chunks of eggshell from her sneaker laces.
Then she glared up at Mom. “It’s all
your
fault!”

“Huh?” Mom gasped. “My fault?”

“You didn’t hard-boil the eggs,” Brandy accused. “So it’s all your fault.”

Mom started to protest—but bit her lip instead.

Brandy stood up and tossed the bits of eggshell to the ground. She flashed
Mom her best dimpled smile. “Next year for my birthday, can we have a Make Your
Own Ice-Cream Sundae party?”

That evening I wanted to study my weird green egg. But we had to go visit
Grandma Evelyn and Grandpa Harry and take them out to dinner. They always make a
big fuss about Brandy’s birthday.

First, Brandy had to open her presents. Grandma Evelyn bought her a pair of
pink fuzzy slippers that Brandy will never wear. She’ll probably give them to
Stubby as chew toys.

Brandy opened the biggest box next. She pulled out a pair of pink-and-white
pajamas. Brandy made a big fuss about them and said she really needed pajamas.
She did a pretty good acting job.

But how excited can you get over pajamas?

Her last present was a twenty-five-dollar gift certificate to the CD store at
the mall. Nice present. “I’ll go with you to make sure you don’t pick out
anything lame,” I offered.

Brandy pretended she didn’t hear me.

She gave our grandparents big hugs. Brandy is a big hugger. Then we all went
out for dinner at the new Italian restaurant on the corner.

What did we talk about at dinner? Brandy’s wild birthday party. When we told
Grandma and Grandpa about the egg fight, they laughed and laughed.

It wasn’t so funny in the afternoon. But a few hours later at dinner, we all
had to admit it was pretty funny. Even Dad managed a smile or two.

I kept thinking about the egg in my dresser drawer. When we got back home,
would I find a baby turtle on my socks?

Dinner stretched on and on. Grandpa Harry told all of his funny golfing
stories. He tells them every time we visit. We always laugh anyway.

We didn’t return home till really late. Brandy fell asleep in the car. And I
could barely keep my eyes open.

I slunk up to my room and changed into pajamas. Then, with a loud yawn, I
turned off the light. I knew I’d fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

I fluffed my pillow the way I liked it. Then I slid into bed and pulled the
quilt up to my chin.

I started to settle my head on the pillow when I heard the sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Steady like a heartbeat. Only louder.

Much louder.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

So loud, I could hear the dresser drawers rattling.

I sat straight up. Wide awake now. I stared through the darkness to my
dresser.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

I turned and lowered my feet to the floor.

Should I open the dresser drawer?

I sat in the darkness, trembling with excitement. With fear.

Listening to the steady thud.

Should I open the drawer and check it out?

Or should I run as far away as I could?

Thump, thump, THUMP.

I had to see what was happening in my dresser drawer.

Had the egg hatched? Was the turtle bumping up against the sides of the
drawer, trying to climb out?

Was it a turtle?

Or was it something weird?

Suddenly I felt very afraid of it.

I took a deep breath and rose to my feet. My legs felt rubbery and weak as I
made my way across the room. My mouth was suddenly as dry as cotton.

Thump, THUMP, thump.

I clicked on the light. Blinked several times, struggling to force my eyes to
focus.

The steady thuds grew louder as I approached the dresser.

Heartbeats, I told myself.

Heartbeats of the creature inside the egg.

I grabbed the drawer handles with both hands. Took another deep breath.

Dana, this is your last chance to run away, I warned myself.

This is your last chance to leave the drawer safely closed.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

I tugged open the drawer and peered inside.

I stared in, amazed that nothing had changed. The egg sat exactly
where I had left it. The blue-and-purple veins along the shell pulsed as before.

Feeling a little calmer, I picked it up.

“Ouch!”

I nearly dropped it. The shell was burning hot.

I cupped it in my hands and blew on it. “This is so totally weird,” I
murmured to myself.

Mom and Dad have to see it, I decided. Right now. Maybe they can tell me what
it is.

They were still awake. I could hear them talking in their room down the hall.

I carried the egg carefully, cradling it in both hands. I had to knock
on their door with my elbow. “It’s me,” I said.

“Dana, what is it?” Dad demanded grumpily. “It’s been a long day. We’re all
very tired.”

I pushed open their door a crack. “I have an egg I want to show you,” I
started.

“No eggs!” they both cried at once.

“Haven’t we seen enough eggs for one day?” Mom griped.

“It’s a very strange egg,” I insisted. “I can’t
identify it. I think—”

“Good night, Dana,” Dad interrupted.

“Please don’t ever mention eggs again,” Mom added. “Promise?”

“Well, I…” I stared down at the pulsing green egg in my hand. “It’ll
only take a second. If you’ll just—”

“Dana!” Dad yelled. “Why don’t you go sit on it and hatch it?”

“Clark—don’t talk to Dana that way!” Mom scolded.

“He’s twelve years old. He can take a joke,” Dad protested.

They started arguing about how Dad should talk to me.

I muttered good night and started back to my room.

I mean, I can take a hint.

Thump. Thump.
The egg pulsed in my hand.

I had a sudden impulse to crack it open and see what was inside. But of
course I would never do that.

I stopped outside Brandy’s room. I was desperate to show my weird treasure to
somebody. I knocked on her door.

No answer.

I knocked again, a little harder. Brandy is a very heavy sleeper.

Still no answer.

I started to knock a third time—and the door flew open. Brandy greeted me
with an open-mouthed yawn. “What’s wrong? Why’d you wake me?”

“I want to show you this egg,” I told her.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re serious? After what happened at my
party? After the worst birthday party in the history of America, you really want
to show me an egg?”

I held it up. “Yeah. Here it is.”

She slammed the door in my face.

“You mean you don’t want to see it?” I called in.

No reply.

Once again, I could take a hint. I carried the egg back to my room and
set it down carefully in the dresser drawer. Then I closed the drawer and
climbed back into bed.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I fell asleep to the steady throbbing.

The next morning, I woke up just in time to watch the egg hatch.

A loud cracking sound woke me up.

Blinking, I pulled myself up on one elbow. Still half-asleep, I thought I
heard Brandy cracking her knuckles.

That’s one of Brandy’s secret talents. She never does it when adults are
around. But when we’re alone, she can crack out entire symphonies on her
knuckles.

Another loud crack snapped me alert.

The dresser. The noises were coming from my dresser.

I heard a long
rip,
like Velcro ripping open. Then more cracks. Like
cracking bones.

And I knew it had to be the egg.

My heart started to pound. I leaped up. Grabbed my glasses and slapped them
onto my face. My legs got tangled in the bedsheet, and I nearly went sprawling
over the floor.

I hurtled across the room. The egg was hatching—and I had to be there in
time to watch.

I grabbed the drawer handles and eagerly pulled the drawer open. I was so
eager, I nearly pulled the drawer out of the dresser!

Catching my balance, I gripped the dresser top with both hands and stared
down at the egg.

Craaaaack.

The blue-and-purple veins throbbed. A long, jagged crack split across the
green shell.

Unh unh.

I heard a low grunt from inside the egg. The grunt of a creature working hard
to push out.

Unnnnnh.

What a struggle!

It doesn’t sound like a turtle, I told myself. Is it some kind of exotic
bird? Like a parrot? Or a flamingo maybe?

How would a flamingo egg get in my backyard?

How would
any
weird egg get in my backyard?

Unnnh unnnnh.

Craaaaack.

The sounds were really gross.

I rubbed my eyes and squinted down at the egg. It was bouncing and bobbing in
the drawer now. Each grunt made the egg move.

The veins throbbed. Another crack split along the front of the shell. And
thick yellow goo poured out into the drawer, seeping onto my socks.

“Yuck!” I cried.

The egg shook. Another crack. More of the thick liquid oozed down the
egg and onto my socks.

The egg bobbed and bounced. I heard more hard grunting.
Unnnnh. Unnnnh.
The egg trembled with each grunt.

Yellow slime oozed as the cracks in the shell grew wider. The veins pulsed.
The egg shook.

And then a large triangle of shell broke off. It fell into the drawer.

I leaned closer to stare into the hole in the egg. I couldn’t really see what
was inside. I could see only wet yellow blobby stuff.

Unnh unnnnnh.

Another grunt—and the eggshell crackled and fell apart. Yellow liquid
spilled into the drawer, soaking my socks.

I held my breath as a weird creature pushed itself out of the breaking shell.
A yellow, lumpy thing.