Attack of the Vampire Weenies (10 page)

The small voice was right. The car swerved. It didn't hit Maddie. Instead, it shot past her and slammed into the cab of a truck that was speeding the other way down the street. The truck jackknifed, and the cargo tipped. Maddie tried to leap back. The giant silver tanker smashed down right in front of her. She read the sideways lettering.
DANGER. LIQUID NITROGEN
.

The tanker burst open.

Liquid nitrogen.

Maddie remembered when her science teacher had stuck a tennis ball in a beaker of liquid nitrogen and then hit it with a hammer. The ball was frozen so solid, it had shattered.

Shattered. Like the sticker.

Behind her, Maddie heard the screech of more tires. She froze, too scared to move. She knew this car would hit her. But not quite yet. Not while she still had a chance to survive the impact in one piece. It wouldn't hit her until it could shatter her.

The flood of spilled liquid nitrogen reached her. As the stunningly cold liquid splashed over Maddie, she froze again. For real.

 

CLOUDY WITH A CHANCE OF MESSAGE

Janet was walking home
from school when she saw it. There was no mistake. It wasn't her imagination. It wasn't something that might or might not be, like the animal faces she sometimes imagined she saw in the swirling grain of a piece of wood. This was definitely real. There, in the clouds, was a perfect image of the letter
T.

This means something,
Janet thought as she stood gazing into the sky. The
T,
a pure white piece of cloud with unnaturally straight edges, stayed together for a long time, then slowly drifted into formless fluff.

What can it stand for?
Janet wondered. Surely, this was a message with deep meaning. Maybe it was even something that would change her life.

As she walked home, she tried to find an answer. She had no close friends whose first or last name began with a
T.
There was Tanya Wirth, who sat two seats away from her in class, and Bill Trixton, who sat in the back of the room. But she really didn't hang out with either of them.

Maybe it isn't a person.
Janet was suddenly sure it was a word. But what word?

“Tree?” she whispered.

No, all the trees along the block were new and small, barely more than saplings. There was nothing good or bad they would do to her.

“Trumpet?”

She'd never even seen one close up.

“Tarantula?”

There weren't any around here.

“Taco … tennis … tablecloth?…”

Nothing seemed to fit.
Maybe I should just forget about it.

Just then, she saw another
T
in the clouds, as perfect and undeniable as the first one. She stood and watched until this letter, too, drifted apart.

That was enough to convince her that this was a special message. There was only one thing to do. The very thought of it made her cringe. It was a huge task, but she had to do it. As soon as she got home, she'd get the dictionary and look at every word that began with the letter
T.
The answer would be there. It had to be. Janet was sure of that. And she was sure she'd know it when she saw it.

Janet ran the rest of the way home. Before she got there, she saw a third
T
form in the clouds. This could definitely be the most important message in her whole life, but only if she managed to figure it out.

When she got home, she went straight to the living room and looked in the bookcase. But the dictionary wasn't there. Janet ran into the kitchen. “Mom, where's the dictionary?”

“I think it's in your brother's room,” her mom said. “But what's the rush? Sit down and relax for a minute. Come on.” She held up a box that said
ORANGE-LEMON SPICE
. “Join me for a nice, quiet cup of tea.”

“No time,” Janet said.

“No time for a nice, relaxing cup of tea?” her mom asked.

“Maybe later,” Janet said. Right now, she had to find the answer to that mysterious message from the clouds. What was the meaning of that letter? She ran out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. There was no way she could relax until she figured out the message.

Behind her, the teakettle blew out a steamy cloud and whistled a high-pitched laugh.

 

FAMILY TIME

Stephen had just finished
clearing the table and was about to sneak off to his room for a few hours of mindless video games when his mom snagged him with those horrible words.

“Stephen,” she said, “it's Thursday. You know what we do on Thursday.”

Stephen stopped in his tracks.
Here it comes,
he thought.

“Family time!” his little sister, Tiffany, shouted. “Thursday is family time,” she said through a mouth missing more than a few teeth.

“What will it be?” his dad asked. “A board game, a word game, or a card game?”

“Board game,” Stephen said, hoping to keep the damage to a minimum. At least he could handle something like Scrabble or Parcheesi. That would be bearable.

“Cards!”
everyone else shouted.

“Cards it is,” his dad said. “I'll get the deck.”

“Can we play Crazy Eights?” Stephen asked. “That's a fun game. Or how about Go Fish?”
Please,
he thought,
please play something normal.

“No!” Tiffany shouted. “I want to play double-deck wangle.”

Stephen cringed at those words.

“Yes, wangle,” his mother agreed.

“Wangle it is,” his dad said, returning with two decks of cards, a pad of paper, a pencil, and a real big grin.

“But…” Stephen's mind frantically searched for any words, any excuses or suggestions or ideas that could stop what was about to happen. He failed.

They sat at the table. Stephen's dad handed the deck to Stephen's mom. “You cut them, Betty.”

She cut the cards. “Oh good, a seven of hearts.” She held the red-spotted card up for all to admire. She seemed pleased. “That means it's your deal, Tiffany.”

“Goody,” Tiffany said.

Stephen didn't have any idea how the seven of hearts meant that his sister got the first deal. He didn't bother asking—he knew he wouldn't understand the answer.

Tiffany shuffled the double decks, then dealt out the cards. Each person got three cards facedown, then two more faceup. Then each got three more, but some were up and some were down. Stephen didn't understand the reason for any of it.

“I've got proof of trump,” his father said. “That gives me the first play.” He put down a card.

“Reflux aggressive,” his mom said, placing three cards on the table.

“Tribbly scoop,” Tiffany said, picking up one card from the table and putting down another.

Stephen had sat through this scene a thousand times during family hour, and he still had no idea what was going on. He realized everyone was looking at him. He reached for one of the cards on the table.

“Steph,” his father said, “you know you can't borgy until there are three bleats played.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I forgot.” He jerked his hand back, then tossed down a card from those he held.

“Nice reverse triskum,” his mom said.

Stephen relaxed slightly.

“Come on,” Tiffany said, “a two-year-old could have made that move. He had a perfect chance for an angry fleebax with the nine of diamonds and the five of spades, but he didn't even see it. It's like he doesn't even know what he's doing.” She grinned at him, looking like some sort of Halloween pumpkin carved by a lunatic dentist.

“Now, Tiffany, that's not nice,” her mom said. “Your play, dear,” she said to Stephen's dad.

“Indeed.” He looked at the cards in his hand, then down at the cards on the table. “Got to try a navux,” he said, picking a card off the top of the deck. His face broke into a giant grin. “Well, lookee here, aren't I lucky tonight.” He held up a three of clubs. “Triple slimper on a two-way bixley. That's a relief. I was so sure I'd get skidinkled.” He placed the three on top of a king of diamonds that was on the table, then covered them both with a jack of diamonds.

“Very nice, dear,” Stephen's mom said.

“Good play, Dad,” Tiffany told him.

“Uh, nice move,” Stephen said. In all too short a time, it was his turn again. They all looked at him like they were expecting something special. He reached toward one of the cards on the table. Their smiles started to disappear. He pulled his hand back. They waited. He reached for one of his faceup cards. They didn't lose their smiles. He pulled out the card and put it in the center of the table.

“Nice royal flixum,” his mom said.

“Thanks.” Stephen checked the clock on the wall. It was almost over. Family hour was nearly done for the week. He'd survived again.

“Aren't you going to box the end leapers?” Tiffany asked, giving him that silly gloating grin again.

“Huh?”

“The end leapers.” She reached over, picked up his card, and turned it sideways. “Forty more points that way,” she said.

“Thanks.” Stephen stared at the table. From what he saw, the cards might as well have been shaken up in a bag and tossed out by the handful. None of it meant anything.

“This is nice,” his dad said. “I'm glad we can all get together for family fun.”

“Me, too,” his mom agreed. “It's so nice that we have this time together. Don't you think so, kids?”

“Yeah,” Tiffany said.

“You like it, too, don't you, Steph?” his mom asked.

Stephen knew this was his chance. He wanted to throw the stupid cards across the room and shout,
“I don't understand any of this!”
He wanted to tell them he had no idea what was going on, that he'd never had any idea, and he doubted he ever would have any idea. They'd explained, they'd showed examples, they'd told him over and over. He just didn't get it.

“It's his favorite,” his dad said. “It's everyone's favorite, right, Steph?”

“Sure,” Stephen said. “I love it.”

“I've got an idea,” his mom said. “Since we're having so much fun, why stop? There's no rule that says family hour has to be only sixty minutes. Let's play for another hour. Is that okay with everyone?”

“Great,” his dad said.

“Yay!”
Tiffany screamed.

“No,” Stephen said. He wasn't even sure if he'd spoken aloud or just thought the word. It didn't matter. They couldn't possibly hear him over their shouts of joy.

 

GEE! OGRAPHY

“This is a real
pain,” Eric whispered as he took a spot at the end of the line behind Darren.

“Yeah, but it will be over really fast,” Darren said.

“Especially for me.” Eric figured he'd be booted out of the geography bee quicker than a turtle in a dodgeball game. That was fine. He'd be happy to sit at his desk and watch the rest of the class struggle with unpronounceable world capitals, unmemorizable river names, and far too many majestic mountain ranges. Right now, the kids were all standing along the side of the room by the windows, waiting for Mr. Bedecker to start asking questions.

Eric glanced toward the front of the line. Bobby the Brain was the first one there, looking eager to show everyone how smart he was. And Cindy Merkle, who once actually brought her globe in from home for show and tell, was right behind him, followed by Tracey Orben and Kim Fletcher.

“You can tell who likes geography,” Eric whispered to Darren.

“Let's all pay attention,” Mr. Bedecker said. “We're ready to begin. Take your time. Think about your answer. Remember, the three winners from our class get to compete in the school contest. The first-place winner in our class gets a small prize, too.” He held up a bag of gummi worms.

Eric loved gummi worms, but he was pretty sure he'd lose on the first round. He liked math and science, and he loved reading, but geography was hard. He just wasn't good at memorizing facts. He waited for his moment of doom as the line moved toward Mr. Bedecker.

Darren's turn came.

“Name a state that borders Canada,” Mr. Bedecker said.

Eric couldn't believe his friend's luck. That had to be the easiest question he'd heard so far.

“Oregon,” Darren said. “No, wait!” He closed his eyes, as if looking at a map. “I mean, Washington.”

“Right,” Mr. Bedecker said.

Darren let out a sigh of relief and walked to the end of the line. It was Eric's turn.

“Ready, Eric?” Mr. Bedecker asked.

“I guess.”

Mr. Bedecker read the question. “Name a country on the Arabian peninsula along the Strait of Hormuz.”

Oh, man, he's got to be kidding,
Eric thought. This was so unfair, especially after Darren's easy question. Eric had heard of Arabia, but the rest of the question was gibberish.
Oh, man, I'm really going to look stupid.
He was so lost, he couldn't even dream up a wild guess. When he opened his mouth, all that came out was, “Oh, man.”

Mr. Bedecker stared at Eric for a moment. Then he stared at the sheet of paper in his hand. Then he stared back at Eric.
No gummi worms for me,
Eric thought as his head slumped in defeat.

Before Eric could leave the line and slink back to his desk, Mr Bedecker smiled. “Very good. You're absolutely right. The Sultantate of Oman is correct.”

“Wow,” Darren whispered when Eric stepped up behind him. “How'd you know that? I'd never even heard of Oman.”

“Not a clue,” Eric whispered back. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so lucky. He watched as a bunch of kids, including Darren, were knocked out in the second round. Then Mr. Bedecker asked Eric, “Can you name the country whose capital is Oslo?”