The Ooze (4 page)

The kids laughed harder.

“Eric, if you didn't study over the weekend, I'll have to ask you to stay after school today,” Miss Scott said.

“I have baseball this afternoon,” Eric said. “You can't keep me after school today.”

Baseball is a good game, too, I thought. Which do I like better—dodgeball or baseball?

“Schoolwork before baseball,” Miss Scott declared. “You know the rules, Eric.”

There was a knock at the door. Mr. Emerson, the principal, stood in the doorway.

“Excuse me, class,” Miss Scott said. “I'll be back in a minute.” As soon as Miss Scott joined Mr. Emerson in the hall, Eric turned to me.

“Okay, Al, what's the answer?” he demanded.

“Huh? Answer to what?”

“The capital of Brazil, you jerk,” Eric said. “Weren't you listening?”

“Do you think there's going to be another baseball strike?” I asked.

“Come on, Sterner!” Eric hissed. “What is the capital of Brazil?”

“Hot dogs,” I said.

“What are you talking about?” Eric demanded.

“I was just thinking that hot dogs taste better at the ballpark than anywhere else. Do you know why?” I asked.

“Tell me the capital of Brazil! Now!” Eric said. I noticed a little vein throbbing in his forehead.

“Oh, it's Cleveland,” I whispered just as Miss Scott came back into the classroom.

“Eric?” Miss Scott asked. “What is the capital of Brazil?”

“Cleveland,” Eric announced.

The whole class laughed. Even Miss Scott had trouble keeping a straight face.

Cleveland? I thought. Why did I say Cleveland?

“Eric,” Miss Scott said, “you should plan on staying after school. I see we have our work cut out for us!”

“Cleveland isn't the capital of Brazil?” Eric asked slowly.

“Cleveland is in Ohio,” Miss Scott replied. “And it isn't even the capital there!”

I felt Eric's hot breath against my ear. “I'm going to get you for that, Sterner,” Eric whispered. “I'm going to get you!”

T
he minute the last bell rang, I jumped out of my chair and raced out the door.

I knew Miss Scott was keeping Eric after school. But I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted to be home—with the door locked—before he even left the building.

I ran down the hall, out the front door, and down the steps. And I kept on running.

I kept hearing Eric's voice in my head.
I'm going to get you for that, Sterner. I'm going to get you
.

And I knew he would.

During math class he passed me a note. A note that mentioned specific bones of my body—and what he planned to do to them.

I thought about the note—and ran faster. I ran three blocks. Four blocks. Five.

My lungs were burning. My legs were aching. But I knew I would feel a lot worse if Eric caught me.

I ran another block—and hit a red light. I glanced behind me as I waited for the light to change.

No Eric yet.

The moment the light turned green I sprinted across the street. Then I stopped.

Wait. There is no stoplight on my way home from school.

I stared around. And I didn't recognize anything. Not anything.

That's impossible, I thought. I have lived in Shadyside my whole life. I should recognize something.

I looked up at the street sign. “Fear Street.”

I knew that name. Everybody in Shadyside knew Fear Street. But I couldn't remember ever being on the street before.

I passed house after house. Some were big and fancy. Some were small and run-down. But none of them looked familiar.

Don't panic, I ordered myself. You can't be more than a couple of blocks away from home.

I studied both directions. Which way should I go? If I went the wrong way I might run straight into Eric.

I began to run again. I didn't know where I was headed. But it felt safer to keep running.

Four blocks. Five blocks. Six. Seven. Eight. I ran until there were no more houses—until I hit a dead end.

I could either turn back. Or go into the Fear Street Woods. If I turned back, I might run into Eric, I reasoned.

So I chose the woods. He'd never find me there.

I darted between the trees. They were tall and close together. Hardly any light filtered through their leafy branches. The deeper I walked into the woods, the darker it got.

And it was also getting late. Eric had probably left school by now, I realized.

I heard a rustling sound in the trees behind me.
Oh, no!
I thought.
It's Eric. He found me. I'm dead meat
.

I charged through the trees—and lost my balance. My feet slid out from under me.

I flew through the air, into a clearing, and—splash! I landed up to my knees in water. In a lake—the Fear Street lake.

My shoes were soaked. My feet were freezing.

I sloshed my way up the bank. Climbed out of the water quickly. I had to keep running—no matter how wet my shoes were. No matter how cold my feet felt. No matter what! Because if Eric caught me, he was going to pound me into the ground.

I heard footsteps.

I ran faster and faster, but the footsteps were gaining on me. I pumped my legs as hard as I could. My shoes squished as I ran.

But Eric was too fast.

He grabbed my shoulders from behind—and whirled me around.

“H
ey, where are you going?”

It wasn't Eric! It was Colin!

“Colin, you have to help me!” I cried. “I'm totally lost, and I have to get home before Eric finds me.”

Colin gave me a funny look. “We can almost see your house from here.” He turned me around and pointed.

He was right. I could see Village Road from where we were standing. I lived on Village Road.

I felt like such an idiot. How could I get lost practically in my own backyard?

“Thanks,” I mumbled to Colin. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I saw you take off after school. I tried to catch up,
but you were too fast. Didn't you hear me calling you?”

“No,” I admitted. “I guess I was concentrating on getting away—before Eric found me.”

We headed toward my house, not bothering to talk. “You want to come in?” I asked when we reached my front door.

“I can't,” he said. “I have to get home. My brother and I are making a music video with my dad's new camcorder. See you tomorrow in school.” He started home.

“Okay. Bye,” I called. Then I hurried inside—safe from Eric.

I found Michelle sitting at the kitchen table. Her calculus textbook was open in front of her, but she wasn't reading it. She was staring off into space.

“There's something wrong with Chester,” Michelle announced. “He's just not himself. He doesn't remember how to use the electric can opener. And he waits for me to turn the TV on for him.”

“So what? Maybe he's just lazy,” I told her.

“No, Al,” she shot back. “You don't get it! There's something really wrong with him. He doesn't know what day of the week it is. He's forgotten how to tell time. He can't even count anymore!” she wailed. “Something happened to him yesterday. I know it. I just know it.”

“What makes you think that?” I asked.

“Because he was fine before yesterday,” she replied.

I bet no one else in the whole school—maybe even on the whole planet—has a sister who worries about her cat the way she does.

Michelle stared off into space again. Trying to figure out what was wrong with Chester.

“Hey, Tubby!” I yelled. “I'm home. Here, Tubs!” I heard Tubby race down the hall—and into the living room.

“Tubby, I'm in here. In the kitchen,” I called.

Tubby woofed.

“Come on, Tubby!”

Tubby woofed again.

“Your dog is so dumb, he can't even make it from the living room to the kitchen without getting lost,” Michelle said.

“Yes, he can.” I picked up his bowl, poured some dog chow in, and shook the bowl back and forth.

Tubby bounded right into the kitchen. “See?” I said.

“Big deal. He can find his food bowl. Even a goldfish with a teeny, tiny brain can find its food,” Michelle cracked.

“Come on, Tubby. We don't have to listen to this. Let's go outside.” I marched toward the sliding back door—and walked straight into the glass.

Tubby plowed into it right beside me.

I hope Michelle didn't notice that, I thought.

“Uh, Al,” Michelle said.

She noticed.

“Just a suggestion. You might try
opening
the door first next time.”

“Ha, ha,” I muttered.

“You're getting as dumb as Chester!” she exclaimed. “Quick, Al—how much is one and one?”

I didn't bother to answer. I opened the door and pulled Tubby out into the backyard with me.

I flopped down on the grass. Tubby flopped down beside me.

Something Michelle said bothered me. It wasn't that she called me and Tubby stupid. She does that all the time.

No, it was something she said about her cat. It triggered something in my head. Something I had to figure out—but it wasn't coming to me.

Chester was getting dumb. Is that what she said? No, she said I was getting as dumb as Chester. Were Chester and I getting dumb together?

Something was missing. It was like a jigsaw puzzle, but I couldn't find the next piece. Something happened to Chester yesterday. Hadn't Michelle said that?

Was yesterday my birthday? What happened on my birthday? The opera? No, that wasn't yesterday. No, my birthday was the day before yesterday. Wasn't it? Something happened after my birthday.

Was that yesterday? I remembered smelling something horrible—Michelle's brownies. That must be it!
Michelle's brownies were so bad they did something to my brain.

But wait. I didn't eat a brownie. Chester didn't eat a brownie. Colin ate a brownie. Only he isn't dumber than before. At least I didn't think so.

Focus, I told myself. Focus.

Colin said the brownies stank. No, he didn't! He wanted to make a stink bomb!

Did the stink bomb make me dumb? How could it? It didn't go off! It was a total disaster. It just made a lot of weird orange ooze!

All this thinking was making my head hurt. I felt as though my brain were turning into ooze.

Ooze.

Orange ooze.

What I got all over my hands.

What Chester got all over his paw.

Wait. That's it! Chester and I were getting dumber together. He touched the ooze and now he can't count. I touched the ooze and now I think Cleveland is in Brazil.

The ooze was making us stupid!

I have to talk to Colin, I decided. To run this by him. It seemed to make sense—but I wasn't sure.

I went back inside—without bumping into the glass this time. I ran to my parents' room to use the phone in there. I didn't want Michelle to overhear my conversation.

It took me three tries to get Colin's phone number right. “It's the ooze,” I said when he answered.

“What?” Colin asked.

“The ooze,” I repeated. Why couldn't he understand me? “The ooze is making me stupid.”

“Whoa!” Colin exclaimed. “Who said you're stupid? You're not stupid.”

“Yes, I am. I'm stupid—I think.”

“Well, you really sound stupid now,” Colin said.

“I do?” Boy was I relieved. At least I had something right. “Listen,” I told Colin, “Chester stepped into the ooze with his paw. And I touched it with my hand.”

“So?” Colin asked.

“So now Chester's as dumb as Tubby. And I got lost on my way home from school. And I walked into a glass door. And I couldn't even remember your telephone number. I'm stupid, Colin! I'm stupid! Chester and I are getting dumb together. And it's all because of the ooze!”

“How could some orange glop do
that
?” Colin asked.