42 - Egg Monsters from Mars Read online

  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?

  6

  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.

  7

  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.

  A baby chicken?

  No way.

  I couldn’t see a head. Or wings. Or feet.

  I gripped the dresser top and stared down at it. The strange animal pushed away the last section of shell. This was amazing!

  It rolled wetly over my socks.

  A blob. A sticky, shiny yellow blob.

  It looked like a pile of very runny scrambled eggs.

  Except it had tiny green veins crisscrossing all over it.

  My chest felt about to explode. I finally remembered to breathe. I let out my breath in a long whoosh. My heart was thudding.

  The yellow blob throbbed. It made sick, wet sucking sounds.

  It turned slowly. And I saw round black eyes near its top.

  No head. No face. Just two tiny black eyes on top of the lumpy yellow body.

  “You’re not a chicken,” I murmured out loud. My voice came out in a choked whisper. “You’re definitely not a chicken.”

  But what was it?

  “Hey—Mom! Dad!” I shouted.

  They had to see this creature. They had to see the scientific discovery of the century!

  “Mom! Dad! Hurry!”

  No response.

  The lumpy creature stared up at me. Throbbing. Its tiny green veins pulsing. Its eggy body bouncing.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  Silence.

  I stared into my drawer.

  What should I do?

  8

  I had to show it to Mom and Dad. I carefully closed the dresser drawer so it couldn’t bounce out and escape. Then I went running downstairs, shouting at the top of my voice.

  My pajama pants were twisted, and I nearly fell down the stairs. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?”

  The house was silent. The vacuum cleaner had been pulled out of the closet. But no one was around to use it.

  I burst into the kitchen. Were they still having breakfast?

  “Mom? Dad? Brandy?”

  No one there.

  Sunlight streamed in through the kitchen window. The breakfast dishes—three cereal bowls and two coffee cups—were stacked beside the sink.

  Where did they go? I wondered, my heart pounding. How could they leave when I had the most amazing thing in the history of the known universe to show them?

  I turned to leave the kitchen when I saw the note on the refrigerator. It was written in blue ink in Mom’s handwriting. I snatched it off the magnet and read it:

  “Dad and I took Brandy to her piano lesson. Make yourself some cereal. Love, M.”

  Cereal?

  Cereal?

  How could I think about cereal at a time like this?

  What should I do now?

  I leaned my forehead against the cool refrigerator, struggling to think. I couldn’t leave the throbbing egg blob locked up in the dresser drawer all morning. Maybe it needed fresh air. Maybe it needed exercise. Maybe it needed food.

  Food? I swallowed hard. What would it eat? What could it eat? It was just a lump of scrambled eggs with eyes.

  I’ve got to take it out of there, I decided. I’ve got to show it to someone.

  I thought instantly of Anne.

  “Yes!” I exclaimed to myself. I’ll take it next door and show it to Anne. She has a dog. She’s really good with pets and animals. Maybe she’ll have some idea of what I should do with it.

  I hurried back upstairs and pulled on the jeans and T-shirt I had tossed on the floor the night before. Then I made my way to the dresser and slid open the drawer.

  “Yuck!”

  The egg blob sat in its own yellow slime. Its whole body throbbed. The tiny, round eyes stared up at me.

  “I’m taking you to Anne’s,” I told it. “Maybe the two of us can figure out what you are.”

  Only one problem.

  How do I take it there?

  I rubbed my chin, staring down at it. Do I carry it on a plate? No. It might tumble off.

  A bowl?

  No. A jar?

  No. It couldn’t breathe.

  A box.

  Yes. I’ll put it in a box, I decided. I opened my closet, dropped to my hands and knees, and shuffled through all the junk piled on the floor.

  That’s how I clean my room. I toss everything into the closet and shut the door. I have the cleanest room in the house. No problem.

  The only problem is finding things in my closet. If I’m searching for something to wear, sometimes it takes a few days.

  Today I got lucky. I found what I was looking for right away. It was a shoe box. The box my new sneakers came in.

  I picked up the shoe box from the clutter and climbed to my feet. Then I kicked a bunch of stuff back into the closet so I could get the door closed.

  “Okay!” I cried happily. I returned to the throbbing egg glob. “I’m carrying you to Anne’s in this box. Ready?”

  I didn’t expect it to answer. And it didn’t.

  I pulled off the shoe box lid and set it on the dresser top. Then I lowered the box to the drawer.

  “Now what?” I asked myself out loud.

  How do I get it in the box? Do I just pick it up?

  Pick it up in my hand?

  I held the box in my left hand and started to reach into the drawer with my right. But then I jerked my hand away.

  Will it bite me? I wondered.

  How can it? It doesn’t have a mouth.

  Will it sting me? Will it hurt me somehow?

  My throat tightened. My hand started to tremble. It was so gross—so wet and eggy.

  Pick it up, Dana, I told myself. Stop being such a wimp. You’re a scientist—remember? You have to be bold. You have to be daring.

  That’s true, I knew. Scientists can’t back away from something just because it’s yucky and gross.

  I took a deep breath.

  I counted to three.

  Then I reached for it.

  9

  As my hand moved toward it, the creature began to tremble. It shook like a glob of yellow Jell-O.

  I pulled back once again.

  I can’t do it, I decided. I can’t pick it up barehanded. It might be too dangerous.

  I watched it shake and throb. Wet bubbles formed on its eggy skin.

  Is it scared of me? I wondered. Or is it trying to warn me away?

  I had to find something to pick it up. I turned and glanced around the room. My eyes landed on my baseball glove tucked on the top shelf of my bookcase.

  Maybe I could pick up the egg creature in the glove and drop it into the shoe box. I was halfway across the room when I decided I
didn’t want to get my glove all wet and gloppy.

  I need to shovel it into the box, I thought.

  A little shovel would make the job easy. I walked back to the dresser. The egg creature was still shaking like crazy. I closed the drawer. Maybe the darkness will calm it down, I thought.

  I made my way down to the basement. Mom and Dad keep all their gardening supplies down there. I found a small metal trowel and carried it back up to my room.

  When I pulled open the drawer, the eggy blob was still shaking. “Don’t worry, fella,” I told it. “I’m a scientist. I’ll be real gentle.”

  I don’t think it understood English. As I lowered the trowel into the drawer, the green veins on the throbbing body began to pulse.

  The creature started bobbing up and down. The little black eyes bulged up at me. I had the feeling the little guy was about to explode or something.

  “Easy. Easy,” I whispered.

  I lowered the trowel carefully beside it. Then I slowly, slowly slid it under the throbbing creature.

  “There. Gotcha,” I said softly.

  It wiggled and shook on the blade of the trowel. I began to lift it carefully from the drawer.

  The shoe box sat on the top of the dresser. I had the trowel in my right hand. I reached for the shoe box with my left.

  Up, up. Slowly. Very slowly, I raised the egg creature toward the box.

  Up. Up.

  Almost to the box.

  And the creature growled at me!

  A low, gruff growl—like an angry dog.

  “Ohhh!” I uttered a startled cry—and the trowel dropped from my hand.

  “Yaaiii!” I let out another cry as it clanged across the floor—and the egg creature plopped wetly onto my sneaker.

  “No!”

  Without thinking, I bent down and grabbed it up in my hand.

  I’m holding it! I realized, my heart pounding.

  I’m holding it.

  What’s going to happen to me?

  10

  Nothing happened.

  No shock jolted my body. No rash spread instantly over my skin. My hand didn’t fall off.

  The creature felt warm and soft, like runny scrambled eggs.

  I realized I was squeezing it tightly. Too tightly? I loosened my grip.