Night of the Giant Everything Page 5

  I reached out both hands. And felt something sticky and wet.

  Something warm.

  And alive.

  20

  I jerked my hands back. Squinting hard, I struggled to see what was sharing the hole with me.

  It rubbed my face. It was wet and slimy. My skin prickled.

  I felt it wrap itself around my neck. It smelled strong, like dirt. And its skin was wet and wrinkly and gluey.

  It slid away, leaving my skin wet. It raised itself in front of me.

  And in the dim evening light, I saw what it was—a worm.

  Just a common earthworm. Not too frightening—unless you are six inches tall!

  To me, it was as big as a python.

  It curled around my waist. I grabbed its slimy, wet middle. I struggled to pry it off. But I couldn’t budge it.

  I shot both hands out and felt something above my head. Looking up, I realized it was a root. Some kind of underground tree root.

  I gripped it with both hands.

  I swung myself up onto the root. Then I squirmed and thrashed and kicked till the worm finally loosened its grip.

  I tugged myself up the root. Grabbed the dirt wall with both hands. And scrambled up the side of the hole.

  Gasping for breath, I dove into the grass. I lay there panting for a long time. I kept glancing back to see if the giant worm would follow me. But it stayed down in the hole.

  I stood up on shaky legs. My glittery Ken jumpsuit was soaking wet from worm slime. I tried to brush dirt off the front. But it clung to the sticky fabric.

  I knew I would totally gross out Ava. But I didn’t care. It was all Ava’s fault that I was in this frightening mess.

  A short while later, I stepped out of the grass and onto the sidewalk. Across the street, the lights were on in Ava’s house.

  A car rolled past. The headlights blinded me. I shut my eyes and waited for the circles of light to fade.

  I opened my eyes. The street was dark again. Could I make it across the street before another car came by?

  I took a deep breath. I tensed my whole body. I knew I had to run faster than I’d ever run in my life. If a car came down the block, there was no way the driver would see me.

  I looked up and down the street again. Silent and dark.

  Here goes.

  My plastic shoes scraped the pavement as I began to run across the street. It wasn’t a big street, but it looked as long as a football field to me!

  I leaped over pebbles. I swung my arms and leaned forward as I ran.

  I was halfway across, running hard, when I heard voices.

  I stopped in the middle of the street. Turned — and saw two gigantic kids on gigantic bikes pedaling furiously right at me.

  21

  I cried out. But, of course, they couldn’t hear me.

  I tried waving my arms. But I was smaller than a Ken doll. And they didn’t have their bike headlights on.

  Side by side, they came rocketing down the middle of the street. They were talking loudly, laughing, pedaling like crazy.

  I tried to run. Too late. They were practically on top of me.

  I hit the pavement. Dropped to my stomach on the hard asphalt. Shut my eyes and tried to squeeze my arms and legs in as tight as I could.

  I could feel a heavy bike tire scrape past me. A burst of wind swept over my body as the bikes sped by.

  It took only a few seconds, but it seemed like an hour. My whole body shook as I pulled myself to my feet.

  A close call. I watched the two bikes disappear around the corner.

  I made it to Ava’s house without any other problems. As I stepped up to her front door, I was shaking and sweaty and smelly and dirty. But mainly, I felt angry.

  How could she DO this to me?

  Ava’s family has a cat door at the bottom of their front door. So it was easy for me to slip inside.

  The front hall was brightly lit. The house was warm and smelled of dinner. Chicken, maybe.

  Creeping down the hall, I glimpsed Ava’s parents in the kitchen. They were clearing the dinner table. Dinner was over. I figured Ava must be in her room.

  Luckily, the Munroe house is all on one level. No upstairs. No stairs for me to climb.

  Keeping an eye out for their cat, I hurried down the hall to Ava’s room. It was at the end of the back hall. I stepped inside and gazed around.

  Ava likes bright colors. Her walls were red and green. Like they were decorated for Christmas. A woolly red rug covered the floor.

  She had posters of her favorite music stars up and down every wall. The posters covered almost all the space between the floor and the ceiling.

  Her collection of stuffed sheep jammed the bookshelves in one corner. Dozens of round black sheep eyes stared out at me as I made my way to the bright green table she used as a desk.

  Ava was leaning over her laptop, typing furiously. She didn’t even notice the curtains blowing wildly in front of the open window in front of her. She wore a yellow T-shirt and white tennis shorts. She was barefoot.

  The light from the screen made her blue eyes glow. She was biting her bottom lip, concentrating hard on what she was writing.

  I stepped up beside the leg of her chair. “Ava?” I shouted up at her. “It’s me!”

  She kept typing. She brushed back her blond hair with one hand and kept typing with the other.

  “Ava?” I cupped my hands around my mouth to make my voice louder. “Look down! It’s me! Down here! Ava?”

  She kept typing. She couldn’t hear my tiny voice.

  I had no choice. I had to get her attention.

  I moved forward and wrapped my arms around her bare leg. I hugged her leg tight.

  She let out a deafening scream.

  Did she think I was a bug? Or a rat?

  Her foot flew up. I fell to the floor.

  And she slammed her foot down hard to squash me.

  22

  “Huh?”

  I heard Ava gasp.

  The big foot came to a stop inches above my head.

  I was sprawled on my back on the red carpet. Ava’s face floated into view.

  Her blue eyes bulged in shock. Her mouth dropped open.

  I sat up. “Ava? It’s me!” I called up to her.

  “Steven?” She blinked several times. “No. It can’t be.”

  “Ava —” I started. “You have to listen to me. I —”

  “Is this one of your magic tricks?” she demanded. “How are you doing this? Is this some kind of video projection?”

  “It’s me!” I cried. “Ava, I shrunk.”

  “No no no no!” She pressed her hands against her cheeks. Her mouth was twisted in horror. “This isn’t happening. No way.”

  She reached down and grabbed me around the waist. “Oh, no. You’re real.”

  “I’m trying to tell you —”

  “How are you doing this, Steven?” she cried. “Tell me right now. Tell me how you are doing this. You are totally freaking me out.”

  “You’re freaked out?” I shouted. “What about me? I’m the one who is freaked out, Ava. You did this to me. You and Courtney.”

  “Are you crazy?” she cried. She tightened her fingers around me and lifted me off the floor. She swung me up and sat me down on the edge of her green table.

  Her blue eyes narrowed as she studied me. She poked me in the stomach with a pointer finger. “I … don’t believe this,” she murmured. “Steven, it’s really you? You really shrank?”

  “I — I — I —” I sputtered. “Stop poking me! I’m not a doll.”

  She lowered her gaze. “Where did you get those black plastic shoes? And—and … what are you wearing, Steven? Doll clothes?”

  I swung a fist in the air. “Ava, I swear, if you laugh at me, I’ll kill you!”

  She laughed. “Steven, you couldn’t kill a flea!”

  “STOP LAUGHING!” I shrieked.

  She stopped. “Sorry. It isn’t funny. It’s … frightening.”

>   “Yes. Frightening,” I agreed. “I don’t think you’re listening to me, Ava. It’s your fault. It’s totally your fault.”

  She squinted hard at me. She brought her face closer. Her head was as big as my whole body. “My fault? Why are you saying that? How could it be my fault?”

  “That drink you and Courtney g-gave me,” I stammered. “It shrunk me. You did it. You gave me those chemicals, and they shrunk me.”

  “But, Steven —” she started.

  “You’ve got to help me,” I said. “Tell me what those chemicals were. Tell me what I drank. Maybe a doctor will know an antidote. Maybe —”

  “Steven, listen —” She brought her face closer.

  “Just tell me!” I screamed. “What was in that drink? Tell me!“

  She sighed. “Okay, okay. Stop screaming like that. I — I’ll tell you.”

  23

  The window curtains flapped in a strong breeze. I could hear the TV from the den. And I could hear every pounding beat of my heart as I waited for her to speak.

  “It was vinegar,” she said.

  I stared up at her. Her words didn’t make any sense to me. It was like she spoke in a foreign language.

  She frowned at me. “That’s all it was, Steven. Just vinegar.”

  “Vinegar,” I repeated the word. My mind was spinning. “You mean—?”

  “Just vinegar and water. No chemicals,” Ava said.

  “But you said —” I could barely choke the words out. I was totally stunned. “You said you went to the chem lab. You said you mixed up a bunch of chemicals.”

  Ava shook her head. “You believed me? That was all a lie,” she said. “Courtney and I wanted to pay you back for being such a jerk. I wanted to pay you back for dropping those eggs on my head.”

  “Vinegar,” I muttered. “Vinegar.”

  “That’s all it was,” Ava said. “No chemicals. Nothing bad. Just vinegar from the bottle in our kitchen.”

  “Then how did this happen to me?” I cried. “Why did I shrink?”

  Ava studied me, thinking hard. “Are you allergic to vinegar?”

  “No! No way!” I squeaked. “I’m not allergic to vinegar! Ava—look at me. I’m, like, six inches tall. I’m wearing doll clothes. That’s not an allergy. An allergy doesn’t shrink you down to the size of a chipmunk!”

  “Okay, okay.” Ava clamped her hands over her ears. “Stop screaming. Your squeaky voice is hurting my ears.”

  “Well, what am I going to do?” I asked. “What if I start shrinking even more? What if I shrink till I’m out of sight?”

  Ava scrunched up her face. “It’s weird that you’re a magician. I mean, you like to make things disappear. And now you … well …”

  “It’s not weird,” I said. “It’s terrifying. Ava, you’ve got to help me.”

  She jumped up. “I’ll get my parents. They’ll freak when they see you. But they can take you to our doctor. Maybe he can help.”

  “Thanks,” I said. Sitting on the edge of the table, I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Ava turned back at the door. “Don’t go anywhere,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the hall.

  Don’t go anywhere? Was she joking?

  Where could I go? I was on top of her desk. The floor was about ten miles beneath me.

  I climbed to my feet. I started to pace back and forth across the table. The laptop screen was about my height. The words on the screen looked as big as newspaper headlines.

  I walked back and forth, trying to calm down. Mr. and Mrs. Munroe were nice people. They were like family. I knew they would take good care of me. They would contact my parents and —

  A strong gust of wind nearly blew me over.

  Carried by the wind, the window curtains flew at me. The curtain swept under me. Swept me off my feet.

  I tumbled onto my back on the smooth fabric.

  And it swung me off the table.

  The curtain flew high, carrying me with it.

  Another strong burst of wind swung the curtain higher.

  I grabbed on to it with both hands.

  The curtain flew into the room, then pulled back to the window. Then it swung back out, floated for a while, and swung back.

  I held on with all my might. But it was swinging too hard.

  The wind battered me. Blew so hard I could barely breathe.

  It pushed the curtain and me forward, then back.

  My hands slipped.

  The curtain swung back to the open window.

  I squeezed harder. But my hands ached. My arms throbbed in pain.

  I started to slip down the smooth fabric.

  Struggled to grasp it. Struggled to hold on.

  Slipping … slipping …

  I can’t hang on!

  The curtain flew out the window.

  “Whooooaaaah!” I uttered a hoarse cry as I slid off it and went sailing into the air.

  24

  I flew into the night sky.

  From inside the house, I heard Ava’s shout: “Steven? Where are you? Where did you go?”

  The wind carried me higher. I heard a loud flapping. Wings?

  A heavy blast of air swept over me. A gigantic, feathered head appeared. Two glowing black eyes. A curled beak as big as catcher’s mitt.

  An owl.

  The wings flapped hard as the creature dove toward me. The beak opened. And snap!

  The bird clamped the back of my jumpsuit collar.

  “Hey!” I thrashed my arms and legs helplessly.

  The owl made a warbling sound deep in its chest.

  The big wings flapped hard above me. I could feel the breeze off them as we started to sail higher.

  “Please! Don’t drop me! Don’t drop me!” I shouted. I shut my eyes and tightened my body, holding perfectly still.

  The owl held me prisoner and swooped higher into the night sky.

  Where was it taking me? To its nest?

  To feed its young?

  I sailed high over the rooftops of houses. The street looked like a narrow black ribbon beneath me.

  Please don’t drop me. Please …

  The wind battered my face. I dangled in front of the owl, swinging in the stiff gusts.

  I crossed my arms tight in front of me. I tensed every muscle.

  We flew over my block, then the next.

  Please don’t drop me. Please …

  The houses ended in the next block. Deep woods began just past the houses. Dark trees reached up to me as we began to fly lower over the last of the houses.

  I knew what was happening. I had guessed right. The owl was taking me to its nest. It had captured its prey. And now it was dinnertime.

  I heard a frightening screech.

  A dark creature flew toward us. In the dim light, I saw it was another owl.

  The intruder swooped at us, opened its beak—and made a grab for me.

  It missed.

  The round black eyes went wide, as if surprised.

  My owl turned and darted lower … lower … trying to escape with me, its prey.

  The second owl spun in the sky and made another stab. Its open beak jabbed inches from me.

  My owl opened its beak and let out a sharp squawk of protest.

  And I fell free.

  I fell free and dropped like a rock to the grass below.

  I landed on my stomach with a hard thud. The impact sent my breath whooshing out. I choked and gagged.

  Finally, I managed to sit up. I was okay. The fall had been short. The owl had dropped me close to the ground.

  But where was I?

  I gazed around. The dark woods started to my right. To my left, I saw houses with their lights on.

  I swallowed hard. I still felt dazed from the wild flight—and the fall.

  I stood up. I gazed at the houses. I recognized the one across the street.

  Of course. Of course.

  Mr. Pinker’s house.

  I stared at the yellow light in the
front window. The lights were all on.

  Yes. My piano teacher’s house. Mr. Pinker must be home, I realized.

  Mr. Pinker will help me.

  I started to push through the tall grass toward his house.

  How lucky, I thought. The owl had dropped me so close to his house. So close to someone who might help me.

  It was my first lucky break of the day.

  Now, if I could make it to his house without being grabbed by a worm, or a spider, or a bird, maybe … maybe I could get help.

  Could I do it?

  25

  I stared at the glowing yellow light in his windows. They seemed to grow brighter as the night sky darkened.

  The street was silent and empty. I darted out from behind a parked car and ran across it as fast as I could.

  I kept gazing all around. Gazing up. Gazing down.

  I knew that danger could come from anywhere. So I kept alert as I ran up Mr. Pinker’s gravel driveway. The gravel seemed as big as boulders, and I kept stumbling and slipping, banging my knees on the sharp edges.

  I was surprised to see a pet door down at the bottom of Mr. Pinker’s front door. He didn’t have a dog or a cat. Maybe the people who lived here before him had a pet. I didn’t care, I just wanted to get in.

  I took a deep breath and lifted the little metal door. I peeked inside.

  The front hall was brightly lit. I saw a stack of sheet music on a table opposite the front closet. I heard music from a back room. Classical music.

  The air smelled sweet. I realized Mr. Pinker must have baked another batch of cookies.

  I slipped through the door and then stepped into the hallway. Then I tiptoed to the living room. Empty. The piano keyboard cover was down. I saw a stack of CDs on the piano bench.

  I started toward the hall. “Mr. Pinker?” My voice came out tiny and high. I knew he couldn’t hear me.

  I heard a sound. “Mr. Pinker?”

  No. Just a creak of the house.

  I turned the corner into the back hall. I began walking toward the kitchen.

  No. Wait. I’d turned the wrong way.

  I stood at the door where I’d glimpsed the tiny dollhouses. The door that Mr. Pinker had chased me away from.

  Was he in there?

  The door was open a crack. I leaned my shoulder against it and pushed.