by Linda Bailey
DEDICATION
To teacher-librarians and children’s librarians everywhere, who bring kids and books together . . . and change lives!
CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Eddie & Min’s Bugliography
Acknowledgments
About the Author and Illustrator
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER
1
“I knew this would happen,” said Ma. “I told her and told her—stop reading! It’s dangerous! Didn’t I say that?”
“Of course you did,” said Pa. “But you know what Min’s like. She does what she wants.”
Eddie crouched behind a piece of yellow chalk, listening. He’d been asking his parents about Aunt Min ever since last Tuesday, when she didn’t come home from the Library. But his mother had brushed off his questions.
“Stop worrying,” she kept saying. “Your aunt can look after herself.”
But now, here it was—the truth. Ma was worried, too.
“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice rising to a squeak.
There was a long pause.
Eddie, just steps away, ducked even lower behind the chalk. He knew his parents were trying to have a private conversation. With so many children in the family, the only way they could be alone was to leave their home behind the chalkboard and sit out on the ledge. They spoke in hushed tones—the way your parents might whisper on a balcony if they didn’t want you to hear.
“There’s only one way,” said Pa slowly. “I’ll have to go look for her.”
“You?” said Ma. “With your legs? You certainly will not. You’d never make it past the door.”
Eddie peered at the classroom door. From this distance, it was mostly a blur. But he knew it was a very long walk. And Ma was right—Pa’s back legs were so creaky, he could barely crawl down to the floor.
“I have to,” said Pa. “Min may be hurt. She may be—”
“Don’t say it!” said Ma. “Oh, I could just spit. There was no need for any of this. She could have stayed home, snug as a bug in a rug. Plenty of books right here in this classroom. But no, she had to go to the Library! She had to risk her life—and now she’s risking yours, too. All because of this foolish, unnatural habit. I ask you—what does a bug need with reading?”
Pa let out a sigh. “Well, I don’t understand it myself, but ever since we came here—”
“Don’t you go defending her,” said Ma. “She’s corrupted Eddie, too. Every chance he gets, creeping into some book. It’s like he’s trying to get killed! I tell you, it’s a weakness in your family, this book reading. A terrible flaw. Look what happened to your father.”
Now it was Eddie who let out a sigh. He’d heard this sad tale so often, he could say it by heart. Grandpa George had suffered a Tragic Death on page 131 of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz when some unthinking child had slammed the book shut. Poor Grandpa George, thought Eddie. He had died without ever knowing what happened to Dorothy.
Ma, meanwhile, wasn’t finished. “It’s out of the question,” she told Pa. “You can’t go after Min. It’ll have to be me.”
“Now, wait,” said Pa, “that’s not right. What about the babies?”
Ma didn’t answer. What could she say? There were twenty-seven grubs tucked away in the wall, depending on her care.
“Well, then,” she muttered. “Who?”
There was a long pause.
“What about . . . Eddie?” said Pa.
Eddie couldn’t help himself—he jumped. Stumbling sideways, he fell against the chalk, which started to roll. He grabbed it before Ma could see.
But she was far too upset to notice.
“Eddie?” squawked Ma. “Have you lost your mind? Eddie? I love our Eddie to bits, but we both know the truth. He’s a dreamer, a fool—a nincompoop! He can hardly find his way off this chalkboard. No way, no chance, no how is my baby boy wandering off through this huge endless school to hunt for a crazy old bug who should have known better.”
“Hush,” said Pa. Then he sighed. “You’re right, of course. This is too tough for Eddie.”
“Darn tootin’!” said Ma. “And besides, he stands out. Bright color like that, it’s just asking for trouble. You know he shouldn’t be out in the open.”
They both went quiet. Thinking.
The problem was—and Eddie knew it—there was no one else to think of. Just their own family.
Oh, they had plenty of friends and relatives out in the Big Woods. But only Eddie and his closest family had had the bad luck to get scooped up one evening and dropped into a glass tank of dirt in Room 19 of Ferny Creek Elementary School. For two weeks, they had been a fourth-grade science project. And then came the fateful night when the Cleaner knocked over the tank, dirt and all. He was only gone a few minutes to fetch a shovel. But while he was gone, the bugs saw their chance. . . .
And that was the other big story Eddie had heard his whole life. The Great Escape. How Grandma Ruth had bravely led the family away from the tank, across the huge classroom, and up the wall. How she had managed, with her unerring sense of direction, to sniff out the crack behind the chalkboard that they now called home.
But now Grandma Ruth was gone. So was Grandpa George. There were only Eddie and his parents left, and his fifty-three younger brothers and sisters.
And Aunt Min, of course.
Was she all right?
Was she alive?
In his entire life, Eddie couldn’t remember a single time that Aunt Min hadn’t come home.
Someone would have to go after her.
Eddie stared at the big blurry door.
CHAPTER
2
Sunrise was Eddie’s best chance. He couldn’t sneak away at night when his parents were awake. He couldn’t travel in broad daylight, either. The school was much too dangerous then.
No, the best time to leave was dawn—right after his family fell asleep, and before the Squishers arrived.
Early the next morning, when the first pale light stole through the classroom windows, he was ready.
As his family settled down for their morning nap, Eddie pretended to join them. He claimed a spot near the exit—that fortunate crack in the wall, behind the oh-so-lucky gap in the chalkboard, that together and almost miraculously allowed the bugs to come and go. Eddie huddled there quietly as the new babies curled and twisted. He watched as his younger brothers and sisters had a last roll and wrestle. He waited as Ma and Pa sank into a sleepy torpor that could be disturbed only by something loud or bright.
Eddie was not about to give them either. Moving just his eyes, he gazed slowly around at the crumbling plaster. Finally, when all was quiet, he rose onto all six feet.
As he crept toward the exit, a voice rang out
.
“Eddie? Hey, EDDIE! Where you GOING?”
A small dark head popped up among his siblings. Alfie!
Eddie groaned. Of all the brothers and sisters who might have spotted him . . .
“Can I COME, TOO?”
“Shh!” hissed Eddie. For reasons that no one understood, Alfie had been hatched with a powerful voice. It came and went in odd bursts.
“Alfie, quiet!” whispered Eddie, glancing at their sleeping parents. “I just have . . . a . . . you know, a thing I have to do.”
“WHAT thing?”
“It’s a secret. I can’t tell you.”
“Aww, come on,” Alfie whined. “Just TELL ME, okay? I won’t tell anyone else. PLEEEEAASE?”
Eddie wanted nothing more than to leap on his little brother and clamp those mandibles shut. But there were too many bugs in the way.
“Okay,” he said quickly. “I’m going to the Library to find Aunt Min. But you can’t come, Alfie, and you can’t tell anyone. Promise?”
“Aww,” said Alfie. “Why can’t I come? WHYYYYYY?”
“Go to sleep!” ordered Eddie. “Now!”
And before his little brother could blurt one more word, Eddie slipped through the exit.
Out on the ledge, he paused, antennae quivering. The classroom was cool and fresh at this time of day. The desks were still neatly arranged. Eddie gazed at the familiar art on the walls. He stared at the large whiteboards where the Teacher liked to write things down—a very good choice for the bugs, as it happened, as it left the old gray chalkboard to them.
Eddie waited on the ledge now till he was sure it was safe. Then he beetled to the end of the chalkboard, dodging around chalk stubs and climbing over erasers. He knew all the places where chalk dust collected and stepped carefully around the mounds.
At the end of the ledge, a large bulletin board was attached to the wall. It had a sturdy wood frame and was safer to climb down than the wall—still slippery from a new paint job. Eddie scrambled down the frame and dropped smoothly to the floor.
So far, so good. There was the huge metal desk that belonged to the Teacher. His name was Mr. Patullo, and he was a pleasant, friendly man—except, of course, for the fact that he had bugnapped Eddie’s entire family. (Ma would never forgive him for that.)
Eddie gazed longingly at the Teacher’s desk. Was there a book left open on top? Sometimes there was. If he climbed up to check . . .
Then he noticed what he was doing.
Daydreaming.
Already.
“Concentrate!” he told himself, turning to the distant gray doorway.
It was terrifying and wonderful, all at once. Through that portal, somewhere to the north and miraculously reachable by even a small bug, was . . . the Library!
If you want the whole truth about Eddie, here it is. Yes, he was worried about Aunt Min. Yes, he was the only one who could search for her. But also, with every bit of his itty-bitty being, Eddie longed to travel to . . . the Library!
Grandpa George had visited the Library dozens of times. He’d always come home dazzled. Grandpa George was the one who had figured out how to read in the first place—teaching himself slowly, letter by letter, never giving up, not even with the q’s and x’s. Then he’d taught Aunt Min to read and took her to the Library with him. Aunt Min had, in turn, taught Eddie. She’d tried with his sisters and brothers, too, but they weren’t interested. The only young book bug in the family was Eddie. The Library had become his great dream.
And now here he was. On his way!
He set off across the great expanse of brown linoleum, speckled with bright colors. Eddie was fond of those speckles. They provided great camouflage for a bug of any color.
He passed a desk. He passed chairs with green legs and rubber feet. Another desk, another chair. When he reached the orange carpet, he had already ventured farther than he’d ever been from home.
The carpet looked peculiar, up close. Thick. Fluffy. Eddie gave it a nervous poke with his antennae. Soft, as Pa had said. Not good for walking on.
“Your feet sink in,” Pa had warned. “Stay away from carpets!”
Remembering this, Eddie walked carefully around it. More desks, more chairs. This was taking longer than expected.
“Faster!” he told himself.
When at last he reached the doorway, he discovered—bonus!—a raisin, tucked into a corner of the door frame. How had the Cleaner missed that? Just when Eddie was getting hungry, too. It was as if it were waiting for him.
He took a chaw. The raisin was dusty, but delicious. As Eddie enjoyed his surprise snack, he felt almost cheerful.
Can’t be far to the Library now, he thought.
Pushing his raisin ahead of him, he stepped through the classroom door.
“Oh . . . my . . . gosh!” whispered Eddie, and he leaned on the raisin for support.
CHAPTER
3
Eddie’s eyes bugged out as he stared at the great school hallway. Never had he seen anything like it!
How could he have? When his family moved into Ferny Creek Elementary, he had been a very young bug. He couldn’t remember the Big Woods at all, and except for short jaunts in the classroom, he had spent his whole life behind a chalkboard.
What he saw now was a shock.
“Where does it end?” he wondered, gazing around. Above him, nothing but space, fading into infinity. To the left, a vast soaring tunnel that went on and on, disappearing into a square of hazy light. He turned to the right. Another lofty tunnel. More nothingness.
Eddie sank slowly to the floor. At least the floor was still there, solid and reliable. He lay flat on its surface, trying to gather his courage, which seemed to have rolled right out of him onto the long wooden floorboards.
“Don’t panic,” he told himself. “Grandpa George did it. So did Aunt Min.”
Aunt Min! Suddenly he missed her terribly. They were supposed to do this together. She had promised to take him to the Library. “When you’re old enough,” she always said.
Was he old enough now?
Was he?
Looking around, he was struck by another thought. Aunt Min had talked about the hallway. She said it led to the Library—and yes, that it was like a tunnel. But she’d never mentioned that it went in two different directions.
Which way should he go?
“To the north,” Aunt Min had said. Where was “north”?
Letting out a whimper, he sank even flatter.
Time passed. Eddie couldn’t have told you how much time, but it was enough to realize that he couldn’t just lie there, flopped like a worm on the floor.
He forced himself to stand. Then he forced himself to think. He remembered something else Aunt Min had said: “The moment I get through the classroom door, I can smell the Library.”
Smell! Eddie was good at smells. But what did the Library smell like? It took only a second to figure it out. Books, of course. Eddie knew what a book smelled like.
He wiggled his antennae, trying to pick up a scent. First left. Then right.
Left! It definitely smelled more booky.
One step at a time. That was how to get there. Or rather, three steps at a time. Like other six-leggers, Eddie moved three legs forward when he walked—front and back on one side, and middle leg on the other.
Staying close to the wall, he set out.
He glanced back at his raisin. A shame to leave it. But it would slow him down, and he had wasted enough time already. A thin yellow light washed over the end of the hallway ahead. It wouldn’t be long. . . .
He trekked on. One foot after another. After another. After another. After another. After another.
It wasn’t working. He was too slow. His legs had never walked this far. They were starting to tremble.
Eddie had his head down, concentrating, when he heard a loud sound.
CLANG!
He recognized it immediately. He heard it every morning. It meant that the big front door of the school had
just opened and slammed shut, letting in—a Squisher!
Oh no, thought Eddie. So soon?
A tall shape, like a moving tower, came marching down the hall. Eddie scampered to the wall and shrank against its baseboard. As the shape got closer, he saw that it was an adult Squisher, carrying an armload of folders. She swooshed right past him without slowing.
Eddie stared at the baseboard. It ran all along the bottom of the hallway wall, and when he noticed the color, his heart sank.
White.
He looked down at his body. Green. But not just any green. Eddie’s exoskeleton was the kind of bright, vibrant green that stood out against a white baseboard like an emerald on snow.
This is bad, he thought.
The door CLANGED again.
Eddie’s mind raced. He wasn’t going to reach the Library in time—that much was clear—and the great flood of Squishers was about to come rushing in, as it did every morning. Soon the hall would be thick with them.
Somewhere to hide, he thought. Just till it’s over.
He scurried along the baseboard, searching wildly. A crack? A hole?
Nothing but smooth white wood.
The front door was opening regularly now—CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! There were voices, young and old, and a great roaring THUD, THUD, THUD as feet went thundering past. The floorboards shook.
Oh no, thought Eddie. No!
He scuttled faster. Wasn’t there a tiny crack anywhere?
As the hallway grew more crowded, the danger rose. The Squishers couldn’t all walk down the middle. Some had to walk on the sides. Close to the walls. Close to Eddie! The closer they came, the more frightened he got.
An enormous blue running shoe slammed down—WHAM!—right next to him, so close he could have touched it.
That did it.
For one brief panicky moment, Eddie tried to run in every direction at once. Then he jammed himself against the baseboard, pulled in his head and legs, and froze. If he was going to get squished, it would happen right here. He waited . . . expecting at any second . . . the giant crushing foot!
Instead the THUDs faded.
The hall grew quiet.
Eddie took a breath. He stepped slowly away from the wall.
CLANG!
