Long Time, No Sea Monster

by Nancy Krulik

  FROGBOTTOM FACTS

  Scotland is a country that is part of the United Kingdom, along with England, Northern Ireland, and Wales.

  There are more than thirty thousand freshwater lochs (or lakes) in Scotland.

  “Loch Ness” is the name of a freshwater lake located in the Scottish Highlands a few miles from the city of Inverness.

  I have to find out why those reporters think there’s a monster in that lake.

  3

  I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS right now. And like any other newsman, I have to go where the answers are. Which, in this case, is down by that lake.

  But I’m still a kid newsman. So I need permission to go pretty much anywhere.

  “Can we get a little closer to the lake?” I ask Ms. Frogbottom.

  “I was just going to suggest that,” our teacher replies. “I want you all to see the wildlife around here. There are salmon and eel in the water. If we’re really lucky, we might see pawprints in the mud at the water’s edge. Possibly from a herd of red deer or a wild hare.”

  I don’t know why Ms. Frogbottom sounds so excited. The water in that lake is so dark, I doubt we’d be able to see any fish swimming below the surface. And I can look for animal pawprints in my backyard. We have deer and rabbits there, too.

  FROGBOTTOM FACTS

  There is more water in Loch Ness than in all the lakes of England and Wales combined.

  Loch Ness is so dark because the heavy rains wash particles of decaying plants from the surrounding hills into the water.

  I’m more interested in spotting something I can’t find at home.

  I want to see the Loch Ness Monster.

  Because an article about a monster sighting is something you wouldn’t find in any other classroom newspaper. That would be the kind of scoop that could really get people reading—not to mention win our class a visit from Scoop Schaeffer!

  “Is it okay if I talk to the reporters instead?” I ask Ms. Frogbottom.

  Ms. Frogbottom smiles. “I’m so glad you’ve taken an interest in journalism, Oliver,” she tells me. “Of course you can talk to them. Just be careful walking on the pebbles. They can be slippery.”

  “Thanks!” I run off before she can change her mind.

  * * *

  “Hi. I’m Oliver,” I say, to introduce myself as I get close to the van.

  “Now’s not really a good time, kid,” a tall man with red hair tells me. He doesn’t even look in my direction.

  “I’m not a kid,” I insist.

  The tall guy rolls his eyes.

  “Well, I mean I am a kid,” I admit. “But I’m also a news guy, like you. In fact, I’m an editor.”

  “An editor. Isn’t that cute?” a woman in a pink sweater says with a giggle. She’s not taking me seriously. But that won’t stop me. I will get this story for the 4A Gazette.

  “Are you looking for the Loch Ness Monster?” I ask.

  “What do you know about that?” the guy with red hair asks angrily.

  “Take it easy, Finn,” the woman holding the microphone urges. “It’s not like some lad’s gonna scoop us.”

  Ha! That’s what she thinks.

  “Okay, Amelia.” The woman with the microphone turns her attention to the lady in the pink sweater. “Let’s run a sound check.”

  “Right, Millie,” Amelia says. “Test. One, two.”

  “Why do you think the monster is in this loch?” I ask them.

  “Because this water is called ‘Loch Ness.’ And he’s the Loch Ness Monster,” Finn replies gruffly.

  That makes sense.

  “The guy from the inn says you’ve been here before,” I continue. “Does that mean you’ve already spotted the monster?”

  “You’ve been talking to Mr. Dreich?” Amelia is taking me a little more seriously now.

  “Yes,” I say. “He’s a very good source. We newspeople need good sources for our stories.”

  “If you’ve been talking to Mr. Dreich, then you know that a lot of mysterious things have been happening around here lately,” Millie tells me.

  “Like what?” I wonder.

  “You sure you want us to tell you, laddie?” Amelia asks. “Because you won’t want to be anywhere near this loch after we do.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Well, it all started last week, on a calm, quiet morning,” Amelia tells me. “There wasn’t a drop of wind. Yet a small fishing boat began to toss back and forth on the water—and then it capsized. Just flipped right over. The fisherman nearly drowned.”

  “Maybe he stood up in the boat,” I suggest. “That could have made it tip.”

  “We spoke to the fisherman,” Amelia assures me. “He wasn’t standing.”

  “It gets worse,” Finn adds. “Animals that live by the loch have been disappearing. Someone—or something—has been grabbing deer in the dark of night and dragging them into the loch. We know because the hoofprints are all leading into the water.”

  “Maybe the deer wanted a drink,” I suggest.

  “Could be,” Finn agrees. “Except there are no hoofprints leading away from the loch. Which means the deer went in but never came out.”

  Okay, that’s a little creepy.

  I look over at my class. They’re studying animal prints in the mud. I wonder if they’ve noticed that the deer prints only seem to be going in one direction.

  Probably not. Tony looks pretty happy. If he’d figured out something like that, he’d be freaking out.

  “And then there are the noises,” Millie adds.

  “The noises?” I reply, trying really hard not to sound nervous.

  “The local folk have been hearing them in the middle of the night, when the sky is at its darkest,” Millie tells me. “Deep, angry honking noises. Almost like a huge flock of geese, all honking at the same time. Only, there are no birds in the sky. And the noise seems to be coming from inside the water, not over it.”

  I have to admit that’s kinda unusual. But still…

  “You’re not sure it’s a monster, are you?” I ask. “I mean, you have no real proof.”

  “You want proof?” Millie reaches into her pocket and shows me a blurry black-and-white photograph of what looks like a giant dinosaur-lizard head popping out of the water.

  “Whoa!” I exclaim. “That picture was taken here?”

  Millie nods.

  “Laddie, you’d better get away from Loch Ness,” Finn warns me.

  “Because of the monster?”

  “Nah,” Finn replies. “You’re more likely to be gotten by a kelpie.”

  “A what?”

  “You’ve never heard of a kelpie?” Finn sounds surprised.

  I shake my head.

  “You’d better hope you never meet one,” he says. “They’re more dangerous than Nessie would ever be—at least for you.”

  Maybe it’s the way the sky has darkened. Or maybe it’s the way the fog has come up around Loch Ness, making the air so gray and thick that I can barely see the hills around the lake. But something about what Finn is saying makes me really nervous.

  “Because kelpies eat children,” Finn continues.

  “They trick kids into coming close, and then they capture them and eat them for breakfast,” Millie adds.

  “Or lunch, or dinner.” Finn laughs.

  “Trick them?” I ask, trying to act like a real reporter, even though there are now a flock of nervous butterflies flying around in my stomach. “How?”

  “Shape-shifting,” Millie replies mysteriously.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Millie opens her mouth to answer, but whatever she’s saying is drowned out by a sudden, huge clap of thunder.

  The sound makes me jump six feet in the air. Which is odd, because I’m not usually scared of thunder. Loch Ness is making me really jumpy.

  Whoosh!

  In a flash the rain starts pouring down on us.

  “Quick—get the equipment back into the van!” Finn shouts.

  The
se guys aren’t going to answer any more questions right now. They’re too busy hurrying to get their cameras and microphones out of the rain.

  “Come along, Oliver,” Ms. Frogbottom calls to me. “We’re going into the inn.”

  I turn away from the news crew and race to catch up to my class.

  But this conversation isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

  4

  “SHAPE-SHIFTING?” OLIVIA REPEATS A few minutes later as she takes off her shoes and leaves them to dry near the old stone fireplace in the lobby of Mr. Dreich’s inn.

  “Uh-huh,” I reply, placing my shoes next to my sister’s.

  “What does that even mean?” Olivia wonders.

  I shrug. “We didn’t get that far. I think they were just trying to scare me off so I wouldn’t scoop them on their big Loch Ness Monster story.”

  Sofia pulls her tablet out from under her shirt, where she’d been trying to keep it dry, and she starts scrolling around. “ ‘Kelpies are creatures that switch back and forth between being horses and humans,’ ” she reads. “The only thing that gives them away is that when they’re in human form, they don’t have feet.”

  “F-f-footless m-m-monsters?” Tony stammers nervously. “That means they won’t make footsteps when they walk. You won’t hear them sneaking up behind you.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. And this part is really interesting,” Sofia tells Tony. “Kelpies don’t have feet, but they do have hooves. Even when they’re in human form.”

  A person with horse feet. That would look really strange. But it would also make kelpies pretty easy to spot when they’re in human form.

  “They could wear shoes over their hooves,” Tony points out. “That would disguise them.”

  Hmmm. I didn’t think of that.

  “Very good, Tony,” Ms. Frogbottom says. “I like the way you used logic there.”

  Usually Tony would be smiling proudly at Ms. Frogbottom’s compliment. But today he’s too nervous to be proud. I can tell because he’s chewing at the stringy skin around his fingernails.

  “Do you know what it means when you find a horseshoe?” Olivia asks him.

  “What?” Tony replies.

  “Some horse is walking around in his socks,” Olivia says with a laugh.

  “Not funny.” Tony goes back to chewing his fingers.

  “I’m with Tony,” I say.

  Olivia looks at me in surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid too, Liver. Or should I call you Chicken Liver?”

  Ugh. There she goes again.

  “I just meant it wasn’t a funny joke,” I insist. Which isn’t exactly true. I’m actually a little scared of being eaten by a shape-shifting horse-human.

  Wouldn’t you be?

  “Does that webpage say anything about how kelpies catch kids?” I ask Sofia.

  She nods. “They act like gentle horses and trick kids into climbing onto their backs. Once the kid is up there, the kelpie gallops into the water, making sure the kid drowns. Then the kelpie eats him.”

  “So here in Scotland there’s a Loch Ness Monster that attacks and eats people who make him angry,” Tony says. “And there are also kelpies that eat kids. Aren’t any Scottish monsters vegetarians?”

  “I’ve never heard of any herbivore monsters,” Sofia says. “I don’t think one would be scary if all it ate were plants. And a monster wouldn’t be a monster if it weren’t scary.”

  “She’s got a point,” Emma agrees.

  “I’m not going near any horses while we’re here,” Tony vows. “There’s no way I’m gonna be a kelpie lunch!”

  “Speaking of lunch,” Aiden says, “I wonder what kind of food they serve in Scotland. I’m hungry.”

  Aiden is always hungry. “Nothing can kill your appetite,” I tell him.

  Tony shoots me a look.

  Okay, maybe “kill” wasn’t the best word to use, considering.

  Ms. Frogbottom pulls a pink-and-white feathered hat out of her backpack. “I don’t think it’s ever too early for high tea,” she tells us as she places the huge hat on her head.

  “I don’t want tea,” Aiden complains. “I want food.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ms. Frogbottom assures him. “There’s plenty to eat at a Scottish high tea.”

  We follow Ms. Frogbottom into the next room, where a long wooden table has been set with china plates and a fancy tablecloth.

  “Oh, look at this lovely lace!” Ms. Frogbottom exclaims as she gently runs her hand over the tablecloth. “I’ll bet that was made by hand on a loom. The finest Scottish lace usually is.”

  My teacher picks up one of the plates and looks at the flowery pattern around the edges. “Scottish bone china is so unique,” she remarks.

  “Bone china?” Tony repeats nervously. “I don’t like the sound of that. Is it made of real bones?”

  Ms. Frogbottom smiles at him. “Actually, yes. The finest bone china has ashes from cows and sheep in its clay.”

  Tony frowns. That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for.

  I don’t usually go to such swanky places. I hope I don’t break one of those plates, or spill something onto the tablecloth.

  The dining room smells really good. Like a combination of meat frying and cake baking. Now I’m hungry too.

  “We’ll start today’s high tea with blood pudding,” Mr. Dreich says as he comes out of the kitchen carrying a big tray.

  “Blood pudding?” Tony asks, his voice scaling up nervously. “What about chocolate or vanilla? I’d even eat tapioca.”

  “Blood,” Mr. Dreich repeats. He places a giant sausage in front of each of us.

  “This isn’t pudding,” I tell him. “Pudding is soft and creamy.”

  “We call that custard here, laddie,” Mr. Dreich replies. “Blood pudding is made of meat and pig’s blood.”

  “I’ll pass,” Tony says.

  “At least try the rumbledethumps,” Mr. Dreich urges, placing some sort of fried dish on his plate. “It’s my special recipe—potatoes, turnips, cabbage, and cheese.”

  “No blood?” Tony asks nervously.

  “Not a bit,” Mr. Dreich assures him as he serves the rest of us our blood pudding and rumbledethumps.

  Aiden takes a big bite of his blood pudding. “You’re making a mistake, Tony,” he says. “This sausage is delicious.”

  “Scary lake monsters, shape-shifting kid-eaters, plates made with bones, and sausages made of blood?” Tony’s voice is shaky. “I’m not liking it here.”

  “Scotland is lovely,” Mr. Dreich insists.

  “The weather isn’t,” Olivia says. “That rain came out of nowhere.”

  “We wouldn’t be in Scotland if we didn’t see some rain,” Ms. Frogbottom says, laughing. “One minute there’s a storm, and the next the sun is shining.”

  “Which gives us beautiful rainbows,” Mr. Dreich adds.

  “I love rainbows,” Emma says. “I hope we see one when we visit that castle.”

  “Oh, so you will be visiting Urquhart Castle?” Mr. Dreich asks us.

  Ms. Frogbottom nods. “I think it’s important to learn the history of the places you visit, don’t you?”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Dreich agrees. “That castle’s been around for nearly eight hundred years, so there’s plenty of history in those stone walls. Think of all the nobles who slept in that great chamber, and all the enemies who spent their last minutes in that prison cell.”

  Tony gulps. “Last minutes?”

  “And of course there are the wonderful views of the loch,” Mr. Dreich continues. “There have been quite a few Nessie sightings from up there.”

  Hmmm. Now, that sounds interesting.

  “I’m going to get your dessert,” Mr. Dreich tells us. “I’ve baked fresh fruit tarts. Since you kids are taking your meals at my inn while you’re in Scotland, it’s my job to fatten you up.”

  Then he heads into his kitchen, his heavy rain boots making a clip-clop noise on the wood floors of the inn.

&nb
sp; “Fat. Just the way the kelpies like us,” Olivia tells Tony.

  Tony bites harder at his fingers. A drop of red pops up on his thumb. I guess he’s having blood for lunch, after all. His own blood.

  “Why is that innkeeper wearing rain boots inside?” Emma wonders.

  “His name is ‘Mr. Dreich,’ ” I tell her. “The news guys told me.”

  “Okay. Why is Mr. Dreich wearing his boots inside?” Emma corrects herself.

  “I don’t care if he’s wearing bunny slippers,” Aiden replies. “He baked us fruit tarts. Bring on the sweets.”

  “I wish I had rubber boots,” I say. “The stones by the loch are going to be really muddy and slippery when the rain stops.”

  “You’re not going back there, are you?” Tony asks nervously.

  “I sure am,” I insist. “I’m not going to let that news crew scoop me.”

  “Nessie’s liable to scoop you—right into the lake,” Tony warns me. “Monsters are called monsters for a reason.”

  Tony doesn’t understand. Sometimes a reporter has to risk encountering monsters in order to get a big story.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about the Loch Ness Monster, Tony,” Sofia tells him. “He doesn’t really exist.”

  Tony stops biting his fingers.

  “Those reporters wouldn’t be here waiting for him if he were made up,” I point out to Sofia. “They even have an old picture of him. I saw it.”

  “The best-known picture of Nessie was a fake,” Sofia argues. “Just a wooden dummy glued to a toy submarine. There’s no such thing as the Loch Ness Monster.”

  “NAY!” Mr. Dreich exclaims as he walks back into the room. “You’re wrong, lassie!” He slams the dessert platter onto the table so hard, the tarts bounce off the tray. Aiden catches one in midair and takes a big bite.

  “This is delicious,” he says between chews. Little pieces of fruit tart fly out of his mouth as he talks.

  “The famous photo of Nessie wasn’t real,” Sofia insists, ignoring Aiden.