Bobbie Mendoza Saves the World (Again)

by Michael Fry

  I don’t want to be special. I just want to be me. As in no big deal. Just another girl who likes waffle-pops and painting her toenails black.

  “Because you are a big deal,” a voice said.

  “Who said that?” I asked.

  “I did,” said the voice.

  It was dark. The voice sounded familiar.

  I sat up. I looked around. “Where are you?” I said.

  The voice said, “Nowhere. Everywhere. Right next to you. Far, far away.”

  I looked around the mer-men cave. I could see the shapes of sleeping figures. Next to me was Uncle Dale snoring loudly. I shoved him.

  “Uncle Dale, wake up!” I whispered.

  He didn’t budge.

  “He can’t hear you,” said the voice.

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  “Because he’s not there.”

  “Wait. What? He’s right there. I can see him. He’s . . .”

  “Wait for it.”

  “I’m dreaming,” I said.

  “Bingo.”

  “That means you’re not real.”

  “Oh, I’m very, very real.”

  “You can’t be real if I’m dreaming.”

  The voice chuckled. “If I’m not real . . .

  Then I woke up.

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean . . .”

  “A nightmare?” asked Cole.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “I used to have nightmares a lot. Mostly about getting bad grades,” said Cole. “My mom said it’s because I’m an overachiever.”

  His mom sounds smart. But I didn’t want to talk to Cole about my squid nightmare.

  “What are you still doing up?” I asked him.

  “Thinking,” Cole said. “Something doesn’t quite add up about this whole mission.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, it seems strange that Grumpus would want to talk to a human.”

  “That’s the strange part?” I asked.

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful tomorrow,” Cole said.

  “Yeah . . . as careful as I can be,” I added.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk about your bad dream?” he said.

  “Trust me, I’m good,” I said.

  But I didn’t feel good. Not that I’ve been counting, but that was the third time in a row I had the same nightmare.

  And each time it’s felt more and more real. I mean, I know bad dreams can be caused by stress—and I guess almost being shot down by a crazed woman on a pterodactyl is stressful—but this felt different.

  Should I do what Cole said and talk to someone about it? Or maybe I could just try and think more positive thoughts? Maybe I could binge watch cute-kittens-chasing-laser-pointers videos before bed?

  Who knows? But one thing was for certain, I was definitely not going back to sleep that night.

  Chapter 24

  Morning came, and I spent a lot of time pinching myself and looking behind me. But no squid appeared.

  I was awake. I think. I’ll get back to you.

  After breakfast burritos, we finally left for the Trans-Dimensional subway station.

  This part finally made some sense to me. I rode the New York City subway once with my dad when I was eight, and I felt like everyone on board was some sort of weird, magical creature.

  “But wait!” I shouted. “Why didn’t we just take this convenient little subway when we jumped through my locker? Why the superdangerous hot-air balloon?”

  “Because in the balloon you wouldn’t need to disguise yourself,” said Phil.

  Disguise myself?

  “You’re almost certain to have made Loraine’s NICE List by now, so we’re going to have to make sure you don’t look like . . . you know . . . you.”

  We were going undercover! Hopefully I’d get to wear a cool costume!

  Maybe I’ll be a hippogriff with a Fu Manchu, or maybe like a half porcupine/half eagle that also shoots lava out of her eyes.

  But before I could brainstorm any more great ideas that involved me looking super awesome, I saw Gumdrop open his phone and scan me with it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m scanning you with the Trans-Dimensional transformation app. It’s going to assess your body mass and give us the quickest and easiest transformation,” said Gumdrop.

  BEEP BEEP. The device was done.

  “Looks like the kid’s a troll,” Phil said.

  Wait. What?! I was going to be a . . .

  Chapter 25

  So Cole and I transformed into trolls.

  But Uncle Dale was way too big to be a troll so he had to disguise himself as something else.

  Honestly it was a lot like riding a regular subway—but instead of smelling like wet trash and pee, it smelled more like gasoline and burning hair . . . probably because there was a dragon with the sniffles sitting a few rows down.

  After brief stops at the Pegasus Palisades and Cyclops City to pick up some passengers, we pulled into the central terminal of the Trans-Dimensional metropolis otherwise known as the Bermuda Triangle.

  We exited the subway car under strict instructions from Gumdrop and Phil to remain quiet so as not to give away our identities.

  It’s a good thing I was speechless. Seeing a T. rex arguing with a giant tree monster over his coffee order will do that to you.

  We walked for what felt like miles through the mazelike hallways of the Bermuda Triangle subway station with each new turn revealing one bizarre Imaginary Creature after another.

  There was some sort of Hippo-Lobster that was quietly shining the shoes of the Easter Bunny. There was a giant centipede getting a manicure from a very overworked Fairy Godmother. But most intriguing was a large and looming store called NIGHTMARES ’R’ US that sat completely empty—almost abandoned.

  “Whoa! What’s in there?!” shouted Cole.

  “Shhh!” said Gumdrop. “Keep your voices down.”

  “What’s in there?” whispered Cole.

  “It’s a store where all the creepy-crawly things shop,” said Phil. “You know, a vampire can get some coffin accessories or a vegan zombie could find some tofu brains.”

  “Why is it empty?” he asked.

  “It’s been out of business ever since the subway line stopped running to Nightmare Island,” added Gumdrop.

  Nightmare Island?

  I had lots of questions about what sort of terrifying things could live there, but before I could ask any I saw something truly scary.

  “Oh dear,” said Gumdrop. “It appears as though Loraine and her overlords at SCUD have placed you at the very top of their NICE List!”

  I had four questions.

  But of course I got no answers because something even weirder happened. My eyes in the picture started moving. I got closer.

  “Bobbie, get away from there!” whisper-shouted Phil.

  Then something even weirder happened.

  I started talking to myself. Or more like yelling.

  Oh no, there must have been some sort of security camera in there. Alarms blared. Lights flashed!

  We’d been spotted!

  Phil grabbed me. “We gotta run!”

  We only made it a few feet when suddenly a spotlight hit us from above, and we heard a familiar, furious voice over a loudspeaker.

  “Don’t move a muscle!”

  “Can I blink?” asked Cole. “That uses muscles. I have to blink. I have dry eyes. If I don’t blink—”

  I hissed. “Shut up!”

  It was Loraine. She must have tracked us down. I guess that is a pretty valued skill on a bounty hunter’s résumé.

  Suddenly, I felt my head squirm and squiggle, as I noticed my troll disguise seemed to be melting off me like hot wax.

  We were caught! “What now?” I yelled over to Phil and Gumdrop.

  “Not quite sure. Grumpus just told us to meet him at the train station,” said Phil.

  “Someone should teach this Grumpus guy t
o be more specific,” said Cole.

  For once I agreed with him, but that’s when I saw it. I could barely make it out through the haze of the harsh spotlight, but as I squinted I saw a flashing neon sign.

  All it said was . . .

  Huh? But what other choice did I have?

  “Follow my lead,” I whispered through gritted teeth.

  I slowly shuffled to my left, as the gang followed me.

  “I said don’t move!” yelled Loraine.

  She was marching toward us—the spotlight casting her with a sinister halo.

  I looked ahead. The neon sign had changed.

  Hold on?

  That’s when the floor opened beneath us.

  Chapter 26

  I love slides. (I’m a kid, after all.) However, there is one type of slide I don’t like: a surprise slide accompanied by two humans and two elves.

  We tumbled down a dark and winding chute for what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds. Luckily, we landed gracefully at the bottom.

  We looked around. There was a door just ahead. We slowly made our way over. We opened the door and looked out.

  It was a massive, cavernous space that almost felt like the inside of an old church except that instead of pews and stained glass there were hundreds of ancient-looking TV monitors with fuzzy black-and-white images and a spiderweb of metallic tubes that zigzagged all over the place.

  And right at the center of it all was the man/creature/gnome we’d all been looking for. . . .

  Grumpus continued, “So wonderful to see you! I am Grumpus: Master of Portals!”

  “You sent me the message?” I asked.

  “I did,” he replied. “I’m glad you noticed. Sorry to not welcome you more properly.”

  I had so many questions, but before I could ask, Cole stepped forward and held up his phone to live-stream.

  “Hello there, Grumpus, the name’s Cole Crusterman, reporter with the Barking Beagle, thank you for having me! So what is this wonderful space we’re in?”

  “Ah, Cole! I do love inquisitive, young minds! Yes indeed, Cole Crusterman, this is my portal way station, where the glorious wonders of children’s imaginations are filtered, collected, and organized by yours truly.”

  “Fascinating. So if a child dreams about . . . a break-dancing kitten, it’s your job to make sure that kitten has a home in the Trans-Dimensional World?” asked Cole.

  “A break-dancing kitten . . . why, if I’m not mistaken, that’s something you imagined a few years ago. . . . I thought I recognized you, Cole! Yes! And if you’d like to check in on Sir Meows-A-Lot I can pull him up right here!”

  Grumpus typed Cole’s name into the computer and the words “break-dancing kitten.”

  “It’s just how I imagined him.”

  “Of course it is!” said Grumpus.

  Cole continued, “And how did you get into this line of work?”

  What was Cole up to?

  Grumpus went on, “Another wonderful question, Cole! Many, many years ago I accidentally found my way to the OTHER side of the Trans-Dimensional portal, where I was placed as a garden gnome in the backyard of a wondrous family of eight STUPENDOUS CHILDREN! And while I was in their company I marveled at the glories of a child’s imagination. The wonders that they created in their backyard were truly astounding. When my time in the service of the family came to an end, I returned here, where I created a safe home for children’s dreams.”

  “What about nightmares?” Cole asked.

  “What about them?” said Grumpus.

  “We just saw the trains to Nightmare Island are no longer running. . . .”

  “Yes,” Grumpus said. “Very observant, Cole! Now if I could talk to Bobbie for a quick moment.”

  Cole nodded, still trying to process things as Grumpus focused his attention on me.

  Grumpus whispered, “Bobbie, you and I are quite similar.”

  “We are?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Grumpus. “We’ve both had fascinating experiences on the ‘wrong’ side of the boundary. Which is why I need your help! There’s a portal on Mermaid Island that I think is the cause of the issue.”

  “Mermaid Island,” shouted Gumdrop and Phil at the same time.

  Grumpus smiled. “Exactly! And I’d love to send you and your wondrous team there to locate the troublesome portal and report back to me as to why it’s open and if possible—close it down.”

  “Wait, that’s it? I hope you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Grumpus . . . but why can’t you do that yourself?” I asked.

  “Of course I don’t mind you asking, Bobbie! I love how curious your mind is! The reason I can’t is simple . . . if there’s a leak in your sink you don’t call a trapeze artist, you call a plumber, right?”

  “Huh?”

  Chapter 27

  Plumbers? Trapeze artists? Cole was right. Something didn’t quite add up here.

  Before I could ask any more questions, Grumpus slid over to a large computer bay and began typing—his chubby fingers moved like hummingbird wings.

  A small blurry dot of light started to appear in the middle of the room. It slowly expanded into a large rectangle. It looked like a door, a door of light.

  No way, José.

  I stuttered, “D-Dad always said don’t jump into portals on an empty stomach!”

  I began to sweat. My heart raced.

  As I stared into the swirling portal to Mermaid Island, I had an odd sensation. Like when you think something’s wrong, but you don’t know why? Mom gets it all the time. I call it Mom-sense.

  Cole and I couldn’t be the only ones to feel it. Uncle Dale? The elves? They had to feel it too.

  I guess not.

  Grumpus smiled a toothy grin. “Come now, Bobbie and Cole! I can’t keep this portal open forever!”

  I don’t know if what I did next was based on curiosity or fear, but before Grumpus could move, I rushed over to the computer and typed in “BOBBIE MENDOZA.”

  What in the world? Suddenly, Grumpus grabbed Cole and me by the arms and flung us closer to the portal.

  “What is it you really want from her?” shouted Cole.

  “I want for you to be very scared,” Grumpus said.

  “Huh?”

  Grumpus yanked a lever next to his computer and that’s when both Cole and I went flying.

  Chapter 28

  Darkness.

  Cold.

  Stench.

  Super stench. But not like bad cheese or a fart marinating in a hot car on a summer’s day while you stared out the window and pretended it wasn’t you.

  No, not like that. It smelled like FEAR. Like a bad dream. Like a nightmare! But I wasn’t asleep, right?

  I heard a deep, guttural growl and turned to see . . .

  My brain hadn’t caught up to my eyes just yet. If it had it would’ve started Bobbie’s Emergency Fear and Survival Protocol.

  I hadn’t fully processed what I was seeing when someone grabbed me from behind!

  Obviously, I kept my cool.

  Sort of.

  It was Uncle Dale with the elves and Cole. He muffled my scream until I could breathe.

  “This isn’t Mermaid Island, is it?” I whisper-shouted.

  “What was your first clue?” asked Gumdrop.

  “That no-good dirty gnome,” echoed Phil.

  “So what do we do now?!” I asked.

  “Hide,” said Phil.

  We ran! The sound of hooves and claws and blood-curdling screams followed us through hazy mist.

  But there was no escape.

  Just like it says on the postcard.

  Before I could ponder the horrifying ways this horde of nightmare creatures was going to torture us . . .

  . . . we hit a dead end.

  This was it. We turned around to face the mob of monsters. I was scared. Terrified.

  A particular nasty-looking zombie in serious need of dental care stepped forward. “Which one of you is the special one? Which one of you is
Bobbie?!”

  What?! No! Not the special thing again! I’m sick and tired of . . .

  What? NOOOOOO!

  Before I could say anything, they grabbed him. As I reached to stop them we were all interrupted by a horrible . . .

  We all looked up.

  It was Loraine! We were all saved!

  Not all of us.

  Chapter 29

  I’m in a meadow. A soft, green dream meadow. And there’s beautiful music playing, like the kind of pleasant dream jazz that you hear in the dream organic grocery store or in a superspiffy dream elevator that’s taking you to a dream room full of fluffy dream couches and free dream dessert. And it’s warm. Beautiful and warm.

  Dreamy!

  But wait a second. A black smudge appears out of the corner of my eye. Where have I seen it before? I turn to look, but it’s gone.

  Uh-oh.

  Now the smudge is bigger. And it’s in the other side of my eye. Not again.

  Wait. Why is it suddenly so cold? And the soft music and warm colors are now warbling together into an ugly, off-pitched shriek that sounds like when our neighbor’s teenage son tried to start a rage-polka band called the Dead Accordions.

  My legs feel tingly and tight. I can’t breathe. And that’s when I see it.

  Again.

  This is one persistent giant dream squid. Persistent and growing. His squid tentacles looked like they’d been drinking protein shakes and lifting weights since the last dream.

  I’m completely wrapped up in a tentacle death grip. Squeezing. Squeezing. I can hardly breathe when I hear a familiar scream . . .