by David Lubar
Suddenly the water next to her exploded. A huge shape shot up from the ocean in a spray of white foam. Kelly jumped back, scraping her heel on a jagged shell. The thrashing creature next to her roared.
Then it laughed.
“That’s not funny!” Kelly shouted.
“You should have seen your face.” Michael laughed again as he walked back toward the sand. He left the water and plunked down on a towel.
Kelly felt trapped. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be in the water, but she didn’t want to join her brother. It was always that way—Michael broke the rules, and then she got in trouble.
Kelly wanted to get even. There had to be some way. Maybe she could scare him.
“Watch out for the sand sharks,” she called.
“What?”
“Sand sharks,” she repeated. “They’ll get you.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Michael said. “Sand sharks live in the water.”
“Nope,” Kelly told him. “Not around here. Around here, they live in the sand. And they hunt for boys. I read about them in the guidebook.”
“Yeah, right.” Michael sprawled across the beach towel.
Kelly remained in the water. She watched Michael, wondering what he would do next. She was sure he wasn’t through ruining her day. He had one foot in the sand by the corner of the towel, digging in with his toes. Suddenly he jerked his leg and stuck his foot deeper.
“Help!” he screamed.
Kelly wasn’t amused.
“Ow! Help!” Michael twisted around like a fish on a hook. He thrust his foot farther into the sand. “Kelly, help me!”
“Yeah, right,” she said, repeating the words he’d used a moment earlier. She wasn’t going to fall for his tricks twice in one day. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Somehow, Michael dug his foot even deeper in the sand. Kelly was amazed that her brother would work so hard to scare her.
“Ahhhh!” He was making fake screams now, not even shouting real words. He was really flopping around. He thrashed his arms and kicked at the sand with his other foot. Then he stuck that one in, too.
Kelly wondered how long he would keep it up. He’d actually gotten his legs into the sand all the way up to the knees. She hadn’t thought that would be possible. It sure looked uncomfortable. Still, it was all wasted effort. She’d never fall for such a ridiculous trick.
Twisting and wriggling, Michael managed to get buried all the way up to the top of his bathing suit. “Kelly,” he said weakly.
Kelly had an idea. She decided to play along just enough to make him think she was fooled. After all, the sand shark story was her idea to begin with. “Oh, all right, I’ll help you.” She walked slowly toward the shore. But she promised herself she wouldn’t run or scream when he leaped up and shouted. She’d just laugh at him. It would be perfect.
Kelly waded through the surf, taking small steps to make Michael wait. She enjoyed the way the water felt as it ran back to the sea, tickling her toes. Her brother was still making sounds, but they made no sense. She braced herself, knowing he would jump up and shout “Boo!” when she got close.
He didn’t.
By the time Kelly reached Michael, all she could see was the top of his head. A moment later, the sand closed in over that, leaving nothing but a tiny crater.
Kelly heard a car coming down the road toward the beach. After the engine stopped, she heard car doors slamming.
“Where’s Michael?” Mom called.
“He didn’t feel like lunch,” Kelly said as she smoothed out the shallow crater with her foot. She decided that after she ate she’d go back into the water as soon as Mom let her. She really didn’t want to spend much time on the sand.
ON THE ROAD
Kent spotted a license plate from Alabama. “That makes forty-nine,” he said to no one in particular. He’d seen plates from every state except Hawaii.
“That’s nice, dear,” his mom said from the front seat.
Now what? He looked around, trying to find something to help with the numbing boredom of riding in the backseat on a long family trip. A sign on the side of the road told him they were on STATE HIGHWAY 50 WEST. The information didn’t mean anything to Kent. The road numbers were hard to keep track of. That was something for parents to worry about.
“Will we be there soon?” Kent asked.
“Not much longer,” his dad said.
Kent sorted through the magazines strewn across the seat next to him. He was sure he’d read them all. How long had they been driving today? He couldn’t even remember what time they had started. It seemed like days ago.
He picked up one of the magazines and thumbed through the worn pages, looking for anything he hadn’t read yet. No luck. He tried another. Finally, in the third magazine, he found a page of ads he’d skipped before. That held him for a few minutes.
“Mom, I’m bored,” Kent said when he finished reading.
“Why don’t you see if you can find a license plate from every state,” she suggested.
“I just did that.”
“How about something that starts with each letter of the alphabet? Look for something that begins with ‘a,’ then with ‘b,’ and so on. That should help you pass the time for a while.”
“Okay.” Kent glanced out the window to his left. There were plenty of automobiles in sight. That took care of “a.” A car passed them in the fast lane. There were two kids in the backseat. A boy a couple years younger than Kent was staring out the side window, his eyes filled with emptiness. Kent looked back. The car sped past them.
“B” for “boy,” he realized. And “c” for car.
On the right, a sign read: ALTERNATE ROUTE 37. It meant no more to Kent than any of the other signs. He looked around for something that started with “d.”
By the time he reached the letter “m,” Kent had grown tired of the game. According to the sign up ahead, they were on an interstate highway now. He felt that he’d been traveling forever. “Dad, will we be there soon?”
“Pretty soon, now,” his dad said.
“How long?” he asked. “I mean, in minutes. How many minutes?”
“Don’t bother your father while he’s driving,” his mom said.
“But …” Kent let it drop. He leaned forward and looked at the dashboard. The clock needed to be set. It just kept flashing 12:00, over and over, never changing.
He tried to think back to the beginning of the day. He remembered spotting license plates. He remembered doing something before that. What was it? The game. That was it. He’d been playing a handheld video game. But the batteries had died. And before that … ? Kent couldn’t remember.
He couldn’t remember the last time they had stopped to eat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone to the bathroom. But he wasn’t hungry. And he didn’t have to go.
Where are we headed? He couldn’t even remember that. He realized he didn’t even know if they were going somewhere or coming back. He tried to think of other trips. There’d been trips every year. There’d been short trips when they’d just driven a few miles to visit some friend of his parents. There’d been longer trips when they went on vacation. Each year, it seemed to take a bit longer. They traveled a bit farther. They spent a bit more time in the car.
How long had they been on this road? Kent looked at the passing signs, hoping for any hint of his location. There was nothing on the road ahead. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Getting there,” his father said.
“Be patient,” his mother said.
Kent sighed.
It started to rain, putting a fine mist on the windshield. His father switched on the wipers. Kent looked at the dashboard again. He looked at the fuel gauge. It showed slightly less than half a tank. He tried to remember the last time he had looked at it. They hadn’t stopped for gas in a long time. At least, he couldn’t remember the last time they’d filled the tank.
“I need batteries for my game,” Kent said.
Kent took a nap. He woke. They were on the road. The clock flashed 12:00. The gas gauge was just below half a tank. The batteries in his game were dead. The seat next to him was covered with magazines he’d already read.
He looked out the window. There was a car with a license plate from Kentucky. Maybe he could find all the states—except Hawaii. That would help pass the time.
“There’s Oklahoma,” Kent announced. He saw a car from Pennsylvania next. That’s two, he thought. This wouldn’t take long at all. But at least the game would kill a little time.
Sooner or later, Kent knew, they had to get there. No trip could last forever, could it?
THE LANGUAGES OF BEASTS
Mornings started out fine. Diana liked the beginning of the day, with birdsongs waking her as the whistled notes floated through her open window. She’d always lie in bed for a few minutes, just listening to the music, holding onto the pleasure until her mother’s grating voice called her down for breakfast.
Why couldn’t people sound like birds? Diana wondered. Or better yet, why couldn’t people be silent?
Luckily her mother didn’t talk much, and the birdsongs could be heard in the kitchen, so breakfast wasn’t bad. The walk to school was nice. At least, the first part always gave her pleasure. Diana left the house and looked both ways, hoping to see one of the neighborhood cats. She smiled as she spotted Ragtag. He lived next door but always ran up for petting when Diana called him.
“Here, Ragtag.”
The cat, lying sprawled in the morning sun, rolled to his paws and padded over. He rubbed his head against Diana’s leg and purred loudly. Diana spent a minute with Ragtag, then resumed her walk to school. After another block, she paused to say hi to her next friend.
“Good morning,” she said to the dog. She didn’t know his name, but he was almost always there, straining at the limit of a long rope in the front yard, wagging his tail and barking.
And that was about the end of the good part of the morning. The next few blocks brought her into the crowded place, filled with people who jabbered and talked about stupid things. Diana wished there were fewer people. Wherever she looked, she saw unpleasant sights. There was a man eating a doughnut while he walked to work. Didn’t he realize how revolting he looked, cramming food in his mouth, bending halfway over in an attempt to avoid getting powdered sugar on his suit? Diana shook her head and snickered at the sight. And the two women ahead of her—Diana couldn’t believe how silly their conversation was. All they talked about was the television shows they’d watched the night before.
By the time she reached her school, Diana was in a crowd of chattering kids. She tried to ignore them. They were all so silly. There was Annie, who jabbered on and on about shopping. And there was Billy the Blabbermouth, who talked about nothing but baseball. Diana couldn’t stand the kids in her class. They almost never said anything to her, and when they did it was something mean and cruel. But she didn’t care—they were just stupid kids with nothing important to say.
The school day was miserable—it never failed to amaze her how uninteresting her teachers were—but Diana had something to look forward to. The end of the school day was not far away. Diana knew her walk home would bring her back to the animals.
When the last bell rang, Diana dashed from the school. On the way out, a redheaded girl from her neighborhood caught her eye.
“Hi,” the other girl said.
Diana ignored her. She knew the girl just wanted to taunt her or make fun of her. She hurried through the crowded section of town. At the corner by the doughnut shop, she waited impatiently for the light to turn green. Around her, people talked, saying words that meant nothing.
The light changed.
As Diana was about to step from the curb, a woman cut right in front of her. Diana stumbled as she tried to avoid running into the woman.
How rude, Diana thought. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and grabbed the woman by the shoulder. She wanted to tell her to watch where she was going.
The woman stopped dead as Diana touched her.
A horn blasted at Diana. A car shot past them, running the light, just missing the woman.
Diana stood with her mouth open.
“You saved me,” the woman said. “You saved my life.” She reached toward Diana with her right hand.
Diana wanted to pull away. She wanted to escape the touch. She couldn’t. She was locked in place, facing this woman, stuck to her spot as the crowds moved past like water flowing around two rocks in a stream.
“Your deepest wish,” the woman said, brushing a fingertip across Diana’s forehead. The finger felt dry and sharp. “What is your wish?”
At that moment, nothing else existed in the world. All Diana saw or knew was herself, the woman, and the power to have her deepest wish. Whatever she wanted—it would be hers. She knew. She believed. The words came by themselves. “The animals,” she said.
The woman smiled. “Tell me—exactly.”
“Their speech,” Diana said, growing bolder as she heard her own words. “I want to understand them.” She knew that this alone of all things would make each day of her life a joy. She would not just hear the songs and purrs and barks but would know the languages. The thought of such a talent nearly caused her to burst with anticipation. “Can you give me that?”
The woman brushed Diana’s forehead again, very gently. “It is done.”
The woman drifted away with the passing people.
For an instant, Diana’s brain felt as if it held the heat of a thousand suns. Just as quickly, the feeling vanished. Diana was transfixed by the strangeness of the moment. The traffic light changed. It changed again. Pedestrians moved around her, talking, pushing. Diana smiled. She was sure she had the gift. She took a step. She walked, then she ran, moving away from the crowds of jabbering humans, rushing toward the animals who were her friends.
She hoped to see him. It would be so perfect if he was the first to speak to her. Yes. Diana trembled with wonder and expectation. There he was, a block away. He strained against the end of his leash at the edge of the lawn as she approached. “Hi, doggie,” Diana said.
He barked.
“Stupid animal,” he said. “Walking on two legs. How ugly and stupid. You don’t even have a tail to wag.”
Diana pulled her hand back. She rushed down the street, unwilling to believe the cruel words she’d heard. She stopped to catch her breath. There had to be some kind of mistake—some misunderstanding.
“You smell.”
Diana looked down. Ragtag was at her feet, purring.
“You awful, stinky creature,” the cat said, rubbing its head against her leg. “Even my scent can’t cover your smell.”
Diana ran home. Above her head, the birds called to one another.
“Look, there’s that silly one with the big head.”
“Watch me get her.”
Something splattered on the sidewalk next to Diana as she ran.
“Look at her, can’t even fly.”
“Can’t sing, either. Just jabber, jabber, jabber.”
“Imagine going around on those thick legs.”
“She sure is stupid.”
Diana ran inside and slammed her door. The birdsong came through the open windows.
“Humans are so useless.”
“They ruin everything.”
Diana forced the window shut. She ran to her room and sat on her bed, huddling in the corner.
Quiet. It was finally quiet.
Until the whisper. “Oh no, she’s back.”
Another whisper. “I hate it when she’s here.”
“I wish we could make a giant web and be rid of them.”
Diana lifted her chin from her knees and stared at the ceiling.
“What are you looking at?”
the spider asked.
Across the room, an ant laughed.
Beneath the bed, a thousand tiny insects shouted at her and called her terrible names. “Worm meat!” “Stink creature!” “Sack of flesh!”
Night fell. The crickets joined in.
CLASS TRIP
I’d really been looking forward to our class trip. I know I’d gone there before, but I can’t get enough of the Center City Science Museum. I could tell that the rest of the kids were ready, too. Everyone was full of energy when we walked into class.
That’s when I saw him. “Oh no,” I groaned, “not Mr. Peggler.”
“Phooey,” Dale said. He curled his nose and sniffed like he’d smelled something bad.
You’d think a classy private school like Wolfson Academy could afford to hire good substitutes. And, to be honest, I guess I’d have to say that most of the time they did. But Mr. Peggler was terrible. He thought he was great with kids, but he had no idea what we really liked.
This is going to ruin the trip, I thought. I’d been looking forward to going to the museum with Ms. Howell. She was such a great teacher.
“Listen up,” Mr. Peggler said. “Your teacher is out today. But don’t worry, we’re still going on the class trip. Isn’t that wonderful?”
There was silence in the room.
“Well,” Mr. Peggler said, “I’m looking forward to it. So, let’s go get on that bus and have a great time.”
We got on the bus. I took a nap. Morning isn’t my best part of the day. When we reached the museum, Mr. Peggler led us into the lobby.
“We always go to the Hall of Mammals,” I told him. “That’s our favorite place.” I loved seeing the bunnies and the squirrels and the other small creatures.
“Well,” he said, looking around at the signs on the wall, “it’s no good to get into a rut. You need to experience new things. Otherwise you’ll all become creatures of habit. Ah, this is perfect,” he said, pointing to one of the signs. “There’s a show about to start in the planetarium.”
