“Great,” he sighed. Nothing to do about it now. He wasn’t about to crawl up on the roof at night with lightning dancing all around him. Instead he shut the window, searched out his wastebasket and placed it under the leak.
He grabbed his pillow and plopped down on the floor, pulling an afghan off the chair and wrapping it around himself.
It was then that he noticed that the closet door was open.
Before he could turn his phone’s light on, something leapt out of the corner and landed on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. It was too dark to see what it was, but Eddie could guess. The next streak of lightning illuminated the room, confirming his fear.
The silver nut was standing on his chest.
Somehow, the thing had sprouted spindly, telescoping legs from the grooves in its skin. It swayed over him like a metallic spider. Eddie tried to cry out for his mother, but the appearance of the nut had robbed him of his voice.
Eddie tried to roll to his side, to knock the thing loose, but little claws on the ends of its legs dug into his shirt, into his skin. It smarted like a prick from a fishhook. Eddie yelped and lay back again.
The nut started humming. Low at first, almost unnoticeable with the sound of thunder rumbling outside. Then a sliver of green light appeared in the nut’s skin. It was opening, splitting apart, a ghastly glow spilling out from inside.
Through slitted eyes, Eddie watched as the nut opened like a clam. A miniature, firestorm raged at its center – sparks, flashing lights, flickering arcs of electricity. The thing leaned in, directing its chaotic innards toward his face.
In the midst of the mayhem, a calm voice addressed him from inside the nut.
“Say cheese,” it said. Then Eddie’s world erupted in an explosion of light.
Eddie bolted upright. Sunlight hit him in the face and he winced. Morning? How could it be morning?
He quickly looked around for the nut and found it lying on the floor next to him. Or at least what was left of it. The thing was open, its little legs curled up, its inner workings as charred and lifeless as a dead campfire. He gave the thing a little kick. No reaction. Whatever it used to be, it was now nothing more than junk.
“Unreal,” he thought as he rubbed his forehead. He stood and was rewarded with a massive headache. The kind you get when you eat ice cream too fast. He shook his head to try to clear it.
An eruption of numbers filled his mind, swirling around in a great cloud. As soon as he stopped moving his head, the cloud went still and the digits began to drop away, like bits of plastic snow in a snow globe.
Eddie felt woozy and was afraid he was about to upchuck right then and there, but the feeling soon subsided. He spied his phone lying on the carpet, grabbed it and groggily sat on the edge of his bed.
He glanced over at his clock. It was flashing 12:00 at him over and over. Oh, yeah. The power had gone out, hadn’t it? He turned on his phone to get the right time and...
It was 10:15. The school day had started almost an hour and a half ago. Not only was he late, he was really late.
He scrambled around the room to find his socks and shoes. Why hadn’t Mom woken him up? Her alarm clock must have fallen prey to the power outage as well. Rats! Of all the days to be late — the day old Hubbard expected them to present their ideas for their final projects.
Eddie froze. Final projects! What was he going to do? His only possible project lay in the middle of the floor in pieces.
There was no time to stand around feeling sorry for himself. Eddie rushed for the door and was down the hallway and through the foyer in the blink of an eye.
“Time to wake up, Mom! Can you feed Cooper? I’m late!” he shouted toward his mother’s bedroom as he dashed out the door, grabbed his bike and started pedaling like a maniac down Mulberry Street.
Trees and houses whipped by as Eddie sped onward. His mind raced almost as fast as his bike. He tried to turn his focus toward coming up with a last minute idea to satisfy old Hubbard, but his thoughts kept returning to last night’s storm, the silver nut and the jumble of numbers whirling around in his brain.
“A bad dream. It was just a bad dream,” he tried to convince himself, but he knew better. He had to tell Pudge and Roxie about it. Maybe if they all put their heads together, they could figure out what had happened.
Dad. If Dad were here, he’d figure it out. If Dad were here, he’d figure out a lot of things. Like how to keep the roof from leaking, how to make sure Mom didn’t kill herself working so hard, how...
His front tire hit a fallen branch, and he flew over the handlebars, hit the asphalt and came to a skidding stop in the bushes along the side of the road.
“Get it together, Edison,” he told himself. “Get it together.”
Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Lakeview School. He rushed his bike into the bike rack and ran toward the side entrance. He grabbed the door handle and gave it a tug. Locked.
Oh, no, he thought, he’d have to go in the main entrance. That meant going past the office. That meant going past Principal Wood.
The sound of squealing brakes caught his ear, and he peeked around the corner. Pulling up to the entrance to the lunchroom was a small delivery truck with words Bunches o’ Lunches stenciled across its side.
Without thinking, Eddie made a dash for the truck. As he sprinted across the playground, he passed the first floor classrooms. He kept his eyes on the truck even though he could feel kids’ eyes staring at him through the windows.
He reached the truck just as a burly man was opening up the back. Eddie skidded to a halt.
“I’m here!” he said, breathing heavily.
The man turned and stared at him. “Yeah? So?” he asked.
“I’m your student aid. To help deliver the food? I’m getting credit in social studies by helping you. I’m really psyched to learn everything I can about the service industry.”
The man cocked his head at Eddie. “No one told me nuthin’ about it. But then again, nobody tells me nuthin’ about nuthin’. Come on.”
He brought down the first of the food delivery carts and passed it off to Eddie.
“This goes to the kitchen. Once you’re done with that...”
“The kitchen! Got it!” Eddie said, and before the man could finish his instructions, Eddie was steering the cart toward the kitchen.
“Be careful!” the man called after him. “There are taco shells in there!”
Eddie raced the cart to the kitchen. He failed to stop in time to keep the cart from slamming into the wall, startling Mrs. Whitman, an elderly woman in a hairnet. Inside, he heard the taco shells crunch.
“Here you go, Mrs. Whitman!” he said. “Happy Taco Tuesday! Gotta get back to class!” And with that, Eddie ran for the door.
Luckily, the hall was empty. As he made his way toward his classroom, he heard the murmur of teachers and students in other rooms. It was weird being in the hallway while everyone else was inside. But ever since the nut woke up last night, weird seemed to be the new normal.
He reached Mr. Hubbard’s room and peeked inside. Jimmy Ticks was at the front of the class, his hands fluttering nervously.
“And... and then I’m going to put the seeds into paper cups and... and I’ll feed some of them water and... and I’ll feed some of them root beer and... and... and...”
Jimmy was bombing, but at least he had a project to present. Eddie had been so focused on getting to his classroom unnoticed that the reality of walking into class with nothing to present hadn’t sunk in. He was thinking that maybe he should have had his mom call him in sick when Mr. Hubbard poked his head out the door. They were face to face.
“Please join us, Mr. Edison,” Mr. Hubbard hissed.
Eddie gulped. Being this close to the crusty, old teacher he could finally confirm what every student had long suspected: Mr. Hubbard wore a toupee.
No way that hair was real.
The other students snickered as Eddie scurried to his seat. Jimmy Ticks took this as his cue to start up again.
“And as soon as the plants begin to grow...”
“Yes, yes, that will do. Another plant project. Thrilling. That will be our fifth, will it not?” sneered Hubbard. Jimmy hiccupped and snuck back to his seat.
A wave of hope swept over Eddie. Perhaps Mr. Hubbard was going to let his tardiness slide.
“If I was going to come up with a project, I think I would explore the concept of time.”
Mr. Hubbard stalked about the room. “How some people respect other’s time and some don’t. Any thoughts, Mr. Edison?”
The teacher stopped directly over Eddie. Looking up at him, Eddie thought he could detect where Mr. Hubbard’s real hair ended and the fake stuff began.
“I’m sorry I was late. I was...” he started to say, but before he could finish, Roxie jumped up from her desk, her backpack in hand. She was wearing the same ratty sweater as the day before.
“I’m ready to present my project idea, Mr. Hubbard. You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m so excited I just can’t wait!”
Pudge laughed, then caught himself as Hubbard looked his way. Caught off guard, the teacher simply waved to Roxie to proceed. He walked back to his desk and sat down, popping a Diet Carney Cola can and slurping loudly over Roxie’s presentation.
“Has anyone in this room heard of the Jersey Devil?” Instantly, Roxie had everyone’s attention. “Well? That wasn’t a rhetorical question, people,” said Roxie. “Has anyone heard about the Jersey Devil?”
A dozen voices rang out. “It’s a monster!”
“Like Bigfoot!”
“Only its got wings!”
“And it lives in New Jersey!”
“So the story goes,” said Roxie. “The creature, said to be part horse, part goat, part winged beast, has terrorized residents of New Jersey for ages.”
The class was hanging on her every word.
“It is my contention that the Jersey Devil is no myth. And, if my project is approved...” She glanced over at Mr. Hubbard. “... I shall set about to prove its existence.”
Eddie shivered as he watched the odd girl. Weird was definitely the new normal.
He looked at Hubbard — he was paying rapt attention. He guessed Roxie was right about teachers. Dazzle them with a mysterious monster story after a string of boring old projects and they’ll perk right up.
“Very well. Have at it. Only make sure that you don’t sensationalize your subject. Stick to the facts and the facts only, you hear me, Ms. Michael?”
“That’s Michaels with an...”
Mr. Hubbard turned his focus to Eddie. “You’re up, Mr. Edison.” Eddie’s stomach did a backflip. He didn’t move. “Come on, I want to get this over before the next ice age. Chop, chop!”
Eddie rose to his feet. Roxie threw him a sympathetic look. He glanced quickly to where Pudge sat with the diagram of his newfangled pizza plate. His buddy mouthed, “You ready?” Eddie shook his head. Not even close.
As Eddie walked to the front of the room, he thought, “So, this is what it feels like to step in front of a firing squad.”
He stopped next to Mr. Hubbard’s desk and turned to face the class. A roomful of expectant faces met his. He opened his mouth.
“I...”
Mr. Hubbard sighed. Another presentation going down in flames. What else did he expect from Eddie? He crumpled his empty soda can and aimed at the wastebasket.
“You should recycle that,” said Jimmy Ticks. Mr. Hubbard just shook his head, and tossed the can into the air.
Eddie’s hand shot out and grabbed it in midflight.
He looked at the can in his hand in disbelief. Had he meant to do that? If so, why? What possible use could Hubbard’s old can be to him?
No sooner had he asked himself the question than the answer burst into his head. With nothing else to offer, he decided to run with it.
“Jimmy’s right,” Eddie said. “We should recycle this.” He dropped the can on the floor and smashed it flat with his foot.
“Enough stalling,” Hubbard warned.
“Oh, I’m not stalling. It’s just that I need...” And in a flash, he knew exactly what he needed. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dropped it on the floor as well and crushed it underfoot. The entire class winced, instinctively grabbing for their own phones, wherever they had them hidden away.
Eddie dropped to his knees and began scrounging around in the wreckage of his phone.
“Sometimes the stuff we throw away can be more interesting than we ever would have imagined,” he said.
“Is there a point to all this carnage?” asked Hubbard.
Eddie ignored him, searching frantically for... there! That little bit there with the wires coming out of each end. He wrapped the wire through the cans flip-top, attaching the two items, and then scanned the room with his eyes.
“All we have to do is to look at things in a different way.” Bingo! His eyes lit upon the intercom speaker hanging on the wall next to the door. He rushed over to it, grabbed it and pulled it down, ripping the speaker from the wall. It gave a squeal and was silent.
“I’ve had quite enough of your antics!” said Mr. Hubbard. “Go to Mr. Wood’s office.”
Eddie focused on his task, his hands moving like lightning as they stripped the intercom apart, twisting wires, bending strips of metal, attaching the soda can...
“Now, Mr. Edison!” Eddie’s hands stopped and he held the patchwork device out in front of him, a proud look on his face. “And voilà!” Eddie cried, and he connected the last two wires.
Whump! A shockwave echoed out of the device in Eddie’s hands. Eddie could feel it in his chest and he could tell that the rest of the class felt it too. The windows trembled and the toupee on Mr. Hubbard’s head lifted slightly.
Then, everything went still.
Mr. Hubbard rose from his desk, his face red with anger. “Since you have chosen to ignore me, I’ll walk you down to the office myself.”
Eddie shook his device. He didn’t understand. He could see it working in his mind’s eye. What had gone wrong?
Suddenly, his creation shuddered to life. It gave off a thumping sound like the bass beat of a song. The air in front of Eddie began to shimmer, to bubble. Soon, it was swirling like water circling a drain.
“He’s making a storm!” someone cried. “He’s making a tornado!” said another.
Roxie stood, amazed at what she was seeing. “No. He’s making a black hole.”
Eddie grinned wide as the swirling mass grew stronger and stronger. It was a black hole. And he had made it! He was going to get an A for sure. Heck, he was probably going to get an A+. There was no way that old man Hubbard would be able to deny him the top grade in the class.
That was when Mr. Hubbard’s toupee ripped free from the top of his head.
If there was ever anything that could steal focus from a miniature black hole appearing in the middle of a group of fifth graders, it was the sudden disappearance of their teacher’s hair. The class gasped, and Mr. Hubbard shrieked as his toupee sailed across the room and plunged down the black hole’s throat and disappeared with a poof of hair.
The black hole vanished.
Mr. Hubbard quickly covered his bald head with his hands as the lunch bell sounded. The class bolted for the door, and Eddie took cover in their numbers and moved with them, fleeing for the safety of the lunchroom.
“Single file, single file!” Mr. Hubbard yelled after them, but no one listened.
As Eddie moved with the herd toward the lunchroom, a voice inside his head whispered, “Tonight... tonight... tonight...” It was the same voice that had appeared when the nut had come to life.
“Tonight...”
During lunch, Eddie had tried talk to Pudge and Roxie, but the table was abuzz with conversations about Hubbard’s hairpiece and complaints about how all the taco shells were broken.
When Eddie and his classmates had returned to the classroom, Ms. Lee, the morning kindergarten teacher, was waiting for them. She explained that Mr. Hubbard had taken ill and would be returning tomorrow. But lucky for them, she had her guitar with her.
After three hours of singing songs and listening to stories about Ms. Lee’s cats, the final bell rang and Eddie and his classmates were free.
Pudge and Roxie caught up with him in the hall. “Come on,” said Pudge. “We’re going to Pop’s.”
A few minutes later, they were sitting in a booth at Pudge’s father’s pizza joint, Pop’s Pizzeria, a little paneled restaurant overlooking Lake Mohawk. Pudge’s dad was larger than life. He was usually in a great mood, singing with the radio, joking with the customers, but today, he set the plain pie and drinks in front of Pudge and his friends without saying a word.
“Thanks, Pop,” said Pudge. Eddie and Roxie echoed his thanks.
“Fugetaboutit,” Pop said and turned to leave.
“Something wrong?” Pudge asked. Pop considered this for a moment and then motioned for his son to scooch over in the booth.
“What’s this I hear about you getting into it with Lance and his crew?”
“What? Who said we got into it?” Pudge already had his first slice in hand but at this he set it down.
“I got a call from his father. He told me that you and Eddie and...” He looked across to where Roxie was sitting shaking a tremendous amount of Parmesan cheese onto her pizza. “Who’s the new girl?”
“That’s Roxie, Pops. She’s okay. What did Lance’s father say?”
“He said you were mouthing off to Lance and his guys. Being real wisenheimers. He also said that a boy got burned.” Pop looked serious now. “Can you tell me anything about that?”
The Mad Scientists of New Jersey (Volume 1) Page 4
