The Mystery of the Frozen Brains

by Marty Chan

  “Why aren’t you out there?” I asked.

  “The Boissonaults told everyone about me and you. Now no one will talk to me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I don’t have any friends now.”

  “You’ve got me.”

  Remi didn’t say a thing. My stomach twisted in a big knot. I wondered what would have happened if I had never told Remi my secret. Would he still have friends?

  “You don’t need them,” I said. “They’re not real friends if they force you to pick who to hang with.”

  “I play hockey with most of them. They’re gonna cream me at the next practice.”

  “That’s not important.”

  “I’m going to be the meat in a body check sandwich.”

  “What?”

  “Duh, monkey butt.” He held up one hand and slammed his fist into it. “Get the picture?”

  I nodded. “But there won’t be a hockey practice. The aliens have started their invasion.”

  “What?” Remi stood up, worried.

  I told him about Trina’s and Erics’ mysterious disappearance from class, but I pointed out that there were three brains in the freezer.

  Remi punched his hand. “The invasion has started. Norman Arsenault didn’t show up for class today. Mrs. Riopel said he was at home sick, but Norman’s got the record for perfect attendance. He’d have to be really sick to miss class.”

  “The aliens have them,” I suggested.

  “What do the aliens want to do with three kids?”

  “Brace yourself. I have a theory.”

  “Does it have anything to do with cows?” Remi asked.

  “No. In a couple of days, Norman, Eric and Trina will show up at school. But they’ll be different.”

  “Different like how?”

  “They’ll have alien brains.”

  “Brain-napping! Are you serious, Marty?”

  “Yes. Three frozen brains and three missing students. It all adds up.”

  “But the aliens can’t be here yet. We haven’t seen any U.F.O.s in the sky.”

  “Jean and Jacques probably told Father Sasseville about us snooping around the hill. Maybe the aliens decided to speed up the take over. I think they’re getting humans ready for some kind of brain transfer.”

  Remi said, “But what are they doing with Norman, Eric and Trina until the aliens get here?”

  I imagined the trio strapped into metal chairs on the flying saucer. Their heads were popped open and their skulls empty. When I thought about Trina, my heart pumped out a lump that shot straight to my throat. My legs went weak.

  “Remi, we have to sneak into the flying saucer now. The Boissonaults are at school. No one’s guarding the flying saucer. We have to save Trina! And Eric and Norman too.”

  “Let’s rock and roll,” Remi shouted.

  We headed out of the schoolyard, but the Boissonaults intercepted us.

  Jean screamed, “Remi’s with the Chinaman again. Get them.”

  About twenty French boys chased us, with Jacques screaming for more people to help catch us.

  “I think the Boissonaults are on to us,” I yelled to Remi. “They’re not going to let us out of their sight.”

  “Get the Chinaman,” yelled Jacques.

  “Ignore him,” Remi yelled. “Just keep running.”

  We were too far from the school building to get help from the teachers, and there were too many guys after us. I started to run out of steam as the French boys gained ground.

  “Marty,” Remi panted. He pointed at a group of Anglais building a snow fort. He remembered how I got rid of the students on Trina’s freak-a-zoid tour.

  I smiled.

  We sprinted toward the snow fort. Behind us, the French kids continued to charge.

  “Get them!” Jacques ordered his army.

  “Attack the French,” I yelled at the group of Anglais.

  The English kids scrambled out of the fort and ran toward us. The air filled with war whoops and threats.

  Suddenly, both sides stopped dead in their tracks. The reason why was Principal Henday. He stepped between the two warring parties. He looked from one group to the other.

  “I’m disappointed in all of you,” he clucked. “I’ve had enough of this fighting in the schoolyard. You are all to spend recesses and lunch hours in your classes washing the windows and cleaning the gum off the bottom of the desks.”

  Everyone moaned.

  “Half of the French will work in the English classes, and half of the English boys will be in the French classes. That’s the only way you are going to learn to get along.”

  No one looked happy about this truce. I could hear people mutter about “The Rake’s” unfair punishment. The French guys agreed with the Anglais.

  Mr. Henday silenced everyone. “Or I could just call all your parents and tell them what you were doing. Would you like that?”

  Everyone shut up. I wondered if Mrs. Connor had taught Mr. Henday how to get people to shut up.

  Mr. Henday barked, “Your punishment starts now. Everybody inside.”

  Everyone filed toward the school. Remi and I took our time and let the pack get ahead of us.

  I whispered to Remi, “What do we do now?”

  He shrugged. “We’re stuck at school. And I’m sure the Boissonaults will rush home to protect the hill. There’s no way we can get into the spaceship.”

  “Maybe my Dad has a ray gun or something. We can use it to shrink the Boissonaults and get past them.” I liked the thought of a two-inch high Jacques Boissonault.

  Remi agreed. “We’ll search the store for a weapon, then we can storm the hill.”

  After school, I headed into the store to let Remi in through the back. But when I walked past the cash register, I had to stop. My dad was talking with the Night Watchman.

  “Everything is almost ready, George,” said Father Sasseville.

  “Do you think there will be any problems?” asked Dad.

  “Maybe some red tape, but nothing I can’t take care of.”

  Red tape? Was this some kind of special code for Remi and me? Father Sasseville looked right at me.

  “Good to see you again, my son,” he said.

  “Uh . . . hi.”

  “Have you given any more thought to your conversion?”

  “What?” Dad asked.

  “I’m still thinking about it. I have to get to work. Excuse me.”

  I shuffled up the aisle. Dad turned back to Father Sasseville. “So when will they get here?”

  “If all works out, very soon.”

  “I can pick them up,” Dad offered.

  “That would be good. I’ll let you know when everything is ready. We have to move quickly, so be ready.”

  I didn’t need to hear any more. I rushed to the back of the store. I let Remi in and told him about Father Sasseville’s conversation with my dad.

  “They’re speeding up the invasion,” I said. “We have to rescue the brains.”

  We headed to the freezer. Remi unzipped his backpack, while I lifted the freezer lid. We looked at the bags of brains nestled in the corner beside the ice cream pails. Each bag seemed to pulse with its individual brain. I would never eat ice cream again without thinking about Trina’s frozen brain in the freezer.

  “Okay, you grab the bags. I’ll hold the backpack open,” Remi said.

  “What? No, you get them. I’ll hold the lid up.”

  “We don’t have time to argue. Get the brains.” Remi held open his pack.

  “I’m not touching them.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “No. Are you?”

  “Just put the brains in my backpack, Marty.”

  “Rock, paper, scissors decides.” I held up my hand.

  Remi sighed and held out his hand. We counted off. One. Two. Three. He had rock. I had paper. Remi grumbled and shoved his pack at me, then leaned into the freezer and gingerly picked up the bags by their twist ties.

  The first bag drop
ped into the pack like a stone. The next one thudded hard against the first brain.

  “Careful. That could have been Trina’s brain,” I said.

  “You like her or something?”

  “No,” I lied. “Just be careful.”

  “Sure, sure. I’ll be careful with your girlfriend’s brain.”

  He picked up the third brain bag and juggled it around.

  “Careful,” I said.

  “Ooops,” Remi joked as he tossed the bag from one hand to another. “I just about dropped your girlfriend’s brain.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Whoa, she’s got a slippery brain.”

  “Careful!”

  “Ooops, just about dropped it again.”

  “You jerk!”

  “Aiya!” My mom’s voice stopped Remi in mid toss. The bagged brain clattered on the tiled floor and slid to her feet.

  Wearing a bloody apron, Mom picked up the tiny brain bag. I figured by the size it had to be Eric Johnson’s noggin. I hoped it wasn’t Trina’s.

  Mom yelled in alienese, “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled.

  She held up the brain bag and barked. “Put them back.”

  Remi and I didn’t budge, petrified of my mom.

  “Now!” she screamed.

  Her angry glare triggered her mind control powers. Instead of arguing with her, we obeyed without question. Remi took the brain from Mom’s hand, while I snatched the two brains in my backpack and laid them back into the freezer. Remi handed me the third brain and I placed it on top of the other two. We closed the freezer and turned to face my mom.

  “Tell your friend to go home now.”

  “I can explain Mom.”

  “Now!” She used the mind control glare again.

  “I should get going anyway,” Remi said. He grabbed the backpack from me. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

  I wanted to tell him to get help, but my mouth dried up and my lips couldn’t make a sound. Instead, I just watched my friend leave me alone with a very mad alien mom. I tried to apologize to her, but she used her mind control glare to shut me up.

  “You will never see that boy again.”

  I struggled against her mind control and protested, “But he’s my friend.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “He’s my only friend.”

  “A real friend would not make so much trouble for you. Go to your room,” she barked.

  I obeyed. As I walked down the hall, I could feel her cold glare pierce through the back of my head and force me to shamble to my room.

  I reviewed what had gone wrong. Mom must have read our minds. If we had worn our tin foil helmets, we would never have been caught, and Earth might be saved. And Trina’s brain wouldn’t be sitting on top of a box of Freezies.

  In my bedroom, I listened to the cement wall for Remi’s secret knock. I watched the clock count off the minutes, then an hour. No knock came. Remi had gone home. Mom’s mind control glare must have been pretty powerful.

  In bed, I focussed on the problem at hand. The aliens were on their way. Father Sasseville and the Boissonaults probably doubled security around the flying saucer. And now that Mom knew I was on to her, she would be doubling security around me.

  I got up and paced around my room. There had to be some way to thwart the invasion or at least give the humans a fighting chance. I saw Remi running from a giant flying saucer. I saw Father Sasseville ordering the Boissonault brothers to round up all the kids at school. I saw the freezer fill up with human brains. I saw myself taking out Trina’s brain and putting it back into her pretty head. I saw myself eating lunch with her and holding her hand. I shook off the daydream. How could I have such mixed feelings about this girl?

  Before I could come up with an answer, I stubbed my toe on something hard. I muffled a yelp and hopped around the room. When my toe stopped throbbing, I looked under my bed and found Remi’s hockey helmet, which he had left behind. I examined the chin strap and the face shield. This thing was sturdy. If a human wore it, his brain would be protected from anything, even aliens.

  I had to find more helmets.

  FOURTEEN

  I wasn’t the only one looking for Remi the next morning. Jean and Jacques had organized a search party. The Boissonault brothers and their posse scoured the schoolyard. I hid behind the Jesus statue and overheard two French guys talk about how they wanted to get revenge on Remi for getting everyone in trouble. They also mentioned me. I snuck away.

  Half-way across the schoolyard, someone yelled, “There he is!”

  It was James Crane from my home room. He waved the French kids over and they chased after me. Other Anglais students followed. “The Rake’s” plan had worked. For the first time ever, the French and the English were side by side. The only problem was that they were working together to get me.

  The school bell rang to start class. I sprinted into the building where I would be safe under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Connor and Principal Henday. I looked around the boot room for Remi, but I didn’t see him. I figured he was laying low just as I should have been. I figured I would find him later.

  At recess, however, Remi did not show up for cleaning detail in my classroom, which left me alone against some of the meanest guys in school. Both the French and English boys snapped their cleaning towels at my butt. I rushed to a corner of the class and jammed my bum against the wall. The boys made up reasons to “clean” the corner and snapped towels at my legs. I blocked their towels with my arms, which soon burned bright red.

  Mrs. Connor cut off the attack when she strolled in to check on the noise in class. The boys went back to work, while I nursed my sore arms. I wondered if Remi was suffering the same fate in his classroom. I planned to check on him at lunch hour.

  But he was not in his classroom at noon. Instead, I ran into the Boissonaults. Jacques smacked a wet mop between my legs so that it looked like I had peed my pants. Jean laughed and offered to clean it up with his spray bottle of window cleaner. The other boys laughed. I covered myself and backed out of the classroom.

  I searched the rest of the school, but Remi had vanished from the face of the Earth. Had he found a great hiding place? Or had the French/English alliance stuffed him into a locker? Either way, he was missing in action.

  In one room, a crusty teacher with white hair marked homework assignments. Maybe she had seen Remi.

  “Excuse me?” I squeaked.

  She looked up from her papers. “About time you boys got to my class. Start with the big desk at the back. It’s gum central. You’ll have to scrape hard.”

  “Actually, I’m looking for Remi.”

  The crusty teacher stopped. “He didn’t show up for school today. There’s a flu going around. I think he might have caught it.”

  It seemed too convenient for Remi to be absent the very day after my mom caught us with the frozen brains.

  “Did his parents tell you that?” I asked.

  The teacher just shrugged. “Some woman called the school. I assume it was his mother.”

  Or it was my mom posing as Remi’s parent. “Thanks,” I mumbled to the teacher.

  I shambled down the hall, stunned. Without Remi by my side, I started to lose my nerve. I found it easier to fight aliens when there were two of us. I felt like I could do anything, mainly because Remi thought he could do anything. He was so unlike my parents and teachers who mostly told me what I could not do. Now he had been brain-napped and I had no idea what to do. I couldn’t possibly win this war by myself.

  So lost in my thoughts, I didn’t see the French and English boys sneak up on me until it was too late. I howled when the first rag snapped against my leg. They charged after me, calling out to get the Chinaman.

  More English and French boys spilled out into the hallway to chase after me. I scrambled around a corner and down a hall. They kept chasing me. Where were the teachers? It hit me. They were in the only place I had not looked for Remi.

 
; I sprinted down the hall to the teachers’ lounge. I grabbed the doorknob. The mob hesitated.

  One of the Anglais said, “Chill. He’s going to get a teacher.”

  Jacques scoffed at me, “You don’t have the guts.”

  Jean yelled, “Get him before he opens the door.”

  They charged at me. I froze. No student was allowed to walk into the teachers’ lounge. But if I didn’t go inside right now, the cleaning detail would “clean” me into the hospital. I yanked open the door and ran into the forbidden room.

  I expected the teachers’ lounge to look like a classroom. Instead of students’ desks, I thought it would be full of teachers’ desks and teachers’ textbooks. I expected the teachers would be practicing how to write in big letters on white boards, or Mrs. Connor would be testing her shut-up questions on other teachers.

  What I saw was nothing like I had imagined. The room had two ratty couches, a couple of chipped coffee tables, and a coffee pot. The room had no books, just a lot of scattered newspapers. The teachers weren’t doing anything that looked like teaching. They just sat on the couches and ate their lunches while they stared blankly at the television which played the noon hour news. They were like zombies. No one even turned around when I came in.

  Before anyone noticed me, I crept to the coffee counter. Under the coffee pot, a cupboard looked big enough to fit me. Perfect. All I had to do was hide in the cramped space long enough for the teachers to leave and for the “cleaning” posse to return to class.

  I opened the cupboard door. It squeaked. I froze. None of the zombie teachers even looked over. I peeked inside the cupboard. Some sugar packets crowded a large bowl. Other than that, the shelf sat bare. I crawled into the cupboard. It was a tight fit, but I squeezed inside. A sugar packet slid under my butt, but I ignored it. I grabbed the edge of the squeaky cupboard door and pulled it closed.

  The cupboard smelled of coffee and my sweat. Was there enough air in the cupboard? I sucked wind through my mouth because I couldn’t stand the smell that wafted up my nose.

  To pass the time, I recounted the Hardy Boy books that I had read. I tried to remember if they had any cases like mine. But as I sifted through the stories, I found that their adventures weren’t as thrilling as my real-life case. I wondered if a writer would ever write about my exploits. I imagined I was the third Hardy brother: Marty Hardy. If I were the writer, I’d come up with a better name than that. I hated my name because people liked to find rhymes to go with it. The girls enjoyed “Smarty Marty.” The boys really liked “Farty Marty.” I wanted people to call me “Party Marty,” but to earn that title, I’d have to throw a party first, and there was no way my mom would let anyone come over to our home.