by Rob Harrell
I saw no choice, so I popped up from behind the counter like I’d tripped. “Oops, ha-ha. Clumsy me!”
Silhouetted in front of the fridge was Big Bad, wearing a big fluffy robe and holding a plate of turkey legs and salami.
Oddly, my first thought was that he must have brought his own robe with him, cause Stan Littlepig’s robes would have barely covered one of his arms. Then I heard Goldie in my ear, yelling, “Code Red, everyone! Stand by!”
As he stepped over and flipped on the kitchen lights, I felt one of my friends brush my leg as they huddled up closer to the counter.
“The old sandman wouldn’t come . . . Couldn’t sleep . . .” I was babbling again—and suddenly my ears were itching like crazy.
Big Bad stood there staring at me with a look of disgust. Finally he rolled his eyes and came to the other side of the kitchen counter. He pulled a stool out with his hind paw and settled down just across from me. He leaned over the plate, grabbed a turkey leg in one hand and the salami in the other, and started going to town on them.
I was frozen, staring at his teeth ripping that meat apart, when I felt my ears droop. I reached up and felt one and realized immediately what was happening. My wolf ears had reverted to troll ears!
Big Bad looked up with a mouth full of food. “Are you jush gonna shtan’ there an’ . . . What happened to your ears?”
I broke out in a sweat as my scalp started to itch and tingle. “It’s a . . . a condition.”
Big Bad grunted and went back to devouring his plate of meat.
In my earpiece, I heard Chester’s announcement. “The ears have drooped, people! The ears have drooped!”
I was trying to figure out what to do—how to get the pigs and Miss Flett out of the room—when tufts of orange hair started springing out of the top of my head.
I should have had more time! Rebb must have done the spell wrong!
I covered my head awkwardly just as Big Bad looked up—looking really irritated this time. “Seriously. Can you move alo . . . ?” He tipped his head to the side. “What are you doing?”
My tail and my snout started to shiver and itch, and I knew I had to get out of there. But Big Bad struck out as fast as a snake and grabbed my arm. He pulled my paw away from my head and was staring at the hair there when my tail disappeared with a big FLOOMP sound.
Big Bad looked confused and started to move backward, standing up off of his stool, when my muzzle popped back to a troll nose in a small puff of smoke.
Big Bad backed into the counter behind him, knocking over several glasses full of used silverware. Amid the clattering, his stunned face dissolved into a snarl.
With one step, he launched himself over the counter at me, growling. As he grabbed me by the shoulders of my jacket, he looked down and saw Miss Flett and the pigs. His eyes went wide and he let out a roar of pure rage.
Big Bad threw me across the kitchen as easily as if I’d been a box of instant porridge. I crashed across the kitchen table and landed in a tangle of chairs and place settings in the corner, listening to Sierra cutting in and out in my ear.
I looked under the table and saw the wolf coming around the counter at the others, blocking their way to the front of the house. I hoisted myself up on one arm and yelled as loud as I could. “GOOOO!!” Kevin and the others scrambled to their feet and took off for the back stairs.
Big Bad rounded the counter and took a swipe at Mr. Littlepig, missing him by millimeters. I heard bedroom doors opening and big paws thudding down the front stairs as the wolves came running. I threw a chair off of me—troll blood and anger starting to fire through my system—and scrambled over the table after them.
I made it halfway through the laundry room before Big Bad caught me. He reached forward and grabbed my hair in one giant fist. I’m not gonna lie to you—it hurt. A lot.
The wolf turned the corner to the stairs at full speed, dragging me behind him like a rag doll—I smashed into the banister and felt my nose hit every spindle on the way up.
We rounded the corner into the upstairs hallway just as the door to Kevin’s room slammed shut. Two wolves appeared at the other end of the hall. Big Bad waited impatiently as one unlocked the door before he slammed it open. He yanked the leather jacket off of me and threw me into the room, then loomed in the doorway—his chest rising and falling like he was going to explode. I was on my back and looking at an upside-down version of a nightmare.
Big Bad let out a howl of disgust and anger that shook the whole house. Then he turned around and backhanded one of the wolves behind him—making the smaller wolf yelp and scramble away.
“How did this happen?? I want three of you morons on this door! Do you understand?” Then Big Bad slammed the door shut and we listened to his footsteps as he stormed off down the hall, knocking picture frames off the wall.
No one said a word for a few moments as we caught our breath (and Kevin tried to stop hyperventilating). I listened for the sound of the door being locked again before I spoke.
• 21 •
NO WAY OUT
It was Kevin’s vacant muttering in the corner that snapped me back into action. He was mumbling something about how wolf fangs were covered in dangerous bacteria, and I was worried he’d snapped.
Miss Flett was doing her best to calm Kevin’s sister, Ima. I saw Ima was clutching something in her fist and got a lump in my throat when I realized it was a little troll doll I’d given her over the summer.
Kevin’s mom was rubbing his back. I was awkwardly getting to my feet when Kevin’s dad, Stan, leaned out and grabbed me by the arm.
Between the disappointment at being back in this room, the pain in my scalp and nose, and the sincerity in his voice, something gave way. I felt my eyes go all blurry with tears and turned away toward the window. I needed to busy myself or I was going to start blubbering like a baby.
I whispered into my wrist.
I waited, but no one answered. I tried again and heard nothing. I stuck my finger into my ear to check for the earpiece and realized it was empty. Dropping back to the floor, I started feeling all over for it.
“My earpiece! Help me look!” Mr. Littlepig got down and helped . . . but it wasn’t there. It must have fallen out when I was bouncing nose-first up the stairs.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but my mood plummeted even further. It would have been a perfect moment for a big clap of thunder if this were a movie.
We were on our own.
* * *
I crawled up onto the top bunk and flopped down with my face in a pillow to think. And okay, maybe to pout a little. I shivered, and missed that awesome leather jacket. I went to pull a sheet over me when I realized there wasn’t one on the bed. I was lying on a bare pillow and mattress. I hung my head over the side of the bed.
Kevin rubbed his snout and slowly looked up at me, dazed. “They took them when they took all our cell phones and stuff. Took all the clothes in the closet, too. Basically, anything we could have tied together to climb down the side of the house.”
I looked over at the small, dark window. Dang. These wolves weren’t as dumb as they looked. I knew it was two stories down to the concrete patio. And not normal stories. Mansion stories, with super-high vaulted ceilings—which made it more like three or four normal stories. I guess these are the things you don’t consider when planning your mansion.
I lay there thinking about it as the minutes ticked by. Come on, brain. (Asking a troll brain to come up with a brilliant plan is about like asking a fish to take up jogging.)
Suddenly I had it. I jumped down off the bed. “Okay. Okay. Here’s what we do. We shove the mattresses out the window and jump out onto them!”
Kevin just shook his head and looked down at his feet. It was Miss Flett who spoke up.
“Even if the mattresses would fit through the window, which I doubt, there are motion sen
sors all over the yard. The yard lights would come on as soon as we dropped them. That yard would be Wolf City in three seconds.”
Kevin started wailing like a busted foghorn. “Ohhhh . . . We’re trapped like Swamp Rats in a cheese bog!”
Mrs. Littlepig gently shushed her kids. “I’m afraid Kevin has a point this time, Zarf.”
I felt my shoulders fall as I realized they were right. There was really and truly no way out of this room.
Until someone knocked on the window.
I’ll admit that I jumped a little.
I ran to the window and was startled to find Sierra smiling back at me, upside down.
She motioned for me to open the window. I did, as quietly as I could, and helped her as she swung around and dropped onto the ledge.
Kevin jumped up from the bed, eyes wide.
She put her hand on Kevin’s shoulder and spoke as quietly as she could. “Yeah, ding-dong. I’m Supergirl. Hadn’t I told you?” She gave him a warm smile to calm him down a bit. “But seriously, we need to scoot, like, pronto.”
“How did you . . .? What? How the . . .?” I was so flabbergasted, I couldn’t put a sentence together.
She smiled as she pulled her backpack off of her shoulder. (I mean seriously, was she planning on doing some homework?)
“Goldie used a crossbow to make the shot of the century while the wolves were distracted. It was seriously amazeballs. She shot a lasso over one of the vent pipes on the roof. As the lightest one of our group, I got to come across. Take a look.”
I looked out the window. The rope led away from the roof just above our window to the Ferris wheel, maybe twenty-five yards away. I saw movement in the dark and barely made out the forms of Chester and Goldie waving from the top of the wheel—silhouetted against the dark sky.
When I turned back, Sierra was all business. She pulled a pile of thick gloves out of her pack and tossed them to the others in the room. “These may be a little big, but they’ll help you keep a grip on the rope—’cause, y’know . . . falling would be bad.”
I watched Kevin’s face as he processed this.
“Wait a second.”
Thankfully, it was a whisper-yell, but we all shushed him just the same. Sierra took him calmly by the shoulders. “Cool your jets, Kevin. It’s the only way over the motion sensors. Any other way out, the wolves will know.”
Kevin—mouth hanging open, eyes wide—looked around the room at each of us like we’d lost our minds.
“What if the wolves on guard just happen to . . . oh, I don’t know . . . look up??”
Sierra walked over and moved a side table under the window as a stepping stool.
“Well . . . let’s just really, really hope they don’t.”
• 22 •
PIGS ON THE LINE
Mrs. Littlepig was the first out the window after everyone had grabbed some quick hugs. She was shaking, but her face was amazingly composed as she gripped the rope with her gloved front hooves. We all held our breath as she began to scoot herself, hoof over hoof, out over the drop. Kevin gripped the windowsill with white knuckles as he watched.
Mr. Littlepig and Ima went next, with Ima harnessed to Stan’s chest using my belt. Ima asked Kevin to put her troll doll in his pocket so she wouldn’t lose it. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and took the doll. Then Miss Flett insisted Kevin go next.
He was shaking like a leaf. Sierra and I insisted Miss Flett go while I calmed him down. There was some back and forth—Miss Flett insisting that as the teacher she needed to be the last out—but Sierra and I got really stubborn really fast. We dug our heels in and eventually got our protesting teacher out on the rope.
I grabbed Kevin by the shoulders. “Kev. Do I need to remind you who the pig is?”
He shivered and looked away. “Yeah, yeah. I’m the pig. That’s not gonna cut it this time, Zarf.”
I squatted down in front of him. “All right, Kevin. If you can’t do this for you, do it for your family. They need you. Or for me! I need you to get out of here alive! What if I didn’t have you to sweat the small stuff for me?”
Kevin sniffed and stared back at me.
“If you’re not around, who’s gonna stop me from eating sun-warmed mayonnaise? Who’s gonna make sure I have Purell at lunch so I don’t catch the plague and die? Who’s gonna remind me when we have a test in Fable-ometry?”
Kevin chuckled. “It’s true.”
“You’re darn right I am!” I was really going for it. “And I’m just about to enter my teens! Imagine the sort of awful stuff I could get into without you around to keep me in check!”
Kev suddenly looked serious. “You’re right. I can’t leave you alone with Chester’s nutball way of life!” He stood up and cracked his hoof knuckles.
He hopped up to the windowsill, grabbed on to that rope, and backed himself out of the room before we could even help him. He hooked his little legs and was off.
I leaned out the window and whispered after him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He didn’t look back, but I could tell he was grinning in spite of his fear. “Blow it out your . . .”
And that’s when I saw Ima’s troll doll slip from his pocket.
I’m not sure why time slows down in moments like this, but watching that doll fall is proof to me that it does. Sierra was beside me as it fell, and she gasped. The motion detectors!
Maybe the hair on that little doll acted as a parachute, because I swear it took five heart-stopping seconds to fall to the patio. It landed and bounced to a stop, and I thought we were okay.
For maybe a split second.
When the lights came on, they came on all at once, and it was blinding. There were floodlights at the base of the house, in the trees, on poles, and under the gutters. The yard lit up like the fifty yard line of the Dragon Bowl.
Immediately, I heard yelps and barks from startled wolves throughout the house. I shout-whispered at the group on the rope, “GO! GO! GO!” and turned to Sierra. “You have to go now!”
But she just looked back at me calmly, with a weird grin. “No way, Zarf. You’re going.”
I froze.
Just then I heard huge footsteps pounding down the hallway and the Big Bad Wolf shouting at the top of his lungs. “THE PIGS ARE ESCAPING! GO AFTER THEM! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!”
There was a thunderous kick to the door, but the lock held. Sierra pushed me toward the window. “Go, Zarf.”
My knees were trembling as the wolf kicked the door again, but I stood my ground. “I’m staying.”
Sierra sighed—but bent over and pulled open her backpack. She took out two white balls wrapped in plastic and handed me one. One whiff told me what they were. Then she tugged out a balled-up piece of red fabric.
She looked up at me and rolled her eyes. “Stop looking at me like I’ve gone goofy, Z. When I was little, my mom trained me to deal with—”
Another kick shattered the top hinge of the door as I heard wolf barks and howls from the yard. From outside, I also heard the shouts of the SQUAT team and the thwang sounds of their bows and arrows. I imagined there was a full-scale SQUATist/wolf battle going on in the manor’s lawn.
Sierra unrolled the fabric, which turned out to be an old hooded cape—and I knew immediately whose it had been originally. Lastly, she pulled out a large dagger and squared off toward the door.
One more kick splintered the door down the middle, and Big Bad burst into the room. His crazed eye did a sweep of the room and froze when it fell on Sierra.
He chuckled—a low, evil sound. There was suddenly pure hate in his eyes, like I’ve never seen. “Well, hello little lady.”
• 23 •
REMATCH
Behind my back, I unwrapped the white ball, and the scent of blue cheese hit me almost immediately.
Sierra took a step toward the wolf. “My, what a m
angled-looking ear you have.”
Big Bad clearly didn’t like this. He took a step forward. “The better to . . . um . . .” I said he was scary, but I never said he was quick with a comeback. “The better to only kind of hear . . . no . . .” Then he caught a whiff of the cheese ball behind my back.
“OH!” He pulled the lapel of his leather jacket up over his nose. “That is just foul. What . . . ? Is that blue cheese?”
I stepped up as I pulled it out from behind my back. “You’d better believe it.”
Big Bad straightened up and tried to act like it didn’t bother him, but I saw his throat hitch a couple times like he was gonna hurl.
“But I’m not some—urk!—common wolf who can be stopped with a wad of—retch!—cheese.”
His eyes never left the cheese in my hand, so I had a pretty good idea it was freaking him out.
Sierra was gathering confidence. “Looks like my mom tuned you up pretty good. Why don’t you come over and let me even out those ears for you?”
Tough talk like that may shake the bad guy’s confidence in movies—but in this case it just made things worse. Faster than I could have imagined, the wolf lunged for Sierra. One huge paw lashed out and smacked the dagger out of Sierra’s hand—and I watched with horror as it flew right out the open window.
