Beware the Ninja Weenies

by David Lubar

  GULP

  It was really Mom’s idea for me to go to the carnival. “You’ll have fun,” she said. “You’ll probably run into lots of your friends.”

  I didn’t bother telling her I couldn’t run into lots of friends. She liked to pretend that I was popular. There was no point ruining her fantasy image of me with the truth. And it wasn’t as if going to the carnival was some sort of punishment. I’d probably have a good time.

  I followed her to the car, took the money she shoved in my hand, and let her drive me across town to the county park, where the Milltown Fire Company annual carnival had set up.

  “I’ll pick you up at six,” Mom called as I walked toward the booths.

  I saw people I knew, of course. Lots of them. But nobody who’d be happy if I tried to hang out with him. The first booth I went to had one of those wheels with all the numbers on it.

  “Come on, son, try yer luck,” the guy running the game said. “It’s only a quarter.”

  I knew it was a long shot. There were a ton of numbers on the wheel. But he was right—it was only a quarter. I studied the board that ran along the front of the booth. What number? Didn’t really matter. I put the quarter on number twelve, partly because it was right in front of me. Partly because that’s how old I was.

  A couple other people stepped up and picked numbers. I sort of hoped someone else would also choose twelve, so we could root for it together. Nobody did.

  “Good luck,” the guy said. He spun the wheel.

  It stopped on twelve.

  I’d won.

  “Here ya go, sport.” The guy held out a moldy cardboard box. “You get yer choice.”

  I looked inside. Candy bars. Old ones with faded wrappers. Ick.

  The guy shook the box. “Move it, kid. I ain’t got all day. Just pick something. It’s all good stuff. Top quality.”

  I grabbed the closest candy bar. Caramel chews. Even the wrapper felt sticky. I tore it open. There were five shiny brown pieces inside on a cardboard tray. I popped one in my mouth. Then I wrapped the rest of the pieces back up, put them in my pocket.

  I don’t know why they called them chews. Maybe the candy had been chewy ten years ago, but now it was closer to gluey. Once I bit down on the piece in my mouth, it pretty much sealed my teeth together. Though it did taste kind of good. I ground down on it and wriggled my jaw. After a couple minutes, I was actually able to get my teeth unstuck.

  I tried to figure out how to kill all the time between now and six, when Mom would pick me up. There were rides. That would be fun. Though I knew that if I rode by myself, people would stare at me. I wandered deeper toward the center of the carnival.

  After I finished eating the caramel chew, I realized I was thirsty. There was a booth right ahead of me with old-fashioned sodas. Mom doesn’t let me have more than one can a day, so this was a great opportunity. I bought the biggest size they had. I loved root beer. And I loved the idea of drinking as much as I wanted. Before I could take my first sip, someone grabbed my arm, sloshing soda on the ground.

  “Thanks. I was dying for a drink.”

  I looked up. Oh, great. Corbin Malatesta had latched on to me. I was a loner because I had a hard time making friends. He was a loner because he was just too dangerous and mean to hang out with. I let him take the cup from my hand.

  He didn’t even bother to use a straw. He tilted his head back and chugged my root beer. It was gone in five seconds. I waited for him to burp, but he just grinned and said, “I’m still thirsty. Let’s get another.”

  “But…”

  He glared at me. I sighed, bought another soda, gave it to him, then tried to slip away. But there was no escape. He put an arm around my shoulder and said, “Now what? I know—let’s go on a ride. You’d better buy two tickets. I hate to ride alone, like some kind of loser.”

  I bought some ride tickets. And then, at Corbin’s suggestion, I bought another soda. He gulped that one down, the same way he’d guzzled the other two. I frantically searched for a way to escape. That’s when my eyes fell on the Super Scrambler. It was like the old-fashioned Scrambler—four rotating arms, each with four cars on it—but beside spinning, it also shook up and down. As I watched the ride, everything clicked into place, like I was planning out my next three or four moves in a game of checkers.

  “That looks kind of scary.” I tried my best to sound terrified.

  “Perfect. Fear makes me happy.” Corbin dragged me toward the Super Scrambler. When we got to the entrance, I gave the guy at the gate two tickets and climbed into one of the cars with Corbin.

  Now I had a decision to make. I think every kid reaches a point where he finds out how far he’ll go to protect himself. I pulled the pack of caramel chews out of my pocket. It looked like I was about to go pretty far. But I felt good about my choice. I was tired of being a victim.

  “There are four,” I said. “We can split them.”

  “I’m not into sharing,” Corbin said. “It’s me first, me last, and me in the middle.” He scooped up all four caramels and popped them in his mouth. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to get him to do what I wanted.

  As he bit down, the ride started to move. It rotated slowly at first, then built up speed, pressing us against the back of the seat. I heard whoops and shouts from the other riders. Right next to me, I heard something that sounded more like, “Mmmmmuuhhhmmmmm.”

  Corbin was trying to talk, but his mouth was sealed shut by the caramels. The ride began to jerk up and down in random, violent ways. Corbin’s eyes got wider. His cheeks started to puff up. I guess all the soda in his stomach was being shaken pretty heavily.

  I was tossed around by the ride, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Corbin. I’d seen this old jazz trumpeter on TV once. When he played, his cheeks puffed out like small balloons. Well, Corbin’s cheeks puffed out way more than that. They swelled up bigger and bigger. By now, he was beyond resembling anything human. He reminded me of those frogs who can puff up their necks really far.

  His head was thrashing all around, like he was trying hard to unstick his teeth and open his mouth. His cheeks swelled past frog neck, and were moving through water-balloon territory. He clawed at his mouth with both hands. I guess he was trying to pry his jaws open.

  The ride jolted so hard, I nearly flew out of my seat. Corbin’s eyes got wider, and his whole body shuddered like he’d grabbed an electric eel. Some sort of survival instinct made me duck and close my eyes. It’s a good thing. Otherwise, I might have been blinded. As it was, I heard an enormous pop, like when you jump up in the air and come down butt first on a balloon. The pop was followed by a thundering burp that sounded like it would never end.

  As the burp finally faded into a moan, and the ride slowed to a drifting stop, I opened my eyes and stared at Corbin. He was sitting straight up now. I think he was in shock. He wasn’t moving at all. I looked away when I realized I was seeing the inside of his mouth. His cheeks had exploded, giving me a clear view of the side of his teeth. I unbuckled myself and scooted off the ride.

  “I think that kid over there needs a doctor,” I said as I ran past the ticket guy. I had a feeling Corbin would need more than one doctor. I also had a feeling it would be a long time before he came back to school.

  “Hey—what did you do to Corbin?”

  I looked over at Travis Hatcher, who lived down the block from me. He was standing with Billy Sherman, Jesse Larch, and a couple other kids from school.

  “Nothing. He did it to himself,” I said.

  They all stared over at Corbin.

  “He broke my nose last year,” Travis said.

  “He broke my watch last week,” Jesse said.

  I started to turn away.

  Travis tapped my shoulder. “Come on. You can hang out with us.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.” He pointed toward the drink booth. “We were just about to get a soda. You thirsty?”

  I nodded. I realized I was still thirsty. I hoped they had l
emonade. Somehow, I wasn’t in the mood for anything fizzy.

  SPRING BEHIND, FALL AHEAD

  It was that stupid nerd Herbert Marlock’s fault I was kicked out of school. He was always getting in my face with his wheezy laugh and his look-how-smart-I-am wisecracks. Anybody would have punched him sooner or later. It just happened to be me. It was a good punch, too. Knocked him right off his feet. And knocked me right out of school.

  I was halfway home when I realized I had to find a way to fix things. If it was up to me, I’d be happy to stay out of school forever. But my parents told me if I got kicked out again, they’d send me to a military school where they wake you up at five in the morning and make you exercise for an hour and hike ten miles before class. No way I’m doing that.

  I knew where Herbert lived. I’d chucked a couple eggs at his house last Halloween after he’d gotten an A on this test I’d flunked. I figured I’d go apologize to his parents for punching their son, and maybe they’d talk to the principal.

  I mean, I hadn’t broken anything on Herbert’s stupid face. Just bruised up his cheek a bit. Maybe I could tell them I’d only hit him because I was jealous about how cool he was. Gosh, Mr. and Mrs. Marlock, Herbert is totally awesome. I really wish I could be just like him. Parents eat up that sort of stuff.

  I stood on the front steps of the Marlock house and took a couple slow breaths. I needed to look really sorry. And worried. Maybe I could cry a little. That would help—especially with his mom. Women will do anything to stop a kid from crying.

  I rang the bell.

  A guy answered. He looked like a tall, thin version of Herbert, with a lot less hair.

  That could work out okay, too. Most dads want their kids to be tough. Maybe I could convince him I’d be a good role model for Herbert.

  “Yes?” He seemed puzzled that someone had rung his doorbell.

  “Mr. Marlock?” I asked.

  He nodded. But he still seemed like he really wasn’t paying attention to me.

  “I got in a fight with Herbie at school.” That wasn’t exactly true. But I rushed through the rest of it as it spilled from my brain to my mouth. “He’s okay. Nobody got hurt. It was all my fault. I really wish I could be more like him. I was jealous. He’s so awesome. He really knows how to take a punch, too. Anyhow, I wanted to come by, just to tell you how sorry I am.”

  His mouth twisted around a bit, like he was thinking about everything I’d just told him. Then he smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”

  He turned away. That’s not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to ask me why I wasn’t in school. Then I’d start jerking my shoulders like I was trying not to cry, and tell him I’d been expelled. Yeah, I’d been kicked out of school because Herbie was so awesome.

  But he was walking away. He didn’t even remember to close the door. The guy was a real geek.

  “Wait!”

  He turned back toward me. “Yes?”

  “I got kicked out of school because of the fight.” Oh, no—I’d forgotten to fake the crying part.

  “I guess that’s the rule.”

  “Yeah. But I can’t get kicked out. My dad’s sick. They won’t even tell me how sick he is, so it must be pretty bad. And my mom works two jobs because my sister needs an operation, and they can only do it in France because it’s really a rare condition.”

  Wow. I didn’t know where all this was coming from, but it was good. It wasn’t even totally a lie. My dad had a cold last week. And my mom was always saying that picking up after me was like a full-time job. As for my sister, she needed a brain transplant.

  “That’s unfortunate,” he said.

  “It would break their hearts if I got expelled. Do you think, maybe, you could…”

  I waited, dangling the opening right in front of him.

  “Could do what?” he asked.

  I wanted to scream. Or punch him. But I managed to stay calm. “Talk to them. At the school. Maybe? Please?”

  “I guess I could do that.”

  I had to struggle to keep from leaping in the air and giving myself a high five. I was saved. No military school.

  “Let’s go.” I needed to get him to talk to the principal before school let out and Herbert showed up. Who knew what that little creep would do to make sure I stayed expelled.

  Mr. Marlock glanced at his watch, then did that twisty thing with his lips again. “I just have to wait one more hour. Then we can go.”

  One hour? School would be out before then. We’d run into Herbert on the way there. “It won’t take long,” I said.

  “I absolutely have to start my next test in—” He paused to glance at his watch. “—fifty-seven minutes. After that, the isotopes will have decayed too far.”

  He wandered off again. I followed him through the open door and down a hall to the back of the house. We ended up in a room crammed with electronic equipment and tools. Right in the center, there was a chair that looked like it had been yanked out of a sports car. Metal tubes curved around the chair like the ribs of a giant umbrella. I saw wires running from the tubes. One really thick wire ran to the wall, where it was plugged into the big type of socket like they have for clothes dryers.

  There was a laptop computer hooked up to the chair, with some large numbers on the screen. The display read +00:15. There was a digital time display above that. I noticed it was fifteen minutes fast. That made me think of school and Herbert. Once he came home, I was doomed. He’d probably start screaming and crying the moment he saw me.

  Herbert’s dad went to a workbench by the wall and picked up a video camera. When he turned around, he finally seemed to notice me. “I guess it won’t be a secret for much longer,” he said. “Either I’ve solved the final problem this time, or it’s hopeless.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, so I just waited.

  He grabbed something that looked like a cordless phone and attached it to the video camera. “I can transmit with this.”

  “Transmit what?” I asked.

  “The arrival.” He put the camera down on the seat. “I’m sending it fifteen minutes into the future. I could send it into the past, but it will be more interesting to watch it reappear fifteen minutes from now.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “You invented a time machine?”

  “Somebody had to, eventually. It was only a matter of time.” He let out a geeky laugh, like Herbert, and I clasped my hands behind my back to fight the urge to take a swing at him.

  He fiddled around at the workbench a bit more and kept talking. There was some sort of problem he was trying to fix. It had something to do with the rotation of the galaxy. I didn’t understand it. He used a lot of big words and even bigger numbers. All I understood, as I watched the minutes click past on the laptop, was that Herbert was getting out of school very soon.

  No—I understood something else. I didn’t need his help. Not if I could get a do-over. I just had to change the setting from +00:15 to −02:00 so I could go back two hours. That would put me in class before I got in trouble. And this time, no matter how tempting it was, I wouldn’t hit Herbert.

  I slipped over to the computer. As I’d hoped, it was easy enough to change the setting with the mouse. I sat in the chair and flipped the only switch I saw. I heard a low humming sound from underneath the chair. I also heard the front door slam.

  “I’m home, Dad.”

  “Just in time! You can watch the experiment.” Herbert’s father took a step toward the door just as the computer let out a beep.

  He spun toward me and screamed, “No! I haven’t adjusted it for the spatial displacement.”

  His words were drowned out by a hum that rose to a rumble and then a roar. I felt like my body had been pumped full of seltzer water.

  Spatial displacement?

  I had no idea what that meant, and no time to wonder. I could swear I was being pulled in every direction at once, and then squished into a tiny ball.

  Just when I thought the squishing would get unb
earable, I traveled through time. It happened in an eye blink.

  I went back two hours.

  That’s when I understood what Herbert’s father meant by spatial displacement. I’d gone back two hours. I’d traveled through time. But I hadn’t moved from where I was in space.

  The earth had moved. It was where it had been two hours ago, leaving me stranded in space. Any kid who’s ever watched a science fiction film knows that’s a bad thing. As my blood boiled in the vacuum and my flesh froze in the cold, I realized I’d run out of time.

  THE GARDEN OF GARGOYLES

  All the kids at Camp Wenaloka knew about the gargoyle garden. A lot of them talked like they’d been there. But Candace suspected most of them were lying. Especially Milly Loftshield, who acted like she was some sort of big deal.

  “It’s really spooky,” Milly said as the girls in the cabin were getting ready to go to sleep. They’d been there just long enough to learn each other’s names, but not long enough to establish a leader.

  “Can you be more specific?” Candace asked. This was her first year at the camp, so she couldn’t even pretend to know about the gargoyles.

  “Really, really spooky,” Milly said.

  Candace snorted. “You’ve never been there.”

  “Yes, I have,” Milly said.

  Candace felt like she was springing a trap. “Then tell us exactly what you saw.”

  “It was really dark,” Milly said. “Really, really dark.”

  “You’re such a liar,” Candace said. She could feel the loyalties in the room shifting toward her. She’d be the leader now.

  “There were thirteen gargoyles,” Milly said. “I counted them as I walked down the path. Each one was more scary than the one before it. They had fangs and wings and horns. Their faces were stretched wide open, like they were screaming.”