by Katie Tsang
I hopped on Two-Wheel TUBS and sped to the pet shop.
2 I didn’t really know where I was going. But I figured I’d just ride toward the moon and hope for the best.
“What do you have?” I asked the pet shop owner.
“What is that thing on your head?” he asked, looking at my space helmet.
I glared at him. “That’s NOT important. I’m looking for something fearsome but friendly. Something I can take on an adventure. What do you have in stock?”
“What about a hamster? All the kids are going nuts over hamsters these days.”
“I don’t want a HAMSTER. I can’t take a hamster on an adventure! Hamsters are scared of everything!” I lowered my voice. “And they poop everywhere.” The last thing I needed was a sidekick that pooped all the time. “I need something . . . tough.”
The pet shop man raised his eyebrows. “Kid, all we’ve got here are rodents, small birds, and reptiles. And they all poop.”
“Reptiles!” I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but maybe he had something like Three-Headed Tommy! “Like a . . . a flying lizard?”
The pet shop man scratched his head. “Um, no. In fact, we’re fresh out of lizards, but I do have a snake you might be interested in.”
“A . . . a . . . snake? Like . . . a real live snake?”
“As real as they come. Hold on — I’ll go and get it for you.”
Here’s the thing. It’s kind of a secret. You can’t tell anyone. Especially NOT Ralph.
I’m a little bit scared of snakes.
But even Spaceman Jack is scared of snakes! They’re terrible things to have on a spacecraft. Or any flying device, for the record. Or just anywhere.
But before I could hop on Two-Wheel TUBS and zoom out of there at warp speed, the pet shop owner came back holding A HUGE SNAKE. Definitely bigger than any snake Spaceman Jack had ever seen.
“This is just a little guy, and he’s real sweet. Here, why don’t you hold him?” He held the giant monster out to me.
There was NO way I was going to hold that snake. But I didn’t want the pet shop owner to think I was a scaredy-cat. What if he somehow knew Ralph and told him? I considered my options.
“Oh, there’s no need for me to hold it!” I said, strolling over to the cash register. “I can tell that is a high-quality snake. I’ll take it.”
I whistled a little bit to show him just how relaxed I was.
“Great,” said the pet shop owner. And then he PUT THE KILLER SNAKE AROUND HIS NECK and went behind the counter.
“Now, how are you going to pay for this guy?”
I reached into my backpack and got out my collectible cards. “You’re in luck. I’ve got some priceless special edition collectible cards I’m willing to part with,” I said.
The pet shop man laughed so hard the snake nearly bounced off his neck and onto the floor. I took a small step back.
“Sorry, kid, I don’t take trades. Cash or credit only.” He pushed a phone toward me. “Why don’t you call your parents and ask them to come on down? You should ask them before you buy a pet anyway.”
“I can’t call my parents,” I said.
“Why not?”
I lowered my voice and looked from side to side. Spaceman Jack always does that when he says something secret. It was hard because I didn’t want to lose sight of the snake, in case it made a sudden sneak attack. Snakes are known for being sneaky, after all.
“Because I’m on the run.”
“Are you now?”
I nodded.
“What from? The law?”
“Oh no, no, no!” I didn’t want him to call the police on me. “Something happened . . . at school. And now I can’t go back.”
“I see,” said the man, stroking the snake’s head. I couldn’t tell if the snake liked it or not. It only had one expression. Ferocious. “Well, you know, having a snake might help you go back. There’s no need to be on the run when you’ve got a tough sidekick with you.”
He had a point.
“And, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to get very far with just your trading cards.”
I sighed. “These are NOT TRADING cards. These are highly valuable special edition collectible cards.”
“Well, whatever they are, I don’t want them. Now, here, go on and call your parents. Ask ’em to come on by, and we’ll sort everything out and get you home.”
Maybe the pet shop owner is right, I thought.
Maybe I should go home. Sometimes the brave thing to do is to face your family and friends, even if you don’t want to. It would be kind of like when Spaceman Jack had to go back to TUBS after he let the Ghost King get away.
Plus, if I go back the owner of a dangerous snake, everyone will see how brave I am.3
But I couldn’t call my parents, because (1) they were still at work, and (2) I knew what they would say.
Mom would say:
And if my mom said NO, then my dad would say:
But Na-Na . . . Na-Na could be bribed. And if Na-Na said yes, well, she’s my mom’s mom, so even my mom has to listen to her.
The pet store owner told me and Na-Na how to take care of the snake.
1. Put it in a glass enclosure with a secure but breathable lid. We got one with a sliding screen top.
2. Feed it a live mouse once a week. (Of course it EATS ITS VICTIMS ALIVE. At least it eats mice and not people. For now.)
3. Handle it regularly to get it used to human contact. (NO WAY.)
My mom and dad weren’t thrilled about my new pet. But then Na-Na pointed out that it was just the thing to cheer me up after the INCIDENT. And she reminded my mom about the time she came home with a pet chicken when she was seven.
“You have to be responsible for it,” my dad said.
“Lucy’s NOT responsible for Butterbutt!”
“Lucy is younger than you. And Butterbutt is the family pet. This snake is your very own. We trust you to take care of it,” he said.
“But don’t you dare let any of those mice get loose,” my mom said with a shudder.
“It’s okay if they get out! Butterbutt will catch them!” said Lucy. “And I think the snake is cool!”
“It’s not COOL. It’s DANGEROUS,” I said. But I appreciated her support.
“Can I hold it?” she asked, coming up and knocking on the glass enclosure.
“No!” As well as bravely protecting Lucy from certain death, I also didn’t want to let it out of the tank. “It’s extremely dangerous. Not for children. Maybe when you are older.” I gave my parents a knowing look.
Then it was just me and my new sidekick. Me and my snake. Him sitting in his enclosure on top of my dresser. Me staring at him, trying to show him who was boss. I didn’t blink.
He stared back. He didn’t blink, either.
I caved first. My eyes were starting to water.
“I can’t just keep calling you Snake,” I said. “I’ve got to name you.”
He just stared at me. Then his tongue flicked out. It was kind of creepy, but at least he was listening to me.
“What about . . . Fang?” I was sure he had giant fangs. Just like the snakes on Planet Zoda. Sure, my snake wasn’t a snake from space, but all snakes had fangs, didn’t they? Plus, Fang sounded scary. And tough. A scaredy-cat DEFINITELY wouldn’t have a snake named Fang.
He stuck his tongue out again.
“Great,” I said, stepping away from the glass. “Fang it is.”
Here’s what I knew about Fang:
1. He didn’t blink. Ever.
2. He ate things bigger than his head.
3. He was “cold-blooded,” whatever that meant. Sounded dangerous.
4. He wanted to eat me. I was sure of it.
Because of point 4, and because Fang is no ordinary snake, I put some extra food in his tank to fill him up.
Fang might have been my new sidekick, but I was watching him with my eyes wide open.
Except when I was sl
eeping.
Or blinking.
I should really learn how Fang never blinks.
3 And I could own the snake without ever having to touch it. Nobody would have to know.
I might have gone back home, but I absolutely couldn’t go back to school. There was no way. Not a chance.
This was obvious to everyone but my mom.
“Sam,” my mom said, “I think you’re just afraid of what that girl Regina is going to say.”
“Mom! I am NOT afraid,” I said.
I have no idea how she knows who Regina is. Or why she thought I would be afraid of what she would say. My own mother might as well have called me Scaredy-Cat Sam. “I’ve been contaminated! Probably by alien germs. Or worse . . . ghost goop. Who knows? They even put up a sign around the simulator that said ‘contaminated.’”
My mom pinched the top of her nose and sighed. She does that when she’s getting a headache.
“Sam,” she said. “YOU were the contamination.”
“I was NOT!” I said, outraged.
“Fine. Not you. Your . . .” She gestured with her hands.
“Pee,” said Lucy proudly. “I heard what happened. You peed in the rocket.”
“I did NOT pee in the ROCKET,” I said. I lowered my voice. “One, it’s called a SPACESHIP. Two . . . it was just in the simulator thing.” The last part came out as more of a whisper.
“We aren’t talking about pee any more at the breakfast table,” said my mom. “Now finish your congee.”4
“You still don’t have proof that I don’t have some kind of alien disease,” I said, poking my spoon in my congee. “One time, on . . .”
“I don’t care what happened on the space show,” my mom said. “You’re going to school.”
For a minute, I wondered if my mom was working with the evil Ghost King. But that thought was too terrifying to consider. Even for someone as brave as me.
So I had to go to school. Zoe and Bernard stayed by my side, just like the stuck together during the hard times. Unfortunately, Ralph also stuck by my side. Like a thorn in my spacesuit.
“Did you pee your pants again, Scaredy-Cat Sam?” Ralph asked when I walked past him.
I ignored him. That is what my dad told me to do when Ralph teases me.
I don’t think my dad has any real-life experience with this kind of thing, though.
And Ralph wasn’t going to let anyone forget what happened at the Space Museum. I knew I was going to have to figure out a way to prove to everyone that I was NOT a scaredy-cat.
“Don’t listen to him,” Zoe said at lunchtime, right after Ralph ran by shouting, “Scaredy-Cat Sam! Scaredy-Cat Sam!” for the tenth time that day. “He’s just being Ralph.” Easy for her to say. Ralph never bothers Zoe because she’s the fastest, tallest person in our whole year.
“Yeah, he’s a just a jerk,” said Bernard. Bernard isn’t taller or faster than anyone, but he is one of the smartest kids in our class.
And with Zoe being the fastest and Bernard the smartest, I had to be the something-est, too. So I decided I’d be the bravest.
4 Congee is a rice porridge. It is my favorite thing to have for breakfast. Sometimes I even have two bowls. But sometimes I have pancakes. With chocolate chips. You can’t put chocolate chips in congee.
Even Zoe and Bernard didn’t believe that I was living with a SUPER-DANGEROUS predator.
“Aren’t you . . .” Zoe lowered her voice, “scared of snakes?”
“Zoe! You know we don’t use the ‘S’ word for Sam!” Bernard whispered.
“I am NOT—” I started to say.
“We know, we know. You aren’t afraid,” Zoe interrupted.
“I’m NOT,” I grumbled.
“Well, can we come over and see it?”
“Yeah, Sam, can we come over? We’ve never been to your house.”
There was a reason for that. Multiple reasons.
1. Butterbutt. A total liability
2. Lucy. She’d ask WAY too many questions.
3. Na-Na. Her English isn’t very good, and I didn’t want to embarrass her.5
4. We don’t have any normal snacks at my house. My mom does her grocery shopping at the Asian supermarket.
5. Fang might eat everyone.
But they were right. How would anyone ever know about my super-dangerous sidekick, Fang, and how brave I was if nobody ever saw him?
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll ask my mom if you can come over tomorrow.”
I wanted to impress my friends, so I asked my dad to make my two favorite dishes. Roast duck and turnip cake.6 Usually he only makes them for special occasions, but I told him this was a special occasion. It was the first time I was having my friends over. And I was going to introduce them to ! And it was the first time they were going to meet Fang. It would go down in history as a momentous occasion.
When Zoe and Bernard walked through my front door, Bernard scrunched up his nose.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. The last time I’d seen Bernard make that face was when he accidentally ate mouldy cheese.
“What IS that?” he asked. His voice sounded all stuffed up, as if he was holding his breath.
“What’s what?” I replied.
Zoe held her nose. “That smell! It smells like . . . it smells like FEET!”
I looked down at my feet and smelled as hard as I could. All I could smell was the delicious smells of roast duck and turnip cake. I guess the turnip cake smell WAS kind of strong . . .
“Maybe you should put your shoes back on,” Bernard said.
“I can’t,” I said. “And um . . . you have to take your shoes off, too. That’s the rule at my house.”
“Maybe that’s why everything smells like feet!” said Zoe.
Right at that moment, my dad walked out of the kitchen.
“Hi, kids! Hope you’re excited for dinner! I made Sam’s favorite!” He held out the roast duck by the neck. “Do you want to help me chop it?”
Bernard turned a little green. “N-no thank you, Mr. Wu,” he said.
Zoe’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head.
This was NOT going well. I had to distract my friends, and I had to do it fast.
“Next time,” I said to my dad. “I want to show Zoe and Bernard my room.” I turned to them. “Come on, let’s go and meet Fang. Unless you’re too scared . . .”
Bernard eyed the duck warily. “There is no way it is going to be scarier than THAT.”
5 I didn’t want to be embarrassed, either.
6 A turnip cake isn’t a cake like a birthday cake. It is a delicious square of fried turnips. In Cantonese it’s called lo bak gou.
“Meet Fang!” I said, flipping on the light switch and proudly pointing at my dresser. “The toughest snake there ever was!”
Zoe and Bernard crept in as if Fang might strike at any moment.
“Don’t be too scared,” I said. “He’s just in his tank. He can’t get out.”7
“Where is he?” Zoe asked.
“What are you talking about? He’s right there!” I said, pointing at his tank.
My voice trailed off. I couldn’t see him either.
“Sam,” asked Bernard, “is Fang an imaginary snake?”
“Fang’s real!” I said. “He’s just . . . hiding.” I tapped on the glass, even though the pet store man had told me NOT to do that.
“Why is he hiding?” asked Zoe, peering in the tank. “I thought he was tough.”
“He IS tough. He’s just . . . sleeping. Or something.”
“Or maybe he’s going to jump out at you when you least expect it! Like this!” a voice said from behind me, as small hands covered my eyes.
“Gotcha!” It was Lucy. She was cracking up. Even Bernard and Zoe were laughing.
“Lucy! Get out of my room!” I said. “I’m introducing my friends to Fang.”
Lucy stood on her tiptoes and looked in the tank. “He’s right there!” she said. “Curled up behind the rock. He�
�s playing hide and seek!” She pressed her nose against the glass and cooed, “Hi, snakey-snake-snake!”
“Of course I knew where he was the whole time,”8 I said, frowning at my sister. “And stop baby-talking to my snake. He’s tough!”
“That’s Fang?” said Zoe. “He’s so tiny!”
“He is NOT!” I exclaimed. “He’s just curled up. He’s TRICKING you. He’s incredibly dangerous. And sneaky.”
Just at that moment Fang decided to uncurl himself and slither up the side of his tank.
Zoe jumped back. “Look! He’s trying to get out! Or maybe he’s just trying to say hi?”
“See, I told you he was sneaky,” I said. “And dangerous. You need to be very careful when you’re around him.” I caught Fang’s eye and gave him a thumbs up. He stuck his tongue out at me. We were already making a great team.
Bernard put his nose right up against the glass. “He’s got a very interesting pattern on his back,” he said. “What kind of snake did you say he was?”
“The most dangerous kind,” I said. “But he’s NOT poisonous.” I didn’t want to scare my friends TOO much.
Butterbutt bounded in and hopped on to the dresser, headbutting Fang’s tank. Fang curled back up.
“Lucy! Get Butterbutt out of here,” I said. “He’s being even more annoying than usual.” I turned to my friends. “So . . . what do you think of Fang?”
