by Sam Fisher
“You’re just as bad,” she mumbled. “You should try being the only girl sometime.”
Dad frowned sympathetically. “You know, Melissa has a good point,” he said. “It can’t be easy, and just to show you how much we care, we’re all going to make more effort to keep the house tidier and to put the seat down from now on. Right, boys?”
James obviously wanted to protest, but Dad shot him a warning glance.
“Uh, yeah, okay,” he said.
“And you too, Morton?”
Morton nodded, even though this whole issue of seats up or down had never actually made any sense to him, and he couldn’t figure out why girls were never asked to put the seat back up.
“There you go. That settles it, then,” Dad said, but Melissa didn’t look happy, and nobody spoke for the rest of the meal. It felt to Morton as though a giant black thundercloud were hanging right over the table, which of course had nothing at all to do with toilet seats.
On the walk to school James continued to be sullen and Morton kept trying to bring the conversation around to the problem of getting rid of the rats.
“I have that Mutant Rodent issue if you want to look at it,” he said, holding the comic up in front of James’s face.
James shook his head and turned away, almost as if the very sight of the comic made him feel ill. “I don’t need to see it,” he said. “You’ve already told us all about it.”
“Yes, but I think it might be even worse than I remembered.”
“Worse than the whole town getting eaten alive?”
“Well, no, but it might happen a lot faster than I thought.”
James made a frustrated sigh, which Morton found a little out of character. “Look,” he said, “Melissa and I were talking last night and —”
“Last night?” Morton cut in, surprised. “When last night?”
“Uh, after you went to bed,” James replied, trying unsuccessfully to sound casual. James was probably the worst liar Morton had ever met, and he wondered just why he and Melissa had been talking behind his back.
“You were asleep,” James went on, “and we didn’t want to wake you. We were talking about the rats and we agreed that they’re probably not as bad as you think.”
“Not as bad as I think!” Morton exclaimed, pushing the comic up at James again. “You need to read this.”
James pushed the comic away and shook his head. “In the end they’re just rats, right? They can’t do mind control or any weird magic stuff, so we think that we should just stay out of it and let the authorities deal with them in a normal way.”
Morton felt a rising sense of panic. “But you can’t deal with them in a normal way,” he protested. “We’ve been over this. Try killing a million of them. We’re going to need —”
“We’re not using magic again!” James snapped, cutting Morton off abruptly.
Morton was shocked by the outburst, and the two of them lapsed into silence for a moment as they continued walking along the leafy sidewalk. Morton could feel himself starting to lose his temper. He didn’t want to use magic either. He’d been as determined as anyone to leave the whole incident with the gargoyle behind them. But obviously that wasn’t going to be as easy as they’d hoped, and it wasn’t going to do anyone any good to just pretend everything was back to normal.
“We’ve got to do something,” Morton said in the calmest voice he could manage.
“We already did,” James said. “We made an anonymous call to the police last night and told them about the rats. Turns out we weren’t the only ones who called, and they’ve already got pest control experts on it, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“But you can’t really believe that!” Morton exclaimed.
“Morton, they’re just rats with two heads. They’re easy to deal with. I squashed one with a baseball bat, remember?”
“Yes, but —”
“Let the adults handle this one,” James said. “We should focus on being kids again. You know, get on with that normal life we promised ourselves.”
Morton was about to respond when they spotted a large white van in the middle of the road up ahead with two police cars parked on either side of it to block traffic. The van had the words Dimvale Pest Control written along its length, and a man in white overalls was kneeling beside it, right over an open manhole. Several police officers were standing around him, looking curiously into the open sewer.
“You see,” James said with a smile. “They’re already on it.”
Morton and James walked past the pest control van. Morton couldn’t be sure, but he got the impression that nothing constructive was happening. It seemed to him to be just a huddle of people all standing around a hole and scratching their heads.
“I can’t believe you called the police,” Morton said when they finally rounded the corner onto the next street. “Now Inspector Sharpe is going to be all over this, and she won’t have forgotten about the two-headed rat carcass they found in school.”
Inspector Sharpe was one of the few people who genuinely scared Morton. She had come closer than anyone to figuring out that he and his siblings were largely responsible for the magical mayhem of the last few weeks, and she’d also come perilously close to figuring out that James was suffering from a self-inflicted magical curse. Despite this, since the “disappearance” of Mr. Brown, she hadn’t so much as shown her face, which Morton found very suspicious. In fact, Sharpe’s seeming lack of interest in them gave Morton the uncomfortable feeling that somehow they were part of a clever game of cat and mouse, in which they, of course, were the mice.
“She was going to find out sooner or later,” James said. “Not much we could do about that, given that they were swarming down the middle of the street last night. And I’d say in this case, sooner is better than later.”
Morton at least had to agree with that, and although he still had serious doubts about getting rid of the rats in any non-magical way, he decided to let the subject drop for now.
A few minutes later they arrived at school and Robbie broke away from a group of kids and ran over to them. Morton immediately saw that the expression on his face was one of panicked anxiety.
“You’re okay,” Robbie said, with a tone of surprise and relief. “I was worried that, uh …” He trailed off, eyes darting to James.
“I guess you heard about the rats, then?” Morton said.
Robbie shook his head. “Rats?” he said. “I didn’t hear anything about rats.”
Morton and James quickly recounted the events of the night before.
Robbie didn’t respond at once but scratched his head in confusion.
“So the Mutant Rodents are back,” he said. “But this time they’re not your toys come to life.”
“Right,” Morton said. “The ones I have left are still sitting on my shelf.”
“And Melissa’s closet didn’t get bigger again?”
“No.”
“And what about …” Robbie looked at James but didn’t manage to finish his sentence before James threw his arms up and let out an exasperated groan.
“Why does everyone expect me to turn into a Wargle Snarf? I’m fine, okay?” He pulled up his sleeves. “No spines, no yellow smoke. What do I have to do to convince you guys?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean —” Robbie began, but James was already upset.
“I’m going to the library,” he said, turning to leave.
“The library?” Morton said. “Why would you go to the library at this time in the morning?”
“Why do you think? To eat the librarian, of course!”
Morton and Robbie watched James walk away in silence.
“I’m really sorry,” Robbie said after James had gone.
“It’s not your fault,” Morton replied. “He’s been really sensitive about it. Anyway, you still haven’t told me what you were so worried about.”
“Oh, yeah,” Robbie said, rubbing his chin. “The thing is, last night I thought …” Robbie paused
and seemed to struggle over what to say next. “Honestly, I don’t know, but I thought I maybe saw a Snarf.”
An icy chill ran down Morton’s spine. “A Snarf?” he said.
Robbie took a deep breath. “Well, yeah. That’s what I thought anyway. But now I’m thinking maybe I was imagining things.”
“How do you imagine a Snarf?” Morton said, his stomach tightening. “I mean, it’s not like you’re going to mistake somebody’s pet poodle for one.”
Robbie didn’t laugh, just continued to look puzzled. “Well, you know how the band was supposed to meet last night?”
Morton nodded.
“Well, the thing is, Nolan didn’t show up.”
“What!” Morton exclaimed. “But you missed Halloween because of that rehearsal!”
“Yeah, I know. Believe me, we were all pretty annoyed. We waited at the rehearsal space for like an hour and finally decided to go trick-or-treating together, just so we didn’t feel like we’d wasted the whole night. So we went around to a few houses and then went back to Julie Bashford’s to hang out and, you know, eat candy and stuff. It was getting really late when I finally headed home, and I was just crossing Mill Road when out of the blue I had this sudden sense of panic. It was really weird, like my heart just started going crazy for no reason.”
“That is weird,” Morton said.
“Yeah, and then I heard this bizarre noise that sounded kind of like an angry whale that had just swallowed an even angrier elephant. And then I saw this large shape in the distance. I mean, I couldn’t really make it out. The street was really dark. But for some reason I was convinced it was a Snarf. You know, they do that thing with the fear pheromone, which would explain why I felt that weird panicked feeling, right?”
Morton nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. But you didn’t actually see a Snarf?”
Robbie rubbed his face nervously, and Morton could tell he was still holding something back.
“What is it?” he prodded.
“I didn’t see a Snarf. I saw a shape, which ran off in the opposite direction, and then I went to get a closer look and …” Robbie paused again and pulled his bag from his back and delved inside. “I found this,” he said, producing something wrapped in a loose paper bundle.
Morton took the bundle and unwrapped it carefully to reveal what appeared to be an oversize porcupine quill soaked in purple dye.
Morton suppressed a gasp. He had to admit this did look a lot like the spines that had grown from James’s skin during his transformation.
“So am I imagining things?” Robbie asked.
Morton wrapped the spine carefully back up in the bundle and handed it back to Robbie. “I don’t know,” he said, “but I think you should get rid of that as soon as you can. Throw it in the fire or something, and whatever you do, don’t touch the tip.”
Robbie took the bundle back and replaced it in his bag. “I was kind of hoping you’d say I was letting my imagination get the better of me. I mean, James is obviously perfectly normal now and there’s no way he could have turned back into a human if he was a Snarf last night, is there?”
“I don’t know,” Morton said, mulling over all of the bizarre things he’d already witnessed. “Anything is possible when it comes to magic.”
Robbie rubbed his chin thoughtfully and opened his mouth to speak, but just then the morning bell rang and all the kids began moving toward the main entrance.
“Come on,” Morton said, relieved to have a reason to change the subject. “We’ve got Punjab this morning. She hates it when we’re late.”
It turned out that the morning’s class was on fractions, and Morton tried his best to push all thoughts of Wargle Snarfs and Mutant Rodents aside and listen closely to the lesson. Unfortunately he wasn’t very successful. Despite his determination to dismiss any suggestion that James might be turning into a Snarf again, he couldn’t ignore the familiar sensation of a knot tightening in his stomach. Could Robbie have really seen a Snarf? And what would they do if James did start to turn again? Morton was fairly certain he couldn’t handle it a second time, watching his brother’s skin turn silvery gray, and his eyes turn mint green, and his pupils swell to an immense size, and …
Morton suddenly realized that he’d broken into a cold sweat. He raised his hand to go to the bathroom, hoping that splashing cold water on the back of his neck might calm his nerves.
“It’s almost break time, Morton,” Mrs. Punjab said with an air of irritation. “Can’t you wait?”
“Uh, no, miss, I drank too much tea at breakfast,” he replied, knowing this would cause a few titters, but also knowing that Mrs. Punjab wouldn’t make him wait. As expected, she sighed and waved her hand toward the door. Morton jumped to his feet, grabbed the large cardboard hall pass in the shape of a plus sign, and hastened out of the classroom as quickly as he could.
Morton made his way to the top-floor restrooms, even though they were up two flights of stairs, because nobody ever went there and he needed a few minutes alone.
He pushed open the heavy swinging door, filled one of the large porcelain sinks up to the top with cool water, and was about to splash it over his face when somebody spoke.
“Morton, is that you?”
Morton practically jumped out of his sneakers. He’d been sure he was alone but realized he hadn’t checked. He whipped his head around quickly to see … no one. He was alone, unless …
He walked around the corner to where the stalls were. “Hello!” he called nervously. But the stall doors were all open and the stalls were empty.
“I’m not in there,” the voice came again. This time Morton didn’t jump, but he felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.
“Uh, then where are you?” he asked tremulously.
“You promise you won’t tell anybody about this?”
Morton looked around feverishly. The voice seemed to be echoing around him, coming from all directions at once, and it sounded frail and afraid. But what was it talking about?
“If you mean am I going to tell anybody about a disembodied voice in the top-floor boy’s washroom, then no, I’m definitely not,” Morton said, beginning to feel a little braver.
“But you have to help. You have to promise to help without telling anybody. I won’t ever speak to you again if you don’t promise to help.”
Morton didn’t think this was a good strategy on the part of the voice. He quite liked the idea of it never speaking to him again on account of the fact his life was plenty complicated enough without disembodied voices. But in spite of himself, Morton knew he had to promise. Dealing with mysterious spooky problems seemed to be his lot in life.
“Okay, whatever you are. I don’t know if I can help, but I can promise to keep a secret.”
The voice sniffled to itself for a moment and then cleared its throat. “I’m up here,” it said. “On the ceiling.”
Morton tilted his head back very slowly, trying not to imagine the worst. The bathroom was L-shaped and the ceilings were very high, so at first he didn’t see anything other than the fluorescent lights and the sprinkler pipes, but as he leaned to one side, at last he saw who he’d been speaking to. There, lying flat on the ceiling as if he’d been pasted up like a sheet of wallpaper, was Derek Howell, with a look of misery and terror on his face.
“I’m scared of heights,” he said. “But I can’t get down.”
Morton did a double take and shook his head to make sure he was seeing things properly. The sight of Derek splayed to the ceiling like a starfish gave him an odd sense of vertigo.
“Uh, why, I mean how … ?” Morton had so many questions that he couldn’t seem to get any of them out.
“It’s that stupid Antigravity Laser!” Derek spat bitterly, pointing to one of the stalls. Morton saw then that the toy gun was lodged behind the toilet, presumably dropped from above.
He looked back up at Derek quizzically. “But how —?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I pointed it at the mirror. The next thing I knew I w
as on the ceiling.”
“You mean, it works?” Morton said, feeling unusually dense.
“Of course it works, you idiot! How else do you think I got stuck up here? It’s like my gravity is upside down. Look!”
Derek wriggled clumsily around onto his haunches and attempted to leap back down to the floor, but he only got a few feet before he fell back up again and hit the concrete ceiling with an audible slap.
“But it didn’t work yesterday,” Morton said.
“ ‘But it didn’t work yesterday,’ “ Derek mimicked rudely. “Are you just going to stand there and say stupid things or are you going to help me? It works today obviously. And I’m supposed to be in Miss Francis’s class right now and I’m her favorite student, so she’s sure to be worried about me.”
Morton, who was finding it very uncomfortable looking straight up at Derek, was beginning to get a whole new appreciation for the phrase pain in the neck.
“What makes you think I can help?” he said, with half a mind to just leave him to his fate.
Derek looked around shiftily. “I know you’re mad at me because of what I said to Finch yesterday, but this is going too far. You’ll get into real trouble if you don’t get me down.”
If Morton’s mouth hadn’t already been wide open from gaping at the ceiling, his jaw would have dropped.
“You think I have something to do with this?”
“Of course you do,” Derek sniveled. “Everybody knows you’re behind all this crazy stuff. You made Timmy’s toys come to life. Practically the whole school saw it. I don’t know how you’re doing it, and I don’t want to know. If you get me down, I promise I won’t say another word about you or Robbie or that weird brother of yours.”
Morton became suddenly angry. “Look, firstly, my brother is not weird, and secondly, I don’t know why you’re stuck up there any more than you do, and thirdly, I definitely don’t know how to get you down, and fourthly, even if I did, the way you’re behaving, I don’t think I’d bother.”
Morton headed promptly for the door and pushed it open. He stopped when he heard Derek start sobbing. He turned back to see a tiny drizzle of tears dripping from his nose. “Please help,” he said. “I’ll give you all my Halloween candy.”
