Alien Encounter

by Charise Mericle Harper

  I turned toward Lewis and did my best Sasquatch pose.

  “The hat’s backward!” shouted Lewis.

  “You’re kidding!” I moaned, but of course he was right. I lifted my hand to turn the hat, but my mittie got caught on a branch. I tried to pull it loose, but nothing happened. The branch wouldn’t let go. I twisted my body to get a better grip, but almost fell. Now the prickles were pulling on the sweater too. It was like trying to move in a giant, sticky spiderweb. No matter what I did, I only got more tangled.

  I could hear Lewis talking to me in the distance. “What are you doing? Stop squirming! Wait! Wait! That’s a good pose. Got it! OK. We can go.”

  That was easy for him to say. I pulled on the mittie as hard as I could, but I couldn’t break free. My arm was stuck—the branch was pulling one way, and I was pulling the other! And worse, now there was no way to get the sweater off with only one hand. I thrashed my arms in the air, hoping something would break.

  “Quit fooling around!” shouted Lewis.

  I pulled the hat off with my free hand and glared at him.

  He couldn’t tell what was wrong. He waved for me to come back to the path.

  I stared at the branch that was holding the mittie and yanked with both hands. It was a desperate tug-of-war and a surprise when the branch suddenly let go. The mittie had ripped in two, and the other half was still hanging on the branch. I didn’t care. I was free.

  “Keep it!” I yelled.

  I walked free of the prickle bush and then pulled off the sweater. It was a slow trudge back to the path.

  “What took so long?” asked Lewis. “What…” But then he stopped talking. He was staring at my hands. “We should go,” he said. “I’ve got to work on these photos, and you need bandages.”

  “And infection cream,” I said. “And itchy cream.” My hands were killing me, but that wasn’t all—my ankles were suspiciously itchy. I had a feeling I suddenly knew what poison ivy looks like.

  The Photo

  Lewis walked me home. It wasn’t the original plan, but I think he felt bad about my cuts, and I’d done the same thing for him. The only difference was he didn’t use Mom’s trick to keep me distracted. We just pretty much walked in silence. It was probably smarter, because by the time we got to my house, he hadn’t made any promises he didn’t want to keep.

  Lewis left me on the doorstep and turned to go home, but then stopped.

  “Do you think it could have been the alien?” he asked.

  “What?” What was he talking about?

  “That took the sign and dumped it in the woods.”

  “Why would Mr. Lee do that?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” Lewis shrugged. “There’s just a lot of strange stuff going on. Forget it. It doesn’t make sense.”

  He waved and jogged off, but I didn’t forget it. Was Mr. Lee up to something?

  What Mom Looked Like When She Saw Me

  “I’m OK. I just fell in some prickle bushes.” And then I smiled to show her I really was OK.

  Mom held my hands and inspected them. “Are you sure you weren’t attacked by prickle bushes?”

  “Yeah, I kind of was. I got stuck. But I’m fine, just thirsty.”

  Two seconds later, Betty walked in. The sweater—HER SWEATER—was in my bag! I looked around desperately. I had to get upstairs before she did.

  Mom called to Betty before she disappeared. “Betty, get Morgan some apple juice and a cookie.” Then she turned back to me. “Now let’s clean your scratches.”

  All I could think about was getting upstairs. I jumped up. “I have to go to the bathroom!”

  “I’m sure you can wait a minute or two. Sit down.”

  “I can’t wait!” I hopped up and down. “Remember what happened with the alien?” I pointed to my pants. “It’s an emergency!”

  Mom shook her head. “OK, go! But don’t get blood on the hand towels.”

  I grabbed my bag and raced upstairs. I could hear Betty complaining in the background. Hopefully, Mom wasn’t going to tell her about my alien accident, but there was nothing I could do about that.

  I ran into the bathroom, slammed the door, and grabbed Betty’s sweater out of the bag. Then I quietly opened the door and snuck across the hall into Betty’s room and returned the sweater. The whole thing took only about ten seconds.

  Five minutes later, I was bandaged up and eating a cookie. It was kind of hard to hold, but it was chocolate chip, so it was worth the extra effort.

  The Meeting at Lewis’s House

  I thought I’d be all healed the next day, but I wasn’t. I still had to wear the bandages. At first, Mom was absolutely and positively not going to let me go to Lewis’s house, but after I pleaded and whined for about twenty minutes, she finally said yes. It was hard to buckle my seat belt with flipper hands, but I didn’t complain. One wrong word and I knew we’d be headed back home.

  Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to be able to do over there, with your hands all bandaged up.”

  “Just hang out,” I answered.

  “Well, no jumping off that shed. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on.” She turned around and gave me her mom eye.

  “Mom, the road!” I yelled.

  She turned back to the road and shook her head. How did she know about the shed? It must have been Dad. So much for keeping a secret!

  “It looks like rain,” said Mom. “Don’t get those bandages wet or I’ll have to wrap you up all over again. Do you hear me?”

  I mumbled a yes.

  Lewis and Red were in the front yard, waiting for me.

  “Whoa! What’s that?” asked Red. He was looking at my hands.

  “Prickle bushes,” I said. I waved to Mom, and we watched her drive away.

  The second she was gone, I said, “Show me the picture! Is it good?”

  “Pretty good,” said Red. “But not awesome.”

  Lewis turned to him. “Can you just let me talk?”

  Red nodded and looked down.

  “I had to tell him about our Sasquatch thing,” said Lewis. “But he promised not to tell, right?”

  “Right,” said Red. “It’s a surprise project for school for ant apology.”

  “Anthropology,” corrected Lewis. He winked at me.

  “Got it,” I said. It was another genius cover-up.

  The Photo

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but the photo in Lewis’s hand was not it. Even with fur, our Sasquatch looked nothing like Mr. Holland’s Sasquatch. It was out of focus and in the bushes like we wanted, but it still looked wrong.

  “It’s too small,” I said. “And kind of funny shaped.”

  “Maybe we could say it was a baby one,” suggested Lewis.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never heard of a baby Sasquatch.”

  “Well, they have to exist,” said Lewis. “Everyone starts out as a baby.” It was a good point, but I wasn’t sure it was going to help.

  I held the picture out in front of me and squinted. It looked sort of OK if you had your eyes almost closed.

  “We shouldn’t show him this until we get to the tree,” I said. “It’ll be darker in the woods. It’ll look better in the dark.”

  “Good idea,” said Lewis. “Hey, Red, how about getting us some snacks for our adventure?”

  Red was not excited. “How come I always have to get the snacks?” he complained.

  “Do you want to be part of this or not?” said Lewis.

  “OK,” grumbled Red, and he stomped off.

  “He can’t come,” said Lewis.

  “Right,” I said. It made sense, but I felt bad for Red. He was going to be disappointed. Maybe if I could find a good stick, I’d make him a slingshot. I’d keep on the lookout. Plus having a project would make me less nervous around Mr. Holland. This whole thing was making my hands and ankles itch again. Mom said it wasn’t poison ivy, but whatever it was, it still felt hor
rible.

  Lewis and I waited for Mr. Holland out by the road. He was five minutes early like we were, which was good for us but bad for Red.

  As soon as Mr. Holland saw me, he pointed to my hands. “What happened to you?”

  “Bush accident,” I answered. I liked how that sounded—sort of mysterious and rugged, not embarrassing and clumsy and like what had really happened.

  “Should we go?” asked Lewis, and then without waiting for us to say yes or no, he marched off toward the woods.

  I jogged to catch up, and Mr. Holland followed behind.

  What Mr. Holland Said When He Saw the Tree

  “Wow! You boys did a great job marking that tree.”

  “Thanks,” said Lewis. It was a compliment for me, but I let Lewis take it. I was too worried to argue.

  Mr. Holland took out his notebook and camera and started looking around. When he went behind the tree, Lewis patted his pocket and raised his eyebrows. He wanted to show the photo. I shook my head. I was having new thoughts about the photo, and they were not good.

  Lewis put his hand into his pocket. I grabbed his arm.

  “Not now,” I whispered.

  He nodded. We were safe, at least for a little bit. What I really wanted to do was get the photo away from him and rip it up, but that was impossible.

  I looked up at the sky. It was definitely going to rain. If I was lucky, it would start soon and then we’d all have to go home. That was the best I could hope for.

  I heard Mr. Holland yelling, “Hey, what’s that?” He pointed in the distance. “That brown thing, over there, on that bush?”

  Lewis and I looked to where he was pointing. It took me a second to spot what he was looking at, but when I did, my heart stopped. It was my half-mittie waving in the wind.

  “That looks like something,” said Mr. Holland. “Maybe fur.”

  Before either of us could say anything, Mr. Holland left the path and was headed through the weeds straight for the prickle bush.

  What Dread Feels Like

  “What should we do?” I whispered.

  “You should have let me show the photo!” hissed Lewis. “Now it could—” But he was interrupted by a strange and terrible scream.

  “YEEEOOOWWLLLLLLEEEEEEE!”

  We looked for Mr. Holland, but he was gone.

  “Something got him,” whispered Lewis.

  We looked around desperately. I don’t know what Lewis was thinking, but I was thinking bear.

  Then we heard a faint “I’m OK.”

  We scanned the bushes, and suddenly Mr. Holland’s head popped up. He tried to stand but stumbled. He rubbed his forehead with his hands. They were all scratched up. I knew how that felt.

  Mr. Holland pointed to his feet. “I tripped and hit my head,” he said. “There’s something down here.” He rubbed his head again, and now I could see a little red spot.

  “We should have brought some bandages,” said Lewis. “I never—”

  “EEIIIAWW! EEIIIAWW!”

  “Ssshhhh!” I grabbed Lewis’s shoulder. “Did you hear that?”

  We listened. It was a strange whistling sound, kind of like a bird, but not a bird. It was something else. The sound made the hairs on my arms stand straight up and my whole body shiver. And then we heard it again. Suddenly there was something moving in the trees over to the left, past Mr. Holland.

  Lewis gasped.

  We saw it only for a second—a big, brown furry thing, and it wasn’t a bear. I choked down the scream that was stuck in my throat.

  My brain could think of only one thing, and it was on a constant loop: “Keep quiet and it will go away! Keep quiet and it will go away! Keep quiet and it will go away!” I grabbed the tree next to me, and Lewis and I stood dead still, our eyes scanning the bushes. I hardly wanted to breathe, and then as fast as it had appeared, it was gone.

  Finally Lewis spoke. “I don’t believe it!” he whispered. “Was that what I think it was?”

  I nodded, too stunned to speak.

  “UNBELIEVABLE!” said Mr. Holland. He was racing out of the bushes toward us. “Did you boys hear that? That’s a Sasquatch’s call. I’ve never heard it before, only been told about it. Made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Did you hear it?”

  “You didn’t see it?” asked Lewis. “It was there!” He pointed past where Mr. Holland had fallen.

  “You saw it? Again? Both of you?”

  We nodded. Mr. Holland turned and quickly scanned the bushes behind him, but it was too late.

  “I was looking down,” he said. “I tripped on some kind of sign over there.” He pointed to where he’d disappeared. “Who throws a sign in the woods? It’s not something you expect when you’re walking in the bushes.” He sighed and wiped a tiny stream of sweat off his forehead before it got to his eye. I thought he might be disappointed, but he was filled with energy.

  “I want you boys to show me exactly where it was.”

  Morgan the Leader

  My bandages were perfect for walking through the bushes. I had flippers of protection against the prickles. Lewis and Mr. Holland were not so lucky. Their hands were definitely going to get scratched up. I took the lead—I think they were glad about that. It was easier to follow someone than to go first. It took us about ten minutes to get to the spot where the Sasquatch had stood. I still couldn’t believe we’d seen it, an actual Sasquatch. First an alien, and now a Sasquatch. What was next?

  I was glad that Lewis was complaining about the prickles. Hopefully all the noise he was making would scare the Sasquatch away if it was still hanging around. Mr. Holland said they were shy creatures. Shy or not, I didn’t want to run into it. If Mr. Holland wasn’t with us, I would have definitely been walking in the opposite direction.

  Discovery

  When we got to the Sasquatch spot, Lewis and I waited next to a tree while Mr. Holland looked around. Neither of us wanted to do any extra moving through prickle branches if we didn’t have to.

  We weren’t watching Mr. Holland, so it was a surprise when he screamed. He was down again. We rushed over, but this time he hadn’t fallen. He was on the ground examining something.

  “It’s a footprint,” he said. “Look! It’s fantastic.” He took out his camera and started taking pictures.

  I didn’t know that a footprint could be so exciting, but Mr. Holland said it was very important. He took photos of it, measured it, and then when it started to rain, even tried to dig it out with a stick.

  “It’ll be gone before I can get back here with plaster. I want to make a model of it,” said Mr. Holland. Hearing him talk about models made me think of Mr. Lee, but that was only for a second because the next second Mr. Holland was looking around frantically for another stick. I could tell Mr. Holland’s plan of digging out the footprint was not going to work, but Lewis and I helped him anyway. We looked around to find him new sticks he could use as a shovel.

  I don’t know why this happens, but sometimes when you’re looking for something, you can’t find it. And then when you stop looking for it, there it is right in front of you. Maybe that’s why I found it. It was the first stick I picked up, and it was perfect—my perfect stick.

  Red was going to have an amazing slingshot!

  What Happened Next?

  A lot of things happened after we saw the Sasquatch.Some were good for me, some were good for me and Lewis, some were good for Lewis’s family, and of course Red got a triple slingshot so that was good for him.

  What Was Good for Me

  Dad was understanding about the whole alien-Sasquatch thing. Once Mr. Holland told everyone about the Sasquatch, Dad just took me to get my eyes checked.

  And Dad was right—I needed glasses.

  Another plus was that I finally got to know what the sign above Lewis’s door meant.

  What Was Good for Me and Lewis

  We didn’t have to show anyone the bad photo of me dressed up as a Sasquatch. In fact, Lewis even let me keep it, which was nic
e of him and a surprise for me. I think being happy about our Halloween costumes put Lewis in a generous mood. We got our names in the paper again, and this time, a photo too. Mr. Holland was in the photo with us, and that was good because it made it more official. I was glad that he had heard the Sasquatch whistle because I didn’t want Lewis and me to be the only witnesses again. School was about to start, and I wanted to be ready for Marcus.

  What Was Good for Lewis’s Family

  Their motel business got busy with customers. People came from all over to try to see the Sasquatch. It was a lot of work, but they finally finished making all the rooms nice. They wanted to get the sign out of the woods, but nobody had any good ideas about how to do it.

  What Was Maybe Good or Bad, but We Can’t Tell

  Yesterday I got a letter in my mailbox. I recognized the handwriting. It was from Mr. Lee.

  Dear Morgan and Lewis,

  Please use the enclosed key to open my side garage door. Please come at 2 p.m. on Friday. Do not let anyone follow you. I need to talk to you about my Sasquatch.

  Your Friend,

  Mr. Lee

  This time we are going to be prepared.

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  Copyright © 2014 by Charise Mericle Harper

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