# 9 : Who's your Daddy, Mummy?

Halloween is finally here. Excellent! I mean if there's one thing that Pluto, Washington does better than any place else on earth, it's Halloween. Figures right? After all, this is Freaksville revisited.

Anyway, Fatty, Wiley, Cody, Marion, Wiggy and me decide to Trick-or-Treat together before the big Halloween party at my house afterwards. The whole class is invited, even Deadeye Danny and Felix, whose ankle mended practically overnight after his accident last week. We all decided pretty early on what costumes we were gonna wear, which is pretty important since no one wants to be caught dead wearing what someone else is. Fatty is going as Thor, the Thunder God from the Avengers comic book, Wiley is going as a big, green lizard, Cody is going as a mad scientist, Marion is going as a werewolf (big surprise there), Wiggy is going as a Mummy, and I'm going as Spock, the Vulcan from the old TV series, Star Trek. Most of my friends have no idea who he is, but my dad, who is a physicist, loves the show, so we watch the DVDs all the time. I'm really excited about my costume, since my mom made me a blue Star Trek Science Officer costume just like Spock's, and bought me an official pair of Spock ears and a Phaser. Only the Phaser can't really zap anyone, which is too bad.

So we all meet up at the Crossroads, where four streets converge, since it's the halfway point for all of us. Everyone looks pretty cool in their costumes, except for Wiley, who looks more like a big green pickle than a lizard.  He's not happy about the way it turned out, so he's kind of in a bad mood. Anyway, we're all standing there, waiting for Wiggy to turn up, and he's late as usual, and we're getting pretty bummed, when Fatty sees him on Constellation Way.

"Hey, Wiggy. Hurry up man! Al the good candy'll be gone by the time we start," Fatty yells.

Wiggy, who was lumbering down the street, really playing up the whole Mummy walk, turns toward us and straggles over, dragging part of his bandage costume behind him. He looks great! If I didn't know it was him under there, I might've gotten spooked.

"Okay, we're all here. Let's go," Cody yells, and we all start toward Elm Street, with Wiggy bringing up the rear. We're all so eager to get started, we don't even wait for him to catch up.

Trick-or-Treating is one of the best things ever invented by man. I mean, think about it? Getting dressed up in a fun costume on the spookiest night of the year, and going right up to people's houses, ringing their doorbell and holding your bag open for them to drop candy into it while you yell, "Trick or Treat?" Is that the best racket ever or what?

So we're Trick-or-Treating for a while, when I notice that Wiggy doesn't have his bag with him. "Dude, where's your bag of candy?" I say, and he looks at me and makes a weird moaning sound. Uh Oh! "Guys?" I yell at the others. "Wait up! I think Wiggy ate all his candy and has a stomach ache."

"Are you gonna throw up?" Fatty says, taking a step back.

Wiggy moans again. We all look at each other, then back at Wiggy.

"He doesn't look so good," Marion says, then raises his head and sniffs the air.  "And he smells kinda funky. Wiggy, you need a shower, Dude."

Wiggy moans again and kind of staggers toward us. I start to get a little worried. "Hey guys, you don't think he ate some bad candy, do you?"

Marion looks at me, his big, shaggy fake werewolf eyebrows drawing together in a big ol' frown. "What? You mean like poisoned candy?" he says.

"No! I yell. "That's not what I meant, but thanks for putting that out there." I look at Wiggy again as he's shuffling around, looking like he's going to keel over any minute.

"Poisoned? Oh crap!" Fatty yells, his eyes bulging like they're ready to pop out of his skull. The effect makes him look like one messed-up Thunder God.

"Nobody said anything about poison," I yell back, but by this time we're all pretty freaked out.

"I vote we go back to Rod's house," Marion says. "His mom's a doctor. She'll know what to do."

"Good idea," Wiley chimes in, nodding so hard, his lizard head wobbles back and forth. "Besides the others'll start arriving soon."

"Never mind the others," I yell, grabbing one of Wiggy's bandaged arms and pulling him behind me. "C'mon. Let's get home before he throws up."

"Or dies," Wiley adds, running behind me with his lizard head in his arms.

"Shut up," Marion hisses, looking so fierce in his werewolf getup that Wiley clamps his mouth shut and runs ahead, leading the way.

At my house, we all burst in talking at once, making the twins scream, and my mom almost have a heart attack.

"Rodney!" she snaps. "Don't do that again. You boys almost gave me a heart attack." (See? That's how I know she almost had one).

As soon as we explain what's happened to Wiggy, Mom takes charge. "Good Heavens," she says, peering at him closely. "You do look a tad green under those grubby bandages, Willard (that's his real name. Do you blame him for preferring Wiggy?). Come on, I'll help you get them off and we'll take a closer look at you."

Just as she reaches for him, the front doorbell rings. "I'll get it," I say. "It's probably some of the kids for the party."

I yank the front door open.

And almost pee my pants.

Wiggy is standing out there, grinning at me. "Hey Dude!" he says. "Sorry I missed Trick-or-Treating. Had to help my dad change a couple of tires on the pickup. How'd it go? You gonna share?"

I stare at him. I open my mouth to say something...anything...but nothing comes out.

Wiggy frowns at me. "Hey, you okay? What's up? You're not mad, are you? I couldn't help it, okay? My dad needed my help."

"Rodney?" Mom calls out. "Who is it? My goodness, Willard, your mom must have bought out all the bandages in the pharmacy. I can't believe how you're covered in them."

I turn slowly toward Mom and fake-Wiggy, my heart pounding like it's gonna jump outta my chest and take off. "It's...it's...it's.." I croak.

Everyone turns toward me. Unable to continue, I step aside.

For a second nobody says anything, then as one, they turn to look at fake-Wiggy wrapped in bandages, then back at real Wiggy dressed in a really bad Mummy costume, which is actually just toilet paper wrapped around him, and which has already unraveled on his head.

"Willard?" Mom says uncertainly, turning from him to the Mummy standing next to her, which is, by the way, still moaning. "Then...then who's this?"

For another second no one moves or says a word.

Then Wiley and Cody scream together, and make a beeline for the door, knocking over both Wiggy and me as they hightail it out of my house.

"It's a real Mummy," Fatty screams, and falls over Klingon, my dog, who's whining and running in circles around Fatty's legs.

By this time, Mom has a huge handful of bandages in her hands, and the top half of a decrepit looking head is revealed and these eerie, hollow eye sockets are staring at her.

"Oh...dear," Mom whispers, and I think she's going to faint. I run over to catch her just as she starts to sink to the floor, the bandages falling from her hands. Just as Marion and I catch her, the Mummy grabs the bandages and lumbers toward the bay window in the family room. Both the twins are holding each other and screaming, huddled on the couch, but the Mummy ignores them. He reaches the window and in one lightning-fast move, jumps right through it onto the front yard. By now we're all pretty petrified and scream together in stereo, and I'm pretty sure there wasn't a dry pair of underwear anywhere in the room at that moment.

We all run toward the window and peer out, and there he is, lumbering down the street, looking spooky and otherworldly in the glow of the lamp posts. His moans come floating back to us on the night air.

"Man," says Wiggy. "I've never seen any guy get that mad at having someone else wear the same costume as him. Talk about an over-reaction!"

Hey, nobody ever said Wiggy was the sharpest tool in the shed.

# 8 : Do cat people get hair balls?

So there's this kid in my class who's an amazing athlete. And when I say amazing, I mean out-of-this-world-how-the-heck-does-he-do-it-amazing! The guy is so coordinated he could probably balance his entire weight on a dime propped on its side.

Felix Fine has only been at Planet Nine Elementary for two months, but already he's the best athlete in the school. He can run faster than anyone (except for Marion Dorsey when the moon is full), jump higher and throw farther, and can do it all without even breaking a sweat. The guy is like a superhero. Which is why it's so awesome that I got picked to partner up with him for our Social Studies project. I've been trying to make friends with Felix since he started at the school, but it hasn't been easy. He doesn't talk at all unless the teacher picks on him to answer a question, and even then he talks in this quiet, soft voice barely above a whisper. Some of the kids like Cody Tyler think he's kind of strange.   Cody is the kid whose head expands like a big blue balloon when he smells some kind of flower, so who is he to talk? Anyway, I think Felix is way cool, so I was pumped about going over to his house after school today to work on our project. Maybe he'd teach me how to do that jump shot of his so I could land some baskets like he does. He makes a basket every time he gets the ball. Every time. Some day Felix'll be playing for a pro basketball team and we'll all be saying we knew him when. How cool is that?

So anyway, I get to Felix's house and his mother lets me in. She's thin like Felix and walks like him, so softly that I didn't hear her footsteps. Her eyes are wide and curve up at the edges, but what I notice 
most are the color. They're bright green, just like Felix's, and they kind of glow as they stare at me. I don't know what to say, so I stammer.

"Hi...uh...Miss...Mrs....um...Fine. I'm here for my homework....I mean...Felix's homework. No, that's not right. I mean---"

"---I know what you mean young man. Felix is expecting you. He's up in his room. You may go on up. Second door on the left."

She steps aside to let me in, then kind of glides down the hall. As I start to head up, she turns and says, "Would you like a glass of milk? It's full fat."

Weird! "Uh...no thanks," I say and watch her as she walks away. It's uncanny. Her footsteps don't make a sound. I feel a little weirded out, but clump up the stairs feeling like a charging rhino. I try to make as little noise as possible just because there's not a sound in the whole house, but the stairs creak and groan no matter how quiet I try to be.

At Felix's bedroom door I pause. I raise my hand to knock, but before I can the door opens and Felix is standing there looking at me with those strange green eyes he inherited from his mom.

"Hi!" I say, a little too loudly, wishing with all my heart that Fatty and Wiley were here with me. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so creeped out.

Felix inclines his head. "Rodney. Please come in."

I step into his room and my jaw drops open. The walls of his room are plastered with pictures of cats. I mean they're everywhere! And I don't mean kitty cats either. I mean gigantic lions, tigers, cheetah, leopards, jaguars, panthers, cougars, bob cats. In fact, every kind of feline known to man, and even a few that I'm pretty sure haven't been discovered yet. And there weren't just posters. There were statues everywhere.

"Wow!" was all I could manage. "You...er...you really like cats, huh?" I lean over to look at a shiny black stone statue of a cat.

"That's Bastet," Felix says from behind me. At the sound of his voice I jump. I didn't expect him to slink up behind me so quickly.

"Who?"

"She's a Cat-Goddess from Ancient Egypt." He gestures around his room. "All these statues are of her."

"Why?" I say.

He looks puzzled. His green eyes glitter in the darkness of his room. "Why what?"

I shrug. "Why do you have so many statues of a dead goddess from Ancient Egypt?" Seems like a reasonable question, right?

Wrong!

"She's not dead," he hisses, his eyes flashing now. "Bastet lives, but in a world of non-believers." His head whips around, and I stumble back. "She is closer than you think," he says softly. "And soon her full power will be restored to her, and when that happens those who mock her will pay."

Time to leave.

"I see...o-kay. Um...listen, maybe we should put off working on the paper until tomorrow, huh? I...I just remembered my mom has some chores she wants me to do. We...er..we could meet at the town library and work on it there."

Silence.

I clear my throat. "So, wh-what do you say?"

"If that's what you want."

Whew! "Great! That's great." I can't seem to stop nodding. "So, I guess I'll leave now then. I mean, those chores won't do themselves, you know?" I start toward the door. "See you at school tomorrow," I say, turning to look at him.

Man, I wish I hadn't turned. Felix is crouched on the window ledge, staring at me with those bright green eyes. "Tomorrow then," he says softly, and before I can yell or stop him or do anything he leaps out the window. At first I'm frozen in shock, then when I hear a yowl from the ground below I run over to the window. Felix is nowhere in sight, but my bike is on lying on its side and a black cat is sitting beside it licking its right front paw.

I turn and run down, wondering what the heck happened to Felix. Ahead of me, Mrs. Fine is at the door, moving faster than I've ever seen a grownup move. By the time I run outside, she's scooped up the kitty and is cradling it in her arms, whispering in its ear.

"What happened to Felix?" I say, panting.

"I'm sure he's fine," she says, her attention focused on the cat in her arms that is clearly in pain, judging from the sounds its making.

"What happened to the cat?' I ask.

""It seems he...it...collided with your bike when it landed," she whispers.

"Landed from where?" I glance up and the only window I see is in Felix's bedroom directly above us.

"And where's Felix?" I glance around but there's no one else there except for the two of us and the squirming cat.

She looks up at me then. "It's getting dark," she say softly. "You'd better get home. Your mother will worry." She glides to the front door, the cat in her arms.

"What are you going to do?" I say, wondering what the heck is going on here.

"I'm going to bandage his injured hand," she says, holding the cat's right front paw very gently in her hand. "Goodnight young man."

The front door closes behind her and I'm left standing alone outside, thinking this is a pretty weird day, even by Plutonian standards.

The next day at school during gym class I see Felix sitting on the bleachers. "I wonder why he's not dressed for gym?" I say.

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Fatty says to me, bouncing a basketball off my head. "He hurt his right hand yesterday and has to wait until it heals."

# 7 : Sing It Loud, Sing It Strong!

Chemistry is one of my favorite subjects, which makes Tuesday and Thursday two of my favorite days of the week. On Tuesday I have Chemistry class, where we learn all about the Periodic Table of Elements, and how everything in the world, whether it's a rock or an animal or a person, contains a chemical composition. On Thursday, it's even more fun. It's Lab Day! I tell you, people, nothing but nothing is more fun than mixing together a bunch of chemicals and waiting to see what happens. Which reminds me of the time Deepak Desai, this really smart kid from India, who spoke kind of in a singsong way, but nobody cared 'cos he was so freakily smart, anyway, he mixed up a combination of chemicals that affected all of us in the room in a really weird way.

I mean really weird.

As soon as Deepak added the final chemical to his beaker, something bizarre started to happen. The mixture started foaming and bubbling, and a green smoke came out that slowly curled over the whole room. For the longest time we all just stared at it. I thought it was the coolest thing I'd seen since Marion Dorsey took off on all fours with the softball in his mouth during our night game against the Thundering Typhoons.

Then Mr. Kellogg, our science teacher, who's actually a pretty cool guy, started barking orders for us to evacuate the room until the green smoke cleared. Of course none of us moved. We were all too busy watching the smoke curl over our heads. It wasn't until it started to slowly descend that we got a little nervous. Mr. K. opened his mouth to yell at us again, only his yell came out like a song. No kidding!

We all turned to stare at him as he sang at the top of his lungs for us to leave the room in an orderly fashion. Some of the kids started snickering, some snorted, but most of us just stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. Shelley McElroy opened her mouth to ask him if he was okay, but she started singing too. It was too good to be true. There they were, teacher and student, both singing at the top of their lungs, and by the look on their faces, they were as shocked as the rest of us.

We couldn't help it. We all burst out laughing as Shelley screeched in her horrible soprano voice that something was wrong, and what was happening, and Mr. K. warbled back in his falsetto that he had no idea, but please try not to panic, and everyone else keep their mouths shut and march in single file to the nurse's office.

It was then that Susie Lyons started to cry, only her cries came out like a long, loud screech that started high then went low then back up then down, like she was some crazed opera singer. She ran for the door, her hands against her mouth, and it jump-started everyone else in the room. We all took off for the door, our hands pressed tightly against our mouths as we tried to stifle our guffaws. Mr. K sang out for us to proceed in an orderly fashion, which made it even harder not to laugh out loud.

At Nurse Crimshaw's office, it was mass hysteria. Anyone who opened their mouth started yodeling their brains off, and soon half the class sounded as if they were in a Broadway musical - a really, really bad one. Fatty, Wiley and I knew better. We just stood in the corner and watched the whole show. It was the best day we'd had at school in a long time.

Things got even better. By the time the chaos died down, the nurse's office was filled with the class, the principal, Mrs. Watson, the vice-principal, Mrs. Humphry, Coach Mayfield and a couple of Emergency Medical Technicians, who pulled up to the school in an ambulance with their sirens blaring. It was excellent!!

About fifteen minutes later, everything started to return to normal. Mr. K's voice started to sound more like talking than singing and the girls' crying and even some of the boys' started to sound more like regular bawling instead of the continuous warbling shooting out of their mouths. Turns out, the mixture Deepak had concocted had done something to everyone's vocal chords for a short time, so whenever someone opened their mouths to speak, they started singing. Imagine that!

Chemistry Lab was pretty quiet after that. Mr. K. monitors Deepak pretty closely now to make sure he doesn't come up with another weird concoction. I think he's afraid that the next one might have him dancing and twirling around the room like a prima ballerina. He'd never live that down!

Deepak took everything that happened in stride. When we asked him what happened after he had to go see Mrs. Watson in her office, Deepak shrugged and said that she and Mr. Kellogg decided they couldn't really punish him since what had happened was an accident. "Probably best for them to keep believing that," he added. Then he smiled at us and winked.

# 6 : The Eyes Have It!

So I'm in the town library this afternoon working on a science project with Wiley MacPherson and Fatty, when Wiley suddenly whispers, "I think Miss Direque is a witch." Fatty and I look at each other, then at him.

"What are you on about?" Fatty whispers back.

"Well, for starters, her name is Miss Direque...get it?"

We shake our heads and wait for him to explain. He rolls his eyes at us. "Miss Direque," he says again. We stare blankly at him. He sighs and rolls his eyes again "Miss Direque! M-i-s-d-i-r-e-c-t! Get it now?"

We shake our heads again. Wiley looks at us like with such pity, I start to develop a complex. "Guys, she's misdirecting us to the fact that she's a witch by pretending to be a boring old librarian," he hisses.

Fatty snorts. "Man, I think you're misdirecting us to the fact that you're not playing with a full deck. Just because she has a weird name doesn't mean she's a witch."

"What about her eyes," Wiley whispers.

"What about them?" I whisper back.

"They're two different colors," he says, "Blue and green. According to this book, that's a sure sign of a real witch."

I grab the book he's got propped up in front of him. "Hey, you're supposed to be reading up on rain forests, not witches and warlocks," I say.

"Yeah, I know...I will," Wiley says, "But get this. The book says that if a person has one bright blue right eye and one bright green left eye, she's a good witch. If they're reversed, then she uses her powers for evil." He leans closer in to us. "What color is Miss Direque's right eye?"

We didn't know. I didn't believe for one minute that Miss Direque was a witch, good or bad. Well, maybe a tiny part of me did. I mean, this was Pluto, Washington after all. But a big part of me refused to believe it. I mean, there just HAD to be SOME normal people in Pluto, right? They couldn't all be weirdos.

"Well, we'd better find out before she turns us into mushrooms or something," Wiley hisses. "Fatty! Go on up and ask her for a book on rain forest animals, but make sure you get a good look at her eyes."

"What if she gets suspicious?" Fatty says. "Why do I hafta? Why can't one of you go?"

"Cos you still look like you're 5," Wiley says. "Grownups never yell at you. Now go?"

Fatty bites his lower lip and slowly pushes away from the table. He shuffles over to the circulation desk looking like he'd just found out there was no Santa Claus.

"Yes, young man?"

Fatty looks up at Miss Direque and mumbles something we can't hear. She nods once and points toward the far wall. Fatty thanks her but continues to stand there, staring at her. I start to wonder if maybe his brain froze from too much fear or excitment...or both, when he jerks himself upright and hurries back toward us.

"Well?" Wiley and I say together. Fatty grabs my arm, breathing hard. His eyes are wide open and shining, and look like they're ready to pop out of his head.

"What?" I say.

"Is the right one blue?" Wiley says at the same time.

"No," Fatty whispers, digging his fingers into my arm. "They're reversed."

All three of us glance over at Miss Direque. She's standing there behind the desk, watching us with a smile that could freeze an eskimo in his tracks. Suddenly our harmless trip to the library to get a head start on our project doesn't seem like such a good idea. What just happened here? One minute we're pouring over books on rain forests, and the next a librarian/witch is giving us the Evil Eye.

"I thik I hear my mom calling," I whisper.

"Me too," Wiley whispers. Fatty's too petrified to say anything.

We grab our backpacks and start hurrying toward the door. As we pass the desk, Miss Direque leans over and whispers, "I love mushrooms..."

# 5 : Now that's what I call a Salty Dog!

There's this kid in my homeroom who is addicted to salt. Seriously! In the cafeteria if the salt shaker is missing from the table, you know it's got to be Euclid Hill. Euclid! That's even worse than being called Marion. Well...maybe not, but it's still pretty bad.

Anyway, this Euclid kid douses everything with salt. Generally, I'm pretty used to all the weird things and even weirder people that populate Pluto, but Euclid is pretty strange, even by Plutonian standards.

The other day I'm in town with my mom and my sisters, the terrible twins, Dolly and Polly, when I spot Euc getting a hot dog from Mr. Union, the hot dog vendor who's been selling dogs on the same corner for like a billion years. Now, most people, even weird ones, usually put mustard or saurkraut or relish on their dogs. Some people, like me, even put ketchup.

But not Euclid. I'm watching from across the street, and Euc says something to Mr. Union, who gives him a weird look, then rummages around behind the counter and passes him something. Next thing I know, he's shaking salt onto his hot dog. And I don't mean a polite sprinkle. This guy's piling it on like his life depends on it. A few people passing by even stop and stare at him, and before you know it, there's a small crowd gathered around Euclid watching the salt pile up on his dog. Euc's completely oblivious to everyone, and once his hot dog's completely covered and looks like a small, snow-covered mountain on a bun, Euc licks his lips and shoves the whole thing in his mouth in one huge, disgusting gulp.

Some people, like Fatty, my best friend, think Euclid's an alien who needs the salt to survive on our planet. He says Euc comes from a planet that's mostly sodium in some form or other, so his people need it to survive the way humans need water. I'm pretty convinced. But then again, the guy may just like salt a whole lot.

# 4 : Are we blood brothers yet?

I'm running like there's a pack of wolves after me. The lunch bell rang like 10 minutes ago, but since I had to help Coach Mayfield put the softball equipment away, I'm the last one to get to the cafeteria. And trust me, if you go to Planet Nine Elementary, you do not want to be the last one in line at the cafeteria. Ever!

So I run in, and I see that the table I usually sit at is already full. Rats! I glance quickly around. All the tables are full. No space anywhere...except at the one table the stragglers always get relegated to.

Deadeye Danny's table.

I look over at him and he's staring right at me with those coal black eyes of his.  Eyes that look like they belong on a shark. Cold and dead. Empty eyes!


I sit down and try real hard not to stare at the bottle of thick red liquid in front of him. There's a straw propped up in it, and a tiny drop dribbles slowly down the back of it. Suddenly my peanut butter and banana sandwich doesn't seem that appetizing anymore. I glance down at the lumps of banana peeking out from in between the peanut butter.

"If it bothers you I can always drink it later," Danny says in that slow, Southern drawl of his.

"What?" I look up at him. He's smiling at me, and up close his eyes don't look that cold and dead.

He gestures at the bottle. "The pig's blood," he says.

Pig's blood! Oh geez! "Oh...no...that's all right," I stammer. "I mean you must be hungry, right?"

His eyes drop to my neck and my heartbeat goes into full overdrive. "I am," he agrees, "but I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He look up at me and smiles again. "I don't normally have company for lunch. It's kind of nice."

I'm puzzled. Deadeye Danny doesn't sound like the vampires I see on the Sci-Fi channel. I mean he sounds like them, what with the way they talk, like they're royalty or something. You know, "Good eveeeening. I am Count Chocula," or whatever. But he doesn't sound like them in that he doesn't sound evil. In fact, he sounds kind of okay.

"No problem here," I say, trying real hard not to stare at the bottle. "Drink away." Oh geez! Did I just say that? "I mean, don't stop on account of me."

In response, Danny raises his bottle to me. I'm not sure what he wants me to do, until I realize he's looking at my chocolate milk. I quickly grab the carton and tap it against his bottle.

Danny grins at me, his long incisors jutting over his bottom lip. "Bottom's up," he says, and slurps his blood like it's going out of style. Before I can raise my chocolate milk to my lips, he's drained his bottle and gets to his feet. "Got to get to math class," he says. "See you."

I nod.

He turns away then turns back to me. That smile flashes again. "Know something Beaker? You're okay...for a human." Then in the next second he's walking out the door.

Wow! For someone who doesn't have a heart, the guy's all heart. Who knew?

# 3 : Ho Ho Ho!

Merry Christmas to everyone in Pluto, Washington -- the magnetic center of all things weird, bizarre and unexplainable. I wouldn't live anywhere else.

Sincerely,

Rodney Q. Beaker