by Jon Scieszka
“It’s three to nothing,” Josh declared. “We, uh . . . won.”
The big kids stared at them and their mouths dropped open in astonishment.
Each had those weird shark teeth. Josh squinted. They didn’t look fake, either. How could they be real?
Their faces twisted with barely contained rage. Jaws jutted out at sharp angles.
Something was really off with these kids.
One with the number 2 on her shirt tore the wraparound sunglasses off her face, crushed them in a fist, and tossed the remains. “You’ve won this battle,” she said. “But it’s not over. Our honor will be avenged.”
Josh and Tony stared at each other.
There was a flash of light on the court. Another at the far end of the playground.
The lights left them both blinking, eyes filled with tears.
When they were able to see clearly again, the big kids had vanished. Except the leader. He stood by the free-throw line, his head hung low.
“What just happened?” Tony asked.
Josh shook his head. He went to their leader. “Why’d they leave you?”
“I have dishonored my squad,” he whispered. “We have lost. By the rules, I am your captive now.”
“Captive?!” Josh said. “What are you talking about?”
Tony yanked on Josh’s arm. “Hey, look.”
“Just a sec. I gotta ask this guy what—”
“No, seriously,” Tony said, his voice rising.
Josh turned to tell Tony that this weird big kid was about to cry. That something was really, really wrong with today’s recess. And that maybe they were about to find out why.
But the words stuck in Josh’s throat.
He couldn’t believe what he saw.
In the middle of the playground was a fort. It was made of plastic logs. Everyone loved to climb the thing. It was two levels high, and kids usually played a tag version of capture the flag during lunch.
Only at this very moment . . . there was a REAL battle happening.
Every kid at Evergreen Elementary out for lunch recess screamed and sprinted to the plastic log fort.
Everyone . . . except Josh and Tony (and the still-glued basketball teams stuck on the court).
Thirty new big kids had appeared from nowhere. They were like the ones Josh and Tony had trounced at basketball. But these wore blue shorts and numbered T-shirts that read: BETA.
There was no way they went to this school. They were huge enough to be in high school (or to be professional wrestlers!).
Any bit of them looking normal was gone too. Their faces were wide, jaws twice normal size. They all had snarling mouths full of shark teeth.
And unlike when they were “playing” basketball, this time they carried those snot squirt guns out in the open. They zapped Tony and Josh’s classmates left and right.
Josh and Tony watched, stunned, as terrified kids tripped and fell over one another to get away.
Blango! Splat!
In the bark-filled play area, kids tried to rise from mucous cocoons. They fell face-first into the gunk. Gross!
Only a dozen kids made it to the fort. They climbed the walls and cowered inside.
Meanwhile the big kids made sure all the kids down stayed down. They shot them an extra two or three times with their weapons . . . leaving blobs of quivering, angry, snot-covered kids.
“What’s going on?” Josh whispered, terrified.
He hadn’t expected any answer, but he got one from the leader of the weird basketball team he and Tony had beaten.
“It’s the second test,” he told Josh. “You won the first.” He nodded to the basketball court. “This is the second test. If the Empire wins, we will be tied.”
“Em-empire?” Tony sputtered. “Tied? For what?”
“Rule 039,” the big kid replied as calmly as if he were talking about the weather. “The Empire tests primitive worlds before they conquer them. If these worlds can beat the Empire three times, they leave in peace.”
Josh and Tony exchanged confused looks.
“I am Unit 1,” the big kid said. “In the highly likely case that this world will lose, the Empire moves in. First they will take this school. Then they take the planet.”
Josh mouthed to Tony, “Take the planet?”
Tony shrugged and made a “crazy” circle motion near his head.
Josh blinked. Whatever was going on—rule whatchamacallit or not—all he knew was he had to help the Evergreen kids. Somehow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Josh said to Unit 1, “but you’ve got to help us stop those guys. You’re on our team, right?”
Unit 1 stood taller, suddenly at military attention.
“Unit 1 ready for orders, sir!”
“Wow, neat,” Tony said.
Josh and Tony huddled and drew a map in the dirt—as if this were a board game. The kids were Xs clustered in the fort. The attackers were Os. They had them surrounded. Arrows showed the Os moving in for the kill.
After a split second, Tony whispered, “So, what are the rules?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Josh hissed. “There are no rules. This is a battle!”
Josh thought about it a second. That might not be true. There were rules. Plenty of rules on the school playground. Every time he set foot in the flower beds some teacher was waiting for him, handing out demerits.
And these new kids might be ruthless, but they also seemed to have this thing about following rules.
“I’ve got a crazy idea,” Josh said to Tony and motioned Unit 1 closer. “Just do what I do. Come on.”
Unit 1 snapped off a crisp salute.
Tony didn’t look sure, especially when Josh marched boldly onto the playground—straight for three new kids. They were zapping a helpless, snot-covered boy.
“Hey, you creeps!” Josh shouted.
The three turned. They had numbers, 7, 18, and 29, on their shirts. They aimed their guns at Josh, Tony, and Unit 1.
“You jumped off that wall.” Josh pointed to the cinder block wall near the library. It was four feet tall. Almost everyone climbed up and balanced on it during recess. Nearby was a sign that read: NO CLIMBING OR JUMPING OFF THE WALL.
“Yeah, it’s against the rules,” Tony added, picking up on the idea. He crossed his arms over his chest like teachers did when lecturing rule breakers.
Unit 1 gasped as if this were the worst thing in the world.
The three big kids looked at each other. “There are no such rules,” Unit 29 snarled.
“Sign?” Tony pointed to the library wall. “It’s right there.”
The three squinted—then they looked totally shocked. They set down their guns and raised their arms.
“We were not told,” Unit 18 whispered. “What is the penalty? Death? Cutting off our ears? Vaporization?”
Unit 1 nodded enthusiastically at all these suggestions.
“I’m afraid,” Josh said, tapping his finger to his lip, “it’s worse.”
“You have to join our team,” Tony told them.
The three looked stunned, then looked to Unit 1. But then they shrugged, picked up their guns, and marched over to Josh and Tony.
“Yes!” Tony said.
“Orders, sir?” Unit 18 asked Josh.
Orders? Josh had no idea what to do next. He was just making this up as he went along.
“Look!” Tony pointed.
A squad of five larger kids had concentrated their slimy fire on the left side of the fort.
Josh gulped. “They’re going to paste everyone up there.”
“Not that,” Tony muttered and pointed lower. “Where they’re standing.”
The five stood smack in the middle of the flower beds. These were the same trampled daisies that had gotten Josh so much detention.
He jogged toward them. “Hey,” he shouted. “You can’t be there. . . .”
In a few minutes, Josh and Tony had rounded up thirty of the big kids—busting them for trampling flowers, spitt
ing, and the unauthorized discharge of a snot gun in the hallway (Tony made up that last one, but these new kids were so clueless, and so terrified of breaking rules, they believed him).
The only holdouts left were in the corner of the playground: ten bigger kids by the toolshed. One had “00” printed on his shirt, and looked even bigger than Unit 1. That’s where Josh and Tony had seen flashes of light before the major mayhem had started.
Josh moved closer and tried to yell at them—but they opened fire!
Globules of snot splattered on the ground near him. A strand got on Josh’s sneaker. It was such strong glue that he couldn’t pry his shoe off the concrete.
He had to leave it behind.
Tony, Josh, and their new gang retreated. (The sock on Josh’s foot made smacky sounds.)
“If you’re worried about your foot, sir,” Unit 1 told Josh, “we have cleanup solvent on the ship.”
“Forget my foot,” Josh told him. “We need to get that last bunch.”
“You guys have a ship?” Tony asked.
Unit 1 pointed at the sky. “We have many ships between this planet and your moon.”
Josh wasn’t sure what to believe. Unit 1 said they were being tested. Three battles they had to win or the planet would be conquered. How else to explain the sudden appearance of all these weird big kids?
Or maybe nearby Lakeside High School had let out early. But there was no way high school kids would be following rules.
No, alien invasion was the more likely thing.
So, that meant they had to win this fight or their school and the Earth were toast!
“Should we get the teachers?” Tony whispered.
“Sure.” Josh gestured to the playground and the dozen kids struggling in snotty webs. “They’ll come out here and get gooed like everyone else.”
Unit 1 fidgeted. “The longer we wait, sir, the more soldiers will be sent down.”
“Okay,” Josh said. “Let’s try this.”
He gathered everyone around him and drew in the dirt.
“We’ll have a squad run up the middle to distract those hooligans at the shed,” he said. “Two smaller squads will go right and left. I’ll lead one. Unit 1, you lead the other. A third bunch will go the long way and surprise those guys from behind. That one”—he pointed to Tony—“you lead.”
Tony’s eyes widened at this, but he smiled.
“It should be over,” Josh explained, “before anyone gets into serious trouble.”
“Good plan.” Unit 1 handed Josh and Tony each one of the guns.
Josh took it reluctantly. He’d been taught that guns were dangerous and not to be handled by twelve-year-olds. This thing was heavier than he thought it would be. It dripped snot from the end. Yuck!
“Ready?” Josh said.
Tony, Unit 1, and the other big kids on their team nodded.
“Okay—go!”
A pack of big kids sprinted up the middle of the playground. They screamed and fired at the other kids by the shed.
The enemy fired back, well hidden behind cover.
The middle squad got plastered—literally plastered—to the concrete!
But they did their job. Josh’s squads silently running up the sides were completely ignored by the shed kids.
But as soon as Josh got close enough to open fire, six new big kids swung around the corner of the shed and opened fire on him.
Josh took cover by the swing set, which got covered with sticky strands.
He shot back and splattered a nearby maple tree. A total miss.
He gritted his teeth. He was pinned down behind this stupid swing. His team was going to lose!
But just then Tony appeared out of nowhere—behind the shed.
The enemy kids wheeled around. Tony and his team shot first.
Blammo—splat—splorch!
The enemy squad was covered in goo, stuck to the shed, cursing and struggling, helpless.
Josh ran over to them.
Tony had already taken charge. “Where’s this transporter thingy you guys used to get down here?” he asked the largest enemy kid, number 00.
“We’ll never tell you,” Unit 00 snarled. He glanced back to the shed he was stuck to.
Tony opened the shed door.
Inside were four steel pillars covered with blinking lights.
“What are you doing?” Josh asked Tony.
“Going to win that third battle before it starts,” Tony said.
The five-minute bell rang. Lunch recess was almost over. There wasn’t much time left to save the world.
Inside Josh trembled, but he somehow turned to the enemy kids stuck to the shed and told them, “So . . . take us to your leader.”
Josh and Tony burst onto the bridge of the alien ship and opened fire!
Two minutes earlier they’d teleported up from the shed and tangled every guard they saw on the ship.
The crew never expected to see two kids leading a dozen others, splattering everything that moved.
Josh had taken a black officer uniform to help blend in. (Actually, he just wore the jacket. The pants were too big and kept falling down.)
They strolled right up to the ship’s bridge.
Josh, Tony, and their team gooed and splorched the seven-foot-tall officers working the bridge controls.
Their leader (Josh guessed he was the leader because his uniform was covered with ribbons and medals) was the last unstuck enemy left standing. He slowly looked around and raised his hands in surrender.
Tony whooped and did his victory dance.
Josh meanwhile stared out the wide view screen at Earth. The world was so beautiful from up here.
“I am Commander Kane of the Imperial Star Ship Colossus,” the leader told them.
Josh practically dropped his gun. The commander’s voice was ironclad, and Josh felt like saluting him.
Instead, he cleared his throat. “I’m Josh, sir,” he said, “from Evergreen Elementary. And this is Tony.”
Tony waved at him.
“As I understand it,” Josh went on, “if we win three battles against you guys, you can’t conquer Earth, right?”
Commander Kane looked to one officer in a white uniform glued to the deck.
“No . . . ,” the person in white muttered. “The Empire cannot be defeated. Not by two children!”
“Rule 049,” Commander Kane told him. “Are you suggesting, Lieutenant Plagen, that we break a rule?!”
There was a long pause, then Plagen said, “No, we follow all the rules.”
A smile flickered under the commander’s beard, revealing three rows of extra-sharp shark teeth (that sent gooseflesh crawling up Josh’s arms).
“We will go in peace, then,” Commander Kane said to Josh and Tony. “Well fought, young warriors.”
Josh and Tony whooped and gave each other a high-five.
Unit 1 beamed at them. “When is the next battle, sirs? Perhaps Lakeside High School?” He cracked his beefy fingers.
“Uh . . . I think,” Tony said, “you and the other guys have to stay.”
Unit 1 looked as if Christmas had been canceled.
“No—you don’t understand,” Josh said, suddenly feeling bad for the big guy. “Our rules say that once the battle is over you have to go back to your team.”
There was no such rule, but how else to get Unit 1 to stay? And how could he ever explain to his mom that he had to bring a few dozen alien warriors to live in their basement?
“It was fun,” Tony said, “but rules are rules.” He held out his hand for Unit 1 to shake.
“We’ve got to go,” Josh added. “Recess is almost over and we’ve got a huge mess to clean up.”
Unit 1 stared at Tony’s hand, puzzled, as if he were unsure whether to clasp it . . . or bite it. He finally shook the offered hand. “It has been an honor to fight on your team, sirs.” He looked around the bridge, at the struggling, glued officers. “I’ll see to it that you get a few cans of detangling spray to clean up y
our school. . . .”
A minute later, Josh and Tony had handed out the last can of detangle spray to the basketball team at Evergreen.
As soon as the mist from the can touched the alien goo, it turned the stuff to dust.
Almost everyone on the playground was back to normal—stunned and not having a clue what had just happened but normal.
Not one of the big alien kids was left. They all must have teleported back to their ships.
The final recess bell rang.
Josh and Tony trotted off to their fourth-period science class.
Tony looked up. “You think they’ll ever come back?”
“No way,” Josh said. “We won. According to their rules they have to leave us in peace.”
“I don’t know . . . ,” Tony whispered. “That Plagen guy didn’t sound too happy that we beat him.”
“You worry too much,” Josh said. “Those rules of theirs are like unbreakable laws. I’d bet you a bazillion dollars we’ve seen the last of them.”
Josh looked down—almost stepping into the flower beds. He caught himself, stopped, and carefully set his foot down on the concrete path.
Whew. That was a close one.
Rules Officer Lieutenant Plagen tried to wipe the last of the congealed tangler fluid from his normally clean white uniform.
Ugh! He would have used the detangle spray, but it tarnished his medals. What a mess.
How was he going to explain to Imperial Headquarters that two children from an insignificant planet had defeated the Empire’s best?
And by using the Empire’s own rules!
He ground his pointed teeth (making a screeeeeeching sound that he very much enjoyed).
Plagen would not let this happen.
He took out his datapad and scrolled through the Empire’s rulebook. All 33,452 entries.
Two could play this game.
He’d find some rule that would let him come back to this planet one day . . . and then, his new lifelong enemies, Josh and Tony, would be sorry they’d “won.”
FROST AND FIRE
BY RAY BRADBURY
During the night, Sim was born. He lay wailing upon the cold cave stones. His blood beat through him a thousand pulses each minute. He grew, steadily.
Into his mouth his mother with feverish hands put the food. The nightmare of living was begun. Almost instantly at birth his eyes grew alert, and then, without half understanding why, filled with bright, insistent terror. He gagged upon the food, choked and wailed. He looked about, blindly.