The Adventures of Shrinkman

by R. L. Stine

  “Help me!” I cried, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Please—can you help me onto the bus?”

  She didn’t hear me. She raised her left shoe onto the bottom step and reached for the handrail.

  “Please!” I screamed.

  She raised her other shoe to the bottom step—and dropped her bus token. I saw it roll off the bus onto the curb.

  I jumped out of its way. The token was as big as a manhole cover!

  The woman turned, stepped off the bus, and bent down to pick up the token.

  My last chance, I realized.

  A desperate idea flashed into my mind.

  I’ll jump onto her leg. I’ll grab her jeans and hold on tight, and she’ll carry me onto the bus.

  Muttering to herself, she pulled the token from the grass. Then she turned and started back to the bus.

  I took a deep breath and began to run.

  I saw her raise her right foot onto the bottom bus step.

  Picking up speed, my bare feet slapping the sidewalk, I shot out both hands.

  Leaped high at her left leg.

  Grabbed for the jeans…

  …and missed.

  “Ohhhh.” A horrified cry burst from my chest.

  My hands hit air.

  I started to slide down the woman’s leg.

  She raised her foot onto the bus step. As I fell, I heard the loud clang of the token dropping into the token box.

  I landed with a thud on her white sneaker—and frantically grabbed the laces.

  I wrapped both hands around the laces and held on tight as she bumped—bumped—bumped—up the steps, onto the bus. I rode her sneaker like a bucking bronco in a rodeo.

  My knuckles turned white as I gripped the laces tighter. Held on as she made her way down the aisle and took a seat across from the rear exit.

  “Yessss!” I cried happily. I wanted to pump my fists in the air. But I was terrified of falling off the sneaker.

  The bus roared as it pulled away from the curb. I gazed toward the front. I could only see under the seats. The bus stretched for miles, like an ocean liner.

  “Whoa—!” I cried out in surprise as the woman started to cross her legs.

  I saw her right foot swing over toward the left.

  About to be crushed, I let go of the shoelaces and dived to the bus floor. I rolled under the seat to safety. And clung to the metal chair leg the rest of the way.

  Hours later, when I stepped up to the glass front door of Dr. Hayward’s office, I nearly cried. I felt so happy, so relieved, so exhausted.

  Jumping off the bottom step of the bus had been the most terrifying experience of my life. If you didn’t count being used in a tug-of-war between two dogs, fighting a grasshopper, or falling into the middle of an ant colony.

  Crossing the busiest street in town wasn’t exactly a picnic, either. I scurried across in terror, looking like a frightened squirrel.

  Now here I stood in front of Dr. Hayward’s office. My next challenge was to get through the door.

  I had to wait a long time for a normal-sized person to come out. Then I had to dart inside before the door slammed shut on me.

  I stepped into the waiting room and gazed up at the chairs and couches. Empty. No one waiting.

  Where were Mom and Dad?

  Miles above me the fish tank gurgled softly. I felt my stomach start to gurgle, too. I suddenly felt sick.

  Didn’t my parents wait for me? Where were they?

  I heard a cough at the front of the room. I saw Carla, Dr. Hayward’s assistant, sitting behind the skyscraper-high reception desk.

  I ran under the coffee table and up to her desk, calling to her. But she was talking into the phone. “I’m sorry, the doctor will be out of town that week…” She didn’t hear me.

  I gazed frantically around the room. How could I get her attention? How could I make her see me?

  A black umbrella tilted against the corner of the wall caught my eye. If I could climb up the umbrella onto the handle, I’d be tall enough for Carla to see me.

  I stepped up to the umbrella. It rose up like a tree above me. It wouldn’t be an easy climb. But I was so close…so close to a cure…I couldn’t give up now.

  I grabbed the black fabric with both hands and started to pull myself up. My hands were moist and the umbrella fabric was slick and slippery.

  I hoisted myself slowly, wrapping my legs around the long wires beneath the fabric. My hands kept sliding off. I kept slipping back down.

  Halfway up I lost my hold and started to fall. My legs closed tightly around the umbrella. I held on…held on with my legs. Then slowly, panting, sweating, I pulled myself back up.

  When I reached the metal point at the end of the black cloth, I had to stop and rest. Then I stretched out my hand and rubbed my fingers along the shiny wood handle. Testing it.

  It felt very slippery, too. But I knew if I could pull myself up to its top, Carla would definitely be able to see me. Or at least hear me.

  I kicked off from the umbrella point and began to shimmy up the fat, brown handle.

  Almost there…almost there…

  And then, there I was, breathless and weary—but standing on the umbrella handle. Standing tall and high enough for anyone to see me.

  I did it! I did it !

  My chest heaving, my heart pounding, I turned to the desk. And started to call to Carla.

  I saw that she was gone.

  Her desk chair was pulled out and empty.

  I let out a cry—and started to lose my balance. I lurched forward and nearly fell off the umbrella.

  And then I heard a scream. A shrill scream of fright.

  I spun around and saw Carla in front of me, hands pressed against her cheeks, face bright red, mouth open in another high scream.

  The door to the examining room swung open, and Dr. Hayward, stethoscope swinging from side to side in front of him, came bursting in. “Carla—what on earth is wrong?”

  Carla didn’t answer. She just pointed, pointed at me with a trembling hand.

  Dr. Hayward placed a calming hand on the shoulder of her white uniform. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

  He bent over and brought his face close to mine, so close I could smell the minty mouthwash on his breath. “Danny?” he whispered. “Danny? You’ve shrunk so much?”

  I nodded sadly. “I—I got here as fast as I could. Mom and Dad—”

  “Your parents are frantic,” he interrupted. “They’ve been searching everywhere for you. They’re both out of their minds with worry.”

  “I fell out of the cage,” I told him. “I hurried here. But it was so hard, I—”

  “I’d better call them,” Dr. Hayward said. He grabbed the phone receiver off Carla’s desk. She stood in the center of the waiting room, arms crossed in front of her, staring at me in disbelief.

  “Dr. Hayward—” I called. “Do you have a cure for me? Can you cure me right away?”

  He didn’t answer. He held the phone pressed tightly against his ear and listened. “They don’t seem to be home, Danny. Maybe they are—”

  The office door swung open. Mom and Dad burst in breathlessly. Mom’s hair was wild. Her face was as pale as cake flour. Dad’s shirt had come untucked from his pants. His eyes were red and bulging.

  Dad spotted me first. “Danny? You’re here?”

  Mom sighed. “I don’t believe it! You’re here? You’re okay?”

  She rushed forward and picked me up. She set me down in the palm of her hand and stroked my back with one finger the way she used to pet my hamster.

  “Danny, poor Danny,” she whispered. A large teardrop fell from her face and splashed beside me on her palm.

  “We’re so sorry,” Dad said, shaking his head. “When we saw that the cage was empty, we…we…didn’t know what to do.”

  “It’s okay,” I told him. “We’re here now. Let’s get started with the cure. I don’t really like sitting in Mom’s hand.”

  We followed Dr. Hayward in
to his office. He stepped behind his big desk and motioned for us to sit down across from him. But my parents said they’d rather stand.

  I sat cross-legged in Mom’s palm. My heart was pounding. I couldn’t bear the suspense. “So what is the cure?” I asked Dr. Hayward. “What do I have to do to get big again?”

  Dr. Hayward let out a long sigh. His shoulders slumped. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Danny. I called you all here because I thought I should give you the bad news in person. There is no cure.”

  Dad carried me out of the doctor’s office. Mom was sobbing too hard to hold me. Dad didn’t say a word. He had bitten his bottom lip until it bled.

  I was smaller than a mouse now. I was about the size of one of those tiny candy bars they make for Halloween.

  At first when I heard the bad news, I felt like crying. But I guess I was too stunned to cry.

  Riding in Dad’s palm, I blinked against the blinding sunlight. We crossed the parking lot and stopped beside the car.

  The light was so bright, I had to shut my eyes.

  And as I covered them with both hands, an idea flashed into my mind.

  A crazy idea. A crazy, insane idea.

  But maybe that’s the kind of idea we needed right now.

  “Dad—!” I shouted up to him. “Dad—listen!”

  He raised me close to his face. And now I could see that he had been crying, too. “What is it, Danny?” he choked out.

  “Dad, I have a wild idea. Something that might make me big again. Or at least stop me from shrinking.”

  “Let’s get out of this sun,” Mom groaned.

  We climbed into the front seat of the car. Dad turned the key and started the air conditioner. The cold air felt good against my burning skin.

  Dad sat me down on top of the steering wheel. I was so short, my legs barely dangled over the side. “Danny, what’s your idea?”

  “Well…” I took a deep breath. “The bright sunlight reminded me of your movie projector.”

  Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Huh? My projector?”

  I nodded. “I just remembered something that happened. Megan and I went to see the Shrinkman movie. Then we came upstairs to visit you in the projection booth.”

  “Yes, yes. I remember,” Dad said impatiently.

  “Well, you were showing the Shrinkman movie, and I accidentally stepped in front of the projector. Remember?”

  Dad nodded. “Go on.”

  “Danny, why are you telling us this?” Mom asked tearfully.

  “Well…the light from the projector washed over me,” I continued excitedly. “And it made me feel really funny. It just gave me a strange feeling. I felt sort of dazed. And then, right after that, I started to shrink.”

  Dad scratched his hair. “I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”

  “Maybe…just maybe…” I started, “maybe the light did something to me. You know. Changed my molecules or something. And maybe, if I stand in front of the projector again, it will reverse the process, and I’ll start to grow again.”

  Mom sighed and buried her face in her hands.

  “But the theater isn’t showing the Shrinkman movie anymore,” Dad said, frowning, still biting his cut lip.

  “What are you showing?” I asked.

  He thought for a moment. “Attack of the Fifty-Foot Woman.”

  “That’s perfect!” I cried. “Awesome!” I pressed my hands together in a begging position. “We have to try it, Dad. We have to!”

  The five o’clock show had just begun. Only ten or twelve people were in the theater watching it.

  Dad carried me up the steep steps to the projection room. Mom followed silently behind. She hadn’t said a word since Dad had agreed to try my idea.

  Ernie Rawls, a big, jolly-looking red-faced man, had taken Dad’s place for the day. Dad waved to him and asked how it was going.

  “Pretty quiet,” Ernie replied.

  Dad leaned close to Ernie and talked in a low whisper. I couldn’t hear him, but I guessed that he was telling Ernie what we planned to do.

  The projector whirred behind us, shooting its beam of light down to the screen. I peeked out another hole to the theater and saw the Fifty-Foot Woman rampaging around on the screen.

  Dad raised me close to his face. “Okay, let’s try it,” he whispered. “I’m going to hold you in the projector light, Danny.”

  “Just for a few seconds, Dad,” I instructed. “I was only in it for a second or two the first time.”

  Dad nodded.

  I turned to see how Mom was doing, but she leaned against the back wall, her face hidden in darkness.

  “It’s going to work, Dad,” I said as he stepped to the side of the big projector. “I know it’s going to work!”

  “Here goes,” Dad said.

  He raised his arm slowly. Held me in front of the beam of light.

  And once again, the white light shot over me, blinded me, held me…dazed me.

  I blinked hard, shaking my head, trying to clear it as Dad lowered me from the light beam. He set me down on the worktable. He and Mom and Ernie leaned close, staring down at me. Waiting…

  Watching…

  Nothing happened.

  The bright light faded from my eyes. The dazed feeling faded, too. I stared at my arms, my legs, watching for any sign that they were starting to grow.

  No.

  “Maybe it takes time,” Dad said.

  Mom had her hands pressed against the sides of her face. “The last time you didn’t start to change right away?” She said it as a question.

  “Yeah,” I replied glumly. “It took a little while.” But I knew this idea was a failure. I didn’t feel any different. I knew I wasn’t going to grow.

  I’m doomed, I thought, starting to tremble. I hugged myself tightly to stop the shaking. I’m doomed…

  The hours passed slowly. By night I still hadn’t changed.

  Mom and Dad kept me in the birdcage on the kitchen table. Mom gave me a few tiny shreds of tuna fish between some white bread crumbs for dinner. I drank orange juice from the thimble, but it was starting to get too heavy for me to pick up.

  Dad had been on the phone all afternoon, calling doctors all around the country. He hoped to find a doctor who had some kind of idea about how to stop me from shrinking to nothing.

  About an hour after dinner Mom and Dad came into the kitchen and leaned close to talk to me. I could see they were dressed to go out.

  “We found a specialist at the hospital across town who has an idea,” Mom said.

  “He wants to talk to us before he sees you,” Dad added. “We’ll be back in an hour, maybe less.”

  “Will you be okay?” Mom asked.

  I sat on the cage floor with my chin in my hands. “Yeah. Sure,” I muttered.

  “Don’t give up hope,” Mom said. Her voice broke as she said it. They threw me kisses and disappeared out the kitchen door. I heard the car start, then heard it back down the driveway.

  I climbed to my feet and started to pace back and forth. I was so short now, I couldn’t reach the perch swing above my head.

  “I’m going to disappear forever,” I whispered.

  A sound from the living room made me stop. I stood in the center of the cage and listened.

  I heard the front door swing open. Heard the hushed scrape of footsteps in the hall.

  Someone trying not to be heard.

  “Who’s there?” I called. My voice was so tiny, I knew it didn’t reach beyond the cage.

  “Who’s there?” I squeaked again.

  More soft footsteps. A muffled cough.

  Who had sneaked into my house? A thief?

  A chill ran down my back. I ran to the cage bars and peered out.

  A figure moved quickly into the kitchen.

  “Megan—!” I cried. “Megan—I’m so glad it’s you!”

  I don’t think she heard me. Her eyes searched the kitchen until she found the birdcage. Then she hurried across the room and picked
up the cage.

  The cage swung wildly, knocking me to the floor. “Hey—careful!” I shouted.

  “Take it easy, Danny,” she called in. “I’m late.” Holding the cage high in front of her, she began trotting to the front door.

  “Late?” I squeaked. “What do you mean late? Stop, Megan! Where are you taking me?”

  She carried me outside and slammed the door behind her. It was a cool, breezy evening. A gust of wind blew me against the cage bars.

  “Megan—stop!” I pleaded. “Put me back! I have to stay home! Why are you doing this?”

  My cage swung wildly as she trotted to the driveway.

  “Tonight is the Science Fair,” she called down to me. “I need you there.”

  “Huh? Need me? Why?”

  She stopped and raised me close to her face. Her dark eyes flashed excitedly. “Don’t you get it, Danny? You’re my science project!”

  I let out a shocked cry. The cage started to bounce and swing again as Megan took off, jogging toward school.

  “Me?” I cried. “I’m your project? I—I don’t get it, Megan!”

  “You’re my science project,” she repeated, not slowing down as she ran across the street. “I told you, I have to win the prize. I really want that thousand dollars.”

  “But—but—” I sputtered. “You mean you made me shrink?”

  “Of course,” she replied calmly.

  “How?” I demanded.

  “In the science lab. That glass of liquid you drank when you choked on your chewing gum. You thought it was water. But it was my secret formula.”

  I was shaking so hard, I could barely speak. I felt shocked and angry and terrified all at the same time. “S-secret formula?”

  “My great-grandmother Hester wrote the recipe in her journal. And she passed her journal on to me. I told you about Granny Hester. She lived about a hundred years ago. I told you she was a witch.”

  I sank to the cage floor, suddenly feeling too weak to stand. “I can’t believe you did this to me, Megan. I thought you were my friend.”

  Baker Elementary School came into view on the next block. All the lights were on because of the Science Fair. “Of course, I’m your friend, Danny,” Megan said, starting to jog faster.