Alien in My Pocket

by Nate Ball

  As Taylor handed two photos to Dad, I snatched the other two from his other hand.

  The photos weren’t very clear, like those blurry pictures of Bigfoot running through the forest. But this Bigfoot was blue. One photo showed a fuzzy picture of Amp’s tiny blue butt. The other was a close up of Amp’s watery eye.

  I did a big, fake, cackling laugh. “Oh, Taylor,” I guffawed, “that’s just one of Olivia’s toys. It’s a little elf doll she calls Amp.” I handed the two photos to my mom, like I wasn’t interested in them anymore.

  I could feel Taylor staring at me.

  “See, Taylor,” Mom said with a tsk-tsk, “it’s one of Olivia’s toys. I think I’ve seen this toy in your room before, Zack.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you have,” I said as steadily as I could.

  “Looks almost real,” Dad mumbled. He took the two photos from Mom and stared at the close-up of Amp’s eye. “Kind of creepy,” he said.

  “Oh, you have no idea how creepy and annoying that toy is,” I said.

  Taylor stood up slowly, his chair making a loud screeching noise on the tile floor. He stared at me, lips trembling, eyes blinking with anger.

  He walked slowly out of the kitchen.

  “What a weirdo,” I said to Mom with an uneasy smile.

  She sighed. “He’s just upset,” she said.

  “He’s not used to sharing the limelight,” Dad agreed, shoveling in a spoonful of beans while staring at the photo of Amp’s rear end.

  “Well, he’ll probably win tomorrow’s science fair anyway,” I said, trying to sound like the concerned older brother. “He’ll get over it soon, I’m sure.”

  15

  Showtime

  Wednesday’s science fair arrived without any further drama.

  My experiment was bolted to a table next to Davey Swope’s volcano and across from Max Myers’s head-butting meter. At the time, I wasn’t sure why Amp insisted on securing it to something heavy, but at that point I was more interested in watching Davey and Max scramble to fix their projects, neither of which were working properly still. Max Myers was literally turning red with frustration. I avoided making eye contact.

  Olivia’s experiment was two rows over. It was her attempt to prove the “three-second rule” was just a myth and not real science.

  The three-second rule applies to those times when you drop something you’re about to eat on the floor. If you can pick it up within three seconds, it’s supposed to be safe to eat. Olivia’s display showed different types of mold growing on slices of whole wheat bread. It was gross. I think even Olivia would admit her experiment was a bit of a downer.

  The school gym was crowded. Parents, students, and other adults I couldn’t identify wandered up and down the aisles examining the different science experiments. It was thunderously loud and the atmosphere was surprisingly festive. My parents came by and took my picture, but I hadn’t seen them since.

  The judges—Principal Luntz; Mrs. Bird, our school nurse; and a guy named Edward G. Prentiss—were stopping at each display for a quick demonstration. Edward G. Prentiss had once been a student at Reed School and was now a big shot in business and science. Every year he volunteered to help pick our school’s winner.

  While the three judges strolled the aisles, I showed curious kids and parents how my electromagnet could pick up paper clips. I answered all their questions and was surprised at how easily I could discuss magnetism. I even explained to people how Earth was like a big magnet.

  I was always careful to press only the first of my experiment’s three buttons. I’d wait for the judges before I kicked it up a notch and hit the second button. Amp had told me to hit the third button only if I really needed it.

  I did not plan on hitting the third button under any circumstances.

  I was making sure my zipper was zipped when I was tapped on the shoulder. Judging time!

  Mr. Prentiss looked first. He read all the paperwork I had mounted on the trifold cardboard standing up behind my electromagnet. He seemed to get more curious as he read. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod a few times.

  I waited and smiled uncomfortably as Mrs. Bird urgently scribbled notes on a clipboard. Principal Luntz seemed amazed the whole thing hadn’t collapsed yet.

  “Any relation to Taylor McGee?” Mr. Prentiss asked me.

  “He’s my little brother,” I said. Mr. Prentiss nodded, as if he already knew this and was just confirming it.

  “Why choose iron for the core of your electromagnet?” Mr. Prentiss asked, turning suddenly to me, looking intently into my eyes. “Why not copper or steel or tin?”

  “Well, all metals react differently to magnetic fields,” I said. “Iron happens to be ideal, because it multiplies the magnetic field more than almost anything else. It can be hundreds or even thousands of times more powerful than most other metals. Iron was a no-brainer.”

  Mrs. Bird stared at me. Principal Luntz gasped. Mr. Prentiss chuckled, but in a good way. Nobody was more astonished than I was. How did I know this stuff?

  “Let’s see this beauty in action,” Mr. Prentiss said, stepping aside to let me demonstrate.

  With the first button, the paper clips skittered over to the electromagnet just as they had in the classroom.

  I cleared my throat. “If I increase the current, it increases the power of the magnet.” Finger trembling, I pushed the second button.

  In the blink of an eye, my magnet ripped off Mr. Prentiss’s fancy metal tie clip, Principal Luntz’s glasses, and Mrs. Bird’s clipboard. Even the metal box with the control switch for Davey Swope’s spaghetti volcano was pulled from the next table and now stuck to the magnet, the cord to the volcano pulled tight.

  Before I could turn it off, all the tacks holding my report on my trifold cardboard display ripped out of the wall and stuck to the magnet, making it look like a cactus. Papers were still fluttering every which way when I cut the magnet’s power and everything was released.

  “Wow,” Mr. Prentiss said, plucking his tie clip out of the small pile of metal objects pulled to the magnet. He handed Principal Luntz’s glasses back and returned Mrs. Bird’s clipboard to her now-shaking hands. He looked me in the eyes and smiled. “You, young man, are certainly the one to beat.”

  I stared after them as they moved down to Davey Swope’s smoldering volcano. I handed Davey’s volcano controller back to him with a helpless shrug, as if I wasn’t sure why what just happened had just happened. But I hoped it was enough to get me an A.

  16

  Missing in Action

  I sat alone at our kitchen table and stared at the blue ribbon.

  First place.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel.

  But I did know I didn’t feel the way I should feel. Instead of proud, I felt uncomfortable. Uneasy. Worried. Nervous. I wasn’t sure why.

  It wasn’t just beating Taylor, who had gotten the red second-place ribbon. It was something else. Of course, I wasn’t sure how you’re supposed to feel when an alien helps you win first place in your school’s science fair. It had never happened to anyone in the history of mankind, so I was in all-new territory.

  “Zack, I’ll be ready to go in five minutes,” Dad called from down the hallway. He was answering emails before he took me to the Tri-County Science Fair Finals at our town’s community center. The first-place winners from all twenty-nine elementary schools in three counties would be there.

  Certainly I wouldn’t win that. Or would I?

  Just as I was beginning to accept the fact that I was my town’s new science genius, I heard Amp’s voice from under the kitchen table.

  “It’s over! It’s truly over!” he screamed.

  “Amp? What’s wrong?” I said, sliding down under the table. “What’s over?”

  “We’ve got a major disaster on our hands,” he said breathlessly.

  “What?” I said. “We’re almost out of the woods here. Stop worrying. Cheer up.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?�
�� he shouted.

  “What are you talking about?” I shouted back.

  “What?” my dad called out from down the hall.

  “Oh, nothing!” I called back. “Just talking to myself!”

  “My spaceship has been stolen,” Amp growled at me.

  I laughed with relief. “Oh, Amp, it’s not stolen, you goof. I moved it to my baseball bag—”

  “I LOOKED IN THERE!” he whisper-screamed, grabbing me by the nose and yanking me down to his eye-level. “IT’S GONE!” he thundered in his squeaky voice.

  I ran upstairs. The bag I kept my baseball equipment in was indeed unzipped and empty. I frantically turned over every square inch of my room. Amp’s spaceship was gone.

  “Now I can never leave this floofy planet,” Amp whispered, staring out my window into the darkening sky.

  “Zack, Olivia is on the phone!” Dad hollered from the bottom of the stairs. “She says she needs to talk to you urgently.”

  Amp and I stared at each other. “Maybe Olivia has it?” I gulped.

  “I’ll get it in your room!” I hollered back. I picked up Amp and ran down the hall to my parents’ room. I sat on the bed and picked up the phone on my mom’s nightstand. “HANG UP, DAD, I’VE GOT IT!” I yelled.

  I could hear a lot of rustling sounds on the other side of the phone. Then I heard the phone downstairs click loudly as it was hung up.

  “Olivia?” I said, but she didn’t say anything. “Tell me you have Amp’s ship. Do you have it? Hello? Olivia, can you hear me?”

  “Zack, I’m here at the Tri-County Finals with my grandpa,” she said. “I’m using my grandpa’s cell phone.”

  My mind raced. I was sure her grandpa was listening, so Olivia was trying to be extra careful about what she said.

  “Is he listening to you?”

  “Yes, it’s really fun here.”

  This told me he was listening. “Olivia, did you take Amp’s spaceship? It’s not here. We won’t be mad if you took it, we just need to know.”

  She didn’t speak for a few seconds. “Zack, I just thought you and your friend would want to know that Taylor got a ride here from a friend. He borrowed your silver football. I saw him with it, but I lost him in the crowd. It’s here and I don’t know what he’s doing with it. I can’t find him. You should come, quick.” The phone went dead.

  Amp, who had been listening next to me, just stared at me, his whole face trembling.

  “DAD,” I yelled. “WE HAVE TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW!”

  17

  Panic Attack

  The community center was a zoo.

  There were little kids running everywhere. Camera crews from the local news stations were filming with shockingly bright lights. Photographers from the paper popped their flashes. The air was filled with a steady roar of parents bragging about how smart their kids were.

  Olivia had met me at the curb, where my dad dropped me before driving off to find a parking space. We raced inside and I walked right into the chaos.

  “We’ve got to find Taylor immediately,” I said to Olivia, scanning my eyes over the noisy crowd moving through row after row of impressive-looking experiments.

  I noticed that the kids demonstrating their science projects were dressed up. The girls wore sharp, bright dresses. Many of the boys wore little V-neck sweaters with matching clip-on ties. I looked down at my muddy sneakers, jeans, and old hoodie sweatshirt.

  “You look like a science genius who’s down on his luck,” Olivia said.

  “I couldn’t find my tie,” I said with a shrug.

  “Did you bring Amp?” Olivia asked.

  “He’s in my pocket,” I said. “He has this invisibility trick, but he explained in the car it doesn’t work on this many brains at once.”

  “I have no idea what that even means,” she said.

  “ZACK MCGEE!”

  It was Mrs. Bird. She looked upset. She grabbed me by the arm with her bony fingers. “They’re waiting, let’s go! If you’re not there in less than a minute, you’ll be disqualified!”

  “Yeah, about that,” I said. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

  With that, she took me by the ear and began pulling me away—which I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to do even if you are the school nurse. But no one seemed to want to intervene.

  “Find Taylor!” I called back to Olivia. “I’ll meet you in a minute.”

  Thankfully, as Mrs. Bird shoved me in front of the waiting judges, I noticed my project had been set up for me, fully intact and bolted to a desk that was bolted to the floor. Amp’s precious gizmo remained in its place near the third button.

  To be honest, I can’t even remember what I said to the panel of judges waiting for me at my science project. Mr. Prentiss was one of the judges, but there were now four other judges I did not recognize. Some of them asked me questions. I wasn’t sure if Amp was sending me information from my pocket with his alien hocus-pocus, but I was impressed with my answers even as I said them.

  The magnet worked as it had earlier in the day, pulling the tacks from my display and sending papers fluttering everywhere. That had a big impact. The judges lost a pen, a necklace, and an oversized State of Texas belt buckle to my magnet.

  There was lots of nodding and soaring eyebrows, so I know it went pretty well, even if I couldn’t tell you a single thing they said.

  As the judges walked off to the next experiment, I also started to run off, but first I spotted Max Myers in the crowd. He had watched my demonstration. “Max! Max!” I called, waving him over. “Could you do me a favor? Could you keep an eye on my experiment for a minute? If anyone touches it or starts pushing those buttons, head-butt them.”

  “Uh, okay. But I don’t think my mom will like me head-butting anybody,” he said with a troubled look on his face. Then he softened. “Don’t worry, McGee. I’ll stand guard for you. We’re teammates now, right?”

  “Teammates?”

  “Didn’t you see? They posted the cuts online. You’re on my baseball team now. We’re both Badgers, buddy.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “I didn’t know that. Thanks!”

  With that, I ran off, feeling bad about not being able to feel good about making the travel baseball team.

  Navigating the science fair was like running through a field of corn. I couldn’t see anything over the heads of all the adults, and I certainly saw no sign of Olivia or Taylor. I ran past my mom once and she said, “Jeepers, Zack!” as I ran by.

  “What’s taking so long?” Amp shouted through my pocket.

  “I’m trying!” I yelped. “I can’t find Taylor anywhere.”

  Just as I was about to exit through a side door to see if I could find anybody outside, somebody yanked on the hood of my sweatshirt and spun me around.

  Olivia.

  “Look!” she said, pointing to the left of the stage at the end of the room. There I saw Taylor wearing a swollen green backpack. He was opening a door that led to the backstage area. He was being followed by a puzzled and slightly annoyed looking Mr. Prentiss. Taylor waved him into the doorway. “He’s going to show the spaceship to that judge guy with the fancy suit!” Olivia exclaimed.

  “GET MY SHIP!” Amp roared in my head.

  And with that, Olivia and I tore off to rescue the spaceship with no plan other than an ace in the hole—or at least an alien in the pocket.

  18

  Showdown

  “Hand it over, thief!” I demanded when I threw the stage door open.

  “What is this thing?” Taylor said, lifting Amp’s gleaming spaceship out of the backpack. He held it up for Mr. Prentiss to see.

  “My little brother stole that from my room,” I told Mr. Prentiss, who seemed at a complete loss for what to do.

  We were all cramped together in a tiny space at the bottom of some dark stairs that led backstage. Taylor was close enough to try tackling him, but I didn’t want to accidentally damage Amp’s ship.

  “Zack’s been hiding this in his room, and
it’s no hamster cage,” Taylor said, lifting the spaceship like he was going to throw it down. “Just look at this thing, Mr. Prentiss! You might be able to figure out what it is.”

  So that was his plan: he wanted to see if Mr. Prentiss could identify it.

  “Take it easy with that, Taylor,” Olivia warned.

  “Hey, I don’t want to get mixed up with any family squabbles,” Mr. Prentiss said uncomfortably. “I’m needed onstage. I don’t have time for—”

  “You stole it, Taylor,” I yelled, my voice cracking with emotion.

  Taylor tried to ignore us. He stepped toward Mr. Prentiss. “Feel how light it is. It’s not even metal. I don’t know what it’s made out of. Just hold it!”

  Mr. Prentiss reached out for it, seemingly mesmerized by curiosity.

  “Oh, forget this,” I heard Amp say inside my head.

  Suddenly, Mr. Prentiss straightened up like he’d just stepped in something. His eyes grew wide and then he started to gag. “I smell . . . horse poop.”

  “What?” Olivia said, stunned.

  “Amp,” I groaned. He was using his Erdian mind trick to cause Mr. Prentiss to experience the scent of poop.

  “It’s terrible!” Mr. Prentiss cried, quickly looking at the bottoms of his expensive shoes.

  “Horse poop?” Taylor exclaimed. “I don’t smell anything.”

  I could hear announcements outside in the main hall. The crowd cheered and clapped.

  Amp was trying to force Mr. Prentiss out of this tiny space. Amp could make a person think of practically anything for a short period of time. And the sense of smell, Amp once told me, was the easiest to mess with.

  “Oh, it’s terrible,” Mr. Prentiss said, swatting at the air in front of him. “And now it’s mixed with cafeteria food,” he gagged. “It’s like it was just burrito day in here.”

  Taylor screwed up his face and stared at the spaceship. “Poop? Burritos? Maybe this thing makes you crazy!”

  “I have to get out of here,” Mr. Prentiss cried. He turned and crashed through the door, letting in another round of cheering from the crowd. The door swung closed, leaving us in the dim light again.