Bailey didn’t like the sound of that. He did hope to pass the seventh grade someday.
“We will need supplies. Get the tubs of peanut-butter-honey mix, Frisbees, and sardines for Abigail. Most of all, get Henry and as many raw chickens as you can carry. He must not leave our side! I’ll get dynamite and Abigail, too.”
His father pulled a purple velvet hood over Abigail’s cage so she wouldn’t be scared. In her confusion, she whistled, Chirp? Henry, loving all the activity, jumped up and down on his hands and feet, shook his head, and barked roump, roump, ROUMP!
They climbed the three flights of stairs, past the bedrooms on the first floor, past the second-floor library stuffed to the ceiling with all his father’s leather-bound monster tomes, rolls of monster trail maps, and piles of past issues of Peculiar, and up to the third floor, where a hatch could be opened to access the roof. Bailey’s father pulled down the narrow unfolding stairs that allowed them to climb up and through the hatch. The stairs were almost too narrow for him and that was doubly true for Henry.
As Savannah pushed Henry through the hatch, she said, “You’ve got a big blue butt, Big Blue!”
Three stories below them, Mr. Boom and the four sophomores looked up at them from the porch of Cheri’s Chocolates. Cheri and her chocolate-making assistants stood watching the scene unfold. Bailey’s father gave them a friendly wave. Cheri had hired Dougie many times to clear sugar-crazed faeries out of her kitchen. She was one of the many Whalefatians who needed the Bucklebys’ monster-hunting service, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
“We may want to bring up some chairs,” Dougie said, peering over the edge of the roof. “We could be here a good long while.”
Bailey wondered how long he was supposed to ignore the resentment quickly growing inside him, as if he was being dragged into a dirty secret that changed everything he ever thought was true. If Henry had been kidnapped from his parents as Mr. Boom’s note had said, his father could very well be responsible. That made Bailey an accomplice—he was a partner in Buckleby and Son’s after all. He had never known life without Henry in it, but now felt guilt for taking a child from his parents, even though he was just now learning about the crime.
He couldn’t stand on this roof another minute with his father without confronting him.
“I’ve got to hear you tell me the truth, Dad. Henry’s not a troll, is he? He’s the son of the two sea giants that destroyed San Francisco seven years ago. I know it’s true, Dad, but I need to hear you say it.”
His father didn’t look at him. His face was turning red, like he might cry. Or kill somebody.
Bailey wasn’t going to let up now. “You’ve known all this time, but you kept him anyway.”
“Son—” his father started, but neither one of them could say anything more.
Savannah broke the silence, shouting at the little mob below. “You can’t have Henry!”
Boom raised a megaphone to his lips. “YOU SHOULD STAY OUT OF THIS AND GO HOME, LITTLE GIRL.”
“I’m no little girl! I’m a twelve-year-old proud Bullhead!” she yelled loudly, defiantly, waving her sword. Bailey ducked, just to be sure he kept his head. “Why don’t you just go away and leave the Bucklebys alone!”
Bailey’s father chuckled. “You’ve got a feisty girlfriend here, son. I like her style.”
Bailey shook his head. “I know what you’re doing, Dad, but I won’t let you ignore me. Ignoring me is just as bad as lying to me. I’m more than just your son. I’m your business partner. If you’re keeping a baby sea giant from his parents, and they destroyed a city to find him, and if you’re responsible for Mom’s death, you have to tell me. I’m not a kid anymore—I deserve to know.”
It took everything Bailey had to stand still. His gigantic father looked at him as if he was searching for any words that would get him out of this predicament.
“I’ll tell you when the time is right, Bailey.”
Bailey would not let go. “I think that time is now, Dad. In fact, you should have told me a long time ago.”
His father got down on one knee. “You’re right, son. You do deserve to know. But first, I’m going to light this dynamite.”
His father already had a stick in one hand and a lighter in the other. The fuse was four feet long, and with a flick of his thumb, the lighter lit, and a spark started to run up the length of the tightly twisted, oiled string.
“Son, let me tell you something. We are Whalefatians. We are descended from a people that have always known that humans would be extinct if they did not take a harsh view of monsters. This peaceful little town of surfers and candy vendors and barbecued whale blubber sandwich-makers wouldn’t have been possible at all unless brave heroes took out their machetes and cleared a path through a jungle of evil. We are directly descended from those heroes. Bucklebys have always been willing to wield the machetes, knowing full well no one would thank us for doing so. We are the vanguard.”
The spark traveled up the oiled string and Savannah bit her lip. Bailey tried to concentrate on what his father was saying.
“Our people did escape a giant whale. The stories are true, despite what all the nonbelievers say. Your great-great-great-great-grandparents Earl and Myrtle Buckleby were swallowed by one of the biggest giants to ever swim the seas, then they blew it to hell, swam to shore, built this town, and raised a family in the face of the bloodiest of horrors. California used to be plagued with all kinds of wickedness back when it was completely wild. The first Whalefatians fought off sasquatches trying to steal their women, goblins that devoured their children, and sugar-mad faeries as rampant as flies. And you and I both know how bloody carnivorous faeries can be. Evil is real. The government and our neighbors want to pretend like monsters don’t exist and never have existed, but they do, and even if they don’t want to admit it, our neighbors need us.”
The spark only had a few more inches of oiled string to travel.
“Dad, answer me. Is Henry the baby the two sea giants have been looking for?”
His father looked him in the eye and held his shoulders firm.
“No, son. Henry is a Swiss troll. Your mother believed otherwise, and now you’re tempted to believe otherwise, because evil wind demons lied to you both. You can’t believe everything you hear. You know I don’t talk about your mother’s disappearance because it’s the saddest moment of my life, but you’re right—you do deserve to know.
“Henry had been with us for six months and your mother, just like you, saw a few traits that weren’t quite troll-like. We argued about this for days until one stormy morning the same cynocephaly that sold Henry to me lied to her and said she was right, that Henry had been kidnapped from his parents and Henry’s parents had destroyed San Francisco trying to find him. The cynocephaly said he would return Henry to his parents, but of course this was another lie—he wanted to keep him for himself to sell again. Your mother decided to try to return him herself, although I pleaded with her not to. She borrowed a boat but that evil wind demon was waiting for her just offshore. I blew up his boat, but I was too late—the demon had already called up a giant whale to swallow your mother—boat and all.
“But guess what—Henry escaped and swam back to me. To me, son. If Henry were a baby sea giant, wouldn’t he have returned to his supposed parents? No, he swam back to me, because I’m the only father he’s ever known. Henry doesn’t belong in the ocean—he can’t breathe underwater! And look at him—he’s far too short to be a baby sea giant. My goodness, Bailey, if he were a baby sea giant, he’d be over a hundred feet tall by now, and even then he’d be considered a bit of a runt! No, my beautiful boy, I promise you, Henry is the same long-armed, blue-skinned Swiss troll you’ve always loved and you needn’t worry yourself about this anymore. Henry is ours and no one else’s. Don’t let an evil lying demon make you feel guilty for a crime we never committed. Don’t let anyone or anything turn you against me. I’m your father. I’m the one person who you can trust in this world, and tha
t, my son, will always be the truth.”
The spark on the oiled string was about to connect with the nitrocellulose.
“Have I answered your question, son?”
Bailey and Savannah, both eyeing the fuse, nervously nodded yes.
“Good,” his father said, and he chucked the dynamite over his left shoulder.
Bailey and Savannah watched the stick arc through the gray beach town sky, spinning end over end.
Luckily, Henry did not think the stick of dynamite was a stick to be chased. He watched it fly and as it flew, he barked, Roump?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE TRUTH
MR. BOOM and his four thugs scrambled when they saw the dynamite hit the street and roll under his black truck.
“NO!” he yelled, ducking just moments before the dynamite exploded. The truck tipped over and lay on its side, crumpled, a gaping hole in its underside.
“RIP-ROARING RITA! YOU OWE ME A NEW TRUCK, DOUGIE!”
“I don’t owe you anything, buddy!”
Cheri waved her fist up at him. “Dougie! Just what do you think you’re doing? You can’t throw dynamite into the middle of the street like that! We’re trying to conduct honest business down here!”
“Cheri, don’t forget who catches the faeries that raid your shop for fudge. Now, everybody, clear out!”
Savannah pointed her sword at Mr. Boom’s crumpled truck. “That bully in the winter coat has two birdcages. I think he’s got faeries.”
“I knew this was coming,” Bailey’s father muttered. “Kids, get the peanut-butter-honey mix and start rolling it into balls.” Savannah did so, but Bailey could only look at Henry, who was wagging his tongue happily, just excited to be part of so much fun.
“No, Dad. I have to know the truth. There’s too much evidence that Henry is a baby sea giant, and if that’s true, then the right thing to do is to return him back to his parents.”
“Son, we can’t argue about this anymore. There are enemies at our gates. It’s time to get on the same team and start rolling peanut-butter-honey balls.”
But Bailey shook his head defiantly. “Dad, if I can prove without a doubt that Henry is a sea giant and not a troll, will you agree that we should bring Henry to his real home, even though it will be difficult, even though it will be dangerous, and even though we love him?”
His father sighed, then turned a bucket upside down and sat on it. “You’re as stubborn as your mother, you know.”
Bailey stood strong. “I just need the truth.”
His father crossed his arms. “Okay, son. I guess we can’t save ourselves until you have your say. I’m listening. Prove it. But if you can’t prove it, then we drop this matter, and we never bring it up again. Agreed?”
Suddenly Bailey felt as nervous as he did in front of Mrs. Wood’s seventh-grade class, but he knew the facts were on his side.
“All right, here goes. One: Trolls are hairy, even when they are babies, and Henry, already seven years old, doesn’t have a hair on his entire body. Look, he doesn’t even have eyebrows.”
Bailey pointed to the smooth blue skin where eyebrows would normally be found, and Henry nodded excitedly and barked roump!
His father stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You are correct about that, but as I told your mother years ago, trolls can suffer alopecia just like humans. It is not hair that makes the man or the giant, Bailey.”
Bailey was expecting that, so he moved on. “Two: You said that Henry isn’t tall enough to be a baby sea giant. You said he’d have to be over a hundred feet tall by now if he was. Well, a lot of creatures can only grow as big as their environment allows them to. Dr. March talks about this in the introduction to his book. Before human civilization, giants roamed Earth and were as tall as mountains. We’ve kept Henry in a freezer for seven years. He can’t grow even an inch taller as long as that’s his home. Just like goldfish, iguanas, and dragons, if we keep him in a freezer, he will always be—even when he is fully grown—a runt. Now if we really loved Henry, we wouldn’t want to stunt his growth, would we?”
With his arms still crossed, Bailey’s father frowned, contemplating Henry’s smiling, goofy face. He did love Henry, anyone could see that. And if you loved someone, whether troll or giant or human, why would you want to force him to be small?
“You make an interesting point, Bailey, but it’s just your theory—not a proven fact.”
It was time for Bailey’s finale. While Savannah continued to roll peanut-butter-honey balls, he ran downstairs to his father’s library. Behind the towering stacks of monster tomes, maps, and back issues of Peculiar stood a marble pedestal that displayed a brass salvage-diver’s helmet that Bailey had often admired.
Fifty years ago, a cruel and vicious wereshark and his clan arrived on the shores of Whalefat Beach to claim the town for their own, threatening to turn every last one of its citizens into weresharks by biting them. Weresharks are human except when they come in contact with salt water, at which time they transform into horrifying, bloodthirsty creatures with shark heads, gills, and dorsal fins, but human bodies. Although this sounded like an exciting life change to some, most of Whalefat’s citizens came to the Bucklebys to once again save them.
Bailey’s grandfather, the brave and quite long-bearded Lawrence Buckleby, donned this very helmet and marched to the beach with his trusty spear. The wereshark and his clan were waiting for him, prepared to tear Bailey’s grandfather to shreds and eat him. But Lawrence Buckleby challenged the leader to a duel—man to shark—in front of all of his clan. To save face, the wereshark leader had to accept, which improved Lawrence’s odds considerably, since he only had to fight one wereshark instead of one hundred.
Lawrence Buckleby won that duel, most of which was fought underwater. Their leader vanquished, the remaining weresharks swam away in defeat and shame. Lawrence gave his helmet to his young son, Dougie, to remind him that whenever the citizens of Whalefat Beach were threatened by monsters, it was up to the Bucklebys to muster the courage to protect them all.
Bailey hurried back to the roof with the helmet.
“And what do you propose to do with that?” his father asked with one eyebrow raised.
Bailey showed the helmet to Henry, who lowered his head as he had so many times for Bailey to place a sunhat on his head. He slid the helmet on, and although it was snug, Henry’s head popped right in. Then Bailey removed the chickens from the bucket of ice water, and while standing on an upside down empty bucket, he slowly poured the water into the top of the helmet. As it filled, Henry smiled through the glass and barked roump!
His father stood up.
“Bailey, what are you doing? He’ll drown!”
“Yes, he might. But you said Henry doesn’t belong in the ocean because he can’t breathe underwater. If he begins to turn blue—or bluer—then we’ll take the helmet off. But if he doesn’t—if he can breathe underwater—then I think even you, Dad, will have to admit that Henry is a baby sea giant.”
Bailey kept pouring water into the helmet while his father and Savannah watched nervously. Henry didn’t seem to mind at all, and even when the helmet was full, he barked cheerfully as bubbles rose from his nose and mouth.
Whole minutes went by, and it became clear to all of them that Henry was having no difficulty breathing. In fact, he seemed to quite like being submerged, barking happily while trying to bite the bubbles he was making. Bailey’s father sat back down on the bucket, completely stunned, because his son had proven his point.
“Your mother was right. You were right. Our beautiful boy Henry is a sea giant after all—which makes me guilty of kidnapping.”
His father put his head in his hands and began to cry, but Bailey jumped down and wrapped his arms around his father’s huge chest.
“You didn’t know, Dad. All you did was love Henry the best you could. There’s no crime in that. But now you have to love him even harder—by letting him go.”
His father looked at his son and wiped hi
s eyes. He shrugged in defeat. “You’ve made me proud once again, Bailey. You always were better at monster classification than me. You’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re brave enough to stand up to your old man. I do believe you’re the greatest Buckleby of us all.”
Bailey’s eyes welled up with tears. His father squeezed his shoulders and it hurt in the best way. Henry gallomped over to them to lick both their faces, but the glass of the diver’s helmet blocked his tongue.
“Thank you, buddy,” his father said quietly, pulling the helmet off Henry’s head, allowing the water to splash all over them—which Henry licked right off his face.
“Okay, boy, okay! You know I love you, too.”
“We can’t stay on this roof, Dad,” Bailey insisted. “We have to do the right thing and return Henry to his parents. That’s the only way we can stop all this.”
Savannah peered over the side. “I think we’re going to have to deal with those two crazy faeries first.”
Bailey looked, too. Mr. Boom had opened the two cage doors to release his two well-trained faeries, who shot out and up into the air, mad and hungry.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
DO NOT EAT THAT FAERY
BAILEY’S FATHER YELLED, “Here they come, kids. Throw the peanut butter balls!”
The two trained killers rose up three stories and hovered above the roof.
“They’re wearing little suits,” Savannah gasped.
The twelve-inch-tall monsters were indeed wearing leather faery-sized battle gear, holes cut in the back to allow their chitin wings to poke through and spread wide. Mr. Boom appreciated attire designed to inspire fear, but the old-fashioned football headgear they wore served another function, too—to protect them from Frisbees.
“Peanut butter! Peanut butter!” Bailey’s father shouted, and though he was a rotund man, he could move quickly when he wanted to, running from one end of the Buckleby roof to the other like a shortstop, chucking peanut-butter-honey baseballs at the faeries in rapid fire.
The Monster Catchers--A Bailey Buckleby Story Page 9