Series 2000- Brain Juice

by R. L. Stine

  “I’ll do it for you,” Nathan volunteered. He dropped down beside Brenda.

  “No. I’ll do it,” Lindy insisted.

  “We can both build it,” Nathan said. He picked up the big instruction sheet and began ripping it into pieces.

  “Stop it! What are you doing?” Brenda cried, trying to grab it away from him.

  Nathan laughed. “We don’t need the instructions.”

  He and Lindy began sliding pieces together. The living room rang out with the CLICK CLICK CLICK of plastic tab A fitting into plastic tab B.

  A few minutes later, the walls and floors and roof had all been fitted together. Brenda gaped in amazement at the finished dollhouse. “How did you do that?” she cried.

  “Easy,” Lindy replied.

  “We’re geniuses,” Nathan added.

  He and Lindy tossed back their heads and laughed out of sheer happiness.

  After dinner, Nathan and Lindy were sprawled on the floor of the den, watching Jeopardy. Mr. and Mrs. Nichols sat behind them on the couch, reading magazines.

  “Who was Queen Victoria?” Lindy shouted.

  “Who was Isabella of Spain?” Nathan shouted, a few seconds later.

  And Lindy, a few seconds later, “Who was George the Third of England?”

  Mrs. Nichols looked up from her magazine. “You’re calling out the answers?”

  “Ssshhh,” Lindy replied, leaning closer to the TV. “The category is Monarchs in History.”

  “But how do you know all those?” her mom demanded.

  “What is the element zinc?” Nathan shouted out.

  “What is iron?” Lindy answered the next one. “They changed the category,” she told her mother.

  “But how do you know chemical elements?” Mrs. Nichols demanded. “And—you’re calling out the answers before he even asks the questions!”

  “They’re fooling you,” Mr. Nichols chimed in, lowering his magazine. “They’ve seen this show before. It’s a rerun. That’s how they know all the right answers.”

  “Is that true?” Lindy’s mom asked. “You’ve seen this show before?”

  “No. We haven’t seen it,” Lindy replied, without turning around. “Ssshh.”

  “What is the Spanish Armada?” Nathan called to the TV screen.

  “What is the Lusitania?” he and Lindy both shouted in unison.

  “We’ve cleared the board!” Nathan exclaimed. “We got every answer right.”

  They both pumped their fists over their heads as their parents looked on in astonishment.

  “We’re ready for Final Jeopardy!” Lindy declared.

  “Final Jeopardy,” Gobbul murmured, watching the two kids through the den window, hidden by the darkness of the winter evening. “Final Jeopardy. Yes, I think that describes what those two human kids are about to face.”

  Morggul bobbed up and down on his fat, wet body, peering through the fogged-up window.

  “I am so glad I changed my mind,” Gobbul said. “So glad I decided not to let you eat them.”

  A sly smile spread over Gobbul’s mouths. “Yes. Now they are young and strong—and smart enough. Morggul,” he whispered, “I think we have found our slaves.”

  “Uncle Frank, you won’t believe it!” Lindy declared into the telephone.

  She could hear her uncle chuckle at the other end of the line. “What won’t I believe?”

  “Nathan and I got perfect scores on the math test!” Lindy exclaimed excitedly. “The drink you gave us—it worked!”

  Uncle Frank laughed heartily. “Maybe your studying and hard work had something to do with it,” he suggested.

  “No. We’re geniuses!” Nathan declared, grabbing the phone from Lindy. “The Brain Juice made us geniuses! You have to bottle it, Uncle Frank. You have to sell it in stores. You’ll make a fortune!”

  “Well … I’m glad it helped you,” their uncle replied. “But don’t forget to keep studying hard. That’s the most important thing.”

  Dr. King chatted with the two excited kids a while longer. Then he hung up and turned to his wife. “They got perfect scores on their math test,” he said, chuckling. “This shows what a little confidence will do for kids. I gave them a bottle of grape juice to drink, and now they think they are geniuses!”

  The next morning, Lindy stopped Nathan before they climbed onto the school bus. “Don’t show off,” she warned him. “Really. You have to act cool. We don’t want everyone to know what’s happened to us.”

  But Nathan couldn’t act cool about his new brainpower. He had waited so long to be one of the smart kids.

  He watched Wardell and Ellen across the aisle, showing off as usual, working on The New York Times crossword puzzle. He waited for them to turn to him.

  “Hey, Nathan,” Wardell called out with that superior smirk on his face. “What’s a six-letter word for dumbbell? It begins with an n.”

  Ellen giggled. Several other kids laughed.

  “Let me see that,” Nathan said. He grabbed the folded-up newspaper from Wardell’s hand. He lowered his eyes to the puzzle.

  “What are you doing?” Ellen demanded. “Give that back.”

  “I think I can help you,” Nathan replied. He pulled out a ballpoint pen—and, writing as quickly as he could, filled in every word in the puzzle —in ink!

  “Huh? Let me see that!” Wardell cried. He grabbed the paper back. He and Ellen studied the puzzle, their faces twisted in shock.

  Ellen eyed Nathan suspiciously. “How did you do that?”

  Nathan shrugged. “Crosswords are easy, if you have a good vocabulary.”

  Later that morning, Mr. Tyssling gave them the math test while the rest of the class worked on reading projects. “Take your time,” he instructed them. “And skip over any problems you have trouble with.”

  Nathan and Lindy took the tests back to their desks.

  “And be sure to show your work, guys,” Mr. Tyssling added. “I want to see what you understand and what you don’t. Then we can work extra hard on the things you don’t understand.”

  Nathan and Lindy nodded.

  Ten minutes later, Lindy carried her test paper up to Mr. Tyssling. It took Nathan twelve minutes because he worked one of the problems three different ways.

  Mr. Tyssling gazed up at them in surprise. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are the problems too hard for you?”

  He gazed quickly down their papers. His expression changed.

  He studied their answers again, reading more slowly.

  “People-perfect scores again!” he stammered. “I’m really impressed. You two must have studied really hard.”

  “We didn’t study at all,” Nathan bragged. “Math is easy.”

  After school, Nathan and Lindy played a game of catch with Brenda in the backyard. The sun had come out after weeks of gray skies. The air felt warm, more like spring than winter.

  “I did all my homework before the end of school,” Lindy told Nathan. She bounced the rubber ball over the grass to her little sister.

  Brenda missed. She chased the ball to the hedge in front.

  “I did tomorrow’s homework too,” Nathan replied. “I memorized the Gettysburg Address.”

  “I finished all the problems in the math workbook for the rest of the year,” Lindy said, catching Brenda’s throw. She bounced the ball back to Brenda.

  “Me too,” Nathan told her. “We’ll have to ask him for extra work. Maybe we can start on next year’s math.”

  Brenda heaved the ball hard. Nathan wasn’t looking, and it bounced off his chest. Brenda tossed back her head and giggled.

  Lindy grabbed the ball and rolled it across the yard to Brenda. “You’ve got to stop correcting Mr. Tyssling,” she scolded Nathan. “Every time he made a mistake today, your hand shot up.”

  “Well, he made too many mistakes,” Nathan grumbled. “He spelled Massachusetts wrong on the chalkboard. Somebody had to tell him.”

  “But, Nathan—”

  “And the Articles o
f Confederation were signed in 1781—not 1778,” Nathan continued. “How could he make a mistake like that?”

  “Kids began to groan every time you raised your hand,” Lindy warned him. “I really think you should keep your corrections to yourself. Even Mr. Tyssling was starting to look annoyed.”

  “Get the ball!” Brenda’s cry interrupted Lindy’s lecture. “Get the ball!” Brenda called, pointing. “It went into the bushes.”

  Nathan spotted the ball under a clump of evergreen shrubs along the wall of the house. He started to run to the shrubs—and then stopped.

  “Hey, Lindy—look.” He pointed down to the ground in front of him.

  Lindy hurried over. “What?”

  “Weird footprints,” Nathan said.

  “Get the ball! Get the ball!” Brenda cried impatiently.

  “In a minute,” Nathan called. He squatted down to examine the deep ruts in the winter-hard ground.

  “Wow,” Lindy murmured beside him. “The prints are so big. And so round. What kind of animal makes footprints like these?”

  Nathan shook his head. He moved to the next print. Then the next. “Eight toes,” he announced. “Look. More than one set of prints. And they seem to be heading up to the house.”

  “It’s not a dog or a cat,” Lindy said fretfully. “It must be something really big and heavy. Look how deep the footprints are.”

  “Eight toes,” Nathan repeated. “Eight toes. Weird.”

  They followed the line of prints to the house. They appeared to lead up to the den window. “The bushes—” Nathan cried out. “The bushes are all trampled.”

  “See the ball?” Brenda called, jumping up and down impatiently. “Throw me the ball.”

  Nathan reached under the flattened bush for the ball. “Yuck!” He jerked his hand out.

  “What’s that slimy stuff?” Lindy demanded.

  Nathan held his hand up. Thick yellow slime oozed over his fingers. “Oh, wow. It smells awful!” he moaned.

  He dropped to his knees. And saw wet puddles of slime under the den window. Brenda’s ball had rolled into one of the puddles.

  “There are smears on the window,” Lindy declared. “Look. Two smears. Like some creatures pushed their faces against the glass.”

  Nathan climbed to his feet. He examined the sticky goo on his fingers. Then he raised his eyes to the smears on the window. “Do you think some animals were watching us?”

  “But what were they?” Lindy cried. “Why were they here? Why were they outside our window?”

  She shivered. “I’m scared, Nathan. I’m really scared.”

  A week later, Nathan stood at his locker, filling up his backpack, preparing to go home after school. “Hey, how’s it going?” he called to his friend Eddie Frinkes at a locker across the hall.

  Eddie nodded.

  “Want to come hang out at my house and play computer games?” Nathan asked.

  Eddie made a face. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Come on. Why not?” Nathan pleaded.

  Eddie shrugged. “I can’t play any games with you. You’re too smart. You always win.”

  “But—” Nathan started.

  Eddie slammed his locker shut and hurried away.

  Before Nathan could chase after him, Stan and Wardell and three other guys came around the corner. They stopped when they saw Nathan and formed a circle around him.

  “Hey, Nathan—recite the Gettysburg Address for us!” Stan said with a sneer.

  “Tell us some Greek myths!” Wardell demanded.

  “Tell us about all the mistakes you found in the math book!”

  “Tell us how you reprogrammed all the computers in the computer lab!”

  “Give me a break,” Nathan pleaded.

  “Did you really memorize the whole history book?” a kid asked.

  “Well … yes.” Nathan could feel his face growing hot. “I read it, and it just kind of stayed with me.”

  “Are you really doing ten book reports for extra credit?” Stan demanded, bumping up against Nathan menacingly.

  “Well … maybe.” Nathan tried to back away. But he was already up against the lockers. “Hey—give that back!” he cried as Wardell grabbed his backpack.

  Wardell spun around and took off down the hall, holding Nathan’s backpack in front of him. Laughing, the other guys went running after him. “You’re such a brain,” Wardell called. “Figure out how to get it back!”

  Nathan sighed and started after them. But he stopped when he saw Lindy come slumping around the corner. Her auburn hair was tangled and fell in clumps over her forehead. Her eyes were red-rimmed.

  “Lindy, what’s wrong? were you crying?” he demanded, hurrying over to her.

  “I guess.” She turned away, embarrassed. Her chest was heaving up and down. It took her a few seconds to catch her breath.

  “What happened?” Nathan asked softly.

  “Oh … it’s Gail and Erika,” Lindy choked out. “They … they don’t want to hang out with me anymore.”

  “Huh?” Nathan gasped. “They’re your best friends. What is their problem?”

  “They said I’m a freak,” Lindy told him, her voice breaking. “They said I’m too weird now that I’m so smart. They said … they said they’re afraid of me!”

  “But that’s stupid!” Nathan protested. “Just because you’re smart—”

  He stopped in midsentence. And stared across the hall.

  “Huh?”

  He and Lindy both gasped in shock as two figures stepped quickly from the shadows.

  “Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?” Lindy cried.

  Their parents crossed the hall toward them, their expressions grim.

  Nathan felt his stomach tighten in dread. “Is something wrong?”

  “Maybe you can answer that question,” Mr. Nichols replied, eyeing Nathan sternly. “Mr. Tyssling called your mom and me in for a meeting.”

  “Are you two in trouble?” Mrs. Nichols asked.

  “Trouble? No. I don’t think so,” Nathan replied, thinking hard.

  “We haven’t done anything!” Lindy protested shrilly.

  “Well, come with us,” Mr. Nichols said. “We’re supposed to meet in Mrs. Lopez’s office.”

  “Mrs. Lopez?” Nathan cried. “Why do we have to meet with the principal? What’s going on?”

  A few seconds later, they stepped into the front office. The front room was empty. It was nearly four o’clock, and the secretaries had gone home.

  Mrs. Lopez greeted them at the door to the back office. She was a short, plump woman with black hair piled high on her head. Kids liked her because she had a warm, friendly smile and knew the name of every kid in school.

  But she wasn’t smiling now, Nathan noticed. She led them all inside and motioned for them to take seats at the long wooden table in the center of the room.

  Mr. Tyssling was already seated at one end. He stood up and greeted Mr. and Mrs. Nichols. Then he introduced Mr. Haywood, the school guidance counselor.

  Mr. Haywood nodded solemnly to Nathan and Lindy. He was a pale, balding man, straight as a needle, who seemed to wear the same gray suit and thin blue tie every day.

  Mrs. Lopez closed the office door behind her and stepped up behind the chair at the head of the table. “Thank you for coming in, Mr. and Mrs. Nichols,” she said. “I’m afraid we have a strange problem on our hands.”

  “Problem?” Mrs. Nichols asked. She frowned across the table at Nathan and Lindy.

  “Have these two been acting up?” Mr. Nichols demanded.

  Mrs. Lopez slid into the chair and pulled it up to the long table. She clasped her pudgy hands in front of her on the tabletop. “No. It’s not a discipline problem,” she replied.

  The principal glanced at Nathan and Lindy. “I don’t know quite how to begin,” she said. “But I guess I should just say it.”

  Mr. Tyssling fiddled with a loose thread on his sweater sleeve. Mr. Haywood cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortab
ly in his chair.

  “Nathan and Lindy are upsetting the other kids,” Mrs. Lopez began. “And I’m afraid they’re upsetting their teachers too.”

  “But—wait!” Nathan started.

  Mrs. Lopez raised a hand to silence him. “Your two kids appear to be geniuses,” she continued. “We don’t know why we didn’t realize this sooner. But in the past couple of weeks, it became very clear.”

  “Geniuses?” Mr. Nichols rubbed his chin, staring at Nathan and Lindy.

  Mrs. Lopez nodded. “They get perfect scores on every quiz and test. They’ve memorized all of their textbooks. They read book after book after book. They write twenty-page essays for extra credit.”

  “But … that’s wonderful!” Mrs. Nichols declared. “I know they’ve been studying really hard every night.”

  “I regret to say it isn’t wonderful,” Mrs. Lopez replied softly. “Nathan and Lindy are constantly correcting their teachers. They find mistakes in the textbooks. The other kids are very upset by their actions. They feel they cannot compete with Nathan and Lindy. I believe other kids feel that something weird, something … unnatural is going on.”

  “Nathan and Lindy don’t mean to cause trouble,” Mr. Tyssling chimed in, leaning forward over the table. “But they can’t help it. They know too much. Much more than any other twelve-year-olds on the planet! And this is ruining school for everyone else.”

  “I’ve noticed that kids stay away from them,” Mr. Haywood added. “I’m sorry to say it—but I think a lot of our students are afraid of Nathan and Lindy.”

  Suddenly, Nathan realized that all eyes were on Lindy and him. Nathan’s heart pounded. Is this really happening? he wondered. Are we really in trouble because we’re too smart?

  A chill ran down his back and made him shudder.

  Am I some kind of freak? he asked himself.

  I have no friends. The kids all hate me.

  And I guess the teachers hate me too.

  What is going to happen to me?

  He glanced at Lindy. Her head was lowered. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap. He knew she must be having the same sad, frightening thoughts.

  “We can explain it!” Lindy cried, suddenly snapping back to life. “We can explain it all.”