by R. L. Stine
“Sorry,” Dad grumbled. “I’ve got to get this hall light working. These darn old wires.”
He stared down at a pile of tools on the floor. “Kat, hand me those pliers. If this doesn’t do it, I’ll have to call an electrician.”
Dad is great at getting flowers to bloom and grass to grow. But when it comes to handyman stuff, he messes up. A lot.
One time, he tried to fix a fan — and knocked out the electricity all over the neighborhood.
“Here, Dad.” I handed him the pliers and held up the sponge.
“Check this out,” I urged. I stood on tiptoes so he could see the sponge up close. “I found it under the sink, and it’s warm and it has eyes and it’s alive. I can’t figure out what it is.”
Dad peered out from under his baseball cap. “Let’s have a look at that,” he offered.
I shoved the sponge up so he could reach it.
He leaned down to grab the sponge from me.
I didn’t see the ladder wobble.
And I didn’t see it start to tilt over.
I only saw Dad’s expression change. I saw his eyes go wide. And his mouth open in a startled scream.
As he started to fall, he grabbed at the light in the ceiling for support.
“Nooooooo!”
The light came crashing down on his head.
Dad sailed off the top of the ladder.
He lay on the hall floor, perfectly still.
“Mom! Mo-om! Mom!” I shrieked. “Come quick! It’s Dad!”
Mom, Daniel, and I huddled around Dad. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked.
“Huh?” he murmured. “What happened?”
Dad shook his head and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I think I’m okay, guys,” he said shakily.
Dad tried to stand up. But he collapsed to the floor. “My ankle. I think it may be broken.” He groaned in pain.
With me on one side and Mom on the other, we helped Dad to the couch. “Oof, that really hurts,” he moaned. He rubbed the ankle tenderly.
“Daniel, go put some ice into a towel for your father,” Mom instructed. “Kat, get him a cold drink.”
“Now, honey,” Mom whispered, wiping Dad’s brow, “tell me what happened.”
When I came running back into the living room with a tall glass of ice water, Mom and Dad had the weirdest expressions on their faces.
“Kat,” said Mom angrily, “did you push your father?”
“Why did you push the ladder?” Dad asked, rubbing his ankle.
“Huh? Excuse me?” I spluttered. “I didn’t push you! I wouldn’t!”
“We’ll discuss this later, young lady,” Mom said sternly. “For now, I’ve got to take care of your father.”
She leaned over and applied the ice pack to Dad’s swelling ankle.
I felt a hot red flush of embarrassment creep over my face. How could Dad think I pushed him?
I lowered my eyes and realized I still held the sponge.
And I realized something else. Something strange and scary.
Instead of pulsing gently, the sponge throbbed in my hand. Throbbed wildly.
Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.
Vibrating — as if someone had turned a blender to high speed. The sponge practically purred with excitement.
Whoa-ahhh. Whoa-ahhh.
I sat down on the hall floor, feeling shaky.
What’s going on here? I wondered. Daniel thought I pushed him. And then Dad said the same thing.
They both think I pushed them. Why?
Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom. The sponge throbbed warmly in my hand.
I shivered with fear. Suddenly, the sponge seemed kind of scary. I didn’t want the thing anywhere near me — or my family.
I ran outside. I found a big metal garbage can near the garage. I lifted the lid. Dropped the sponge inside. Pushed the lid shut firmly.
Back inside the house, Mom called me into the living room. “I think Dad’s ankle is only sprained,” she said. “Now, tell me what happened.”
* * *
Thursday, I sat at my desk, writing down the names of guests for my birthday party. The big day was only two days away.
I had to give the list to Mom today, so she could buy enough favors by Saturday.
I heard Daniel babbling away to Carlo as the two boys clambered noisily up the stairs.
“Check it out — it looks like an old sponge. But it’s alive!” Daniel explained. “I bet it’s a prehistoric creature, like a dinosaur or something.”
I jumped up and ran out of my room.
“Hey!” I yelled at Daniel. “What are you doing with that?” I pointed at the sponge in his hands. “I threw that thing away.”
“I found it in the garbage can,” Daniel replied. “It’s too cool to throw away. Right, Carlo?”
Carlo shrugged, his shaggy black hair touching his shoulders. “It looks like an old sponge. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s a very big deal,” I shot back. “And that thing is definitely not a sponge.”
I pulled a large book from my new bookcase. “I checked the encyclopedia,” I explained. “Under sponges. You should have left it in the trash, Daniel. You really should have.”
“What did the encyclopedia say?” Daniel asked eagerly, plopping down on my bed. He held the sponge between his hands.
“It said that sponges do not have eyes,” I replied. “And they can live only in the water. If they’re out of the water for more than thirty minutes, they die.”
“See, Carlo? It’s not a sponge,” Daniel declared. “Our creature has eyes. It’s been out of water since we found it.”
“Well, I don’t see any eyes. And it sure doesn’t look alive to me,” said Carlo doubtfully.
Daniel leaped off the bed and offered his friend the sponge. “Hold it. You’ll see.”
Carlo carefully cradled the sponge in his hands. His big brown eyes grew wide. “It’s warm! And … and … it’s moving. It’s squirming! It is alive.”
Carlo spun around to face me. “But if it’s not a sponge, then … then what is it?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I admitted.
“Maybe it’s some kind of a super-sponge,” Daniel offered. “So powerful that it can live on land.”
“It could be part sponge and part another animal,” added Carlo, gazing at it. “Can I take it home for a while? It’ll really spook Sandy.”
Sandy is Carlo’s baby-sitter. “I’ll bring it right back,” Carlo promised.
“No way, Carlo,” I said quickly. “I think I’ll keep the sponge right here until I know exactly what it is. Here — stick it in this old gerbil cage.”
“Aw, come on,” Carlo begged, petting the sponge on the top of its wrinkled head. “See? It likes me.”
“No way!” I replied. “Daniel, tell your friend to quit bugging me.”
“Okay, okay,” Carlo muttered. “Hey, what does this little guy eat, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But it seems to be fine without eating. Put it in the cage.”
Carlo reached into the gerbil cage and set the creature down. As he did, his face filled with horror.
I saw his arm tremble.
Then he let out a terrified scream.
“Aaagh! My hand! It ate my hand!”
“Noooo!” I shrieked.
His mouth twisted in horror, Carlo yanked his arm from the gerbil cage — and shoved it in my face.
“Oh!” I gasped.
Carlo wiggled his hand in my face and began to laugh. His hand was perfectly okay.
“You are horrible!” I yelled. “That is so completely not funny. It’s sick!”
Carlo and Daniel collapsed with laughter.
“Excellent joke!” Daniel grinned. “Hey, Carlo. Give me a … hand! Haw, haw, haw.”
He and Carlo slapped each other high fives. “Way to go, dude!” Daniel cried.
I glared at the dumb, immature brats.
“You know, guys, this isn’t
funny,” I said seriously. “We don’t know what kind of creature the sponge is.”
“We don’t know what kind of creature you are, either!” Daniel announced with a big grin.
“If I’m a creature, you’re a creature’s baby brother!” I shot back.
“Hey, I have an idea,” said Carlo, winking at Daniel. “Maybe you should put the sponge on a leash and take it for a walk. The exercise will give it an appetite!” He hooted with laughter.
He really cracked himself up.
“But it doesn’t have legs,” Daniel chimed in.
“She can roll it down Maple Lane!” Carlo suggested.
More laughter.
“That’s it, you guys. Get out!” I shouted. “Leave me and the sponge alone! Now!”
Slapping each other another high five, Daniel and Carlo turned to leave.
I could hardly wait for them to go. I needed to be by myself for a while. To sit and figure out what I should do with the little round creature.
But before Carlo and Daniel got out the bedroom door, a scream made me nearly jump to the ceiling.
I turned to see Carlo hopping frantically up and down on one foot.
“Oh, right,” I said. “Like I’m going to believe another one of your stupid jokes.”
Carlo, his face twisted in pain, pointed wildly to his foot. Falling back onto the bed with a groan, he yanked off his sneaker.
Blood oozed through his white sock.
“A nail!” he gasped. “I stepped on a nail!”
I dropped my eyes to the sneaker on the floor.
A long nail poked through the thick rubber sole — and into Carlo’s foot!
Weird, I thought. Where did a nail come from?
“Hey, it’s really bleeding!” Carlo wailed. “Do something!”
I searched around frantically for something to use as a bandage. As I did, my eyes rested on the sponge in the gerbil cage.
“Whoa!” I cried.
The sponge quivered and shook.
It shook with what seemed like joy!
And it breathed — so loudly that I could hear the eerie sound from the other side of the room!
Whoa-ahhh. Whoa-ahhh.
As I wrapped an old T-shirt around Carlo’s foot, two questions ran through my mind — what in the world is happening here? Why did the sponge creature suddenly get so excited?
I wouldn’t find out the frightening truth about the sponge creature until the next day.
When I learned it, I understood why there were so many accidents in our new house.
And it made me wish that I had never opened that cabinet, never reached under the sink, and never found the spongy … thing.
Because now it was too late.
Too late for us all.
“Kat, it’s all set.” Mom grinned at me the next morning when I walked into the kitchen for breakfast.
“What’s all set?” I asked sleepily.
“Your birthday party tomorrow!” Mom replied, giving me a quick hug. Mom’s very big on hugging.
“How could you forget?” she asked in surprise. “We’ve been planning your birthday for weeks!”
“My party!” I breathed with delight. “Oh, I can’t wait!” I sat down at the table for cornflakes and orange juice.
Birthday parties are a really big deal around the Merton house. Mom always orders a big cake. And she makes all the invitations and decorations by hand.
This year, I helped with the invitations. We cut them out of purple construction paper and used a pink sparkle pen to write the words.
I usually have a theme for my parties. Last year’s theme was “Make your own pizza.” And it was awesome! My friends talked about it for weeks.
Now that I’m going to be twelve, I decided I’m too old for a theme. So Mom and Dad are taking me and five of my best friends to WonderPark — for the entire day.
WonderPark is definitely the coolest. It has two wave pools, a whole bunch of water slides, and the Monster Masher. That’s the scariest upside-down roller coaster I’ve ever been on!
Just how cool is it? Well, last summer, Carlo lost his lunch after a ride on the Masher.
Pretty cool.
“This is going to be my best birthday ever!” I exclaimed, smiling across the table at Mom. I turned to Daniel. “Sorry, you’re not invited. This is for twelve-year-olds only.”
“No fair! Why can’t I come along?” he complained, banging his spoon into his cereal and splashing milk all over the table. “I promise I won’t talk to any of Kat’s friends. Who would want to? Please let me come!”
I started to feel sort of bad. I started to change my mind.
And then Daniel totally ruined his chance.
He folded his arms over his chest. “Kat gets everything around here,” he grumbled. “She won’t even share the sponge with me!”
“That old thing Kat found under the sink?” Mom asked in surprise. “Who’d want it?”
“Me!” yelled Daniel.
“Well, I found it, so it’s mine. And I’m bringing my sponge to school today,” I informed Daniel.
“Why?” Mom asked.
“I’m going to show it to Mrs. Vanderhoff,” I explained. “Maybe she’ll know what it is. Now I need to find a carrier for my sponge.”
I searched around in the kitchen cabinets. “Perfect!” I proclaimed, holding up a plastic container labeled DELI. It still smelled faintly of potato salad.
With an old pair of scissors, I punched a few air holes in the top of the container. Then I ran upstairs to get the sponge.
Back in the kitchen, I set the sealed container on the floor and opened the refrigerator.
“Mom,” I called, “which lunch bag is mine?”
“The blue one, honey,” she replied.
I grabbed my lunch and shut the refrigerator.
I heard a sniffing sound coming from the kitchen floor. I looked down.
“Killer, what are you doing, boy?” I smiled at the floppy-eared dog.
Snrff. Snrff. Snrff.
He sniffed at the container.
Grrr. Grrr.
He pawed the ground and growled.
Here we go again, I thought.
Killer set his ears back, circling the container suspiciously.
And barked.
And barked. And barked.
“Killer! Get back!” I shouted.
But the dog was way too excited to listen to me.
“Mom, Daniel!” I called. “Help me get Killer away. I think he wants to eat the sponge for breakfast!”
Mom grabbed Killer by his collar and hauled him, still growling, away from the container. She pushed the door open and shooed the dog into the backyard. “Go outside, boy, there you go,” she said gently.
Mom turned to me. “What’s got that dog so upset? He sure is acting strange. Now get a move on, or you’ll be late for school. And then I’ll be growling and barking!”
Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I gave Mom a quick kiss good-bye and followed Daniel out the door.
“Watch this!” he yelled, dashing across the street to the Johnsons’ house and planting himself underneath their basketball hoop.
Daniel faked a dribble and a pass, and ran madly around in circles. “Bet you can’t jump this high!” he said, pretending to sink a basket.
“Come on, Daniel,” I replied, walking quickly down the street. “Mrs. Vanderhoff will keep me after school if I show up late.”
Daniel trotted over to me. Suddenly, his eyes bulged!
“Kat! Look out!” he screamed.
Craaack!
I heard a frightening sound above my head. A loud cracking. As if someone had cracked about a thousand knuckles at the same time.
I glanced up in time to see a huge dead tree branch hurtling down through the air.
I froze.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t move a muscle.
I was about to be crushed into Kat litter!
“Ohhh
hhhh.” A terrified moan escaped my throat.
I felt someone shove me hard from behind.
The force of it sent me flying to the ground.
I lay there in shock and watched the huge tree branch crash down to the ground, cracking and shattering.
It landed a few feet behind me.
As I struggled to pull myself up, the sponge container rolled out of my hand. The little creature came spilling out onto the sidewalk.
“Saved your life!” cried Daniel. “Now you owe me big!”
I barely heard him.
The sponge. I could only stare at the sponge.
Whoa-ahhh, whoa-ahhh.
Breathing louder and faster and deeper than I’d ever heard before.
Whoa-ahhh, whoa-ahhh.
Throbbing its little heart out. Practically hopping around on the ground in excitement.
Ba-boom, ba-boom.
Very weird. I’d almost been killed by the falling branch. And the sponge seemed really excited.
As if it enjoyed my near accident.
As if my accident made it really happy.
* * *
“Mrs. Vanderhoff!” I called, rushing into the classroom. “I have to show you something!”
Mrs. Vanderhoff is a brain. She basically knows everything about everything.
She’s very smart. And she takes us on great class trips. At Halloween, we visited a spooky old theater that’s supposed to be haunted by the ghosts of dead actors.
But Mrs. Vanderhoff is also really strict. Anyone who goofs off or talks out of turn stays after school for a week!
One other problem. She has no sense of humor at all. I’ve never even seen her crack a smile.
“Check this out, Mrs. Vanderhoff,” I blurted out, shoving the sponge under her nose. “I found it under the kitchen sink of our new house. And when Daniel went to grab it, he hit his head. And my Dad thought I pushed him, and — and —”
Mrs. Vanderhoff peered at me over her wire-rim glasses. “Kat, sshh,” she ordered sharply. “Now, start over — slowly and clearly.”
I took a deep breath and began again, starting with moving day and ending with the falling tree branch.
“And you say it throbs and breathes?” Mrs. Vanderhoff asked, staring hard at me.
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
“Let me see it,” Mrs. Vanderhoff replied. I handed over the container.