Uncle Newt was a messy eater, and it was no fun listening to him yelp all through dinner.
“All right. We’ll go without the electro bib,” he finally said. He looked down at Eureka the cat. “Stay.”
Eureka finished licking his butt and trotted off toward Julie’s begonias, looking like he was going to either eat them or fertilize them.
“To the Newtmobile!” Uncle Newt said.
The Newtmobile was a dent-dimpled green and brown monstrosity Uncle Newt claimed to have built by combining a broken-down Volvo, an army surplus Jeep, and a boat. As it putt-putt-putted up the street, Nick watched out for dogs behind them. Uncle Newt had converted the car’s diesel engine to run on cooking oil instead of gasoline, and because he often collected his fuel from fast-food joints—most of which were happy to have someone haul off the grease they’d otherwise need to dispose of themselves—the fumes that spewed from the muffler smelled more like extra-crunchy french fries than carbon monoxide. Which was why it wasn’t uncommon to look back and find a drooling collie or spaniel or Chihuahua charging after the car, a leash dragging behind it and no owner in sight.
There were no dogs today, though a determined squirrel kept pace with them for almost a block. Fortunately, it fell behind and presumably went back to gathering nuts by the time the Newtmobile reached the Pacific Coast Highway, the busy state road that cut between Uncle Newt’s neighborhood and downtown Half Moon Bay, California. Nick had been worried that he’d have to get out and chase the squirrel away before it could lock lips on the muffler and be dragged off to its doom.
These were the sorts of problems a person had when living with Newton Galileo Holt, a.k.a. Uncle Newt. Back home in Virginia, Nick hadn’t had any problems at all. (Or so it seemed to him now.) But then his parents, both scientists working for the U.S. government, had suddenly announced that they were being sent to Uzbekistan to study soybean irrigation, and Nick and Tesla were shipped off to California to spend the summer with an eccentric inventor uncle they barely knew.
Nick had never liked soybeans. Now he hated them.
There was a silver lining to living with a mad scientist, though. Nick and his sister had mad scientist leanings themselves, and they quickly made themselves at home in their uncle’s basement laboratory. But that didn’t make up for the friends they wouldn’t see for months, the home they missed, and the mom and dad in a land so distant and isolated it didn’t even seem to have telephone lines.
Nick and Tesla hadn’t heard their parents’ voices since the day they said goodbye two weeks earlier.
A pink blur flashed before Nick’s eyes, and he heard his sister say, “Call 911. He’s in a coma.”
Nick blinked, and the blur came into focus.
Tesla was waving a hand in front of his face.
They were parked in front of Ranalli’s Italian Kitchen, yet Nick was still staring blankly out the back of the Newtmobile.
“Hellll-loooooo?” Tesla said. “Anybody home?”
“No,” said Nick. “I’m not home. But I wish I were.”
Tesla took away her hand and gave her twin brother an understanding look. She was better at putting a brave face on things—better at being brave in general, actually—but Nick knew she was worried about their parents, too.
“Hey, look on the bright side,” she said. “We’re about to have pizza for breakfast.”
Nick turned and started to scoot out of the car.
“You know,” he said, “that’s not a bad bright side.”
But it was, actually.
Ranalli’s wasn’t open yet. If they wanted pizza and chicken vesuvio, they’d have to come back in an hour.
“Oh, well,” Tesla said. “It was too early for pizza anyway.”
“It’s never too early for pizza,” grumbled Nick.
Uncle Newt rarely offered them anything to eat that hadn’t come out of a can or a box, and Nick was getting sick of Beefaroni and Froot Loops.
As he stared forlornly at the closed sign on the restaurant’s glass door, something inside the restaurant began moving.
“Hey,” said Nick, squinting. “What’s that?”
Tesla and Uncle Newt crowded in to peer inside, too.
“Is that a—?” said Nick.
“Why, yes it is,” Uncle Newt cut in.
“Whoa,” said Nick and Tesla together.
Marching around the counter by the cash register was a small, silver shape.
A robot.
It turned its glowing red eyes toward Nick and Tesla and Uncle Newt and stared back at them.
If the adventures of Nick and Tesla keep you guessing…
The mysteries of Lovecraft Middle School will leave you shivering.
Join 7th grader Robert Arthur as he copes with the increasingly eerie happenings at Lovecraft Middle School, where nothing is what it seems. Especially the teachers and students! Aided by his best friends: a school bully, a ghost, and a two-headed rat—Robert must figure out why people keep disappearing, and how to get rid of the hideous monsters that are taking their place. Most of all, Robert and friends must break the connection between Lovecraft Middles School and the strange other world where a sinister scientist plots his ultimate revenge. Ready for some spooky fun? Enroll in the creepy curriculum in Professor Gargoyle. Then make friends with The Slither Sisters. Try not to be bugged by Teacher’s Pest. And stay on your best behavior for Substitute Creature. Every book in the series features a cover photograph that morphs into a monster right before your eyes!
Explore the Tales from Lovecraft Middle School series at lovecraftmiddleschool.com
Nick and Tesla's High-Voltage Danger Lab Page 13