by Bruce Hale
“Melvin’s momma is so ugly, they’re going to move Halloween to her birthday,” Zeke said.
Yikes. Zeke had crossed the line.
“No mommas,” snarled Melvin.
“Your turn,” Zeke hissed at me. But my throat had closed up.
Zeke’s voice shook, but he kept on going. “Melvin’s momma is so fat, she walked into the Gap and filled it.”
“No mommas,” growled Melvin, his face turning red.
I felt a little sorry for him, but I could only gape like a goldfish.
“Melvin’s momma is so fat,” said Zeke, “she sat on a quarter and a booger popped out of George Washington’s nose!”
“I said, no mommas!” Melvin cried. He dove at Zeke, snatching his T-shirt in both hands and shaking him. “You! You!”
I wanted to stop Melvin, but I didn’t want to wreck our plan. What to do?
And where was Stephanie?
Melvin grabbed Zeke by the throat and held him high. “I’m gonna…!”
Finally Steph showed up, deep in conversation with our principal, Ms. Johnson. She saw Zeke and gasped.
“Melvin!” shouted the principal. “Put that boy down!”
The bully released Zeke, who slumped to the ground.
“But he—” Melvin said.
“There’s no excuse for physical violence,” said Ms. Johnson. “Come with me, young man. You’re getting a week of detention.”
The principal dragged Melvin up the hallway. He argued his case, but Ms. Johnson didn’t miss a step.
Steph and I dusted off Zeke. “That,” I said, “was either the bravest or the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He smiled shakily. “The old ‘yo’ mama’ joke. Always good for a grin.”
To tell the truth, I was a bit jealous of Zeke’s bravery. Once again, he was the hero and I was just the sidekick. A little like Melvin’s friend Darryl, but nicer.
Back in class, Mr. Manju didn’t help my mood. Moments before the last bell rang, he announced, “Your career reports are due the day after tomorrow. And I had better see some real work from some of you.”
He looked right at me. I knew without another word that it was time to get cracking on that report.
And I meant to—just as soon as I could make up my mind.
CHAPTER 9
Scepter Protector
That evening was not the most cheerful time I’ve ever spent at Zeke and Stephanie’s house. We sat around the TV room, trying to think of ways to rescue the Brush from the Tower of Dino Death.
“Balloons?” I said. “With enough of them, we could float…”
“Right into the pterodactyls’ jaws,” said Steph.
We fell silent.
“Ooh, a catapult!” said Zeke. “We could launch ourselves—”
“Splat into the wall,” I said.
“Maybe a huge pair of stilts?” Stephanie said, then sighed. “Nah.”
I put my chin in my hands. If only I hadn’t freed Pegasus…
The ringing phone interrupted my thoughts.
Zeke picked it up. “Yeah?”
He frowned and leaned forward. “What? Slow down.” Zeke glanced up and whispered, “Dr. Prufrock.”
Steph and I crowded close, and Zeke turned the receiver so we could hear.
“…from Amelia,” Dr. Prufrock was saying. “She’s got the third artifact, the er, Scepter.”
“She does?” said Stephanie.
Zeke’s smile answered my own. Maybe things were looking up!
“But she just called and said she heard suspicious noises,” said Dr. Prufrock. “I’m afraid someone’s trying to steal it.”
“What’ll we do?” I said.
I should mention, Dr. J. Robert Prufrock was a bold explorer and an old friend of Zeke’s great-aunt Zenobia, who had been to Underwhere and back.
“Come with me,” he said. “There’s, er, strength in numbers.”
Dr. Prufrock was also a major scaredy-cat.
Steph bit her lip. “I don’t think Caitlyn will let us out of the house.”
“Please?” said the old man. “See you in ten minutes. You’re my only hope.”
Zeke hung up the phone. “Hey, so we can’t get the Brush. At least we have a shot at the Scepter!”
Steph snorted. “Don’t be too sure. Caitlyn will never go for it.”
But strangely enough she did. Caitlyn bustled into the TV room and told us all to clear out so she could watch So You Want to Be a Spoiled Brat?
We said okay, and could we clear out with Great-aunt Zenobia’s friend?
“Fine. But you drizzlewits better be back by the time this show is over,” said Caitlyn, settling in with her popcorn. “Or I’ll toast you like croutons.”
We swore to be back in an hour and hustled out the door.
After waiting in the cold for five minutes, we heard a sputtering and backfiring down the block. Dr. Prufrock’s dented gray car was older than prehistoric dirt. It gasped to the curb.
“Hurry, children!” boomed Dr. Prufrock. “Great Milk of Minerva, we haven’t much time!”
We piled into the car, and it puttered down the street. We could have walked there faster.
“I thought you said this was an emergency,” I said.
Dr. Prufrock gripped the steering wheel tightly. “It is. But one cannot ignore traffic laws. That way lies anarchy.”
To pass the time, I brought him up to date on Underwhere, mentioning the missing Brush and my ride on Pegasus.
“You like to fly, eh?” he said. “Maybe you could be a flyboy, like those World War I aces.”
Zeke looked over at me and twirled a finger by his ear, in the universal ‘He’s a loony’ sign. I nodded, but I wasn’t so sure.
A painfully long drive later, Dr. Prufrock arrived at a small, pretty house. It was lit up like a birthday cake, and a loud barking came from inside.
“Here we are,” said Dr. Prufrock. He made no move to get out.
Stephanie opened the front door. “So…?”
“Let’s go,” said Zeke, bouncing out of the back door. Steph and I followed, and the doctor brought up the rear. We passed a half-burned wooden mailbox that was still smoking.
By the front door, the barking was really loud. “What’s she got?” I said. “A Great Dane?”
“Or a so-so Doberman?” said Zeke.
Steph knocked. We waited.
Woof, woof, woof! The barking went on.
“Down, Fang! Down!” said a high, fluty voice.
A spy hole opened in the door and a blue eye peered out. “Who’s that?”
From behind us, Dr. Prufrock said, “It’s J. Robert, with three friends of Zenobia. Are we, er, too late?”
The spy hole closed. Three locks snapped. The door opened wide.
“Too late?” snapped a round old lady in black combat boots. “You’re too early. Come back just before the next time someone steals a magical artifact.”
She glared at us. The barking was almost deafening.
I checked the hallway behind her. “Uh, shouldn’t you call off your dog?”
“My what? Oh,” said Amelia. She turned to the wall and flicked a switch.
Wooof woooo…The barking wound down.
“What happened?” asked Stephanie.
Amelia patted her fluffy, white old-lady hair. I noticed it had two purple streaks. “Two men robbed my house.”
“Er, are they still around?” Dr. Prufrock scanned the front yard.
“No, J,” said Amelia. “They lured me outside, and then they slipped into the house, stole the Scepter, and made their escape.”
“By Apollo’s flameproof booties, Amelia, how could you let yourself be tricked?” the doctor asked.
Amelia put her hands on her round hips. “They set my mailbox on fire.”
“Ah.”
A thought struck me. “What did these men look like? Did you see them?”
Amelia shook her head no. “But they wore black suits and cheap wigs.”
Steph’s eyes met mine. “The agents!” we said.
“You know these people?” said Amelia.
“Hush,” said Zeke.
Amelia frowned. “You watch your mouth, young man.”
“That’s H.-U.-S.-H.” Stephanie spelled it out. “A government agency.”
“They’re spies,” Zeke said.
“Spies?” Amelia echoed. “What in the wide blue world is going on here?”
“That,” I said, “is exactly what we’d like to know.”
CHAPTER 10
Robo-Spies
At school the next day, I had twice the usual helping of confusion in my life. Questions chased around in my head: Why had the spies taken the Scepter? How could we get the Brush back? What was the UnderLord (or as he called himself, the Uncanny Underchunder) up to?
And, oh yeah, would a meteor please hit the school before I had to do my report?
The school day passed quickly. Unfortunately, it passed without bringing any answers.
On the way home, Zeke and Steph and I discussed our friends from H.U.S.H. (And when I say friends, I mean “lowdown, wig-wearing double-crossers.”)
“Man, I thought they were good guys,” I said.
“Good at what?” said Zeke. “They’re not good at anything I can see.”
“How about lying and stealing?” I said.
Steph narrowed her eyes. “We don’t know they’re not good guys.”
“So they stole the Scepter for a noble cause?” said Zeke. “Right. Tell us another fairy tale.”
“Okay, Dwarf Boy,” she said. “Why do you think they took it?”
I held up my hands. “Stop, you two! Why don’t we just ask them?”
Zeke and I were waiting on the sidewalk when Steph came out of the house.
“I called them,” she said. “They’re on their way.”
Zeke chucked a rock at a tree. “What did you promise them—state secrets?”
“What they wanted,” said Stephanie. “A magical thingie.”
“But we don’t have one,” I said.
“Oh, yes we do.” She held up a magazine. “Underchunder made doves fly from this. If that’s not magic, what is?”
Zeke pointed at her. “You, you’re scary.”
Steph just smiled sweetly.
A few minutes later, the agents’ silver car pulled up. We approached the passenger side, and Agent Belly rolled down his window.
“Sweet children,” he said, in a strangely blank voice. “You called us?”
Steph gave him a weird look. “We have the magical object you wanted.”
“Object good.” Agent Mole smiled. It was not a pretty sight.
Handing over the magazine, Steph said, “The Uncanny Underchunder pulled doves from this.”
Belly took it. “Doves good. Underchunder good-er. Wonderful magician.” His smile seemed mechanical, his voice flat.
“Magic good,” said Mole, in the same blank voice.
Zeke raised his eyebrows at me. I nodded. Something was off. They weren’t even angry about our lame “magical object.”
I decided to test our luck.
“Say, have you guys heard anything about a funny-looking toilet plunger?” I said. “Some call it a Scepter.”
Agent Mole’s cheek twitched. “Scepter goo—uh, Scepter?”
The spies turned to face each other. “Get Scepter. Bring Scepter. Hide Scepter. Good spies,” they droned.
Belly turned back to us. “Don’t know ‘Scepter.’ Why you ask?”
“No reason,” I said.
He leaned on the car door. “We need old toilet. You have old toilet?”
The Throne! Which even now sat in Zeke and Steph’s backyard under a tarp.
“Uh, no,” said Zeke.
“Why do you ask?” said Steph.
Agent Belly smiled like a robot. “No reason. Bye-bye, sweet children.”
“Pay taxes,” said Mole. “Taxes good.” And they drove off.
“Weird and weirder,” said Stephanie.
Zeke scratched his cheek. “Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That Spider-Man should be elected president, and that the fountains at school should run with chocolate milk?” I said.
“Not quite,” said Steph. “That we should hide the Throne again, and that we never should have told the spies about Underchunder.”
Zeke sighed. “Yup. That’s what I’m thinking.”
We moved the funky-looking Throne under some bushes by the back fence and headed off for one more trip to Underwhere.
“Better make this quick,” said Steph. “We’ve got a date tonight.”
“Gross,” I said. “I thought we were just friends.”
“Did you forget Underchunder’s magic show? We have to be there.”
Zeke nodded. “I never thought I’d say this, but she’s right. Who knows what he’s up to?”
We hustled into the construction site.
“It’s funny,” I said, “but I’m not as scared as I should be.”
“Why should you be scared?” asked Steph.
I stepped inside the half-built house. “Let’s see…we’re facing sure death and two different kinds of hungry dinosaurs. And we don’t even have a plan.”
“When you put it that way,” said Zeke. “I’m scared enough for both of us.”
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
The Uncanny Underchunder
When we popped out of the hole back into our world, Fitz was pacing up and down. “Meer, murr mrow row!”
“Sorry, Fitzie,” I said. “No time to go below so we can understand you.”
He offered me the same stare of disbelief he gives when I won’t feed him a second dinner.
I scooped him up, and we hurried out of the construction site. From the looks of the setting sun, we were running a little late.
“There you are!” came Caitlyn’s bellow.
From the sound of it, we were running really late.
She jammed everyone into her sporty red car, chewing us out left and right. There was no time to stash the Brush, so I brought it along.
Caitlyn’s mouth kept moving all the way across town. She was still griping as we left the car in the parking lot and headed for the theater.
“I’ve never met such a tofu-brained bunch of dorgwollops in my whole life,” she said. “If you zimwats are late one more time, I swear I’m gonna lock a tracking device on you.” She forged ahead toward the theater doors.
“Mrwwr,” Fitz muttered.
“You said it, Fitzie,” I said.
On the theater marquee, a huge sign read UNDERCHUNDER IS HERE! Above the electric green letters, two seriously spooky eyes stared down.
Caitlyn pushed through the crowd and found some seats on the right, not too far back. I put Fitz and the Brush on my lap.
People milled about, buzzing excitedly.
I noticed several kids from my class, which was nice, and Melvin and Mr. Wheener, which was not. “We’ve got company,” I said.
Steph and Zeke followed my gaze.
Melvin saw us watching. His face clouded over, and he pointed a finger, then pretended to choke it to death.
“Looks like detention doesn’t agree with Melvin,” I said.
Zeke sighed. “I am so dead.”
The lights blinked off and on, and everyone took their seats. The theater slowly went dark. Dramatic music pumped up.
A voice so low it made your seat quiver said, “Prepare yourself to enter…the world of illusion. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome…the Uncanny Underchunder!”
A spotlight hit the red curtains. Poomf! Sparks showered, blue smoke billowed, and suddenly Underchunder stood on the stage.
The audience went “Oooh!” and clapped wildly.
Zeke leaned over. “You gotta admit, that was pretty cool.”
“For an evil warlord,” I said.
“I love magic.” Zeke grinned.
Steph, sitting
on my other side, went, “Hmph.”
Standing tall on his stilt legs, Underchunder raised his hands for quiet. “We are about to leave the known world and enter the realm of the uncanny. A land where anything can happen.”
He frowned and rubbed his stomach in a fake-y way. “Eh, what’s this?” The magician coughed, and then reached into his mouth.
Out came some purple fabric. He pulled, faster and faster, and an ever-lengthening chain of cloth spilled from his mouth. As I looked closer, I realized…
“It’s undies!” said Zeke.
It was true. Underchunder tugged until a huge chain of silk undies in all colors lay piled on the stage. The audience laughed and applauded.
With a flourish, the magician plucked a wand from his sleeve and struck the pile of cloth. “Allakazammo, bibbity-BOW!”
It rose into the air and fanned out into an undie rainbow. With another swipe of the wand, Underchunder turned it into a real rainbow, which grew fainter and fainter until it faded altogether.
“Aaaahh!” The crowd cheered.
Underchunder clapped twice. The spies from H.U.S.H., still in their black suits and wigs, wheeled a strange contraption onto the stage. A man-sized disk painted with a spiral was mounted in a fancy silver frame.
“What are they doing?” muttered Stephanie.
I shrugged.
“Observe,” said the magician, “the All-Seeing Eye of Ungawa. Keep your gaze fixed on the center of the wheel.”
Moving like sleepwalkers, agents Belly and Mole braced the frame from either side. Underchunder reached up and grabbed the disk, then pulled down sharply. The circle spun. Its painted lines spiraled inward.
Like a magnet, it drew my attention.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Underchunder. “You’re watching the wheel, nothing else. You find yourself going deeper…deeper inside…relaxing so deeply…”
I was sinking into the center of the disk. So calm, so peaceful…
Someone’s claws dug into my leg.
“Ow!” I glanced down. “Fitz, that hurt!”
“Wurrr meer row murr row,” he said, jerking his head toward Zeke.
My buddy had gone slack-jawed, staring at the stage. So had Caitlyn and everyone beyond them. I turned the other way. Steph was hypnotized too.