The Word Eater

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The Word Eater Page 9

by Mary Amato


  Lerner smiled at Fip. “Fip, you’re incredibly smart and brave. Why didn’t I think of it?” Her smiled faded. “But, it’s too dangerous. What if you eat the word Fip and never have a chance to get to the word magic?” A lump formed in her throat. “Don’t do it. We can figure something else out.”

  Fip’s skin pricked, but he smiled up at her. He had to take the chance.

  Poly cleared her throat. “Pardon me if I don’t stay around to watch. Couldn’t see a thing anyway,” she said as she skinched toward the dictionary. “Adios, Fip. Auf Wiedersehen. Au revoir. Good-bye.” She crawled onto Lerner’s dictionary and burrowed deep down into the binding.

  Fip looked up at Lerner. She was his first friend, and in spite of everything, he loved her. He waved his bristles.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked.

  It was now or never. He was very hungry and very excited in a calm kind of way. He skinched over to the paper and nibbled the F. Ummy um um! Why hadn’t Lerner thought to feed him chocolate before? Quickly, he ate his name, then stopped to take account.

  Something inside his gizzard was bubbling. It wasn’t a bad feeling, actually, it was a kind of tickly feeling. It didn’t feel at all scary.

  “Keep eating, Fip!” Lerner cried.

  Fip nibbled the rest of the letters.

  Lerner and Bobby stood still.

  “What’s happening?” Bobby whispered. “Can you tell?”

  One, two, three seconds.

  A shiver went through Fip’s gizzard. Was this the end—or just the beginning? His muscles contracted and then relaxed. He giggled and a little burp came out.

  “Fip!” Lerner whispered. “Are you all right?”

  The worm wriggled.

  “See if he’ll eat something,” Bobby suggested, and handed Lerner a piece of newspaper.

  Lerner ripped a piece off and gently slid it under Fip. He wriggled off.

  “He’s just a regular worm, now!” Bobby said.

  “I can’t believe it!” Lerner looked at Fip. “You may not be magic anymore Fip, but you’re a genuine, Grade-A, incredible worm.”

  Fip beamed.

  Lerner understood. Having power was a tremendous responsibility. She wasn’t surprised that he might want a break from it. “So what now?” she asked.

  Fip looked toward the window, and Lerner got the message. He wanted to be outside. It made her sad to think of him disappearing into the soil. Who knew what kind of predators there were out there? But if she were a worm, that’s where she’d want to be.

  It was recess, and the sixth graders gathered in a circle under the oak tree.

  Lerner held Fip in her outstretched hands, so everyone could see. “We are here today to give Fip his freedom. The time of magic is over. But Fip has a new life to live, new tunnels to dig, and so do we.”

  Bobby lifted a large rock that was under the oak tree. Three worms, two beetles, and a hundred microscopic creatures burrowed quickly back into the mud.

  “I guess he won’t be alone,” Sharmaine said.

  “What do you think he’ll do down there?” Winny asked.

  Lerner remembered the reference material on worms she had checked out when she first found Fip. “He’ll aerate the soil by making tunnels, allowing nutrients and water and oxygen to seep in. He’ll help the soil stay rich by eating dirt and decomposed stuff and then pooping all over the place. Worms are really very important.”

  Fip beamed. Lerner set him down and he inched his way toward an open tunnel. “Thanks for coming into our lives in the first place, Fip,” she said.

  “It was pretty boring before you came,” Bobby added.

  “Good luck down there!”

  “Eat dirt and prosper!”

  Fip listened to their warm words with a new sense of purpose and confidence. He was a worm, an ordinary and very important worm.

  Just before descending, Fip turned and gave them each a nod of his head. Then he was gone.

  The students were silent.

  “What now?” Sharmaine asked.

  There was a loud whistle. Mrs. Popocheskovich was waving at them from the blacktop. “Do you cookies want to put your brains together to make a newspaper?” she shouted. “Come on! There are so much exciting stories to write!”

 

 

 


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