by David Lubar
“No problem,” Becky said. “My mom uses these strips. They make her teeth totally dazzling. I use them, too.”
Becky flashed a stunning grin at Cranston. He almost asked her for her autograph, but he had more urgent things to do. Becky led him to her parents’ bathroom and opened the cabinet under the sink. There were seven boxes of Perfect-Smile Concentrated Whitening Strips stacked on the bottom shelf.
“Can I have one?” Cranston asked.
“Sure.” Becky reached inside an open box for a strip.
“No. Not one strip. One box,” Cranston said. He was pretty sure one strip wouldn’t do the trick. If it did, why would anyone need seven boxes?
Becky shrugged and handed him a full box. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Cranston carried the box back home and went up to his bedroom. He read the first line of the directions on the side of the box. Place strip against teeth and let sit for fifteen minutes.
Cranston didn’t bother reading the rest. He took out the strip, placed it against his teeth, and checked the clock on his desk. The strip tasted like glue mixed with mouthwash. Cranston didn’t care. He’d do anything for a dazzling smile.
After fifteen minutes, he took off the strip and flashed a grin toward his mirror.
The grin had a short life.
“They’re the same!” he screamed. He leaned so close to the mirror that his breath fogged it. As far as he could tell, his smile still wasn’t dazzling.
He put on another strip and left it there for two minutes. Then he took it off and grabbed a fresh one.
By the tenth strip, he was pretty sure he was seeing a change. He kept it up until the box was empty. That’s when he noticed the line below the instructions that warned: Do not use more than two strips each day.
A moment later, his mom walked into the room. She glanced down at the scattered litter of thirty wrappers and thirty used whitening strips. “What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, Cranston decided to show her. He gave her his most dazzling smile. He knew, when she saw it, she’d let him do whatever he wanted. That was the power of a dazzling smile.
His mom gasped, put her hand over her mouth like she was holding back a scream, and staggered away until she bumped into a wall across the hall from the bedroom door.
Cranston was about to ask her what was wrong, when he realized his legs felt strange. Something had spilled on them. It looked like little splashes of sour cream. He felt more wetness on his chin, and on the front of his shirt.
I’m drooling?
“What…”
As he spoke, he realized his tongue was striking emptiness. Cranston stared at his face in the mirror. He definitely didn’t have a dazzling smile. Far from it. His teeth were gone. They’d dissolved into a liquid and dribbled out of his mouth.
It was a bright, dazzling liquid, but it would never be part of another smile.
DAY CARELESS
“Jordan, I need you to pick up Danube,” my mom called as she rushed toward the garage with my baby brother Nile tucked in one arm and a diaper bag dangling from the other.
“What?” I hit START on the controller to bring up the PAUSE screen and looked over at her from the couch.
“Pick up your brother from day care. I have to take Nile for his booster shot.”
“But…” I pointed at the screen. Clearly, I was nowhere near a save spot. It had taken me fifteen minutes to fight my way to where I was, and I didn’t want to face the poison-spitting giant cockroaches again. No thanks. They were just too hard to kill. I’d barely made it past them this time. As it was, my health bar was nearly gone.
“No argument,” Mom said. “It’s just a couple blocks away. Three-fifty-nine Burlman Street. Go there. Get him. Walk him home. Then you can get back to your game. Understand?” She vanished into the garage before I even had a chance to nod.
I left the game paused and headed out the front door. Burlman Street was more than a couple blocks away. A couple meant “two.” Not seven. But there was nobody I could complain to. And even if there were, it wouldn’t do me any good.
When I reached the place, I saw that it wasn’t a building. It was someone’s house. But I spotted a hand-painted sign in front: DAY CARE. CHEAP RATES.
As I walked up to the front door, I could hear the squealy noise of little kids coming from inside. Danube is four, which makes him close to useless as far as the two of us having fun together. I can make him do stupid things, but that gets boring pretty quickly.
I knocked on the door and waited. Nobody came. I knocked again. I waited awhile longer, and then really thumped it. Finally, the door opened and a woman peeked out. She looked like she was maybe forty or fifty years old. I could tell she was having a rough day. Her hair was all messy, like someone had tossed a small bomb onto her head. Her dress was rumpled. She smelled like meat loaf—but not the good kind my grandma makes. More like the kind they serve at school.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I’m here to pick up Danube,” I said.
“Who?”
“Danube. My brother.” I lowered my hand like I was patting the top of his head. “Little guy. Runny nose. Brown hair. Likes trucks.”
“Oh, sure. Come in.” She led me through a living room, where the TV was on. A steaming cup of tea rested on a table next to a large chair. I didn’t see any sign of kids, but I could hear them. The woman opened a door on the wall next to the table. The squeals got louder. I followed her downstairs to a basement. I spotted Danube over in one corner, playing with some wooden blocks. Other kids were playing with cheap toys, watching a cartoon video on an ancient TV, or just sitting doing nothing.
Before I could call for Danube, the woman said, “Look. I need a favor. I have to run out for five minutes to pick up my prescription. Can you watch them?”
I glanced at the room full of toddlers, ranging from babies to a couple kids who were older than Danube. “No way.”
She reached in her pocket and pulled out some money. “Five dollars for five minutes,” she said.
“Ten.”
“Deal.”
She shoved a bill in my hand and left, closing the door at the top of the stairs.
“Jordan!”
Danube had spotted me. He rushed over and gave me a sticky hug. Mom and Dad had named us all after rivers, which is pretty funny when you think about how dirty Danube and Nile get. It’s sort of crappy for me, since Jordan could also be a girl’s name. Luckily, I’m a pretty good fighter. Even if I did have a hard time getting past the giant cockroaches.
“Home?” Danube asked.
“Soon. We just have to hang out here for a few minutes.”
Above, I heard the sound of the front door closing. The slam was followed by no sound at all. It took me a second or two to realize the squealing and chattering had turned into silence. The kids in the room had stopped babbling at each other or crying or screaming. Every single one of them was staring at me.
I took Danube’s sticky hand and walked up the steps. I figured I’d wait in the kitchen, right near the door to the basement, until I heard the woman coming back, and then slip down here again so she wouldn’t know what I’d done. It would only be a couple minutes. Nothing bad would happen to the kids in that little bit of time. And as far as I remembered, she didn’t say I had to stay in the same room with them. Watch the kids doesn’t mean I had to actually look at them.
“Home?” Danube asked again. He clutched my pants leg in one fist and squeezed it like he was trying to extract khaki juice. His other fist remained locked onto my hand.
“Soon.” It was still creepily silent behind me. I grabbed the knob and turned it. My gut clenched as I realized the door was locked.
I pushed hard, but the door was too solid for me to force open. “Okay,” I said out loud, “it’s no big deal. She just wants to keep us safe. She’ll be back in a minute. Right?” I asked, as if Danube could answer questions that required real thought.
“Right,” h
e said.
I looked past the stairs to the basement floor. “You want to wait down there with your friends?”
“No.” He shook his head hard.
I couldn’t blame him. “Okay. We’ll stay here.”
Down below, the kids had gotten to their feet. All of them. They moved to the bottom of the stairs. They still hadn’t made a sound.
One of them, barely older than a baby, crawled up to the second step. He looked at me and opened his mouth. I expected some sort of babbling baby sounds. Instead, I heard words.
“Big people are bad.” His voice was like an old man’s whisper.
A girl about Danube’s age pointed at me. “You’re big.”
“You’re bad,” the baby said.
They all pointed at me. “You’re bad!” they cried.
“No!” I screamed.
Next to me, Danube howled. I thought he was just scared. Then he howled louder and yanked at my hand. I looked down. I was so scared, I was squeezing his hand. Hard.
I let go.
“Bad!”
They swarmed up the stairs. I scanned around for any way to escape. There was no other way out. I hit the door with my shoulder, but it didn’t budge.
The baby had reached me. I raised my hand to push him back down. But I hesitated. How could I push a baby?
In the brief time when I’d paused, two more of them reached my step. They clutched at my pants legs. I tried to push one of them off. The baby grabbed my arm.
They swarmed over me, like ants on a scrap of meat. They pulled at my legs and tugged at my belt. When I realized I was in trouble, I pushed Danube away so he wouldn’t fall with me. I toppled, rolling down the steps. As I tumbled, I caught sight of him tottering at the top of the steps. Luckily, he managed to keep his balance.
The rest of the kids fell with me. On the way down, I had the weirdest thought. I was like a katamari in that old video game, a sticky ball picking up everything I rolled over.
I crashed to a stop against a ratty old stuffed giraffe, still mobbed by the kids. They were pummeling me. None of them could hit all that hard, but I was at the center of a lot of fists and feet.
I had a difficult time breathing with so many kids piled on my chest. My head hurt. So did my ribs. The room started to get dark in a weird way, like someone had pulled a piece of red silk across my eyes.
They’re killing me.
It was strange. Part of my brain didn’t seem to mind. The other part told me to struggle.
The door at the top of the steps opened. Light washed over me.
“I’m back.”
Kids fell from me and scrambled to the corners of the room. They acted like they’d never left their games or toys.
I stood and took a deep breath, then headed up the steps. I forced myself not to run. When I got to the top, I took Danube’s hand. Gently. I was definitely happy when we made it through the kitchen and out the front door. On the way out, I noticed a bag on the kitchen table. It wasn’t from the drugstore. It was from the doughnut shop. She’d gone away and left all those kids with someone who really wasn’t qualified to watch them, all for a snack.
“Home?” Danube asked as we walked toward the street.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t like that place,” he said.
I patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re never going back there.”
Maybe none of those kids is going back, I thought. Not after I told Mom what happened. Those kids might have acted like monsters, but I didn’t think they were born that way. Someone, or something, had made them act like that.
We reached our house. I could finally get back to my game and finish the level. As I picked up the controller, Danube tugged at my sleeve.
“Play my game?” he asked.
I almost shouted at him to go away. But the image of those kids froze my anger. “Sure. I’ll tell you what. I just need a couple minutes. Go get yourself a juice box, and then we’ll play.”
“Yay!” He raced out of the room.
I finished the level, saved my game, and loaded up his. For a kiddie game, it wasn’t all that bad. I was glad about that. I had a feeling I’d be spending a lot more time with Danube from now on. But I think that’s a good thing. A very good thing.
RAT SLAYERS
My luck is holding, Alarac thought as his blade sliced clear through the neck of the giant rat. That was an unlikely stroke with a single-handed sword, but he’d felt confident enough to risk one powerful blow rather than try to wear his opponent down with a flurry of slashes and jabs.
“Well fought,” the barbarian Golgetha cried as he swung his own twin-bladed battle-ax in a wide arc, dealing vast damage to three more rats that he’d backed into a corner of the cellar. “You are becoming a capable warrior.”
“I’m honored by your words.” Alarac hoped he’d soon be strong enough to wield a two-handed sword, or maybe even a pike. The idea of striking at his foes from a distance appealed to him, though his skills lay more in the area of blades than spears. Too bad he had no talent at all for bows and arrows.
He dashed forward to help Golgetha finish off the three wounded rats. The task didn’t take long.
“Onward?” he asked, turning toward the door that led to the next area of the mazelike cellar beneath the flour mill.
“Always.” Golgetha let out a laugh and flung open the door.
They rushed through. It was dark, but Alarac used the one weak spell he knew to light the torches on the walls. The light, reflected in two dozen pairs of red eyes, revealed more enemies awaiting them.
“The mill owner will be paying us well,” he said as he moved to his left. They’d been promised a bounty of six copper pieces for each rat they slew.
Working together, Alarac and Golgetha made short work of the rats. Another door lay ahead. Alarac sensed that a more dangerous foe lurked on the other side. As he moved toward the door, he spotted something hidden amongst the shadows near a pile of old barrels.
“A club,” he said. There it lay, abandoned atop a scattered assortment of bones. “I suppose it didn’t do much good for the former owner.” He picked up the club and felt the weight in his hand. He could definitely wield it. He had enough strength. It wasn’t his customary weapon—he’d done all his fighting with a blade—but he couldn’t help himself. He had to test it against the rats. He slid his sword into the scabbard on his back and prepared to battle the next enemy with the help of the club.
“Are you sure?” Golgetha asked.
“I am.”
They pushed on through the door, where the hulking sight of an enormous rat greeted them. It was so large, its back brushed the ceiling, and its whiskers were as thick as fingers. Alarac thought about retreating, but the door slammed shut behind him.
The rat leaped forward. There was no time to switch weapons. Alarac rushed to meet it, swinging the club. He struck the rat on its massive flank with a clumsy blow, doing no damage at all. The club was trickier to use than he’d realized. Alarac wondered whether he should risk reaching for his sword. Before he could decide, the rat lashed out with alarming speed, snapping its jaws down on his shoulder.
The club fell to the floor. Alarac screamed as his severed arm also fell. Alarac knew his health was draining rapidly. The pain was unbearable. He tried to grab medicine from the pouch at his belt with his remaining hand. He could save his life if he hurried. Golgetha was too busy defending himself from the rat to come to Alarac’s aid. But the pouch was crammed with an assortment of small vials and flasks, only one of which would heal large wounds.
Alarac fell, his health completely gone. As he faded away, he saw the rat lash out again. It clamped its jaws down on Golgetha’s body, catching him at the waist. The rat lifted Golgetha from the ground and flung him against the wall.
As Golgetha faded, a message expanded to fill the middle of the screen. GAME OVER. RETRY FROM LAST CHECKPOINT?
* * *
Quentin threw down the controller and turned t
oward Luke. “What was that nonsense with the club? Why in the world would you use a club against a boss? You spent hours raising your sword stats. What were you thinking?”
Luke shrugged. “I don’t know. I just felt like trying it. I had no idea the boss would be that tough. No big deal. It’s a fun level. I don’t mind replaying from the last save. It’s not that far from where we died.”
“Okay, but stick with the sword this time.”
“Whatever.” Luke hit X.
* * *
Alarac unsheathed his sword as he emerged from the well of memories. Four rats lay ahead of him—three toward the right side, and a single creature to the left. “I’ll take that one,” he said.
Golgetha raised his ax and charged toward the three rats. Alarac attacked his single foe. He decided to try for a critical blow, swinging right for the neck. Maybe I’ll get lucky, he thought.
FRIGID REGULATIONS
There are several rules every girl who lives up here learns as soon as she’s old enough to walk. Boys learn them, too, but you know how boys are when it comes to rules. They like to take risks and show off, which is why a lot of them get hurt. Especially around here, where any mistake might be your last. I think rule number two is the one they violate the most. But here are all of them:
1. Always wear a cross when going outside.
2. Don’t go outside alone.
3. Never invite a stranger into your home.
4. Don’t forget to rub garlic on your neck.
5. Wash your hands before eating.
I’m pretty sure my mom added the fifth rule, because lots of my friends never wash their hands before eating. Besides, I don’t see how clean hands can protect you from vampires. But I always pay attention to the first four rules, because I really don’t want to get drained of all my blood and turned into one of the undead. And it’s not like we have to worry about it all year long. The rules are really just for the dark period, when the sun never peeks over the horizon. But I don’t mind. It’s so beautiful up here, far to the north of all the rest of the country, that I’d never want to live anywhere else. You just have to respect the weather, and remember the dangers.