by J. G. Kemp

There were lots of flashing lights from firetrucks and police cars, and lots of people walking around, talking. At least two fire hydrants were shooting water up in the air like geysers. There was even a helicopter from the news station. Then Spencer said something strange:
“How did you get them all back in the book so fast?”
I looked at him, puzzled. I felt like such a coward. “I didn’t,” I said. “I didn’t get them back in the book. I was in my room the whole time. I ran and hid after I made them. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked.”
“But, I saw you running past my house, chasing after those things.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“No, I’m sure of it. I’m sure it was you. You were holding the coloring book and chasing after them.”
“It wasn’t me. I was hiding. Did you see where they went? My mom said they just disappeared.”
“Yeah, they did. There were three of them, hundreds of feet tall, stepping on everything, and then they were just gone, like when the marbles went back into the book.”
“Just three!? When I ran to my room there must have been,” I did the math in my head, “56 of them! There should have been hundreds of them. Where did they all go?”
Spencer thought for a minute. I thought for a minute. This was confusing. Nothing made sense anymore.
“The thing with fangs is gone,” said Spencer. “Maybe whatever comes out of the book only lasts a certain amount of time and then disappears.”
Maybe he was right. I hoped he was right. At least only the houses on my street were destroyed. It could have been so much worse. Then I remembered - I reached into my pocket and pulled out the black tank I had made earlier. It hadn’t disappeared.
“Spencer,” I said. “I should have listened to you. I should have been more careful. I’m never using that book again.”
We sat and watched the aftermath of the Bigfoot disaster until it was almost dark and my mom called me in.
Spencer left, and before I went inside I crawled into my fort and grabbed the coloring book. I went to my bedroom closet, stuffed the book underneath a pile of dirty clothes, and joined my family for dinner.
Chapter 11
the book for good?
That night, Ms. Violet ate dinner with us. My parents had invited her to stay until she could move into a new house. She was going to sleep in Hazel’s room.
During dinner Ms. Violet talked about Chippers. I felt terrible the whole time. At one point she said something like, “He will live forever in my heart.” It was just like that page in A Tale of a Girl and Her Dog. It made me so mad. “It’s not the same,” I thought. “Living in your heart is NOT the same as actually being alive. And it’s all my fault.” I didn’t eat very much dinner that night.
Later, as I was sitting in my room before bed, I heard Ms. Violet crying softly in Hazel’s room, and then it came to me. I knew what I could do! I knew how to fix it! I could draw another Chippers in the coloring book. I could make it work. I wouldn’t mess it up this time.
I dug the book out from under the pile of dirty clothes and opened it on my desk. I drew my best drawing of a weiner- dog and found a brown colored pencil at the bottom of one of my desk drawers.

As I colored it, I thought to myself, “This dog is going to grow up to be exactly like Chippers in every way. This dog is going to grow up to be exactly like Chippers in every way. Nothing strange, nothing bad, exactly like Chippers. And he’s not going to disappear.”
I finished coloring, and there he was, standing on the book, only tiny, as tiny as the drawing. He yipped and chased his tail. I watched as he started growing, just like the giants had done.
“Please work, please work,” I thought. The tiny dog grew larger, and larger. He was the size of a baseball, and then as big as the coloring book. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t watch. The vision of a giant weiner-dog, destroying Grayville as he chased his tail, flashed into my mind.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” I thought, and then my face was getting licked. I opened my eyes and held my breath. There was Chippers, full grown, and he wasn’t getting any bigger!
“I did it!” I shouted out loud and quickly muffled my mouth.
“Yip,” Chippers barked. I listened. Ms. Violet’s crying had stopped.
“Chippers?” I heard her call from the other room. “Chippers, is that you?” The dog jumped off my desk and trotted to the door. It looked exactly like Chippers. It was Chippers. But it couldn’t be, it was just a drawing in the quantum coloring book.
Chippers started scratching at my door. I opened it, and he ran out and jumped up, into Ms. Violet’s arms.
“Oh, Chippers!” Ms. Violet said. Her face was beaming with joy. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “How did you get in there?”
I turned around and looked in my room, trying to think of an excuse. My eyes landed on the dog-shaped hole in the quantum coloring book.
“He… um… was just outside the window,” I lied. I immediately felt guilty, but what else could I say? I couldn’t tell her the truth. Ms. Violet looked happy. She looked like she didn’t care about her house being destroyed or that she had to sleep in Hazel’s bedroom.
Hazel appeared, and then my mom and dad, and everyone was petting Chippers and saying what a good boy he was.
I smiled and closed my door and sat alone in my room. That night, I made a decision. I would never use the quantum coloring book again, unless I knew exactly what I was doing. And I would only use it for good. I would only use it to help people.
Oh, how wrong I was…
* * *
Have you ever heard that expression “the road to destruction is paved with good intentions”. Yeah, I never really understood what that meant, but I do now.
My intentions were good. I was only going to use the coloring book for good. But in the end, everything was destroyed, not just Ms. Violet’s house, but the entire town.
I meant to do good, I promise. And I did, for a little while. Nothing bad happened for two days.
But when the first quantum coloring book was about to run out of pages, what do you think I did?

I couldn’t use it all up, I couldn’t let go of it, so I made more. I made SO many more. So many copies of this terrible good-for-nothing book. Let me tell you…
Brandon Black’s story continues in…
the Quantum
Coloring Book
episode 3: too many troubles!
Prologue - Episode 3
the book of trouble!
Hey. My name is Brandon. Brandon Black. And this book, the quantum coloring book? Well, this book has brought me nothing but trouble, nothing but disaster.
So, would you like to hear how I discovered the quantum coloring book’s real power? Would you like to hear how I made more quantum coloring books? Would you like to hear about the strangest thing that has ever happened to me?
Well, I hope you do, because if hearing my story means that you will NEVER USE this book, then it is worth it. For you must NEVER USE IT.
But I have to talk fast, because the black hole is growing, and I need to go back in time. I need to stop it. And soon!
My name is Brandon Black, and this is my story…
episode 3: too many troubles!
Chapter 1
hopes and dreams
The night of the Bigfoot disaster, after I drew Ms. Violet’s dog, Chippers, my mind went wild. I had promised to only use the book for good. And I had figured out how to make anything.
As I lay in bed, all I could think of were all the things I could fix - and all the ways I could help people.
I thought of all the destroyed houses on my street, Smudge Street, and how I could use the book to repair them. Maybe I could draw little houses in the book, and make them grow to the size of real houses, like Chippers had grown.

I imagined a
ll of Grayville clapping and cheering when all the houses suddenly reappeared. Ms. Violet could have her house back tomorrow if it worked!
I could redraw my fort that had exploded, and the fence that had been trampled, and the fire hydrants that had been smashed. I could fix everything!
I didn't fall asleep for a long time. I was too excited. And the next morning I was tired.
I liked having Ms. Violet stay with us. At breakfast, she made eggs and bacon with hash browns and french toast. It was delicious - even better than my dad used to make.
“Wow, Ms. Violet,” said Hazel. “These eggs are… perfect! This bacon is… perfect! These hash browns are… perfect!” Hazel bounced excitedly in her chair.
“Yip Yip Yip!” Chippers agreed - the new Chippers. He ran around in a circle and jumped up and down. Ms. Violet fed him bacon. He snarled it down as if he were a starving baby wolf!
“Oh, Chippers, you silly dog,” said Ms. Violet.
“Yummmmm, this is perfect,” I thought, savoring the french toast. I had smothered it in syrup. Maybe I shouldn’t remake Ms. Violet’s house. Maybe she could stay with us for awhile. Maybe we could have breakfast like this every day.
“Bye, Big Buddy. Bye, Hazel-bo-bazel!” My dad shouted as he ran through the hallway. He had to leave for work early. “See ya tonight!”

“Bye, Dad!” Hazel shouted back. “Have a great day!”
“Yip Yip Yip” barked Chippers.
“Oh, you silly, silly, silly dog,” said Ms. Violet. “You don’t want to wake Mrs. Black.” She patted his head and gave him more bacon. He gobbled it up so fast I couldn’t believe it. It just disappeared into his mouth.
“Ms. Violet?” asked Hazel.
“Yes, Dear?”
“How long have you lived here? Here in Grayville?”
This was just like Hazel. She always wanted to talk. She was always asking people questions.
“Oh, I’ve lived in Grayville my whole life, sweetheart,” Ms. Violet answered. “Here, on Smudge Street.”
As we ate, Ms. Violet told us how Smudge Street used to be a dirt road, and how there were only three houses here when she was a little girl. Now there were houses everywhere.
“And except for those three houses, it was all just prairie,” she said, “and cows. Grass and cows, as far as you could see. And do you know that tree? The tree in your friend Spencer’s yard?” She looked at me.

I didn’t know Ms. Violet knew about Spencer, or our tree. Spencer and I had built a fort in it. It was great - maybe even better than my fort.
“I used to play in that tree when I was your age.” Ms. Violet smiled. “Isn’t that right, Chippers?” She rubbed his head and gave him more bacon. He looked like the happiest dog alive. “Oh, I wish Grayville were like it used to be,” Ms. Violet sighed. “But, you can’t change things, I suppose. Better to make peace with what is.”
When Ms. Violet said this, I thought, “Maybe you can’t change things. But I can - with the coloring book. I brought Chippers back, didn’t I? I can make things exactly like they used to be.”
* * *
If making things exactly like they used to be meant making a black hole that devoured the entire town, then yes, I did make things exactly like they used to be.
But, I don’t think that’s what Ms. Violet meant.
Chapter 2
a better grayville
At school that day, I didn’t use the coloring book, but I did think of all the things I wanted to make when I got home.
As Mr. Stale straightened his mustache and asked for the math homework that I didn’t have, I thought, “Maybe I could start drawing my math homework in the coloring book, that would make Mr. Stale happy.”
And as I ate soggy mush at lunch, I thought, “Maybe I could draw better lunch for everybody, that would be using the book for good.”
And at recess, as Spencer and I jumped up and down on the rubber wood-chips, I thought, “I’m sure I could make a playground that was ‘built for safety’ and fun, even Principal Snort would like that.”
And at 1:30, just before I didn’t read A Tale of a Girl and Her Dog, Olive turned around and said to me, “Brandon Black, you only see problems. Maybe if you didn’t see problems all the time you wouldn’t be so grumpy.”
“Well, guess what,” I thought, “now I can fix all those problems. I am good at seeing problems, and I’m going to fix Grayville, and everything in it!”
As we walked home from school, Spencer asked about the book. I told him again that I wasn’t going to use it. I didn’t tell him about Chippers. Not yet. I knew he wouldn’t like it. I was going to make Grayville better first.
We played in his tree-fort that afternoon, and worked on the hole we had been digging in his backyard. We had been digging it since 2nd grade, ever since… well… ever since my grandpa’s funeral. I don’t like to talk about it, but that’s when Spencer and I started digging the hole.
We were going to dig as far down as we could, and then dig a tunnel that went under the alley, and into my yard.
“You know, if we had started this in 1st grade, we would be done,” I said, crouching inside the hole. The hole was almost four feet deep.
“Or, if we didn’t have to sleep, we could sneak out and dig all night,” Spencer added.
The whole time we were digging, there were trucks and crews of men on Smudge Street cleaning up the destruction from the Bigfoots.
“Or, if we had one of those!” I pointed to the excavator diggers that had just arrived to clean up the rubble of Ms. Violet’s house.
“We could dig anything!” A grin stretched across Spencer’s face. He loved digging.
“Yeah, we could,” I thought. And I could draw one for us. Spencer would like that. That would be really helpful.
We watched the clean-up crews until my mom called me home for dinner. I ate fast, and when I had finished, I ran straight to my room and opened the quantum coloring book. I was ready…
Chapter 3
more power
“Okay,” I said to myself, “let’s see if I can make a house. Start small Brandon, no disasters this time.”
I drew a house, which looked nothing like Ms. Violet’s real house. But, I knew that didn’t matter as much as what I thought while I was coloring. “This house is going to be exactly like Ms. Violet’s house, but only as big as the drawing.” I colored it yellow - Ms. Violet’s house had been yellow.

The house appeared. It was tiny, but it was real - the windows were real glass, and the little door opened and closed. Every detail was right - the teeny shingles on the roof and the miniature furniture inside. It was incredible! I put it in my desk drawer.
“Okay. Now to make houses grow,” I thought. I drew another house and colored it, thinking, “This house is going to be exactly the same as Ms. Violet’s house, only it will grow to be as big as… the quantum coloring book… in one minute.”
And there was another house - tiny, like the first. It made a creaking noise like it was going to explode. I held my breath as the house creaked louder, and louder. I covered my eyes. It was going to explode. I waited for it. I peeked through my fingers.
CREEEAAAAAAKKK!
And then the house started to grow! It grew bigger, and bigger, and when it was the size of the coloring book, it stopped! It worked! I felt a rush of power - of possibilities.
“Okay, first problem solved,” I thought. But how was I going to get the houses where they were supposed to be, on the street? Should I make tiny houses that walked, or flew?
I imagined a flock of little flying houses, soaring out of my window.
Or should I make the houses, and then place them on Smudge Street, before they got bigger? I could drop them off on my way to school.
I admired the book-sized house on my desk for minute, then touched it to the hole in the coloring book. The house disappeared. A
nd then it came to me: the idea that changed everything.
I drew a circle. I colored it green. And as I finished I thought, “This green marble is going to appear on my bed.” Suddenly, there was a hole in the quantum coloring book, but there was no green marble.
I leaped onto my bed, searching for the marble, and there it was - in the folds of my covers! I could make objects appear in different places! I could color Ms. Violet’s house, and the other houses, and make them appear wherever I wanted!
But that wasn’t all! “What if…?” I ran back to the book. I drew a circle. I colored it green. “This marble is going to appear… in my left pocket… in one minute,” I thought. I was giddy with excitement.