Sink or Swim

by Bob Balaban

  “Are you a hit, Mrs. D?” Sam asks.

  “I’m afraid not, kids.” My mom reaches over and puts her hand gently on the side of my gaping jaws. “Now Charlie, I don’t want you to be upset. Mr. Hollabird is convinced you robbed his store.”

  “What?” my father gasps. “That’s ridiculous. Charlie would never do a thing like that.” Sam and Lucille nod their heads supportively.

  “That is exactly what I told Mr. Hollabird. I said he was jumping to conclusions, and when all the evidence was in, he would see how wrong he was. I gave him every opportunity to apologize.”

  “What did he say, Mom?” I ask.

  “He said if you confess he’ll go easy on you. But if you don’t . . . he’s going to bar me from the baking competition.”

  My fork slips from my claw and hits my plate with a loud clanging sound. I cannot believe my earflaps.

  “Can you imagine?” Mom goes on. “The nerve of that man. I gave him a piece of my mind, believe you me.”

  “I’ll confess, Mom.” I rise up suddenly from my seat at the table, forget to duck, and hit my head on the ceiling. A light sprinkling of plaster dust lands on the quesadillas. “I can’t let that man punish you for something I didn’t even do. It’s not fair. You’ve worked all your life to perfect those recipes.”

  “That’s so sweet, Charlie, but I could never let you do that,” my mom says vehemently. “I wouldn’t consider working for that man now. Not after what he said about you. Not even if he got on his hands and knees and begged me to forgive him.”

  I sit back down. Mom wets her napkin in her water glass and wipes the top of my head.

  “But Mom,” I begin. “This is your big break!”

  “I already have everything I need, sweetie. I have my family and my health and a wonderful career. There will be plenty of other opportunities.”

  “Your mother’s right,” my dad adds. “Let’s finish our dinner and get on with our lives. Mr. Hollabird will just have to find some other nutritionally oriented talented dessert chef to take your mother’s place.”

  We all continue eating as if nothing happened. Vegetables are passed. The table is cleared. We dig into my mom’s delicious flourless chocolate soufflé. But I can think of only one thing: I must capture the creature and bring it to justice. I will find a way. This isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about something much bigger than that. It’s about my family. And I would do anything for them. Anything.

  9

  BAIT AND SWITCH

  “SO WHAT DO WE do now?” Sam asks. He paces around my room, anxiously drumming his fingers on his substantial belly. Mom and Dad are still doing the dinner dishes while my friends and I are supposedly finishing our homework. As if.

  “Call the police?” Lucille sits on the edge of Dave’s bed, tying and retying her size twelve saddle shoes. To say Lucille’s feet are big is like saying water is wet.

  “What good would that do?” Sam counters. “They’ve been on the case for the last thirty-six hours and as far as I can tell they haven’t come up with a single lead. At least Charlie’s actually laid eyes on the thing.”

  “True,” I say quietly. “I hate to admit it, but we’ll just have to catch the creature ourselves and do our best not to get killed.”

  “That would be nice.” Lucille looks up. “I would really prefer to avoid death by homicidal maniac.”

  “So how exactly do you plan to do that, Charlie?” Sam asks.

  “You know that old dry well behind the fairgrounds?”

  “Sure,” Lucille says. “It’s all boarded up. Nobody ever goes there anymore.”

  “What are you driving at, Drinkwater?” Sam asks.

  “We uncover it, disguise it with leaves and branches, lure the creature over to it with some kind of bait, like maybe . . . um . . .”

  “Fish!” Lucille exclaims. “We know he loves fish because he just stole all that salmon from Mr. Dieterly’s store.”

  “I’m loving it,” Sam says. “The creature falls in, the authorities come and arrest him, and you’re not a suspect anymore, Charlie.”

  “And I won’t have to be on the swimming team anymore,” I say happily. “Or get expelled. And Mr. Hollabird will ask my mom to sell her desserts to Beautiful Bites. Happy ending all around!”

  “This whole thing sounds incredibly familiar.” Lucille scratches her head. “Didn’t we see something like this once in a movie?

  “We sure did,” Sam says. “That’s how Jack Driscoll and Carl Denham, fearless explorers, trapped the mighty King Kong. We watched the movie in fifth grade. I had nightmares for a week.”

  “What are we waiting for?” I grab my backpack and head downstairs. Sam and Lucille follow close behind.

  “What’s the plan?” Lucille asks.

  “We’re going to my house to finish our English report. It’s due Friday,” Sam whispers. “Follow my lead.”

  “What do we do when they insist on driving us to your house, Sam?” Lucille asks. “Because they will and you know it.”

  “We let them,” Sam says.

  “No,” I say firmly. “We ask them to drive us before they bring it up. It’s much less likely to raise their suspicions.”

  “Bingo,” Sam says. “And then we go trap us a creature.”

  My parents are in the den playing gin rummy for pennies. They have kept a running total for the last twenty years. So far my dad owes my mom over seven thousand dollars. My mom says she’s willing to compromise. She’ll accept a used Volkswagen convertible instead of the money.

  “We have to go to Sam’s to finish our English report, Mom and Dad. All our notes are on his computer and it’s due Friday. Can you drive us?”

  “We’d be happy to, Charlie.” Mom gathers up the cards and puts the box into the drawer. “I’m glad you asked. With that robber lurking around out there you can’t be too careful.”

  My dad carefully counts up the score. “I owe you another two dollars and fifty cents, Doris.”

  “Put it on my tab, Fred.” She gets up from the table. “Wear your gloves, kids. It’s cold out.”

  I sneak the leftover salmon from tonight’s dinner out of the fridge and into my backpack while my mom and my dad put on their overcoats. Then we all pile into my mom’s beat-up red pickup truck and head for Sam’s.

  “How long do you think you’ll be, kids?” my dad asks as we chug down Lonesome Lane

  “I’d say an hour and a half, Mr. D,” Sam replies. “It’s a pretty complicated project.”

  “What’s it about?” my mom asks.

  “The use of the subjunctive tense in the short stories of Edgar Allan Poe.”

  I don’t know how Sam comes up with this stuff so quickly. For a basically honorable guy, he lies like a rug.

  “That’s very interesting, Sam,” my mom comments. “Can you give me an example?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t, Mrs. D,” Sam replies without batting an eyelash. “Many of Poe’s short stories are no longer in print. That’s why it’s taking us so long to write our report. Finding the original source material is a real back-breaker.”

  If they ever make lying an Olympic sport, Sam’s a gold-medal winner for sure.

  “We’ll be back to pick you up at eight forty-five on the dot, Charlie,” my mom announces as we pull into Sam’s driveway and hop out of the truck. “Please be ready to go then.”

  Sam, Lucille, and I wave good-bye before going into Sam’s house. My mom and dad wait out front until they see the front door close behind us. I love my parents, but sometimes they’re harder to shake than burrs off a woolen mitten.

  “We have to hunt fast. We don’t have much time,” Sam says. “We’ve got to be back here by the time your folks come to get you, Charlie. No matter what.”

  We head straight for the living room, where Mrs. Endervelt sits
in front of the big TV, watching the local news. She looks up briefly. “Hi, kids. What’s up?” Sam’s mom is a no-nonsense, practical type of mom. Wire-framed glasses. Gray hair. Keds.

  Joe Jefferson’s phony deep voice booms out over the speaker. “The mysterious Decatur robber is still on the loose, ladies and gentlemen. If you see anything suspicious, call our crime-stoppers hotline. That’s 555-6600.”

  “We have to go to Lucille’s house to work on our English project, Mom. We forgot we left our notes there.”

  “That’s nice, Sam,” Mrs. Endervelt answers. Not one question. Not a “does Lucille’s mom know you’re coming?” Or a “what time will you be back?” Or a “did you finish your homework?” Nothing.

  If any other kid in middle school dyed his hair purple, painted his fingernails black, and wore a fake nose ring, his mom would probably chain him to his desk and throw away the key. Not Sue Endervelt.

  “Help yourselves to whatever’s in the fridge before you go, kids. Just be sure to leave something for your dad, Sam. He’s coming home late tonight and he’ll be starving.” Mr. Endervelt works at a recycling plant. He looks just like Sam. Only taller. And he doesn’t do Goth.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Endervelt!” I call, and we quickly raid the fridge

  “Let’s get out of here,” Lucille whispers. We dump our creature bait into a plastic bag and head for the door.

  “Don’t work too hard, kids,” Mrs. Endervelt calls.

  “Don’t worry, we won’t!” I shout.

  We beeline across the front lawn and head for the corner of Lonesome Lane and Cedar Street, the site of my previous encounter. The street is deserted. The fog is as thick as cotton. A damp penetrating chill rises up from the sidewalk. I can barely see two feet in front of me.

  “Tonight reminds of that scene in The Wolf Man,” Sam says quietly. “Where Larry Talbot rescues his friend and gets bitten by the Wolf Man and turns into a wolf. Good thing it’s not a full moon. Or is it?” Sam looks up at the sky. “It’s pretty hard to tell with all that fog and mist.”

  “Must you say every single terrifying thought that enters your brain, Sam Endervelt?” Lucille sighs.

  “Quiet. I smell creature.” I twist my long thick neck around and breathe in the frosty air. “It’s not far away. It must have smelled the bait and come out to feed.”

  “What do we do now?” Sam asks nervously.

  “We keep it interested.” I take a hunk of salmon from my book bag and start shredding it into bite-sized pieces with my claws.

  “Whatever you’re doing smells like you’ve got an entire school of dead fish in there.” Lucille looks like she is about to throw up.

  “That’s the point, Lucille. Now you guys run ahead and cover up that old well while I lure the creature over to it.” It’s less than a mile to the fairgrounds. Even taking into account Sam’s legendary slowness, they should be there in less than fifteen minutes. I take another deep breath. “Hurry. He’s getting closer.”

  “Take your time, pal,” Sam warns. “We don’t want you and Mr. Creature arriving before we’re ready for our guest.”

  “Get going,” I urge. “Before it’s too late!”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay by yourself, Charlie?” Lucille hesitates.

  “Sure I’m sure.” I try to sound confident. I’m not. “Get out of here. I’m not kidding.”

  Sam and Lucille hurry off at last to prepare the trap, and I am left alone in the murky darkness. Except for the rustling of the wind through the big old pines that line the street, all is quiet. I scatter bits of salmon behind me as I walk.

  Suddenly a twig snaps. And then another one.

  My earflaps perk up. I detect distant footsteps. It sounds like they’re heading toward me. I walk faster. So does whatever is following me. The smell of mutant dinosaur is so strong it makes my nostrils tingle.

  A chill runs down my long, spiky neck. I am wrestling with two of my biggest fears at once: fear of the dark, and fear of monsters. The fact that this monster looks exactly like me doesn’t seem to make me any less afraid. If anything, it’s scarier. Because it’s stranger.

  The more bait I drop, the closer the footsteps get, until finally the creature is so close I can hear it snarling and grunting as it tears into the salmon with its massive fangs.

  And then all of a sudden the sound stops and everything is quiet. I don’t know whether to keep walking and risk losing the creature, or to stop and risk getting attacked.

  I am shaking like a leaf. And it’s not because of the icy chill in the air. Nope. It’s just plain old abject fear that is turning my legs into a mass of quivering Jell-O.

  I wonder if Sam and Lucille have got the trap prepared yet. I wonder if the creature has lost interest and sought refuge in the neighboring woods. Or is it lying low and planning to take me by surprise? I decide to move on and see if that rouses the creature.

  Which is when a voice in the dark calls to me, stopping me in my tracks. “Please don’t leave. I need talk to you. Please.” It is a gentle, human voice.

  The clouds break and a silvery shaft of moonlight illuminates the scaly green mutant dinosaur standing across the road, staring right at me. It makes its way slowly toward me.

  “I won’t hurt you, Charlie. I’m so glad I found you. I’m your cousin, Stanley. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  10

  STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT

  “WHERE HAVE YOU been, pal?” Sam asks when I finally arrive at the fairgrounds alone. “We thought you were dead. Do you have any idea how hard it was to cover up this abandoned well?” He points to the tangle of leaves and branches he and Lucille have cleverly arranged.

  “Where’s the creature?” Lucille looks around. “I thought it was following you.”

  “Not anymore,” I reply.

  “What do you mean?” Sam pulls on his nose ring so hard I am afraid he may pull off his nose. “You were supposed to lure him into the trap, pal.”

  “That was before.”

  “Before what?” Lucille asks. “C’mon. Tell.”

  “I can’t. We have to take the Mainframe pledge first. That’s how ultrasecret and important this is.” My friends and I raise our right hands (in my case my right claw) and recite in unison:

  “Our lips are sealed.

  Our eyes are shut.

  We promise not to reveal

  The secret which goes to our graves with us.

  This truth we forever conceal.”

  Then we jump in the air, turn around three times, clap our hands, and shout, “Eternity sucks!” I get so dizzy I stumble over my tail and nearly fall on Sam.

  “So tell us the secret already,” Sam says breathlessly. “I’m exhausted from taking the pledge.”

  “Well, first of all, he’s incredibly nice. He’s more than nice. He’s amazing. He’s brave and thoughtful and . . .”

  “Slow down.” Lucille waves her long skinny arms around. “Let me get this straight. HE’S NICE??? I thought he was terrifying and dangerous.”

  “Not when you get to know him,” I reply. “He even wants to teach me how to swim. Can you believe it? Not that I’m exactly dying to learn how or anything. But it was nice of him to offer.”

  “How did swimming even come up as a topic of discussion?” Sam asks.

  “We were telling each other stuff about our lives,” I explain. “And I mentioned how much I hate being on the swimming team. Being a non-swimmer and all. And guess what he told me? He’s my cousin! Can you believe it?”

  “That is beyond amazing, Charlie!” Lucille gasps.

  “I know. He’s Aunt Harriet and Uncle Marvin’s kid. He said he turned into a creature just like me when he was twelve years old. He left Decatur nine years ago to go live under Crater Lake with the rest of our long-lost relatives. Evidently everyone was so sad he was gone they c
ouldn’t bear to talk about him. That’s how come I’d never heard about him before.” Sam and Lucille are glued to my every word. “His name is Stanley. And now he’s back in Decatur because he’s on this unbelievably dangerous mission.”

  “What kind of a mission?” Sam asks eagerly.

  “Hold on, guys!” Lucille points to her watch. “It’s almost eight. We’ve got to get back to Sam’s before your parents show up, Charlie. Let’s go.”

  Lucille, Sam, and I start running as fast as we can to the Endervelts’ house. All I can think about is how brave my cousin was when he talked to me about leaving home. “My parents begged me to stay,” he explained after I followed him into the thicket of trees just off the road. “But I knew it was for the best. And in the end they agreed with me: a creature should live with others of its kind.”

  “Sure thing,” I agreed. I didn’t want to tell Stanley that, except for Craig Dieterly and Amy Armstrong and a few other assorted creeps, I felt perfectly content living among humans. I didn’t want him having second thoughts or anything. And he seemed to be so happy living in his creature-filled world. It actually did seem pretty cool.

  “It’s so great living under the lake,” he said. “I have millions of friends who look just like me. And we go on all these amazing adventures in these hidden underwater prehistoric caverns together.”

  I can’t even imagine how it must feel not to be the only green scaly giant around. Not that I would ever want to leave my two-legged family and friends. But still . . . it does make you wonder.

  “Come on,” Sam complains, shaking me out of my reverie. “I took the pledge and I want to know everything.” He slows down to catch his breath. Lucille gives him a gentle nudge and he picks up the pace. “What’s the creature’s mission?” he pants.

  “Here’s the deal,” I begin. “Stanley has been sent here to save his people from extinction from a deadly virus. The antidote is hidden somewhere in Decatur. He must find it and return home, or else . . .”

  “Or else what, Charlie?” Lucille asks.

  “All the mutant dinosaurs under Crater Lake will die a terrible death.”