Trouble with a Tiny t

by Merriam Sarcia Saunders

  We step inside, and all is quiet. I toss my backpack onto the desk.

  “Looks like a normal, disgusting fifth-grade boy’s room to me.” Lenora raises an eyebrow as she surveys the mess.

  I look around too. The heap of spilled baseball cards stills sits on my dirty laundry pile. I’ve got filthy socks and a million baseball hats, books, wrappers, and balls on the floor—plus the damage from the T. rex.

  “It’s disgusting because a Tyrannosaurus rex terrorized it,” I say, even though I have to admit, it was pretty disgusting before too.

  “You mean that guy?” She points to the rubber version, lying near the equally lifeless toy army men.

  I take a deep breath. I’m going to have to open the closet door. I don’t want to, but if I’m going to prove Tiny T’s existence, I don’t have a choice. I cross my fingers and hope he’s sleeping. There’s no thumping, so it’s a good bet.

  “Get on the bed and take this.” I hold out the butterfly net. Lenora takes it but just stands there. “Up.” I point.

  Lenora exhales. She smooths the messy covers, and the bed creaks as she crawls on and folds her legs under.

  I place my desk chair next to the closet door. Remembering I need to take a picture, I pull my phone out of my backpack. Battery’s nearly dead. Shoot. I climb onto the chair and inch the sliding door open.

  Nothing happens.

  “Okay. I gotta get going,” Lenora says, sounding bored. “Dad’s waiting.”

  “No, give it a second!” I slide the door open further and peer in. Too dark. Leaning in to snatch hold of the light string, I pull down. As soon as the light flicks on, the T. rex barrels out of the closet. Fifty headless plastic army men scramble after him.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Lenora yells, holding her hands out in front of her. “What is that!?”

  “Told you!” I snap a shot with my phone, just as the battery dies. But I think I got it. “He’s a T. rex. I call him Tiny T. Get it?”

  The T. rex’s nostrils flare, sniffing the salami in my hand, and he butts his thick head against the leg of my chair. I drop some salami on the floor.

  “No way!” Lenora comes to the edge of the bed to get a better look. “This is crazy! Where’d you get it? Are we safe? And what are those creepy things?” She points to the army men.

  “A zombie army. He bit the heads off my plastic ones.” I point to them. “Then the live ones—if you can call them that—came out like that with no heads.”

  The T. rex swooshes his tail and flings a bunch of the men across the room.

  “Came out of where? How can they be alive?”

  “Came from this.” I point to the pouch on my desk. “I found it in Gram’s basement. It belonged to my Uncle Marty. It’s magic.”

  “Magic? That’s impossible.” Her mouth is wide open.

  “Clearly not,” I say, pointing to the T. rex. “I don’t know exactly how it works, but here, it came with this card.” I reach over and grab the Madame Zaqar card from my desk.

  Lenora reads it. “The purchased customized enchantment herein, conjured by the eye, is to be activated by one conjurer and passed down by blood. What does this mean, customized? Who signed this?”

  Just then, Tiny T notices Lenora and claws at the bedcovers, trying to climb up.

  She tosses the card onto the desk and backs up. “Oh, geez. Will he bite me?”

  “He can’t climb up the bed.”

  “You sure?”

  “Pretty sure. His arms are too weak. Anyway, that’s my Uncle Marty’s signature. He must have bought the pouch somewhere. He went to some pretty weird places. I’m not sure how it works, though. It seems to create stuff you think of but only if you’re holding it—like my rubber T. rex and these guys, plus this crocodile who ate a turtle from a painting. Only the crocodile went back in by itself, and I can’t get any of these guys to do that.”

  As I speak, Tiny T races back and forth along the bed, looking for a way up. I suddenly realize he’s a little less tiny. Actually, way less tiny. His puny arms couldn’t reach the covers at all yesterday. Guess keeping him as a pet in a cage is now out of the question.

  “He’s getting bigger,” I say.

  “Bigger?” Lenora flattens herself against the wall. “Maybe you should put him back in the closet now!”

  “Stay on the bed.” I throw a piece of salami to the floor, but Tiny T is more interested in chomping Lenora.

  “Aaaah. Seriously. Look at those fangs!” Lenora curls into the bed’s corner by my pillows. Her knuckles are white around the butterfly net handle.

  The T. rex scampers to the foot of the bed, over to my chair, and back again, trying to get one of us. The army men follow, but he kicks them away.

  “What are the zombie guys doing?” Lenora asks.

  “They’re trying to corral him. It’s their mission, I guess, because that’s what I was thinking when I made them.”

  “Well, they’re not doing a very good job with their mission. Why don’t you try un-thinking them away?” Lenora looks like she wants to melt into the wall.

  I shrug. “Worth a try, I guess.”

  “Before he eats me, please!”

  I chuck another piece of salami onto the floor, and this time Tiny T notices. He gobbles it up with three quick chomps and lifts his nose to the ceiling to let the last bit slide down his gullet. Then he stretches his tiny T. rex arms out for more, thwacking a squad of army men with his leg.

  I grab the pouch off the desk and close my eyes, imagining the T. rex and green guys marching inside. I open them quickly and toss the pouch onto the floor, just as Lenora’s dad beeps his horn from the driveway. When I open my eyes again, the creatures are still there.

  “It didn’t work,” I say.

  “How am I supposed to get down if you can’t get rid of him? Did you read the manual that came with that thing?” She throws my pillow at the T. rex, but he just ducks.

  “There was no manual!” I toss a piece of meat closer to the closet, but the dino snarfs it and darts back to get Lenora. “I’m figuring this out as I go. Yesterday I got him into the closet with the deli meat, but he must be onto me now. Try catching him with the butterfly net.”

  “Me?” she asks. “He’s your dinosaur. You do it.”

  “You have the net!”

  “Here.” She tosses it at me, but it lands on the floor, too far for me to reach.

  “Great.”

  “Let me see that pouch. I’ll get him to go in.” She leans over the edge of the bed to reach for the pouch on the floor.

  “No!” I swipe it off the floor before she can get it—and before the T. rex can get me. “No one else should touch it until we know how it works.”

  “You’re touching it. Make something that can get rid of him. Like a tank or a superhero or something—not a headless army.”

  “I didn’t mean for them to be headless. Of course I’d rather have a superhero.” Like one from the Revengers movie I watched Sunday with Mom. That would be amazing.

  And there it is again. The pouch I’m tightly gripping gets heavy.

  “It’s happening!” The pouch is bulging now, the sides wriggling back and forth. I fling it onto my desk before whatever is inside eats my hand.

  “What if it’s bad?” Lenora moves farther into the corner.

  We wait, but nothing crawls out. Instead, a lightning bolt—an actual, freaking bolt of lightning—flashes out and fries a black hole in my baseball-shaped rug. Darn, I loved that rug.

  Lenora screams.

  From out of the pouch, a six-inch high, inhumanly muscular man crawls out. He’s wearing some kind of fur dress tied with a shiny gold belt and waving a large silver mallet.

  Lenora’s face looks like she just got off a roller coaster—kind of thrilled but also scared and maybe even ready to barf. She backs way up
against the wall and away from the hammer-wielding muscle mini-man.

  Outside, her dad’s horn is sounding longer beeeeeeeeeps.

  The tiny man raises his mallet overhead. Another lightning bolt sizzles a black mark onto my desk next to my backpack. “You requested a hero?”

  “What the heck?” asks Lenora.

  “I am Thor. Son of Odin, most powerful of all the Aesir!” little muscle man’s voice booms. He flexes his biceps then thrusts his hammer high.

  “Thor?” Lenora’s face scrunches.

  I shake my head. Of all the superheroes, this is the one I get?

  Thor advances toward Lenora, hammer held high, and jumps from my desk onto my bed. I keep chucking pieces of deli meat at Tiny T while the army continues its single-minded attack.

  “Hey! Back off.” Lenora holds her hands out. “Don’t hit me with that thing.” Thor is only six inches high, but that hammer could totally hurt. Her dad’s old truck honks again.

  Thor lowers the mallet and bows deeply to Lenora. “Never, my lady. I am forever in the service of one as beautiful as yourself.”

  Lenora’s cheeks turn pink, and she smooths her hair.

  “You gotta be kiddin’ me.” I exhale loudly.

  Thor whips around, raising his mallet at me. “Are you in danger, my lady, from this giant ogre with the funny dress?”

  “Funny dress?” I pull at my shirt. “This is an authentic Red Sox baseball jersey. You’re the one with a fur dress.”

  “This fine hide comes from a two-headed bear I slew with Mjolnir, my mighty hammer.” Thor holds it high. “With this, I conquer all giants.”

  “How about conquering that giant?” Lenora points to Tiny T, who’s busy eating the salami I’ve been pelting. “I’m in danger from that.”

  “My hammer will destroy this wingless dragon with one single blow!” Thor lumbers over my bedspread toward the edge, mallet raised.

  “No, don’t kill him!” I cry. I don’t want him dead. “Do you know how this magic works? I just want him to go back.”

  Thor lowers his hammer. “I practice not the art of magic and invocations.”

  “Can you at least shove him back into the pouch for me, then?”

  “Your dragon must return of its own accord,” Thor says. “Or by the conjurer’s hand.”

  “I already tried imagining him going back in. It didn’t work,” I say. “No way I can shove him in with my hand. I’d like to keep it.”

  “Maybe you have to come up with a spell or something,” Lenora suggests.

  “A spell?” I shrug and take the pouch from the desk. I close my eyes. “Creatures in my room—go back where you came from!”

  I throw the pouch on the floor and wait. The T. rex butts his head against my chair. The soldiers try to tackle him. None of them pay attention to my enchantment.

  “Nope.” Lenora shakes her head.

  “How am I supposed to enchant it back in?” I ask.

  Thor shakes his tiny head. “Alas, I cannot say.”

  “How about forcing it back in the closet for now?” I ask. “Along with the plastic army?”

  “I do not take orders from ogres.” Thor scowls and turns to Lenora. “Is this my lady’s wish?”

  Lenora’s dad has given up on honking and is now ringing the doorbell like he’s sending out Morse code. Lenora nods, and Thor climbs down off the bed. The T. rex lumbers toward Thor, mouth ajar, ready to scoop up a Thor-flavored dinner.

  “Watch out!” I holler.

  But a swift whack of Thor’s hammer across the dinosaur’s face almost makes me see stars. Thor grabs the T. rex by the leg, holding him one-handed over his head, and marches to the closet, lightning bolts flashing all around. The whole time he’s grinning at Lenora. Totally in a show-off kind of way, if you ask me.

  Thor deposits Tiny T into the closet and slides the door, leaving it open an inch. “Inside, men!” he orders. The army men snap to attention and file inside. Once everyone is contained, Thor slides the door shut.

  “Thank god.” I jump off my chair.

  “You’re welcome!” Thor shouts.

  Lenora climbs off the bed. Her dad has added pounding on the front door to his repertoire.

  “Be there in a minute, Dad!” she yells.

  Thor walks to Lenora’s feet and bows again. She kneels down. “You’ll stay and help West with… his dragon?” she asks.

  Thor hoists Lenora’s hand up and kisses the back. “As you command. Until we meet again, my lady.”

  Pretty sure my eyes are doing the most giant eye roll ever in the world.

  Lenora stands, and her face is all blotchy red. “Uh, I gotta go.”

  I walk her to the bedroom door, and she gives a tiny, finger-wiggling wave to Thor, who does one last bow, slides the closet door open a crack, and slips in, closing the door behind him.

  “Gross. You’re flirting with him?”

  Her dad is now yelling her name from outside.

  “Ha. Jealous?” she asks.

  I snort.

  “Are you going to keep them?” she asks.

  “Dunno. The T. rex is kinda violent, and I’m pretty sure he’s growing. So I guess it would be a bad idea to keep him. The little green army would be awesome—if they had heads.”

  “You should totally keep Thor.”

  I shrug. “You can have him. What the heck am I going to do with a tiny guy who thinks I’m an ogre?”

  “I heard that!” Thor shouts from the closet.

  “I’m sure he just has to get to know you. Maybe you could become friends?”

  She’s a riot. “Sure. Hey, everybody, this is my new friend—a small mythical god who lives in my closet. In his spare time, he enjoys needlepoint, long walks on the beach, and hammer-clobbering.…”

  “Okay, okay.” Lenora laughs, then looks serious. “West—you have magic. This is… major.”

  “I gotta figure out how it works, though. I can’t keep Mom out of my room forever, and I go to Dad’s on Sunday.”

  Lenora shrugs. “So what’s your plan?”

  “Tomorrow after school I’m going to see if Gram knows anything—hopefully without letting on that I made a bunch of really dumb, dangerous things using Uncle Marty’s magic. Maybe he told her something about it. Maybe she even has the manual.”

  “Do you think your grandmother will want to talk about him?” she asks. “You said he’s missing, right? My mom died a long time ago, and still no one talks about her. People don’t like talking about stuff that makes them sad.”

  I sigh. “I don’t want to make Gram sad, but I don’t have anyone else to ask.” If Pops knew that I took something of Uncle Marty’s, then made a dinosaur, then a headless army, then Thor with it… man, would I get in trouble. I already get in too much trouble.

  “I’ll go with you. To your gram’s.” She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at the floor. “If you want.”

  “Really? Sure.”

  Lenora’s face brightens. She puts her hand out to shake mine, which is kind of awkward, but also kind of nice. “Put ’er there, ogre. We’ll figure out your magic together.”

  “Okay.” I smile and shake her hand.

  She leaves, and I turn to look at the amazing disaster that is my room. I can still smell the burnt wood from the lightning scorch on my desk.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. My closet door rattles.

  “Fear not, ogre.” Thor’s muffled shout comes from behind the door. “We shall subdue the mighty dragon!”

  I shake my head. Tiny T, a zombie army, Thor, and possibly… a new friend.

  Not bad for a day’s work.

  WEDNESDAY MORNING

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “What was that?” Mom looks up from the pan of sizzling breakfast links.

  “Nothing.” It’s a cold
October morning, so Mom has turned on the heat. I’m sitting on the kitchen floor in front of the heating vent, sketching while she makes breakfast. This morning I drew the T. rex.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “There it is again. Is that coming from your room?” Mom steps back from the stove and looks down the hall.

  “Nah. Pretty sure it’s outside,” I lie. “I’ll go check.”

  When I get up, the heat from the wall vent blows my sketch across the floor to Mom’s feet. She glances down. “Great dinosaur drawing, buddy. We could use that one for the school application.”

  “Or not,” I mumble.

  “Change your shirt, please!” she calls after me. “I’d rather you didn’t wear your Red Sox jersey four days straight.”

  “I love this shirt.” I slide down the hall in my socks.

  “I know, and I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you smell funky, hon,” she replies as I enter my room.

  The thumping is obviously coming from my bedroom closet—like it did all night long. Thankfully Mom’s room is on the other side of the house and up the stairs.

  I put my mouth up to the crack where the sliding closet door meets the wall. “Can you be quiet in there? Mom can hear.”

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  “Thor. Can’t you stop that thumping?” I ask.

  “I’m trying, ogre,” Thor says. “Your monster is restless this morning. Perhaps if we let him stretch his legs?”

  “No way! I don’t want him chewing up my room anymore.”

  “West! Breakfast. On the table!”

  “Ogre, I suggest we allow him—and the rest of us—some air and sustenance. I will put him back in the dungeon after. He is no match for my mighty mallet.”

  “Come on, West! I don’t want to be late for work. Again.”

  “All right. Come on out.” I hop onto my bed.

  Thor slides the door open a foot and comes out, followed by the green army in formation. Tiny T barrels out of the closet, scattering the plastic army underfoot. I swear he’s doubled in size from when he first crawled out of the pouch. His head is now eye level with my desk chair.