Trouble with a Tiny t

by Merriam Sarcia Saunders

  “They’re not dipwads. They’re my friends.”

  “Your friends? The same ones who threw popcorn at us on the bus? Those animals are not your friends.”

  “Josh didn’t do that. He never does anything bad.”

  “Oh yeah?” Lenora looks over my shoulder at the guys. “Does he ever stick up for you?”

  I don’t answer her. I just shake my knee and turn my head, so I can see the guys out of the corner of my eye.

  “Because a true friend would stick up for you.” She pops a grape into her mouth. “Just sayin’.”

  “Whatever.” I unwrap my sandwich. “You don’t understand.”

  “Obviously. Why do you want to be friends with them?”

  I push my sandwich away. I’m not hungry. “Why do you want to be friends with the Barbie Dolls?”

  “I don’t want to be friends with them. I want to be friends with you.”

  “Why?” I watch Josh and Snake as they laugh at something Frankie said.

  Lenora gets up and tosses her lunch wrappers in the trash. “Stop your pity party. Geez. You’re a good guy. And if they can’t see that on their own, no amount of magic will change it.”

  THURSDAY—STILL AT THE MUSEUM

  After lunch is the part of the tour that everyone’s been looking forward to—the “scary” hieroglyphics tunnel. The students who went to the museum last year couldn’t stop talking about it. It’s dimly lit and supposed to make you think you’re in an ancient pyramid or something.

  I try to get excited, but mostly I’m thinking about what Lenora said. Maybe she’s right. But I can’t help thinking that if the guys knew I wasn’t lying, everything would be okay again. Like it used to be.

  We all head into the tunnel, and honestly, it’s not as spooky as everyone wants to pretend. The colors change from green to red to yellow, and the light is a little low, but you can still totally see everything. Some of the kids start shrieking in fake squeals like they’re afraid when we all know they totally aren’t. Lenora sticks pretty close to me and rolls her eyes every time someone shrieks.

  I’m toward the middle of the tunnel when someone yanks my backpack off my left shoulder. I whip around and see Frankie toss it back to Alex.

  “Give it back!” I yell.

  Alex unzips it and pulls out the wooden box. “Snake, catch!”

  He tosses it to Snake, who opens the box and lifts out the pouch. “Oooh, the magic is overpowering me!”

  I push back against the crowd moving through the tunnel. “Snake, don’t. Give it back.”

  Snake drops the box and holds the pouch up, waving it at me like I’m a dog and it’s a chew toy. “You want it?” he teases.

  I shove a bunch of kids out of the way, and someone yells, “Get off my feet!” and pushes back. When I get within reach of Snake, he tosses the pouch high over my head to Alex.

  “Here, boy. Come and get it,” Alex taunts. I jostle toward him, but he throws the pouch to Frankie. Instead, it hits Nicole on the back of the head.

  “Ow. What was that?” she cries.

  I can’t see where the pouch landed, but it must be on the ground by Nicole. Frankie’s much closer to her than me, so I dive for it. So does Frankie. We crash into Nicole and all fall to the ground. I land on top of Nicole, who’s on top of Frankie. It’s a Nicole sandwich.

  “Get off me!” she shouts. “Mr. Widelot!”

  I spy the pouch on the ground next to Nicole’s shoulder. I grab it and roll off her, crawling on hands and knees through the crowd until I can stand up. I look around. I’m right by the exit. No sign of Widelot, thankfully, because I’m sure any second Nicole will rat me out for tackling her.

  I scoot through the tunnel’s exit and slump down against the wall of the gallery, facing the creepy mummy from this morning. Kids pour out of the tunnel and wander around the gallery. No one seems to notice me sitting on the ground. At least no teachers have screamed at me yet to get up. I have no clue where my backpack or the wooden box are, but at least I have the magic pouch. I should use it to make that disgusting mummy and scare the pants off Snake.

  No! No, I shouldn’t!

  What am I thinking?

  I’m not thinking.

  I have the pouch.

  In my hand.

  Oh no.

  The pouch starts to bulge and wiggle. Please be a three-headed tree frog.

  I drop the pouch—fast. And it’s a good thing I do because it’s not a frog. It’s a fleshy, rotting mummy poking out of the opening.

  I stare in disbelief as the miniature mummy hobbles away, its leg bones barely covered in some pinkish, brownish stuff that probably used to be flesh.

  I should pick it up. I know I should. But it’s so… gross.

  The mummy heads directly into the group of kids still wandering through the tunnel. Their now perfectly real screams defy all laws of physics. They run out of the tunnel, ranting to the disbelief of the teachers.

  “Did you see that? Disgusting!”

  “What was that?”

  “Ewwwwww!”

  “There was a tiny mummy in the tunnel!”

  I pinch the magic pouch by its drawstring and zip back through the tunnel exit. It’s nearly empty now and much easier to see. I spot the mummy immediately, pitching from side to side and bumping into the walls.

  I race in and slide down on the ground, holding the pouch open a foot from the wobbling, fleshy mess. “Here, mummy, mummy.” Please, please, please go in.

  But instead, it lobs to the right, hugging the wall, and heads for the entrance. Which Mr. Widelot is about to walk through.

  Oh great.

  I leap to my feet, stepping toward my teacher. Thankfully the light is dimmer against the wall where the mummy is currently stumbling. Hopefully Mr. Widelot won’t notice.

  “Oh, hey, Mr. Widelot. Um, what’s up?” I stand as tall as possible, trying to keep his eyes away from the ground.

  Mr. Widelot crosses his arms. “Mr. Hopper. Was that you scaring everyone?”

  “Um…” I reflexively side-eye the mummy to our right.

  Mr. Widelot takes several steps forward and stops, looking down his nose at me. The staggering mummy is behind him now, but Mr. Widelot has managed to step on some of the unraveled bandages. As the mummy continues to zombie-walk toward the entrance, it loses more and more coverage. I can barely stand to look at its rotting behind.

  “What are you holding?” Mr. Widelot points to the pouch I’m holding by its drawstrings. “Does that belong to the museum?”

  “No. It’s nothing.”

  “Let me see, please.” He leans in closer and swipes it from my clutch.

  Oh, great. Knowing him, he’ll confiscate it and use it to store caramels or something.

  “It’s my… lunch bag. I got it from my gram.” Not a total lie.

  Mr. Widelot holds it up to get a better look in the dim light. “Hmm.”

  “Can I have it back? Please?” I have one eye on my teacher, one eye on my pouch, and one eye on the stumbling mummy, which is one too many eyes, I know, but anyway.

  “What were you doing in here alone?” Mr. Widelot thrusts the pouch back at me, and I let out a huge breath.

  “Someone took my backpack. I came in to look for it.”

  The mummy is right behind Mr. Widelot now, loping this way and that. I watch, trying not to be obvious about it.

  Mr. Widelot narrows his gaze. “You didn’t cause the screaming?”

  “Ah…”

  The mummy starts ambling back toward us. In about three seconds, a nearly naked, rotting, six-inch Egyptian corpse is going to bump straight into the back of Mr. Widelot’s legs.

  “I’m waiting.” He stands, hands on hips, legs apart.

  Since he already hates me and thinks I’m weird, I do the only thing I can thi
nk of. I dive-crawl through his legs, pouch outstretched, aimed at the mummy.

  “What on earth?” Mr. Widelot exclaims as I push against his parted knees.

  I wrinkle my nostrils and hold the pouch open in the path of the mummy, right behind Mr. Widelot’s legs. With me tangled up in his legs he can’t turn around. I just pray my body is blocking his view.

  “What are you doing? Get up this minute.”

  The nasty mummy practically falls on the pouch’s opening. I try to scoop him in without touching any of his putrefied carcass. Blech.

  Mr. Widelot finally gets untangled and tugs at my shirt collar, hoisting me up. “Have you lost your mind?”

  As he does, I press the pouch to my chest. And—sigh of relief—it’s empty. Marvelously, spectacularly empty. The naked mummy, minus his unraveled wrappings, has gone back to the Other Realm it came from.

  “I thought I saw my backpack,” I say.

  Mr. Widelot shakes his head. “Honestly, Westin, I just don’t understand you. Find your stuff. We’re leaving now. Back on the bus in the same seats.” He turns and walks out the exit.

  I let out a breath. That was way, way too close. Skimming the floor for my backpack, I spot it and the wooden box tucked in a corner. I slip the magic pouch back inside the box and put the box in my backpack before I manage to conjure anything else creepy and disgusting. I’m sure the museum folks are going to be scratching their heads over the tiny mummy wrappings they find on the tunnel floor.

  Just in time, I head to the bus, so so thankful I’m not bringing a dead pharaoh home with me. A growing T. rex is one thing. But a zombie? At that point, I’d just shut my bedroom door and walk away.

  THURSDAY—ON THE BUS

  I get on the bus and throw myself down on the seat next to Lenora. My face is on fire, and I’m breathing hard. The bus is buzzing with chatter about whatever the creepy thing was, wrapped in rotting bandages and limping through the end of the tunnel.

  “You look like your head’s going to pop off,” Lenora says. “What the heck happened back there?”

  “A tiny mummy happened.”

  She flinches away from me, eyes wide. “You didn’t. That’s what everyone is talking about? From the pouch? Is it in your pack?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Gross! You brought the mummy on the bus?” she screeches.

  “No, shh!” I clasp my hand over her mouth and look around. “The magic pouch is in my pack. I got it back from the guys. But then I sort of accidentally conjured the mummy dude. And accidentally let it out of the pouch. And accidentally scared everyone. I got it to go back in right before it accidentally bumped into Widelot. It’s gone now.”

  Lenora’s mouth drops.

  “I’ve had a very eventful museum visit.”

  “I’ll say.” She crosses her arms. “You shouldn’t have brought the pouch. You’ve already broken the one and only code you made for yourself, and it’s been like two seconds.”

  I let out a puff of air. “I decided to bring it before I made the code. Anyway, I just wanted to show my friends. Here’s what I don’t get, though. Why would I be able to make the mummy but not make the three headed-tree frog?”

  “What three-headed tree frog?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I wave my hand. “Why some things and not others?”

  Lenora shrugs, and I think about the card that came with the pouch. I’ve practically memorized it by now. Customized enchantmen, conjured by the eye… and just then, I have one of those genius thoughts that rarely strike.

  “Wait a minute. Wait, wait, wait.” I sit up. “So far, everything that’s come out of that pouch has been something I’ve seen.”

  “So?” Lenora says.

  “So I can’t conjure it if I haven’t seen it.”

  “I don’t get what you mean.”

  “It’s like it says on that card—enchantment, conjured by the eye. The turtle painting, my rubber T. rex, my army men… they were all things I saw. Not things I imagined. When I hold the pouch and imagine the T. rex going back, that’s not something I could ever see with my eyes. So I can’t conjure it.” I bounce in my seat because I know I’m right.

  “Hold on.” Lenora puts up a palm. “What about Thor? And that owl? Those came out of your brain, dude.”

  “Nope! They came from movies I saw. I was thinking about those movies when it happened.”

  “Okay, say your theory is right.” Lenora shrugs. “That’s not exactly good news. If you can only conjure what you see, how are you ever going to get rid of your prehistoric houseguest?”

  “That is the ten-million-dollar question,” I say.

  Lenora and I sit in silence for a while, thinking. The bus motor whirs underneath me and makes my skin vibrate. Finally, Lenora speaks. “Maybe you could try wrangling the pouch onto Tiny T’s head. Maybe you could force him in.”

  I motion to my skinny arms. “With these muscles? Even if I pumped weights in the smelly school gym, it’s hopeless. I’d never stand a chance against a T. rex,” I say. “Those teeth? His claws? He already nailed me once, and I’m probably going to die from dinosaur-itis.” I brush my hand over the brownish scab on my leg. “We’re doomed.”

  She pushes me in the side. “You’ll figure it out. I believe in you.”

  “That makes one of us.”

  “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. You found a magic pouch in your grandma’s basement. So that means…” Lenora splays her hands like I’m supposed to fill in the blank.

  …that means I was poking around where Pops doesn’t allow?” I ask.

  “No, it means you’re curious. That’s a very positive quality.”

  I shrug. “If you say so.”

  “Think about it. You could have made something simple and boring—like a wad of cash or a new computer. But you made a T. rex!”

  I laugh. “Yeah, because Brain was on vacation.”

  “Your brain’s adventurous!” she insists. “You made an army to trap the dinosaur. And you figured out how to get him into your closet. And you thought to go to your grandma’s to find answers. And you figured out how to open the wooden box. And—”

  “Okay, okay.” I shake my head.

  “Creative thinker!” She laughs.

  “Flaky thinker,” I correct.

  “High energy, that’s all.” She elbows me. “Which means you are never boring! And you offered to make something for me. So you’re a good friend.”

  I sigh. “Thanks for the pep talk. But none of those things will get Tiny T out of my room.”

  Lenora sinks down and swings her feet up to rest on the seat in front of her. “Maybe we can trap him, like in a cage. Dad has one he uses to get raccoons that steal the eggs. Then we can let him go somewhere far away.”

  “He’s growing. If he’d stay small forever, I could do that. In fact, I would totally keep him. But who knows how big he’ll get. As tall as a skyscraper. He might eat San Francisco. Then… the world!”

  “Yeah, I guess. Can you imagine?” She bursts out laughing.

  I can’t help it. I do too.

  “Oh, noooo. Help! A giant T. rex is devouring my building! I paid a lot for this condo!” Lenora screeches in a pretend grown-up voice.

  “Six o’clock news reporting live. Crowds cheer as an enormous reptile has bitten off the top of the new Salesforce Tower. Authorities are warning people to stay away from skyscrapers.” I laugh.

  “And try not to look like salami!” Lenora adds, holding her sides. “Thank goodness for Thor, really. Otherwise your whole house would be torn apart, not just your room.”

  I snort. “Thor. ‘Stand aside while I show off my mythical awesomeness!’”

  She laughs. “You jealous of a foot-high guy in fur?”

  “Not jealous.” I snort again.

  Lenora flicks her red hair behind
her shoulder. “I can’t help the effect I have on him. Mom was a model.”

  Poor Lenora. She must miss her mom so much. I wonder if any of the things she says about her are true. I kind of want to ask, but then again, I don’t want her to think I don’t believe her. I know how it feels when your friends think you’re lying.

  “Thor’s helpful, no doubt,” I say. “But he’d be a lot more helpful if he could tell me how to send Tiny T back.”

  “Do you think…” Lenora pauses. “Can the pouch make real people, not just imaginary ones like Thor?”

  I tap my thumbs on my knees. “I don’t know. The mummy I made today was a real person once, but he still came back dead. And gross.”

  “Hmmm.” Lenora nods and chews on her bottom lip.

  “Why?”

  She doesn’t answer. Just stares out the window.

  “If you want me to make some movie star you have a crush on, you can forget about it.”

  That doesn’t make her laugh. She shrugs. “I was just wondering.”

  We ride in silence again. I drum my fingers on the back of the seat in front of me.

  “So… um. West?” she finally says.

  “Yeah?’

  “I was thinking.… Can you stop drumming for a second?” Lenora twists her mouth.

  “I thought you didn’t mind it?”

  “I know but…” Lenora chews on the end of her hoodie tie.

  I stop. “Okay.”

  “I was wondering. And, um, I’m…”

  I pick up a blue bottle cap from the floor and toss it with my right hand and catch it with my left, back and forth.

  …pretty sure…” she continues. “Will you stop with that cap?”

  “Oh, sorry.” I keep the cap in my hand.

  “As I was saying. I was thinking about the magic, and I—”

  I start to flick the edge of the cap with my thumbnail. Flick. Flick. Flick.

  “Seriously,” she says. “Can you just focus for a second?”

  “But you said it didn’t both—”

  “I’m trying to talk!”

  Just then the bus makes a sharp right turn into the school, and Lenora leans into me. I almost fall off the seat into the aisle. She scoots back toward the window as the bus comes to a stop. The driver opens the door with a loud whoosh.