The cat hesitated again. The voice sounded human … but the scent was all wrong. The cat started to back away, his ears flat against his head.
“The cat will mew, and dog will have his day,” the voice called out. “In other words, you’re next, you illiterate feline!”
The cat hissed and shrieked as a large shape jumped out of the shadows.
Then the alleyway was silent.
Marvin didn’t sleep very well his first night in the attic. When he woke in the morning, he half remembered a strange dream in which a giant moth was sitting on his bed, chewing on his bedspread. It then picked up a book from one of the old, dusty boxes in the attic before it walked into the shadows, whistling. Marvin wondered if the shower-kraut had seeped through his scalp and into his brain. Although, when he examined his bedspread, it did seem to be worn thin in a few places. He couldn’t remember if it had been like that before he moved up to the attic or not. And that bothered him.
In addition to strange dreams and not having a good night’s sleep, Marvin was worried that people might see his underwear again. So he picked out a nice pair, just in case. The pressures of middle school were many and varied.
Marvin made it through first period—health class—without major incident, although the discussions of human anatomy led to inevitable catcalls asking Marvin to model in his underwear. His second-period algebra class passed without embarrassment, but Marvin could feel himself falling further behind as he failed to grasp the difficult concepts.
He walked into his third-period science class and scanned the room. Most of the students who had already arrived were crowded into the back rows of desks. Marvin soon saw why: Lee Skluzacek was sitting near the front of the room.
By sheer reflex, and perhaps some olfactory instinct of self-preservation buried deep within his genes, Marvin began to walk toward the back of the room. But then he paused, thinking about how Lee had, thus far, been almost the only person in the whole school to treat him like a human being rather than as an object of ridicule. He turned and, against his nose’s better judgment, walked around and sat in the front row, just ahead of Lee.
“Hey, Marvin,” Lee said. It was a chilly day, and Lee’s odor had been tamped down by the layers of shirts and sweatshirts he was wearing. “Want a mint?” he said, holding out a plastic box. “I love these things.”
Marvin took one and crunched into it. “Your breath is surprisingly minty fresh,” he told Lee. “Thanks.” He wondered, for the first time, what it was, exactly, that caused Lee’s odor. He had always presumed it had something to do with poor hygiene, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Now he could see that Lee’s hands and fingernails were immaculate. His hair was neatly trimmed into a short brush atop his head. And his clothes were cleaner than Marvin’s, quite frankly. Marvin supposed it was just one of those eternal mysteries that would never be solved.
Just then, as he swallowed the last bit of mint, he heard something. Or rather, a lot of somethings. From out in the hallway, a strange collection of noises approached. Mechanical clankings, creakings, and beepings.
“What’s that noise?” asked Lee.
“It sounds like a robot,” Marvin offered. “An evil robot.” Although that seemed unlikely, the past day or two had taught him to expect the worst. He could just picture some evil robot escaped from a mad scientist’s lair, rampaging and destroying and administering wedgies to unwary sixth graders. Marvin nervously fiddled with the elastic waistband of his underwear.
Just then, in answer to his nightmares, a tall figure appeared in the doorway, covered in metal and sinister red lights. Marvin gasped, and Lee buried his face in his book, whimpering. As the class bell rang, a terrifying chorus of beeps and buzzes erupted from the robot’s body. Was it angered? Was it going to attack? Gradually, the buzzing and chirping subsided, and, as the figure emerged from the doorway, Marvin could see that it was just a girl. Granted, a girl with a lot of gear.
“This better be science class,” she said. “I’m always very punctual.”
The girl sat down next to Lee and Marvin with a rattle and a clank. She seemed to be wrapped in metal and electronics from head to toe. Her left leg was strapped into a large knee brace. Half a dozen gadgets, from fitness trackers to graphing calculators to mobile phones, hung from her waist. And on her head, in addition to thick-lensed glasses, was an enormous contraption of steel and wires the likes of which Marvin had never seen before.
Behind Marvin, Lee peered up from his textbook. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m Fatima,” the girl said. “Fatima Curie.”
“Are you from the future?” Lee asked in an awestruck voice.
“What?” the girl said. “No, I transferred here from Swineheart Academy.”
“I think what he means is, what’s with … ?” Marvin gestured vaguely at her face.
“I’ll have you know that this is special orthodontic headgear,” Fatima said. “It’s going to straighten my teeth so I’ll be superbeautiful and supersmart, so I’ll never have to talk to Neanderthals like you again!” She glared first at Marvin and then at Lee.
“Please don’t kill me, robot,” Lee whispered.
“You should learn to accept people’s differences, you smelly pig,” she said. Lee sank lower in his chair.
“And you,” she said, whirling at Marvin. “You should be the last person to make fun of someone for their appearance. At least I’m not parading around in my undergarments.”
“You heard about that?” Marvin said. “That’s never going away, is it?”
At that exact moment, Stevie Upton walked into the room and said, “Hey, Tarzan! Looks like you found yourself a Jane!” He sniffed the air with displeasure. “And it smells like you found a monkey to be your sidekick, too.”
“Oh, Stevie,” said Fatima. “Coming to infect the public-school system with your low-grade brain function and kindergarten humor?”
“You know it, brace-face,” Stevie said with a wink. “So glad you followed me here from Swineheart. Your scowl always brightens my day.” He took a seat across the room, as far away from Lee as possible.
“I can’t believe we’re related,” said Marvin.
“You and Stevie Upton?” said Fatima. “I’m not surprised. I can see the family resemblance. You’re both inconsiderate morons.”
“So, the two of you went to Swineheart together?” Marvin said.
“Yes, and I’d still be in private school if this Podunk company town had a private middle school,” she said.
Across the room, Stevie perked up. “Podunk company town? Hey, now—don’t talk that way about our town or the company. PLI is the lifeblood of our fair city. Why, both my father and Tarzan’s work for PLI.”
“I would never trust anyone who works for Pork Loaf,” Fatima said. “They’re up to no good in those labs.”
“What do you mean?” Marvin asked, indignant. “They’ve added eighty-seven essential nutrients to their mix since my dad started working there.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” said Fatima, her voice dropping low. “Who knows if the human body can even take that much nutrition?”
The science teacher, Miss Sweeney, hurried into the room. “Sorry I’m late, class, but the supply company sent us live frogs instead of dead ones for dissection, and some of them got away before I could pack them up for return.” Outside, a janitor ran down the hall after a furiously leaping frog.
“Let’s start off by talking about the scientific method,” Miss Sweeney said. She picked up a piece of chalk and began to write the steps of the scientific method on the chalkboard. Marvin opened his notebook to copy down the information, but Fatima kept talking to him under her breath.
“Step one,” said Miss Sweeney. “Define the question.”
“Have you noticed that all the stray cats in this town seem to be vanishing?” asked Fatima.
“What?” said Marvin.
“Step two,” said Miss Sweeney. “Gather information and
resources.”
“It’s all right here in the National Examiner,” Fatima said, pulling a tablet from her bag. She woke up the device and scrolled past stories with headlines like “Ratboy: Dating Tips from Half-Rat, Half-Man Hunk,” “Aliens Put Whoopee Cushions on All the Seats of Canadian Parliament: Chamber Sounds in Accord for First Time in Years,” and “Seattle Man Fulfills Prophecy by Growing Second Head out of Elbow.” She clicked through to a story whose headline read, “Cat-Tastrophe! Dozens of Cats Disappear in Sleepy Small Town.”
“So what?” said Marvin.
“Step three,” said Miss Sweeney. “Form hypothesis.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Fatima hissed. “Pork Loaf’s been getting so much flak from animal rights activists that they’ve gone underground. They’re stealing those cats, putting them in cages, and secretly testing cosmetics on them.”
“Step four,” said Miss Sweeney. “Perform experiment and collect data.”
“Is that why that cage is on your face?” Marvin asked Fatima. “Were you one of their experiments gone wrong?”
“I’m astonished at your rudeness,” said Fatima. “And at your lack of concern over this important issue.”
“Step five,” said Miss Sweeney. “Analyze data.”
“But there’s no proof of any kind,” said Marvin.
“Oh yeah? This morning my neighbor Mrs. Fishman told me that there used to be twenty cats living in the alleyway behind her house, and today there were only two,” said Fatima. “That’s a ninety percent drop in alley cat population.”
“Step six,” said Miss Sweeney. “Interpret data and draw conclusions that serve as a starting point for new hypotheses.”
“You’re crazy,” said Marvin.
“And finally, step seven,” said Miss Sweeney. “Publish results.”
Marvin turned back to his notes, scurrying to copy down everything Miss Sweeney had gone over. He had fallen behind listening to Fatima’s nonsense. At the bottom of the page, he scribbled one last important reminder: Fatima is a nutjob. When he finally looked up, he saw that everyone else in the class was gathering into small clusters. On the chalkboard was written: Choose your groups.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re choosing lab partners,” said Fatima.
Marvin looked around the room. Everybody else had formed tight groups of three or four people. He looked at Lee, who had not joined a group yet. Then he looked at Fatima, who was in the same boat. They were the only three unattached people.
“Put ’er there, partner,” said Lee, holding his hand out to Marvin. “I mean, partners,” he added, putting his other hand out toward Fatima. Neither Marvin nor Fatima made any move to shake Lee’s hand.
“Great,” said Marvin, wearily rubbing his forehead.
“That’s just what I thought!” said Lee. “I’m sure we’re going to get along just great.”
“Sure,” said Fatima. She looked over at the notebook page where Marvin had written Fatima is a nutjob and said coldly to Lee, “He can take notes.”
The farmer had pulled up the ramp to the chicken coop for the night, so that no foxes could climb in and eat his prize poultry. Little did he know that by this time no foxes remained within the city limits—and that the real danger came not from below, but from above.
A dark shape moved with unnatural grace across the ceiling of the henhouse. Below it, two dozen chickens slept peaceful chicken-sleep on their roosts, dreaming of cracked corn.
“Stalk on, stalk on,” said the shape. “The fowl sits.”
One of the chickens opened an eye and peered around the darkened coop. There was nothing there. It was only her imagination.
Just before she settled back down to sleep, she felt a sharp sensation in her wing and let out a panicked squawk, sending loose feathers flying.
“For a fish without a fin, there’s a fowl without a feather: If a crow help us in, sirrah, we’ll pluck a crow together.”
In response, the chicken let out a confused ba-gawk?
“Oh, never mind,” said the predator, snatching its victim away.
Marvin sat in his attic room, trying desperately to understand the foreign language that was algebra. He had stared at the squiggles on the page of his textbook for so long that they were beginning to dance and swim before his eyes. To add to his frustration, Baby Harry was practicing yodeling downstairs. Marvin was astounded by his brother’s ability to discover and execute increasingly irritating forms of expression. He admired the effort, but the noise was making it impossible for him to concentrate. At last, he could stand it no more.
Marvin looked for something to plug his ears. He tried cotton balls, but they helped only a little. He thought maybe mashed potatoes would do the trick, but there had been no leftovers from dinner. He was afraid his sculpting clay would harden permanently if he stuck it in his ears.
Not a room in the house was safe from the wailing of Baby Harry. As Marvin desperately searched the attic for some solution, his eye fell upon the hole in the wall—the one that led into the neighboring attics. He wondered if it was quiet enough next door to study.
Marvin grabbed his flashlight and his algebra book. He clicked on the flashlight and examined the hole. At some point, someone had snapped off the frail wooden slats to make a sizable opening—one that was large enough for him to crawl through. Marvin took a breath, and in he went.
On the other side, things looked much the same. The neighbors’ attic was the same size and shape as Marvin’s, and just as full of clutter.
As he prepared to find a spot to settle down and study in, Marvin noticed a flickering blue glow coming from the far side of the attic. He made his way through the boxes and old suitcases, past dusty dolls and deflated footballs, toward the source of the light. In the far wall, there was another hole, and through it, he could see light and hear noises. It sounded like a television. Had some other poor kid been moved up to the attic? Was his baby brother equally loud? Marvin’s heart swelled with thoughts of camaraderie—perhaps they could form a brotherhood. A fraternity of the attic children. With that thought in mind, Marvin plunged through the hole to meet his new friend.
Marvin was surprised to find not one, but three attic dwellers beyond the wall. He was even more surprised to find that they were not children. The flickering blue light of the television danced off their long antennae and large, multifaceted eyes. Their bloated, furry bodies and long wings were stuffed awkwardly into lumpy armchairs. And their many limbs waved wildly in response to the action on the television. They were giant moths, and Marvin saw that they were watching baseball.
A tall, skinny moth said, “By my calculations, he is now up to ninety-eight pitches. His coach will surely take him out soon.”
“You’re nuts, Aristotle,” said a short, round moth, who was only a little bit taller than Marvin. “He’s got perfect control over that fastball. Oh, and those graphics at the bottom of the screen TELL US how many pitches he’s thrown, you uptight stick-bug.”
Marvin reflected that, not only were these giant moths watching baseball, but they could talk—and they had an excellent grasp of the fundamentals.
The largest of the three, over seven feet tall and nearly as wide, finally turned its attention to Marvin. It looked him up and down with its inhuman compound eyes and asked him, “Did you bring anything to eat?”
“I—I don’t know,” said Marvin. He held up his algebra textbook. “All I brought was this book. Can you eat that?”
“If we could eat books, we would be stuffed by now,” said the skinny moth, who was apparently named Aristotle. He waved a leg at a pile of dusty books behind him. Marvin thought he saw some of his dad’s old encyclopedias among them.
“You know,” said the short, round moth, “when you go over to someone’s house to watch a game, you’re supposed to bring snacks.”
“Abraham’s got a point,” said the largest moth. “And that sweater looks tasty.” He made a smacking sound with his mandibl
es. Marvin was worried about losing the sweater—his mom had given it to him for Christmas—but he was more worried about keeping three giant, hungry insects happy. He quickly removed the sweater and handed it to the moths, who tore it into three pieces and began munching.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sounds of slurping and chewing and baseball. Finally, the short, round moth glanced over at Marvin and said, “Not much of a conversationalist, are you?”
“Are you planning to eat me next?” Marvin asked nervously.
“If we could eat you, we would have already gobbled you up in your sleep,” said Aristotle.
“Oh,” said Marvin. “That’s reassuring.”
“Don’t think Ahab here didn’t try,” said the short one, Abraham, pointing to the largest moth.
“He’s just kidding,” said Ahab.
“Yeah—hah,” said Marvin. “That’s a good one.” He studied the giant moths for a moment. “So, where did you guys come from?”
“What do you mean?” said Abraham. “We live here. You’re the one who came over.”
“What I mean is, why are you so big?” asked Marvin.
“I don’t know,” said Abraham. “Why are you so small?”
“What?” Marvin said in disbelief. “No. You’re a giant moth.”
“And you’re a giant pain in my butt!” said Abraham.
“But moths aren’t supposed to talk,” insisted Marvin, bewildered.
“Is this one of those only-speak-when-you’re-spoken-to things?” Abraham said angrily. “Don’t oppress me, man!”
“Sorry,” Marvin apologized. He dropped his eyes and noticed his chemistry set was sitting on the coffee table in front of the moths. All four test tubes were empty. “Hey! My science experiment!”
“It was yummy,” said the giant, Ahab. “You got any more?”
“You drank my experiment?” Marvin asked.
“Yeah, we each had a test tube of it,” said Abraham.
“What about the fourth one?”
Marvin and the Moths Page 3