Paraworld Zero (12 page)

    “Use this little stick to steer and these buttons to go up and down,” the
doctor instructed.

    “This is awesome,” Simon said, laughing. “It’s just like my video
games.”

    “Well,” the doctor admitted, “I suppose your games do have some value to them
after all.”

    

    

    Throughout the day, Tonya tried to help Simon walk, but to no avail; his legs
just wouldn’t cooperate. Simon stood between two bars and tried to pull himself forward. His
shoulders hurt from holding his weight off the ground, and he became frustrated.

    “Just a few more minutes, and then we’ll start you on some leg exercises,”
said Nurse Salfree. She walked off to help another patient.

    “Hello, everyone!” Thornapple announced as he made his loud entrance into the
room. “Father wanted me to invite you two to dinner tonight.” He looked at Simon dangling his
feet above the ground. “How’s it going?”

    “Things would be going better if we didn’t have any interruptions,” Tonya
said.

    “Oh, come on, Butblacruze. I just want to help,” he responded
tenaciously.

    “Don’t call me that.”

    “Why? What’s wrong with calling you Butblacruze?”

    “Thornapple, if she doesn’t want you to call her that, then don’t,” Simon
said in a protective tone of voice. Regardless of the chivalrous gesture towards his friend, he
still had to force himself not to smile at Thornapple’s brave use of the word.

    “Sorry,” the boy said, hanging his head down. He shuffled his feet a little,
then perked up and said, “You can call me Thorn if you want. All my friends do. What do your
friends call you?”

    “Simon.”

    “Oh,” he said, discouraged. “Is it all right if I call you Simon?”

    “Yeah, sure.”

    The boy smiled so widely that it looked like the top of his head was going to
slip off. He jumped between the bars and lifted himself up so that he was almost level with
Simon.

    “I’m going to be a painter someday,” he said, veering the conversation
towards himself.

    “What do you want to paint?” Simon asked, trying to be friendly; he wasn’t
accustomed to all this attention.

    “Everything!” Thorn swung back and forth on the bars. “I want to paint the
stars and the moon and the trees and the flowers and the—”

    “And the stones and the pebbles and the rocks and the sand and the—we get the
point, Thornapple,” Tonya interrupted. “You wanna know what I want to be someday, Simon?”

    “Not really,” Thorn answered bluntly on Simon’s behalf.

    She gave Thorn a dirty look. “I’m going to be an E.M. Enforcer.”

    “What’s that?” both Simon and Thorn asked at the same time.

    “You’ve never heard of an E.M. Enforcer?”

    “I never heard of E.M.
anything
until I met you, remember?” Simon answered.

    “Well, an E.M. Enforcer is an elite magician—best of the best—who travels the
paraverse and maintains the magical law. I guess you’ve never heard of the king and queen
either?”

    “Nope.”

    “Every paraworld has their own government and leaders, but they all answer to
the High King for the basic universal laws. King Vaylen is the greatest sorcerer in the
paraverse, and he sends the E.M. Enforcers out to enforce the law and to run his secret
errands.”

    “What kind of laws are we talking about?” Thorn asked.

    “You know—the basic stuff: misuse of magic, summoning demons, destroying
cities—”

    “Well, I’m glad to hear that destroying cities is against the law,” Thorn
joked.

    Simon laughed.

    “It’s not that funny,” Tonya chided, “if you happen to live in the city
that’s being destroyed.”

    “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Thorn asked Simon.

    “I don’t really know.” Simon thought for a moment. “I think it would be fun
to program video games.”

    “You wanna program—
video games?
” Tonya said as though she were saying a dirty word.

    “Well, I guess I could be the supreme ruler of the universe instead,” Simon
said with a chuckle. “That is, unless the position is already filled.”

    Thorn beamed ecstatically. “Tell you what. I’ll paint the worlds and the
characters, and you can program them into a video game.” He jumped down from the metal bars.
“That reminds me. I brought your stuff.” He opened a large bag and took out Simon’s fanny pack.
“Here’s your video game machine—you still need to tell me how to get past level ten—and here’s
your glasses—you broke them in your crash, but I fixed them for you. My father says you don’t
need glasses, but I think they look cool.”

    Simon put his glasses on, and they instantly suctioned to his face.

    “I improved them,” Thorn said. “They won’t come off unless you press this
button to release them.”

    “Wow,” Tonya said facetiously. “You must have a lot of time on your
hands.”

    “Okay, kids,” said Nurse Salfree. “Simon needs to get back to work.”

    Simon could barely hold onto the bars another second, so he was relieved when
the nurse, a husky woman with bushy hair, suggested that he do some leg exercises on the
floor.

    “So, I’ll see you at dinner?” Thorn asked, getting ready to leave.

    “We’ll be there,” Simon responded as the nurse helped him to the floor.

    “Great! Be there at six sharp. See ya later, everyone!” he shouted to the
occupants of the room so they’d notice his grand exit.

    “And good riddance,” Tonya said after Thorn had shut the door.

    “What do you have against him?” Simon asked. He raised his leg off the ground
for a moment and then put it back down.

    “Thornapple is such a weirdo. Don’t you see how he tries to get everyone to
like him? He pretends to have all these friends, but the truth is, nobody likes him.”

    Simon looked at her and said slowly, “Maybe that’s a reason to be his
friend.”

    Tonya’s hair turned steel blue. She opened her mouth but said nothing. In
fact, she didn’t say much at all until dinner.

Chapter 8
    

    

    “I hope you like menabaws,” Mrs. Troodle said, carrying a tray full of
strange-looking appetizers to the table. “I made them myself.”

    “Sweetie, why don’t you leave the cooking to Har?” Dr. Troodle suggested as
he bit into something that resembled a squid.

    “I think it’s good for me to cook every once in a while,” she replied. “It’s
kind of fun.”

    Simon picked up a squid and looked at it closely. Three bulbous eyes stared
back at him, and a mess of long tentacles dangled from his hand. Suddenly, one of the eyes
blinked.

    “
Ahhh!
” Simon yelled, dropping the squid on the table. It started to squirm away.

    “Must not have cooked that one long enough,” Dr. Troodle said, grabbing the
squid and popping it in his mouth. The tentacles thrashed about the doctor’s lips as he chewed.
“So,” he said, devouring the appetizer, “what’s for dinner?”

    “Honey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” his wife scolded with a painted-on
smile. She then yelled at the top of her lungs, “Har, get in here right now!”

    A large, portly boy rushed into the room, carrying a heavy tray of food. He
had a much darker complexion than the other Puds, and he towered over them as well. He was even
taller than Tonya—but definitely not skinnier.

    “Sorry, ma’am,” the boy said in a slow sort of drawl.

    “Well, hurry it up,” Mrs. Troodle urged.

    Har served each person at the table. Tonya was first. On her plate lay a
mound of long green grass with a multitude of colorful seeds spread about a lonely acorn. Simon
shook his head in surprise until he remembered that the food selection on her plate was actually
normal for a citizen of Paraworld Chamel. He felt sorry for Tonya because he knew she’d rather be
eating a hamburger.

    The adults both had the same meal: a large, black spider with various bits of
vegetables surrounding the furry body. The arachnid lay on its back with its foot-long legs
sticking up.

    Simon cringed when Dr. Troodle snapped off a leg. The loud crunching sound
was reminiscent of a crab shell being cracked open. After savoring the scent for a moment, the
doctor bit into the soft, white meat sticking out of the end. While chewing vigorously, he looked
up at Simon’s horrified expression and said with a grin, “I’d rather be eating them, instead of
them eating me.”

    His wife chuckled profusely at the joke.

    Simon and Thorn received their food last. On each of their plates lay what
appeared to be a huge, slimy maggot. Its grayish white skin had the appearance of rubber. It had
no eyes, and it was easily the length of Simon’s forearm. A small snippet of parsley rested atop
the worm. At that moment, Simon wished very badly that he could trade meals with Tonya.

    “Well, dig in!” Mrs. Troodle said.

    Simon felt relieved that she didn’t suggest they pray over the food. Mrs.
Trimble, back at the foster home, always insisted on saying grace over all their meals. But in
this instance, Simon felt that God himself couldn’t possibly bless the revolting creature before
him.

    Staring at the thick worm, he hoped that it too would try to crawl off the
table, but luck was not on his side. He looked over at Tonya. She sat in a placid manner, eating
her grass. He looked over at Thorn, who was gorging voraciously on the fat worm in front of him.
As the little Pud’s fork ripped open the worm’s hide, clear mucus seeped from the torn flesh and
ran down onto the table. Simon’s stomach lurched.

    “Simon, you’re not eating. What’s wrong?” asked Mrs. Troodle.

    “I don’t feel very well,” he said. The woman’s eyes widened, and Simon felt
nervous that he might have offended her. “I-I-I think it m-m-must be the shock of leaving my
w-w-world… and g-g-getting into an accident.” Mrs. Troodle still had a look of disbelief, so
Simon continued. “And… just waking up from a c-c-coma… and… and not being able to
w-w-walk.”

    “Oh, you poor thing,” she said, as if talking to a little puppy. She turned
to her husband. “Honey, I think we should let Simon and Konya stay with us.”

    “
YES!
” Thorn exclaimed. His dinner slipped off his plate and slid towards Simon. “Sorry.”
The Pud grabbed the oversized larva with both hands and placed it back onto his plate.

    “Well, Sweetie, I don’t know. We only have one guest room—”

    “Simon can share my room,” Thorn said eagerly.

    Tonya rolled her eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Troodle, you’re too kind, but I wouldn’t
want to—what’s the word?—intrude,” the young girl said carefully in the Pudo language.

    “Nonsense! Konya, you’ve been staying in the hospital ever since you got
here. Besides, now that Simon’s awake, I don’t think Nurse Salfree is going to allow you to sleep
on that cot anymore.”

    “Come on, Butblacruze,” cried Thorn. “You’ll like it here.”

    The girl crinkled her nose. Simon sensed her inner conflict. If she continued
to stay in the hospital, she could convince herself that her visit to Pudo was only temporary.
Accepting the Troodles’ invitation to live in a real house meant acknowledging that she was never
going to leave this parallel world. But after more prods from Thornapple, she finally gave
in.

    “Fine, it’s settled then,” Mrs. Troodle said. “Konya will stay in the guest
room, and Simon will bunk with Thornapple.”

    Simon felt strange listening to everyone plot out his future so quickly. All
of this was so new to him. He was in another world! In a way, it excited the boy. He could start
all over with his life. Perhaps he wouldn’t be such a nerd this time. He would be part of a
family—a strange family, but a family, nonetheless. The thought intrigued him.

    “Come on, Simon. I’ll show you my room,” Thorn said, jumping up from the
table.

    “Hold on there, son,” Dr. Troodle said. “We haven’t even finished dinner
yet.”

    Mrs. Troodle nodded. “At least have some dessert, Simon.” She called for the
large boy in the kitchen. “
HAR! DESSERT! NOW!
”

    Har bounded into the room again, this time with a bowl of yellow custard. At
first glance, it didn’t seem too bad, but when Mrs. Troodle started dishing out the dessert,
Simon saw what was floating in the mixture.

    “Eyeball custard?” she asked with a smile.