Stink: The Incredible Shrinking Kid (3 page)

“Okay. How about this? Newts start out as eggs. Then they hatch and swim around like tadpoles. Then they turn into red efts and live on land. Then they change color and go back to the water.”

“Now that’s a teensy-weensy bit not-boring,” said Judy.

“And they shed their skins,” Stink said.

“Interesting!” said Judy. “Call me when
that
happens.”

On Saturday, Stink wrote in his journal some more.

“Stink, are you going to stare at that newt all weekend?” asked Judy.

“I’m building him a raft. Out of Legos. Maybe he’ll come out and float.”

“You know what would be really UN-boring?” asked Judy. “Put the newt in with Toady.”

“No way!” said Stink. “Newts are like poison to toads.”

“So that means Toady won’t eat him. C’mon, Stinker. Toady’s all lonely.” Before Stink could say Fig Newton, Judy scooped up Newton in her hands.

“You’re supposed to wash your hands,” said Stink. “Don’t drop him.”

“I won’t drop him.” She set him down on some moss in Toady’s tank.

Newton sniffed at Toady and curled up his tail. “He’s scared!” said Stink.

“Wait,” said Judy. Toady licked Newton.

“Take him out!” yelled Stink.

“It was just a friendly lick,” said Judy. “A newt lollipop.”

“What if Toady gets poisoned? Get him out. Get him out!”

“Don’t lay an egg!” Judy picked up Newton in her not-washed hand. “Stink! Something bad is wrong with Newton. His head is splitting open.”

“Let me see!” Stink peered at the newt. Sure enough, Newton’s skin had split, starting right at his head.

“He’s shedding his skin!” said Stink. “Put him back! Put him back!”

They peered at Newton. “Do you think it’ll really come off?” asked Stink.

“Sure,” said Judy. “It means he’s growing. Unlike
some
people.”

“Even a newt grows more than me,” said Stink.

“BOR-ing. I wish something would happen,” said Judy. She leaned over and wrote in Stink’s journal:

1:15 Boring!

Stink erased it. “Growing takes time,” he told Judy. “That’s what everybody always tells me.”

“Maybe if we say some magic words,” said Judy.

“Eye of newt,
Blah blah blah,
Wool of bat,
Tongue of toad.”

“It’s happening!” said Stink.

“Rare!” said Judy. She ran to get the video camera. “Lights! Camera! Action!” Stink took out his journal and wrote:

“Gross!” said Judy. She stopped the camera.

“Sweet!” said Stink, staring at the newt skin.

“Hey, can I have it?” asked Judy. “To show my class, I mean?”

“No way!” said Stink. “You already showed the whole world my dried-up baby bellybutton. I’m showing
my
class.”

“Mrs. Dumpster would want you to show my class, too.”

“Not if you keep calling her Mrs. Dumpster.”

“P.U.! What’s that smell?” Judy held her nose.

“What smell?”

“That dead-skunk smell. That one-hundred-year-old-dirty-sock smell. That three-hundred-year-old-rotten-egg smell.” Judy walked around Stink’s room, sniffing here, sniffing there. “It gets super-stinky as soon as you get close to Newton.”

“Newton!” cried Stink. He sprang up from the floor, where he’d been drawing comics. Newton was in his hidey-hole. “Maybe it’s the chopped-up dead worms in there. And dried-up crickets. Why isn’t he eating?”

“Grody, grody, gross! There’s green-y slime everywhere,” Judy said.

“And brown stuff floating in the water.”

“Stink, you have to clean it every day. Newts can die if their water gets too dirty.”

“Since when are you the newt genius?”

“Since I read it in
Newtsweek
magazine. You have to dump out the yucky water and wash the rocks and clean off all the slime and stuff.”

“That’s a lot of homework!” Stink said.

“C’mon, Stinkerbell. I’ll help. We’ll be the Slime Busters.”

“Slime Busters! Double cool!” said Stink. “But you can’t call me Stinkerbell.”

“If you say so, Stinkerbell. Let’s take it down to the big sink.” Stink carried the Critter Keeper down to the kitchen, but he couldn’t reach the sink.

“Here, let me,” said Judy. She took the Critter Keeper from Stink and set it on the counter. Stink stood on a kitchen chair.

“First we have to get Newton out so we can clean his house. Stink, hold this jar. Let’s put Newton in there.”

“Okay,” said Stink, holding a tiny net. Judy reached in to scoop out Newton with her hand.

“The net!” cried Stink. “Mrs. D. says use the net for scooping him out.”

“Hold on. Wait. I almost have him. Ha, ha!” said Judy. “Gotcha, you little newt-brain!”

“He is not a newt-brain,” said Stink. “And . . . you’re scaring him.”

“He sure is slippery,” said Judy. “You should call him Squirmy.”

Just then, Squirmy squirmed right out of Judy’s hand, slipped into the sink, and went
SLOOP!
right down the drain.

“Newton!” cried Stink. “You LOST him!” he yelled at Judy.

“Don’t worry, Stink,” said Judy. “He’s probably just swimming around down there under the sink.” Judy peered down the drain.

“Is he there?” asked Stink. “Do you see him?”

“I can’t see,” said Judy. “It’s dark. . . . I need a flashlight or something. No. Wait. Let me turn the light on.”

Judy flicked the switch over the sink.
GRRRRRRR!
A loud, grinding-up sound made them both jump back.

“STOP!” yelled Stink.

Judy turned off the switch. “Oops. Wrong switch.”