The Ooze (2 page)

Somehow that didn't surprise me.

“Just tell Michelle when you want to start using it,” Mom went on.

“I can't wait,” I answered, hoping I sounded as though I meant it. “I really can't wait.”

If I had known I was about to enter the worst nightmare you could imagine, I would never have opened that box.

I would have waited forever!

W
hat a birthday.

First a chemistry set. Then a night at the opera—that I thought would never end.

Even when the villain finally stabbed the hero through the heart, the guy kept on singing and singing.

And today—the day after my birthday—wasn't turning out much better.

It was Sunday. To me, that meant I should be outside doing something fun. To Mom and Dad, it meant studying. So that's what I was doing—memorizing facts from my
Science Teasers
book for the Science Bowl.

Shadyside Middle School has won the state championship three years in a row. With Michelle on the team, how could they lose?

But last year Michelle went on to Shadyside High. Now everyone says it's my turn to keep up the school's winning tradition! Which is why I'm stuck in my room, studying away.

I read the first question—what is the end product of photosynthesis?

Before I could come up with the answer, I smelled something unbelievably putrid in the house. I had to investigate. People died from smells that bad!

I checked all the bedrooms as I made my way down the hall. They were empty.

As soon as I spotted Michelle in the kitchen, I knew I had found the source of the foul odor.

“You're baking brownies again, aren't you?” I accused her. “Admit it, Michelle!”

“Don't touch them!” she snarled, stepping in front of the counter, blocking them from view. “Don't even look at them!”

“Too late,” I told her. “I already saw them. They're burnt to a crisp!”

“They're just a little brown around the edges,” she declared. “My chess club will love them.”

“You're going to poison your friends?” I asked. “Even for you, that's low.”

Someone knocked at the door, and Michelle sprang
for it. But I got there first. Colin, my best friend, stepped inside.

“Oh, it's just you,” Michelle muttered.

“Whoa!” Colin said. “What's wrong with
just me
?”

“Her chess club is having a meeting here,” I explained. “She was probably hoping you were Jonathan Muller. He's the president of the club, and she has a total crush on him.”

“I do not!” Michelle snapped. But her face turned bright red.

“Yeah, right,” I answered. “You should see her looseleaf binder.” I grinned at Colin. “She has entire pages with ‘Michelle Sterner-Muller' written all over them. She wants to marry the guy or something.”

Colin snickered. Michelle threw a potholder at me. “What were you doing snooping in my binder?” she shrieked. “That's my personal property!”

I threw the potholder back at her. “Mom said I could,” I informed her, “because I ran out of looseleaf paper.”

Michelle glared at me. “If you tell anyone, I'll kill you.” She turned to Colin. “You, too,” she threatened.

“It's cool,” Colin said. “Can I have a brownie?”

Before I could stop him, Colin popped a killer brownie into his mouth.

“Excuse me while I dial the paramedics,” I said.

“Hey, they're unbelievable!” Colin exclaimed.

“See?” Michelle replied proudly.

“They are totally unbelievable.” Colin swallowed. “How do you get them to taste like charcoal?”

I gave Colin a high five. “Score!” he yelled. “Two points!”

“Get out of here, you idiots!” Michelle screamed.

“Come on, Colin,” I said. “Let's go down to the basement. I want to show you my birthday present.”

“Oh, yeah! I can't wait to see the skates,” Colin answered.

I shook my head. “Didn't get them.”

“No way!” Colin exclaimed. “Your parents did it to you again?”

“Yep.” What else was there to say?

I led Colin downstairs. Chester, Michelle's
brilliant
cat, followed us. He curled up in a corner and watched as we opened the chemistry set. Watched with a look that seemed to say “I'm telling Michelle. I'm telling Michelle. You're not supposed to touch that without Michelle.”

It's a good thing my sister hasn't taught him to talk yet, I thought.

Colin pulled out a test tube filled with purple crystals. “What are you supposed to do with all this stuff?”

“I don't know yet. I'm not supposed to use it until Michelle shows me how,” I answered.

I heard the doorbell ring. Michelle's chess geeks were here.

“We don't have to wait for her.” Colin grinned.
“Let's have some fun with it on our own.” He reached for a test tube filled with red liquid and emptied it into a beaker.

“Better not,” I warned him. “You can get into real trouble if you don't know what you're doing.”

“I'm not planning anything major,” Colin said. “Just a little stink bomb.”

“I don't know,” I said. “My mom and dad told me not—”

“We can set it off upstairs,” Colin interrupted. “Don't you want to see your sister choking and gagging—right in front of that guy she likes?”

That
would
be pretty funny. At least until my parents found out.

“Where's the manual?” Colin asked, digging through the box.

“I thought you knew how to make one!” I replied.

“No. No, I don't,” Colin admitted. “But the instructions must be in here somewhere.

“Oh, sure,” I said sarcastically. “Just look under
S
for
stink
.”

Colin found the instruction booklet and flipped through it, shaking his head. “Nothing here,” he muttered.

“Come on,” I said. “Let's go out. We can go to the mall or something.”

“No. Let's stay here. We don't need instructions. It can't be
that
hard to make a bad smell,” Colin declared. “Your sister does it without even trying.”

I laughed. Colin can always make me laugh. That's one of the reasons we're best friends.

Colin tipped the test tube of purple crystals over the red liquid.

“Colin. Don't do it,” I warned.

He ignored me.

He tipped the test tube some more.

“Colin! You don't know what you're doing!” I yelled.

The purple crystals began to tumble out.

I looked at the labels on the test tubes. “Not the red and the purple, Colin! Not those two!” I screamed. “You'll blow up the house!”

I
snatched up the beaker.

The purple crystals spilled from the test tube and scattered all over the worktable.

“You can't mix chemicals without knowing what will happen, Colin! Those two could have caused an explosion!” I yelled.

“Oh,” Colin replied. “Does that mean no stink bomb—just because you're scared of blowing up the house?”

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Like I said, Colin knows how to crack me up.

“Okay, okay. No stink bomb.” Colin gave in. “Let's go to the mall.”

We started to pack up the chemistry set. “Hey!
What's this?” Colin asked as he tried to shove the test tube rack back into the carton.

He pulled out a single sheet of paper from the bottom of the carton. “Ha! Is this good enough for you?” he exclaimed.

I peered over his shoulder and read the paper. Directions—directions for how to make a stink bomb. Weird.

The instructions were handwritten on a bright orange piece of paper—nothing like the plain white paper the manual was printed on. Very weird.

“Let's do it,” Colin urged. “We have all the stuff.”

“Well, okay,” I finally agreed. How could I pass up the chance to embarrass Michelle?

We measured the chemicals carefully and combined them in a clean beaker. “We'll leave this one out until we're in position upstairs,” I told Colin. I showed him a test tube filled with yellow powder.

“Good idea,” he answered.

We tiptoed up the stairs and into the kitchen. I peeked into the living room. Jonathan Muller stood by the fireplace, talking about some chess tournament they were organizing.

I spotted Michelle on the sofa. She leaned forward, gazing at Jonathan across the room. The other kids were all focused on Jonathan, too. Perfect.

“Come on,” I whispered. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled into the living room. Crawled
to the back of the couch and hid behind it. Colin followed.

“Ready?” Colin mouthed, holding out the beaker.

“Yes,” I whispered, holding up the test tube. “Hold your breath.”

“Don't you mean your
nose
?” Colin snickered.

I snickered, too. Then I poured the yellow powder into the beaker.

We scrunched farther down behind the couch and waited. But nothing happened.

“Take a whiff,” I whispered.

Colin put the tube up to his nose. “It doesn't smell at all.” He sighed.

“You jerks! What are you doing back there?” Michelle leaned over the back of the sofa, looking meaner than usual. “What is in that beaker, Al?” she demanded.

“It's nothing,” I lied. “Honest!”

“You're not supposed to use your chemistry set until
I
show you how,” she snapped. “Don't you ever follow directions?”

“But we did follow the directions!” Colin exclaimed, holding up the orange paper. “It's not our fault the stink bomb didn't go off!”

Thanks, Colin, I thought. Thanks a lot.

“You were trying to stink bomb my meeting?” Michelle screeched. “Wait till I tell Mom and Dad. Just wait.”

Colin and I took off into the kitchen.

“And leave that chemistry set alone,” Michelle called after us.

“Your little brother can't even figure out how to make a stink bomb?” I heard someone say to Michelle. “Are you sure you two are related?”

I felt like a total jerk. Getting caught using the chemistry set was bad enough. But it was worse knowing Michelle and her friends thought I was too dumb to make a stink bomb.

“What should we do with this gunk?” Colin asked when we returned to the basement.

“Throw it out, I guess.”

“In the garbage?” Colin asked.

“No, I'll pour it down the sink.” I reached for the beaker and noticed that the solution was turning a funny orange color. Neon orange.

“It's working
now
?” Colin groaned.

I smelled the gloppy mess. “No. No, it's not working. It still doesn't stink,” I told him.

I placed the beaker on the table. “Let's put the chemistry set away, before my mom gets home. She'll go ballistic if she knows I fooled around with it—without Michelle's help.”

“Why bother?” Colin asked. “Michelle's going to tell on you anyway. You know she will.”

He had a point. She probably would.

Chester still sat in the corner of the basement. I had forgotten he was even there. He let out a long meow. Then stood up—and leaped onto the table.

He strolled toward the beaker, his tail flicking back and forth.

“Shouldn't you be doing your math problems, Chester?” I asked. Chester padded closer to the beaker.

“Off the table. Off!” I gave the cat a little push—and knocked over the stink bomb.

The orange goo poured out. It oozed across the table. Thick and slimy.

Some of it slid over one of Chester's front paws.

All his hair stood straight up.

He arched his back. Flattened his ears.

He hissed at the gooey stuff, baring his sharp white teeth.

Then he leaped off the table, raced up the stairs, and cowered near the door.

“Look at it!” Colin said, amazed. “It's oozing everywhere.”