We Give a Squid a Wedgie (2 page)

Tiger sharks and bull sharks and sleek silver reef sharks swam in never-ending circles around the edge of the room.

“I can’t believe we’re missing
Velma Sue’s Snack Cake Times Square New Year’s Eve Spectacular
for this,” Oliver grumbled.

“It’s called VSSCTSNYES,” Celia corrected her brother. “
Vuss-Cat’s-Knees
,” she emphasized. It was the television event of the year, but Oliver couldn’t even get the name right.

“Whatever it’s called, I can’t believe we’re missing it,” he complained, picking at the bow tie on his neck, which was too tight. The rest of the tuxedo was too short. His father, the world-famous explorer Dr. Ogden Navel, hadn’t even noticed that Oliver had outgrown it.

“We miss everything good,” agreed Celia, slouching against the glass of the tank behind her. She didn’t so much as glance at the grimacing tiger shark as it swam above her head.

Now, if we were lucky enough to receive an invitation to the Explorers Club gala at the private aquarium of a famous deep-sea diver on New Year’s Eve, we would most likely thrill to find ourselves in the rarefied company of astronauts, explorers,
motocross champions, ichthyologists, and deputy editors of assorted discount travel websites. We would, however, have to look up exactly what an ichthyologist or a deputy editor actually does.

And while we, like Oliver and Celia Navel, would avoid eating the caterpillar-stuffed quail eggs, candied shrimp heads, and fried calamari being passed about on silver trays, we would certainly not linger on the edges without exploring any of the wonderful undersea creatures on display.­

But for Oliver and Celia, exploration had long ago lost its charm. It had cost them no end of hardship and heartache over the years. Even though they lived on the 4½th floor of the Explorers Club, and even though their parents held the prestigious title of Explorers-in-Residence, Oliver and Celia hated exploring.

Their mother and father, however, loved exploring. Their mother loved it so much that she had gone off to search for the Lost Library of Alexandria­ over three years ago, and after three years without hearing from her, she suddenly returned to drag her children into a dangerous race to help her find it.

Their father, determined to make their lives ­
interesting, always made them go to his lectures on things like “Ancient Polynesian Navigation” or “Rites of Passage in Seventeenth-Century Samoan Culture,” and he regularly put them in mortal danger with trips to places like Tibet and the Amazon jungle. To make matters worse, they still had to get through the second half of sixth grade.

“Corey Brandt hasn’t even talked to us all night,” Oliver observed, pointing across the room where the teen heartthrob and star of
Agent Zero, Sunset High
, and
The
Celebrity Adventurist
was surrounded by a group of crazed fans, who also happened to be professional sumo wrestlers. Every time he tried to get away from them, they blocked his path and asked him about his newest show or his last Christmas special or his hair gel.

He looked toward the Navel twins and gave them an apologetic shrug.

“We save his life from an evil Corey Brandt impersonator,” Oliver said, scowling, “and all he gives us is a shrug.”

“He’s trying to join the Explorers Club,” explained Celia. “He can’t be rude to anyone here. They all get to vote on his application.”

“Why would anyone want to join the Explorers Club?”
wondered Oliver. “All you do is listen to boring lectures and get bitten by exotic lizards.”

Oliver spoke from experience. He had listened to a lot of lectures and been bitten by a lot of lizards.­

“Beats me,” said Celia. “But Corey said he’d hang out with us. We just have to wait a minute.”

“Oliver, Celia!” Their father strode across the room to where the twins were standing. His own tuxedo was too small for him, just like Oliver’s, but his beard was neatly trimmed and his glasses had slid down his nose like they always did when he was excited or being attacked by a yeti. “Isn’t this a wonderful party? Did you try the octopus? Or the fried squid?”

“They called it calamari,” said Oliver.

“Yes, of course, the Italian word.” Dr. Navel pushed his glasses back up his nose.

“We don’t eat squid,” said Celia. “Or octopi.”

Oliver was going to correct her, but she gave him a look that told him something terrible would happen if he did. He bit his lip and didn’t say a word.

Dr. Navel shrugged and looked out at the collection of explorers, adventurers, daredevils, and
website editors who had gathered to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

Professor Rasmali-Greenberg, the president of the Explorers Club, buzzed from explorer to explorer, laughing and telling the same joke about a jaguar and Dr. Livingstone in a hot tub. He pulled Corey Brandt away from the sumo wrestlers and dragged him over to meet a group of Rajasthani fire dancers and their escort from the Indian Embassy.­

“It’s, like, mad tight meeting you nice folks,” Oliver and Celia heard the sixteen-year-old superstar tell the ambassador from India. He had pulled out his cell phone to take a picture with them. The ambassador smiled widely. Like everyone else in the world, he couldn’t get enough of Corey Brandt.

“Corey is certainly kibitzing with all the right people tonight,” Dr. Navel said.

“What’s kibitzing?” asked Oliver, who was tired of waiting around for the celebrity.

“It’s something people do at fancy parties,” his father explained. “It’s like chatting.”

“Why not just say
chatting
then?” Oliver asked.

“Because”—Celia rolled her eyes—“Dad’s an explorer. He can’t talk like a normal person.”

“I didn’t make up the word
kibitz
,” his father said. “It’s from the noble language of Yiddish.”

“That sounds made up too,” Oliver said.

“Well, it’s not,” his father answered.

“Well, I don’t want to do any kibitzing with anyone tonight,” said Oliver. “So can we go?”

“We can’t go yet,” Celia told him. “We haven’t talked to Corey!”

“Ugh,” Oliver groaned.

Celia had decided that she was Corey Brandt’s number one fan, but she hadn’t seen him since they’d saved his life after their adventure in the Amazon. The girls at school were starting to think she didn’t really know him. Sixth-graders could be so suspicious.

Tonight she was going to ask Corey to visit her class. That’d wipe the smug grin off Stephanie Sabol’s face.

“Whose face?” Oliver asked, startling Celia.

“What?” she said.

“You were muttering about a face,” he said. “And somebody named Smug.”

“What? No I wasn’t.”

“Yes,” said Oliver. “You were. You were muttering. You said
smug
.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“You did say
smug
, Celia,” her father agreed with Oliver.

“Whatever,” said Celia.

“Anyway, I don’t want to be at this party,” ­Oliver said. “I want to go home to watch Vuss-Cat’s-whatever.”

“
Velma Sue’s Snack Cake Times Square New Year’s Eve Spectacular
.” Celia rolled her eyes. “VSSCTSNYES. At least get the name right.”

“Madam Mumu is going to perform ‘Cheese Arcade Magic,’” Oliver explained to his father. “It’s historic.”

“That’s true,” Celia added.

Their father shook his head at his children.

He was a world-famous explorer. He had dis­covered the royal tombs of the ancient Pyu kingdom in Burma. He had paddled a kayak across the Atlantic Ocean. He’d been to Dayton, Ohio. Twice!

Yet Oliver and Celia were world-class couch potatoes. He simply couldn’t understand how that had happened.

“Your show will be there after the banquet.” Dr. Navel sighed. “We have cable now. It’s recording.”

“But it’s live TV!” Oliver had a way of crossing his arms and pouting that got right under his ­father’s skin.

“But you won’t miss anything.”

“But it’ll be in the past when we watch it!” Oliver­ complained. “It’ll have already happened.”

“So it’ll be like time travel!”

“Dad, it’s not the same,” Oliver said. Explaining culture to his father was impossible. He had too many college degrees in anthropology.

“Just be patient, Oliver,” said Celia. Her brother could be so annoying.

Oliver turned to his sister, shocked. Why was she suddenly on their dad’s side? She was supposed to be on
his
side. They were twins! She was supposed to want to go home and watch TV and complain about explorers. She was not supposed to stay at some fancy party and make googly eyes at Corey Brandt.

“What was that?” Celia snapped at her brother.

“What?” said Oliver.

“You just muttered the word
googly
out loud,” said Celia.

“I did not,” said Oliver.

“You did too,” said Celia.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“You did mutter the word
googly
,” his father said.

Celia crossed her arms in triumph.

Oliver looked from his father to his sister, back to his father, and then back to his sister.

“Whatever,” he said, and stomped away to be on his own.

If they wanted to gang up on him to make him stay at some stupid party just so she could make googly eyes at some stupid teenager, then they could do it without him. He didn’t need his sister on his side anyway. She always made him watch that dumb soap opera,
Love at 30,000 Feet
. ­Without her, he could watch whatever he wanted. She wasn’t his boss. She didn’t get to tell him what to do.

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she was watching him storm off. He had an idea that would really get on her nerves.

Just then, the server with the tray of octopus and calamari passed by. Oliver grabbed a big ­
handful of the purplish blobs and brownish lumps and smiled at his sister. Then he shoved the blobs and the lumps into his mouth.

“No!” yelled Celia across the room. Everyone fell silent. She couldn’t believe what her brother had just done.

“You don’t tell me what to do!” Oliver yelled back across the room at her, spitting bits of calamari out of his mouth.

“It’s not that,” said Celia. “It’s . . . you’re . . .” She pointed behind him.

“Dude,” Corey Brandt said loudly. “Like, ­D-U-D-E, dude.”

“What?” Oliver asked. “What’s going on? Why is everyone looking at me like that?”

No one was moving. The entire room just stared at Oliver.

“Ollie,” his father said. “Don’t move.”

“What? Why not?” Oliver peered over his shoulder where his sister was pointing, and saw that he had just put a fistful of octopus in his mouth right in front of an octopus tank.

And the octopus did not seem happy about his friends being eaten.

Also, the octopus had just escaped.

OLIVER FELT A TENTACLE
wrap around his left ankle. And then another wrap around his right ankle. And then another around his waist. They were sticky and harder than he expected, and much, much stronger.

“Ah!” he yelled as Celia and Dr. Navel raced across the room to help him. The octopus was already climbing up his back and onto his head with its sharp beak ready to snap his ears off.

“Don’t panic!” yelled his father, which was his advice for everything.

“There’s an octopus on my head!” Oliver yelled.

“It’s your own fault,” said Celia.

Oliver wanted to stick his tongue out at her, but he was afraid of what the creature would do if it caught his tongue.

“Dude!” Corey Brandt rushed over to his side.
He took out his phone and snapped a picture. ­“Oliver, you’ve got an octopus on your head! That is E-P-I-C, epic!”

“Uh,” said Oliver, not sure why the teen star was spelling everything. It must be a Hollywood thing.

“Help,” he said quietly.

“
Zat ees mai octo-pous!
” their deep-sea-diving host shouted from a balcony above the shark tank. He had a thick French accent that made it very hard to take him seriously, especially when he was shouting about an octopus.

“Apologies, Jacques,” Dr. Navel shouted. “We’ll be out of your hair in no time. Well, we’ll get that octopus out of Oliver’s hair first.”

“Quickly, please,” said Oliver.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you, bro,” said Corey, putting his phone away.

“Yeah . . . um . . . bro,” said Celia, smiling at Corey. “I’ll help you.”

She started pulling tentacles off of Oliver, making sure Corey was watching her.

Oliver rolled his eyes. She was happy just to make fun of him until Corey came over.

“Ow, be careful!” Oliver said.