Night of the Giant Everything (4 page)

I climbed to my feet and stepped onto the phone.

My plastic shoes squeaked as I walked onto the keyboard. I stood on Ava’s speed-dial key. Leaped up—and stomped down on it with all my strength.

Beep.
The number clicked.

Then, breathing hard, I jumped on the
send
key.

A few seconds later, I could hear the ring. It was so loud, I nearly fell off the phone.

It rang once … twice …

I heard a
click.
And then Ava’s voice. A roar in my tiny ears.

“Steven? Hello?”

“Ava—you’ve got to help me!” I cried.

A pause. Then Ava’s booming voice again: “Hello? Steven? Is that you?”

“Ava—listen to me!” My voice came out
squeaky like a mouse. I tried to shout louder. “I need help! I need you to help me!”

“Steven — I can’t hear you,” Ava said. “Are you there? I know it’s you, Steven. Your name came up. Is this a joke?”

“No, Ava—please —” I begged. “Listen harder. It’s not a joke. It’s me.”

“It’s a bad connection,” she said. “I can’t hear a thing. Call me back.”

“NO!” I screamed. “I can’t call you back! It’s too hard. I need your help!”

“Steven? Are you there?
Say
something!” she shouted. “You’re not funny.”

And then, a deafening
click.
Like a clap of thunder.

Ava hung up on me.

I dropped to my knees on top of the phone. My head still rang from Ava’s loud voice.

Now what? Wait for Mom and Dad to help me?

I suddenly remembered they were going to be out late tonight. I was supposed to walk to my cousin Mindy’s house and have dinner there.

Mindy could help me. But wait. Her house was at least eight or nine blocks away. At my new size, that could take me
days!

Ava lived across the street. A much shorter walk.

Could I make it to Ava’s house? I had no choice. I had to risk it.

My first problem—getting down from the bed. I gazed at the floor again. A mistake. A wave of dizziness made me sit down.

Too far to jump. Even with the shag rug beneath me, I could break every bone in my body.

I sat on the edge of the bed and turned to the bedpost. Could I slide down it like a fire pole?

I might slide too fast and burn all the skin off my little hands.

Could I lower myself slowly and carefully down the bedpost?

That’s what I was thinking when the phone rang.

The sound made me jump. I uttered a startled scream.
“AAAAAIIIIH!”

And fell off the bed.

I fell feetfirst. My back slid down the side of the bedspread.

WHUMMP.

I landed on my knees and fell face forward into the shag rug.

My breath rushed out in a whoosh. I bounced once, then rolled onto my back, choking and wheezing.

A few seconds later, I pulled myself to my feet. I moved my arms up and down and bent my knees. Testing everything out. No broken bones.

The shag rug saved my life. Now I had pieces of white lint all over the front of my silvery jumpsuit. But I didn’t care. I was in one piece, ready for the next part of my journey.

A difficult task—climbing down the stairs.

I walked past my old sneakers in the middle of the hall. I wished I could wear them. My new
plastic puppet shoes were too tight and really pinched my toes.

I stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down. The stairs were steep and stretched straight down, like a deep cavern. At the bottom, I could see the mop and water pail I had tripped over before.

No way I could step down the normal way. My feet just wouldn’t reach.

I realized I had to turn around and lower myself down one step at a time.

“No problem,” I said out loud. “It’s just like climbing down a ladder.”

I was trying to psych myself up again.

Steven, you perform all kinds of magic tricks. Pretend this is a new trick you are doing. Pretend you have an audience watching you, and you want to impress them.

Sure, I could tell myself all kinds of stuff. I could pretend this was as easy as doing a card trick or juggling little red balls.

But when I did magic tricks, I wasn’t exactly
risking my life.

I turned my back to the front of the stairs. I lowered myself to my knees. Then I gripped the edge of the top step and slowly … carefully … lowered myself.

I wasn’t tall enough. My feet wouldn’t touch the next step. I had to let go of the step above me and
drop
onto the lower step.

“Ow.”
I landed hard on my plastic shoes and struggled to gain my balance.

One stair down. Many more to go.

I gripped the edge of the stair above me. The wood was slippery. Mom or Dad must have mopped and polished the stairs.

I tightened my hands on it and carefully lowered myself to the next step.

My heart was pounding. But I felt a little better. It was hard on my arm muscles. But this wasn’t as tough as I thought it would be.

I could do this.

I glanced down at the water bucket again. I moved far to the left. I wanted to make sure I didn’t come anywhere near that bucket.

I took a deep breath and gripped the step above me.

I lowered myself carefully, then dropped onto another step. And then another.

A piece of cake. My arms ached. But I was halfway down the stairs.

I lowered myself one more step.

And then opened my mouth in a scream of horror as something grabbed me by the legs.

A giant mouse!

“Let GO!” I screamed.

The creature was
swallowing
me whole!

No. Wait.

I thrashed my arms and kicked at it.

Wait. Not a mouse.

A dust ball. A huge dust ball nearly as tall as me.

Mom and Dad must not have mopped this far.

The thick gray dust clung to my skin, my clothes. I’d dropped right into the middle of it. Now it was holding me prisoner.

I brushed the sticky dry stuff away from my face. Pulled it off the front of my jumpsuit. Kicking and swinging my arms, I pushed out of it.

It clung to my back. I swung around and slapped at it. I couldn’t get free.

I swung my body around again, trying to slip away from it —

—and fell off the step!

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

I tumbled onto the next step. My head hit the hard wood with a loud
thud.

I shut my eyes as pain bolted through my body. I somersaulted off the step. Hit the next one. Bounced hard.

Smacked my head again on the next step. I let out a groan as my whole body throbbed with pain.

I shoved out both hands, struggling to stop my fall. But I was hurtling too fast now.

I rolled over the edge of another step—

—and SPLASH.

Cold water washed over me as I sank into the soapy water pail.

I shot my arms up above my head. But I couldn’t stop myself from sinking to the bottom.

The water felt greasy and the soap made it impossible for me to see. It burned my eyes. And held me down as I struggled to swim to the surface.

It was like trying to swim in thick pea soup. Finally, I pulled myself to the top of the thick, mucky water. Choking and sputtering, I sucked in a deep breath.

The piney detergent smell choked my throat. My nose burned. My eyes watered. I kicked
and slapped the water, struggling to keep afloat.

But how long could I swim in this stuff?

I gazed up to the top of the bucket. Too high for me to reach. I pulled myself to the side and tried to scramble up. But I slid right back into the water.

No way to climb out. And I wasn’t strong enough to tip the bucket over onto its side so I could be washed out.

I swam in frantic circles, around and around. My mind whirred. How to get out … How to get out …

My chest started to burn. My arms were getting heavy. I tried floating on my back for a while. But I couldn’t float and swim in here forever.

Mom and Dad weren’t getting home till late. No way I could last till they arrived.

I turned over and started to swim again, doing a slow, lazy breaststroke. The soap burned my eyes and nose. The sharp odor made it hard to breathe.

My arms ached and throbbed. I knew I couldn’t keep swimming much longer.

I couldn’t help it. I let out a sob.

Was I really going to drown in a bucket of soapy water?

My chest hurt. Pain shot down my chest … my arms … my legs …

Can’t keep swimming. Can’t do it.

Can’t breathe … Can’t swim anymore …

I gave up. My whole body slumped. I folded up like a paper bag—and sank into the cold, greasy water.

As I started to go down, a shadow rolled over me.

I turned my face to the surface. What made that sound? Like a flap of wind.

Using my last bit of strength, I pulled myself toward the top. My head bobbed up from the water. Blinking away the burning suds, I stared up into the shadow. A shadow that flapped and shimmered above me.

Bugsy!

The flutter of his wings sent the water churning. The waves tossed me from one side of the bucket to the other.

The bird appeared
enormous
now. Like an airplane rocketing down at me. The dark eyes were as big as basketballs. And the bird’s yellow beak … clicked open and shut … open and shut … like hedge clippers.

The beak snapped at me, splashing the surface of the tossing water.

“No!” I cried out, and ducked my head.

Sputtering in the soapy water, I raised my arms to shield myself.

Bugsy attacked again. The giant beak snapped at my head. Water splashed hard. I felt myself tossed against the side of the metal bucket.

“Bugsy — no!”

He flapped above the bucket, then swooped again.

And then the giant beak clamped around my waist. I felt it cut into my skin.

The bird flapped his wings rapidly. I let out a cry as he lifted me from the water. And carried me high into the air.

“Bugsy — let me down!” My voice came out in a tiny squeak.

I thrashed my arms and legs. Carrying me like a robin carries a worm, the bird swooped across the living room.

“Let me down! Let me down!” The sharp beak cut into my sides.

And then the bird opened his jaws, and I tumbled out.

I hit the living room floor, landing on my stomach.
“Oof!”
My breath whooshed out of my lungs. Gasping for air, I shot my arms out and tried to crawl to safety.

On the windowsill I saw the new cage my parents had bought for Bugsy. The door was wide open. Bugsy had busted out.

Now the big bird swooped down and snapped me in his beak again. He lifted me high off the floor. And dropped me. Then lifted me. And dropped me again.

I landed hard on my side. My ribs throbbed in pain.

I rolled onto my back. Raised both hands to shield myself. But I was helpless against the huge bird.

“Bugsy, please. No! No!”

I waved my hands furiously. The bird ducked his head under them—and lifted me off the floor again.

Dropped me. Lifted me. Dropped me.

I felt too weak to fight him. My body went limp from the pain.

He thinks I’m a bug,
I realized.

He’s playing with me—before he EATS me!

Thud.

I hit the floor again. I felt weak. My arms and legs still ached from swimming around in the bucket. My whole body hurt from hitting the floor again and again.

The bird lowered his beak to grab me again.

With a groan, I rolled away from him. The diving beak missed me and bumped the floor. The bird uttered a squawk, surprised.

Panting hard, I scrambled away. Half crawling, half rolling across the floor.

The shadow of the bird’s wings swept over the floor as he turned and came after me. He came darting down fast.

I dove for cover—under the couch.

Wheezing loudly, my chest pounding in pain, I pressed myself low. I peered out from under the couch.

I could see Bugsy land. His enormous feet clawed at the floor. He made a warbling sound from deep in his throat.

Still struggling to catch my breath, I watched the bird pace back and forth in front of the couch. Just inches from my face.

He was searching everywhere for me. But he didn’t look under the couch.

Birdbrain.
The word flashed in my mind. How lucky was I that birds aren’t very smart?

Lucky
probably wasn’t the right word. This wasn’t exactly my lucky day.

The bird had vanished from my sight. Maybe he flew back to his perch. Or maybe he was waiting off to the side, waiting for me to leave my hiding place.

I heard a scrabbling sound behind me. A fast tap-tap-tapping.

My stomach pressed against the floor. I twisted my head around and squinted into the darkness under the couch.

“Oh, no!” A cry escaped my throat as an enormous creature scuffled toward me.

It took me a few seconds to realize it was a spider. A spider out of a
horror movie!

The space beneath the couch was filled with thick cobwebs. The huge spider came tearing through the tangle of webs.

Shiny and black, with blazing red eyes the size of Ping-Pong balls. Its legs were as thick as drinking straws.

I’d never seen spiders’ teeth before. But I saw them now, gnashing up and down. Thick white drool poured over the pointed teeth from the open mouth.

The gleaming red eyes stared hungrily straight ahead.
Tap-tap-tap.
It picked up speed, eager to reach its prey.
Me!

With a gasp, I raised myself and started to crawl out from under the couch.

But I stopped. Was Bugsy waiting for me just out of view? Waiting to devour me, the bug he had tortured?

My mind spun. I had to make a choice. A horrifying choice: Stay under the couch and fight the spider? Or crawl out and face Bugsy?

My hand bumped something on the floor. I gripped it and pulled it closer.

It took me a moment to recognize it—a toothpick. A wooden toothpick. It looked longer than a
sword
to me.

Could I use it as a weapon against the spider?

I grabbed it off the dusty floor. I tried to raise it. I wasn’t strong enough to lift it with one hand. I had to use two.

Tap-tap-tap.
The spider legs clicked across the floor as the fat creature marched toward me.

I struggled to hold the toothpick sword steady in front of me. It quivered in my hands.

Could I bat the big insect away with it? Could I stab the spider? Pin it with the toothpick?

Tap-tap-tap.
It came clicking closer, gnashing its jaws, drooling.

I lowered the toothpick point toward its belly.

But the spider seemed to have no fear of the weapon. It just kept on bouncing and clicking forward.

Closer … closer …

I held my breath. I tightened my grip. Made a sharp stabbing move with the toothpick.

The spider grabbed the end of the toothpick with two thick legs. It began to climb onto it!

“Nooooo!” a terrified cry escaped my throat.

I let the toothpick fall to the floor.

Then I rolled away. Spun my body out from under the couch.

Blinking in the sudden bright light, I scrambled to my knees. Heart pounding, I looked behind me.

The spider moved quickly across the floor. It clicked and tapped its way out from under the couch. It moved in a straight line. The big body bobbed from side to side, but the eyes stayed on me. It wasn’t going to give up its prey so easily.

I struggled to my feet. Tried to run.

Then I heard the flapping above me. And saw Bugsy floating overhead.

I was trapped. Caught out in the open. Nowhere to hide. No way to fight them.

The spider was inches behind me. Above me, the giant bird spread his wings. Lowered his head. And dove.