The Summer Experiment (3 page)

“I just wish he didn't live down in Boston,” Marilee said. “I wish I could see him once a week, instead of every couple months.”

“Hey,” I said, changing the subject. I wanted this to be a fun night. “Let's play Guess the Famous Name until it's dark enough for aliens.”

And so we did. I guessed all of Marilee's famous names. Marco Polo, Clara Barton, and Justin Bieber. And she guessed all of mine. Neil Armstrong, Nick Jonas of the Jonas Brothers, and President Lincoln. Sometimes, it can be boring to play a game with my best friend because we tend to think alike.

Marilee reached into the tent for her jacket. Overhead, the stars were now sparkling and bright. I started counting them.

“Did you know that thousands of years ago, people thought the stars were little lanterns carried by the gods?” I asked.

“That's because they didn't have Bic lighters back then,” said Marilee. She pointed to the southwest. “What's that? It's moving slowly this way.” We both watched in silence until we saw red lights blinking under the wings of what was probably a jet airplane. I thought of all those passengers up there in the air, drinking coffee or eating pretzels or sleeping with their heads pressed against tiny airline pillows. It was a long way from gods carrying lanterns across the heavens. Suddenly, I saw weird lights bouncing on the pond. Up and down. Up and down. My heart froze.

“What's that?” Marilee asked.

“I'm not sure,” I said. We sat for a few minutes, waiting, but the bouncing lights had disappeared. We could hear noises again in the woods, raccoons and skunks most likely. I prayed we wouldn't encounter a moose. But a country kid is used to sounds at night coming from the forest. That's the time a lot of wild animals forage for food.

“It had to be car lights from the main road,” said Marilee.

“Maybe coming around that turn where Mr. Finley lives,” I said. “There must be an open space in the trees.”

Overhead, I could make out the summer constellations. The Great Square. Pegasus. Cassiopeia. There is nothing so awesome as sitting beneath the universe and peering up at it. That's something I wouldn't be able to do in a big city. Even if you could find a good spot, the light pollution would blind you. And that's what I was thinking when I heard a big splash in the pond. Marilee grabbed my arm again.

“Frog,” I said. “It probably hopped off a log.”

Marilee checked her watch. It was just after 10 p.m.

I was about to say, “Let's get some sleep,” when I saw something shiny on the other side of the pond. It had to be more than five feet tall. Could it be the ruins of the brick chimney that had once been on the roof of Grandpa's cabin? The cabin had been gone for years but the old chimney stood in the brambles as a reminder. Then I remembered that Grandpa had toted the bricks away just that spring.

“Holy smokes,” I heard Marilee say. “What is that, Robbie?” Whatever it was, it was all lit up, from top to bottom. And it was not moving.

“I think it's a tree,” I said, straining my eyes, wishing I had fox eyes right then.

“Why is a tree shining like that?” Marilee asked. That question had occurred to me too.

“I don't think it's a person,” I said. I couldn't see a human head, and I couldn't tell if it even
had
feet. But soon we had the answers to our questions when the thing turned slowly in our direction. I saw the shape of a head then, and two arms. One leg stepped forward, silver as dimes in the beam of light that was hitting it. Then the other leg also took a step. Whatever this creature was, it was climbing Frog Hill to where our tent was pitched! I thought the scream I heard was mine until I realized it was Marilee's.

The Alien

It stood over five feet tall. I'd never seen anything so shiny. The face also seemed made of silver. I couldn't see any eyes, but that didn't matter. It was definitely climbing the hill. I wanted to die. I wanted to sink into the earth. As I scrambled to my feet, all I could think of was Marilee. This was
my
idea. She could have been home with her mother right then, safe and sound. She was my best friend and I'd put her in danger. I reached inside the tent and grabbed my flashlight. Then I grabbed Marilee's hand. To heck with our sleeping bags and the tent. We could come back tomorrow for our stuff, when the sun was shining bright.

“We need to run!” I whispered. But where? The only path up the hillside, about two hundred feet long, was the very one this creature was climbing. We'd have to escape down the hill behind us, which meant blackberry brambles and burdocks and hobble bushes that could trip us. Down we went, the arms of our jackets pulled at and torn by brambles, our feet stepping in holes, our hands trying to balance each other. The flashlight lit our way but once I even dropped it. It was like plowing through a black jungle. But knowing what was climbing Frog Hill kept us going.

Finally, we reached the bottom. Shaken, we stumbled out onto the main road near Old Man Finley's house. I heard Mutt send out a volley of sharp barks.

“We'd better get out of here before Mr. Finley shoots at us,” I said to Marilee. He was known to take his shotgun down if a breeze rattled the leaves in his yard.

We made our way along the road, the beam of the flashlight bouncing in front of us. And then, as we rounded the curve where the old pine grows, I saw the lights of my house up ahead. I silently said my usual “Thank you, God” prayer, in which I promise I'll never do anything stupid again. I've said that prayer lots of times.

“Let's sit on the swing,” I said. “Catch our breath before we go inside.”

The swing is on our lawn, below the house, and it would be private. Marilee hadn't said much the whole time, and I knew she was just too scared to talk. What had I called her? Big Chicken. The Gutless Girl. Spineless Wonder. Well, I was all of those things and more. I could see my mother inside the kitchen, doing the dishes. It was such a warm and safe picture. Dad was sitting in front of the television set, its screen flickering on the frames of his glasses.

“Did we just see what I think we saw?” Marilee finally asked after we had swung silently for a minute, back and forth, back and forth. “What
was
that?”

“An extraterrestrial, what else?” I said. “I believe in them now. I can tell you that much.”

“Did you see its face?”

“No. Did you?”

Marilee shook her head.

“I don't think it had a face,” she said. “I think it was all silver.” She bit at her fingernail, which is what she always does when she is nervous beyond belief. “Who do we tell? Your mom and dad? My mom? Mr. Purdy the principal? Sheriff Mallory? No one?”

“No one,” I said, and I meant it. “We'll just get laughed at.” Besides, I knew by heart what everyone would say. What had Sheriff Mallory told me?
No
matter
what
you
see, hear, or read, everything has a logical explanation.
Well, this didn't.

“But what if we're in danger?” she asked. “What if the whole town is in danger? Those things can't just go walking around in the night. What does it want?”

I didn't know. This was bigger than a test question. Ask me who Pierre and Marie Curie are, and I can tell you. Ask me what was climbing Frog Hill and I'm gonna flunk. That's when we heard the bikes pedaling down the tarred road that ran in front of our house. At first, I felt the fear again until I thought, “They have superfast spaceships. They fly through wormholes. They don't ride bikes.” And then I heard talking. Human voices. It sounded like my brother, Johnny. But he had gone to Billy Ferguson's house for the night. Then I heard Billy's voice too.

“Shhh,” I said to Marilee. We were sitting in darkness on the swing. No one would see us. The bikes cranked into the yard. We watched from the shadows as Johnny and Billy jumped off and kicked their stands down. They seemed to be having a great time.

“Did you see them run?” Johnny asked. “I was laughing so hard I almost tore the aluminum foil.”

“I can't believe they fell for it,” said Billy. “If they hadn't run, if they'd let you get closer, they could have seen how stupid you looked. All that foil and Scotch tape!”

Oh
my
God. Billy Ferguson!

It had just hit me. Had they sneaked up there early enough to hear the talk Marilee and I shared? I remembered the noise earlier of a twig snapping and Marilee's comment that it sounded like someone walking. I know she was thinking the same thing because I saw the silhouette of her head as she turned and looked at me. I squeezed her hand as if to say, “Oh, I hope they didn't hear!”

“I should have let
you
be the alien,” Johnny was saying now. He was pulling wads of aluminum foil out of his backpack. And other junk. Probably the Scotch tape. And the flashlight that Billy obviously had shone on my brother, lighting him up for all the frogs to see. The frogs and the Spineless Wonders. “She wouldn't have run if it had been
you,
Billy.”

And then, he imitated my voice, making it squeaky as he always does when he mocks me. “I think I'd like to go on a date with Billy Ferguson one day.” I heard them laugh. Johnny
and
Billy Ferguson. I died a thousand deaths in that minute. A million deaths. I felt Marilee's arm wrap around my shoulders to comfort me. It was her way of saying, “Listen, best friend, this will pass. Don't be ashamed for the rest of your life and then some.”

When they had stored the stuff under the front porch, where Johnny would most likely find and destroy it tomorrow, they kicked up the stands on their bikes. I watched as they pedaled away into the night, back to Billy's house most likely. I imagined they would tell the tale over and over until dawn, until they couldn't laugh anymore. Who else would they tell? The other kids when school started again in the fall? Maybe they would call up
Good
Morning
America
so the whole country could be in on the joke.

“It was nothing but mean,” Marilee said, now that the bikes were just creaking noises in the night. “They'll be paid back for this one day. You watch and see, Roberta.”

I stepped off the swing. We would tell no one what happened. We would pretend it had been a great night on Frog Hill looking at the stars. We came home because we were cold.
Tell
no
one
, for that's what Johnny would want. I imagined him grinning his toothy grin as we told Mom and Dad about the silver-colored alien.

“Johnny is gonna pay for this, all right,” I said. My voice was no longer shaking. In the place of fear was anger. Anger mixed with shame.
I
think
I'd like to go on a date with Billy Ferguson one day
. “This is now a declared war. And it's gonna be deadly.”

Earthly Revenge

With the sun shining in my window the next morning, I could think of nothing but revenge. I didn't care if Mom and Dad grounded me for life. If what happened last night got around school, my life was over anyway. I thought of moving to a cabin in the middle of the Allagash wilderness where no one would ever find me. But what good was that? Besides, my brother would win that way. And I was determined that he lose the next battle and, therefore, the war.

“Roberta!” Mom's voice, loud and clear at the bottom of the stairs. “Marilee's mother is on the phone.”

I reached over and shook Marilee awake.

“Your mom wants to talk to you,” I said. I reached for the cordless phone in my bedroom, clicked it on, and said, “Hey, Catherine.” That's what Marilee's mother said I should call her, by her first name. I guess things are different in Boston than they are in Allagash. I handed the phone to Marilee. I left her talking to her mom, telling her how much fun we had last night. I closed the door behind me and went down the hallway to Johnny's bedroom. I cracked open the door and saw that his bed was still made. So he had spent the night at Billy's after all. Good. I hope they had an awesome time, a memorable night. I sat down at his laptop, which was still open on his desk. I flicked it on and waited as it whirred to life, a little spaceship of its own. When I had his e-mail account pulled up, I searched until I found the e-mail address for Miranda Casey: [email protected].

So how mean is too mean? What's the limit? I wanted to be mean, no doubt about it, since that's what Johnny had been. But I had more good in my bones than Johnny did. You'd think we were raised in totally separate families. Mom keeps saying my brother is going through a rough period. “Adolescence is tough for young boys,” she says. “He'll grow out of it and you two will be great friends one day.” Right. Maybe in a galaxy far, far away. But not on Earth. Not in my lifetime. I just couldn't see it. Mom said that the day I gazed up at my beloved
Star
Wars
poster, pinned to my bedroom wall, and was shocked to see that Princess Leia had two front teeth missing. There were just black spaces where those beautiful white teeth should have been. She also had a thick, black mustache and two bushy, black eyebrows, which made her look like Chewbacca's little sister. But at least my mom made Johnny buy me a new poster.

I copied Miranda's address in a new e-mail and then sent it to myself. I had to have more time to think about this.
How
mean
is
too
mean?
I knew all about those kids who were so terrible on Facebook that some teenagers even changed schools just to get away from them. Big, cruel bullies. And adults did it too. There was no way I could be that mean. I wanted to be kind of lukewarm mean. Now that I had the e-mail address I needed, I would plan carefully.

In the kitchen, Mom had pancakes waiting for us in a dish on the stove. There was a note propped up against the cookie jar.

Tina and I gone shopping. Fresh fruit and orange juice in refrigerator.

Love, Mom

I brought the pancakes over to the table. Marilee was just pulling out a chair.

“Last night sucked,” I finally said, since we weren't talking. We were reliving the horror instead. The silvery creature. The scary run down a hillside with no path. If I told on Johnny, I think this trick would really get my parents' attention. They'd punish him good. I could hear my dad's voice now. “Do you realize your sister and Marilee could have broken a leg or even worse? You need a serious readjustment, buddy.”

But if that happened, I couldn't put my payback plan in motion. All I'd get would be a few days of satisfaction in knowing that Johnny wasn't allowed to go on the Internet for a week or watch his favorite sports shows. I was thinking far bigger than
that.

“You're up to something,” said Marilee, and I remembered that we were having breakfast together. “I have a hunch it's not about the science fair and Henry Helmsby's project.”

“Sorry,” I said, “but you're right. My mind is working on revenge, not science. And it's gonna be priceless.”

“I have to go,” said Marilee. She seemed upset, and I knew it wasn't just about last night.

“Something wrong I don't know about?” I asked. I could always read her like a bestselling book.

“My mom says she heard from Dad this morning. He's getting married next month.”

I watched out the kitchen window until Marilee's bike disappeared down the road.

***

First, I rode my four-wheeler out to Frog Hill to pack up our tent and sleeping bags. Then, sleep deprived as I was, thanks to my evil brother, I went out to the swing with a pillow and a notepad. I positioned the pillow behind my back as I began to scribble ideas. So how mean
is
lukewarm mean? I probably couldn't use Super Glue or a staple gun. Mom and Dad would really freak out. But I wanted to scare Johnny even more than he had scared me. How? That was my dilemma as I pushed the swing into motion. It was warm and sunny in the yard. I could hear the buzz of bumblebees as they visited Mom's flower garden. I wondered if other galaxies would have flowers. Or maybe there is a planet of giant orange poppies and all the aliens look like bumblebees! I yawned once or twice before I let the notepad fall into my lap.

I
am
running. There are beings chasing me. I can't see them well in the moonlight, but they have big eyes in big bug-like heads and I am terrified. One reaches out a tentacle and wraps it around my wrist. He is wearing a white jacket and he seems to be the leader. I feel my insides heave up. I am trying to tell this creature, this insect, to let go of me. But it is holding me tight, another tentacle now circling my other wrist.

And
now
I
see
more
insects, bug-like things with bug-like hands. They are standing outside a spaceship that looks like a loaf of French bread, long and narrow. I'm screaming and screaming, and now the head insect—maybe he's a doctor on their planet or something like that?—leans down close to my face. He looks just like a bumblebee! He isn't saying the words but I can hear them. I can pick up his thoughts, his brain sending them to my brain. I'm horrified. I can't move an inch. But Dr. Bumblebee is telling me not to be afraid.

“Wake up, idiot!”

Excuse me? What did that big bumblebee just say, or think, to me?

“Wake up, Robbie.”

How does this alien insect know my name? Now Dr. Bumblebee is shaking me hard.

“Please don't!” I shout. “Don't touch me, Dr. Bumblebee! I want to go home!”

“WAKE UP!”

I opened my eyes, squinting at the bright sunshine, and there was Johnny, leaning down over me in the porch swing. He had his hands on my shoulders. Why was my brother shaking me? He should be protecting me instead.

“Save me, Johnny.” I mumbled the words.

“You're dreaming,” Johnny said. “You are such a girl!”

Now I opened my eyes really wide and looked around. I was in the swing in our yard, right where I had fallen asleep. So I dreamed that whole thing? That's what I get for watching the Allagash Abductions on YouTube. It was an old episode of
Unsolved
Mysteries
. I wondered which was scarier, Dr. Bumblebee or Johnny's stupid face. But there it was, looming in front of me, with his stupid grin and that tiny gap between his front teeth.

When I want to be mean back, I say, “Dude, what's that gap in your teeth? A parking space for a brown M&M?” That always gets to him. So that's what I said.

“Hey, Indiana Jones,” he said, ignoring my insult. “Shouldn't you be in Roswell looking for spaceships? What are you doing sleeping in the middle of the day?”

I said nothing. I grabbed my pillow and my notepad where I had even drawn some alien faces with big bug eyes. But, mostly, I had made some important notes for my Plan of Revenge. I stomped off to my room.

“Be patient,” I told myself as I slammed my door. “Victory will soon be yours and it will be oh so perfect.”

In my room, I sat at my computer and typed the words I'd scribbled on my notepad. I read them again carefully to be sure they were correct. I can't help myself. This is why I get all As in school. I always check spelling, grammar, neatness, food spills, cat paw prints, you name it.

Dear Miranda,

Please meet me TONIGHT after dark at the picnic table on Peterson's Mountain, near Calley's Creek. PLEASE do not tell anyone or it will spoil my plans! I have something IMPORTANT to tell you. Tonight's the night! Keep this secret, okay? I know I can trust you.

Always, Johnny.

I figured Miranda had to know Peterson's Mountain. Everyone in town knows that mountain well. But I couldn't take any chances. I attached the crude map I had drawn up, simple enough that a Neanderthal could find Calley's Creek and the picnic table. I marked the e-mail “To Send Later.” I wasn't ready yet. I had lots of things to do in order to prepare. Just as my brother prepared when he bought all that aluminum foil and tape.

Back in the kitchen, my mom was just hanging up the telephone. She turned to look at me.

“That was Grandma,” she said. “This sounds unbelievable, but Sheriff Mallory is calling a press conference this afternoon with the local TV station. Apparently, he saw a UFO last night and he wants to talk about it.”