42 - Egg Monsters from Mars

My sister, Brandy, asked for an egg hunt for her tenth birthday party. And
Brandy always gets what she wants.

She flashes her smile, the one that makes the dimples pop up in her cheeks.
And she puts on her little baby face. Opens her green eyes wide and tugs at her
curly red hair. “Please? Please? Can I have an egg hunt at my party?”

No way Mom and Dad can ever say no to her.

If Brandy asked for a red, white, and blue ostrich for her birthday, Dad
would be out in the garage right now, painting an ostrich.

Brandy is good at getting her way. Real good. I’m her older brother, Dana
Johnson. And I admit it. Even I have trouble saying no to Brandy.

I’m not little and cute like my sister. I have straight black hair that falls
over my forehead. And I wear glasses. And I’m a little chubby. “Dana, don’t look
so serious.” That’s what Mom is always telling me.

“Dana has an old soul,” Grandma Evelyn always says.

I don’t really know what that means. I guess she means I’m more serious than
most twelve-year-olds.

Maybe that’s true. I’m not really serious all the time. I’m just curious
about a lot of things. I’m very interested in science. I like studying bugs and
plants and animals. I have an ant farm in my room. And two tarantulas.

And I have my own microscope. Last night I studied a toenail under the
microscope. It was a lot more interesting than you might think.

I want to be a research scientist when I’m older. I’ll have my own lab, and
I’ll study anything I want to.

Dad is a kind of chemist. He works for a perfume company. He mixes things
together to make new smells. He calls them
fragrances.

Before Mom met Dad, she worked in a lab. She did things with white rats.

So both of my parents are happy that I’m into science. They encourage me. But
that doesn’t mean they give me whatever I ask for.

If I asked Dad for a red, white, and blue ostrich for my birthday, do you
know what he’d say? He’d say, “Go play with your sister’s!”

Anyway, Brandy asked for an egg hunt for her birthday. Her birthday is a week
before Easter, so it wasn’t a crazy idea.

We have a very large backyard. It stretches all the way back to a small,
trickling creek.

The yard is filled with bushes and trees and flower beds. And there’s a big
old doghouse, even though we don’t have a dog.

Lots of good egg-hiding places.

So Brandy got her egg hunt. She invited her entire class.

You may not think that egg hunts are exciting.

But Brandy’s was.

Brandy’s birthday came on a warm and sunny day. Only a few small cumulus
clouds high in the sky. (I study clouds.)

Mom hurried out to the backyard after breakfast, lugging a big bucket of
eggs. “I’ll help you hide them,” I told her.

“That wouldn’t be fair, Dana,” Mom replied. “You’re going to be in the egg
hunt too—remember?”

I almost forgot. Brandy usually doesn’t want me hanging around when her
friends come over. But today she said that I could be in the egg hunt. And so
could my best friend, Anne Gravel.

Anne lives in the house next door. My mom is best friends with Anne’s mom.
Mrs. Gravel agreed to let Mom hide eggs all over their backyard too. So it’s
only fair that Anne gets to join in.

Anne is tall and skinny, and has long red-brown hair. She’s nearly a head taller than me. So everyone thinks she’s older. But
she’s twelve too.

Anne is very funny. She’s always cracking jokes. She makes fun of me because
I’m so serious. But I don’t mind. I know she’s only joking.

That afternoon Anne and I stood on the driveway and watched the kids from
Brandy’s class arrive at the party. Brandy handed each one of them a little
straw basket.

They were really excited when Brandy told them about the egg hunt. And the
girls got even more excited when Brandy told them the grand prize—one of those
expensive American Girl dolls.

Of course the boys started to grumble. Brandy should have had a prize a boy
might like. Some of the boys started using their baskets as Frisbees. And
others began wrestling in the grass.

“I was a lot more sophisticated when I was ten,” I muttered to Anne.

“When you were ten, you liked Ninja Turtles,” Anne replied, rolling her eyes.

“I did not!” I protested.

“Yes, you did,” Anne insisted. “You wore a Ninja Turtle T-shirt to school
every day.”

I kicked some gravel across the driveway. “Just because I wore the shirt
doesn’t mean I liked them,” I replied.

Anne flung back her long hair. She sneered at me. I hate it when Anne sneers
at me. “You had Ninja Turtle cups and plates at your tenth birthday party, Dana. And a Ninja
Turtle tablecloth. And we played some kind of Ninja Turtle Pizza Pie-throwing
game.”

“But that doesn’t mean I liked them!” I declared.

Three more girls from Brandy’s class came running across the lawn. I
recognized them. They were the girls I call the Hair Sisters. They’re not
sisters. But they spend all their time in Brandy’s room after school doing each
other’s hair.

Dad moved slowly across the grass toward them. He had his camcorder up to his
face. The three Hair Sisters waved to the camera and yelled, “Happy Birthday,
Brandy!”

Dad tapes all our birthdays and vacations and big events. He keeps the tapes
on a shelf in the den. We never watch them.

The sun beamed down. The grass smelled sweet and fresh. The spring leaves on
the trees were just starting to unfurl.

“Okay—everyone follow me to the back!” Brandy ordered.

The kids lined up in twos and threes, carrying their baskets. Anne and I
followed behind them. Dad walked backwards, busily taping everything.

Brandy led the way to the backyard. Mom was waiting there. “The eggs are
hidden everywhere,” Mom announced, sweeping her hand in the air. “Everywhere you
can imagine.”

“Okay, everyone!” Brandy cried. “At the count of three, the egg hunt begins!
One—”

Anne leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Bet you five dollars I collect
more eggs than you.”

I smiled. Anne always knows how to make things more interesting.

“Two—”

“You’ve got a bet!” I told her.

“Three!”
Brandy called.

The kids all cheered. The hunt for hidden eggs was on.

They all began hurrying through the backyard, bending down to pick up eggs.
Some of them moved on hands and knees through the grass. Some worked in groups.
Some searched through the yard on their own.

I turned and saw Anne stooping down, moving quickly along the side of the
garage. She already had three eggs in her basket.

I can’t let her win! I told myself. I sprang into action.

I ran past a cluster of girls around the old doghouse. And I kept moving.

I wanted to find an area of my own. A place where I could grab up a bunch of
eggs without having to compete with the others.

I jogged across the tall grass, making my way to the back. I was all alone,
nearly to the creek, when I started my search.

I spotted an egg hidden behind a small rock. I had to move fast. I wanted to
win the bet.

I bent down, picked it up, and quickly dropped it into my basket.

Then I knelt down, set my basket on the ground, and started to search for
more eggs.

But I jumped up when I heard a scream.

“Aaaaaiiiiii!”

The scream rang through the air.

I turned back toward the house. One of the Hair Sisters was waving her hand
wildly, calling to the other girls. I grabbed up my basket and ran toward her.

“They’re not hard-boiled!” I heard her cry as I came closer. And I saw the
drippy yellow yolk running down the front of her white T-shirt.

“Mom didn’t have time to hard-boil them,” Brandy announced. “Or to paint
them. I know it’s weird. But there just wasn’t time.”

I raised my eyes to the house. Mom and Dad had both disappeared inside.

“Be careful,” Brandy warned her party guests. “If you crack them—”

She didn’t finish her sentence. I heard a wet
splat.

Then laughter.

A boy had tossed an egg against the side of the doghouse.

“Cool!” one of the girls exclaimed.

Anne’s big sheepdog, Stubby, came running out of the doghouse. I don’t know
why he likes to sleep in there. He’s almost as big as the house.

But I didn’t have time to think about Stubby.

Splat.

Another egg exploded, this time against the garage wall.

More laughter. Brandy’s friends thought it was really hilarious.

“Egg fight! Egg fight!” two boys started to chant.

I ducked as an egg went sailing over my head. It landed with a
craaack
on the driveway.

Eggs were flying everywhere now. I stood there and gaped in amazement.

I heard a shrill shriek. I spun around to see that two of the Hair Sisters
had runny yellow egg oozing in their hair. They were shouting and tugging at
their hair and trying to pull the yellow gunk off with both hands.

Splat!
Another egg hit the garage.

Craaack!
Eggs bounced over the driveway.

I ducked down and searched for Anne. She probably went home, I figured. Anne
enjoys a good laugh. But she’s twelve, much too sophisticated for a babyish egg
fight.

Well, when I’m wrong, I’m wrong.

“Think fast, Dana!” Anne screamed from behind me. I threw myself to the
ground just in time. She heaved two eggs at once. They both whirred over my head
and dropped onto the grass with a sickening
crack.

“Stop it! Stop it!” I heard Brandy shrieking desperately. “It’s my birthday!
Stop it! It’s my birthday!”

Thunk!
Somebody hit Brandy in the chest with an egg.

Wild laughter rang out. Sticky yellow puddles covered the back lawn.

I raised my eyes to Anne. She was grinning back at me, about to let me have
it again.

Time for action. I reached into my basket and pulled out the one and only egg
I had picked up.

I raised it high above my head. Started to throw—but stopped.

The egg.

I lowered it and stared at it.

Stared hard at it.

Something was wrong with the egg.

Something was terribly wrong.

The egg was too big. Bigger than a normal egg. About the size of a softball.

I held it carefully, studying it. The color wasn’t right either. It wasn’t
egg-colored. That creamy off-white. And it wasn’t brown.

The egg was pale green. I raised it to the sunlight to make sure I was seeing
correctly.

Yes. Green.

And what were those thick cracks up and down the shell?

I ran my pointer finger over the dark, jagged lines.

No. Not cracks. Some kind of veins. Blue-and-purple veins crisscrossing the
green eggshell.

“Weird!” I muttered out loud.

Brandy’s friends were shouting and shrieking. Eggs were flying all around me.
An egg splattered over my sneakers. The yellow yolk oozed over my laces.

But I didn’t care.

I rolled the strange egg over and over slowly between my hands. I
brought it close to my face and squinted hard at the blue-and-purple veins.

“Ooh.” I let out a low cry when I felt it pulsing.

The veins throbbed. I could feel a steady beat.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Oh wow.
It’s alive
!” I cried.

What had I found? It was totally weird. I couldn’t wait to get it to my
worktable and examine it.

But first I had to show it to Anne.

“Anne! Hey—Anne!” I called and started jogging toward her, holding the egg
high in both hands.

I was staring at the egg. So I didn’t see Stubby, her big sheepdog,
run in front of me.

“Whooooa!”

I let out a cry as I fell over the dog.

And landed with a sickening crunch on top of my egg.

I jumped up quickly. Stubby started to lick my face. That dog has the
worst
breath!

I shoved him away and bent down to examine my egg.

“Hey!” I cried out in amazement. The egg wasn’t broken. I picked it up
carefully and rolled it in my hands.

Not a crack.

What a tough shell! I thought. My chest had landed on top of the egg. Pushed
it into the ground. But the shell hadn’t broken.

I wrapped my hands around the big egg as if soothing it.

I could feel the blue-and-purple veins pulsing.

Is something inside getting ready to hatch? I wondered. What kind of bird was
inside it? Not a chicken, I knew. This was definitely not a hen’s egg.
Splat!
Another egg smacked the side of the garage.