30 - It Came from Beneath the Sink (2 page)

I turned to my brother.

“See, Daniel? Killer knows it’s alive,” I insisted. “Honest, it’s not a
trick. Look closer—I promise that you’ll see it breathing.”

Daniel smirked as if he didn’t believe me. But he poked his head into the
cabinet.

“Hey, whoa! You might be right,” he admitted. He pulled himself up to face
me. “I think it is alive! And I also think… it’s
mine!”

With that, he dove under the sink to grab the sponge.

“No way!” I protested. I grabbed the back of his T-shirt and hauled him out.
“I saw it first. The sponge belongs to me!”

He shook me off and dove back down again. “Finders, keepers!” he cried.

I made another grab for him.

But before I could touch him, Daniel uttered a bloodcurdling scream of pain!

“AAAAAIIIIIIII!”

You could probably hear Daniel’s wail for blocks.

That got Mom’s attention. She came banging through the screen door from the
backyard.

“What happened? Who screamed? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Mom demanded.

Daniel backed out from under the sink, holding his head. He squinted up at
us. “I hit my head on the sink,” he wailed. “Kat pushed me!”

Mom knelt down and put her arm around Daniel. “You poor thing,” she said
soothingly. She patted his head softly.

“I did not push him,” I declared. “I didn’t even touch him.”

Daniel groaned and rubbed the side of his head. “It really hurts,” he
complained. “I’ll probably have a huge bump there.”

He glared at me. “You did it on purpose! And it’s not your sponge, anyway. It was in the house. So it belongs to all of
us!”

“It is so my sponge!” I insisted. “What’s your problem, Daniel? Why do you
always want what’s mine?”

“That’s enough!” Mom cried impatiently. “I can’t believe you’re fighting over
a stupid sponge!”

Mom turned to me. “Kat, you are supposed to be keeping an eye on your
brother, aren’t you?” she demanded. “And, Daniel, don’t take things that aren’t
yours.”

She turned to leave the room. “Not one more word about a silly sponge! Or
you’ll both be sorry!”

As soon as Mom left the room, Daniel stuck out his tongue at me and crossed
his eyes. “Thanks for getting me in trouble,” he grumbled.

He stomped off, with Killer at his heels.

Alone in the kitchen, I bent down, reached my hand under the sink, and picked
up the sponge.

“Everyone’s yelling and screaming around here,” I whispered to it. “You’re
causing a lot of trouble—aren’t you?”

I felt sort of dumb talking to a sponge.

But it didn’t feel like a sponge. Not at all.

It’s warm, I thought in surprise. Warm and damp.

“Are you alive?” I asked the wrinkled little ball.

I closed my hand around it softly—and the weirdest thing happened. The
sponge started moving in my hand.

Well, not exactly moving.

Pulsing—slowly and gently.

Ca-chunk. Ca-chunk.

It moved like the plastic model heart we used in science class.

Could I be feeling a heartbeat?

I peered curiously at the thing. I ran my fingertips over the wrinkles that
covered it, pushing back the folds of spongy, moist material.

“Whoa!” I cried, startled. Two wet, black eyes stared out at me.

I shuddered. “Yuck!”

You aren’t a sponge at all, I thought. Sponges don’t have eyes, do they? What
are
you?

I needed some answers. Quick. But who could I talk to?

Not Mom. She didn’t want to hear about the sponge.

“Dad! Dad!” I called out, dashing through the living room and dining room.
“Where are you?”

“Mmmmph,” he shouted. “Mmmmmpph.”

“What?” I yelled, running through the house. “Oh, here you are.”

Dad stood at the top of a ladder in the front hall. He had a hammer in one
hand and a big roll of black electrician’s tape in the other.

And a bunch of nails in his mouth. “Mmmmpph,” he mumbled.

“Dad, what are you trying to say?” I asked.

He spit the nails out.

“Sorry,” Dad grumbled. “I’ve got to get this hall light working. These darn
old wires.”

He stared down at a pile of tools on the floor. “Kat, hand me those pliers.
If this doesn’t do it, I’ll have to call an electrician.”

Dad is great at getting flowers to bloom and grass to grow. But when it comes
to handyman stuff, he messes up. A lot.

One time, he tried to fix a fan—and knocked out the electricity all over
the neighborhood.

“Here, Dad.” I handed him the pliers and held up the sponge.

“Check this out,” I urged. I stood on tiptoes so he could see the sponge up
close. “I found it under the sink, and it’s warm and it has eyes and it’s alive.
I can’t figure out what it is.”

Dad peered out from under his baseball cap. “Let’s have a look at that,” he
offered.

I shoved the sponge up so he could reach it.

He leaned down to grab the sponge from me.

I didn’t see the ladder wobble.

And I didn’t see it start to tilt over.

I only saw Dad’s expression change. I saw his eyes go wide. And his mouth
open in a startled scream.

As he started to fall, he grabbed at the light in the ceiling for support.

“Nooooooo!”

The light came crashing down on his head. Dad sailed off the top of the
ladder. He lay on the hall floor, perfectly still. “Mom! Mo-om! Mom!” I
shrieked. “Come quick! It’s Dad!”

Mom, Daniel, and I huddled around Dad. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked.

“Huh?” he murmured. “What happened?”

Dad shook his head and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “I think I’m okay,
guys,” he said shakily.

Dad tried to stand up. But he collapsed to the floor. “My ankle. I think it
may be broken.” He groaned in pain.

With me on one side and Mom on the other, we helped Dad to the couch. “Oof,
that really hurts,” he moaned. He rubbed the ankle tenderly.

“Daniel, go put some ice into a towel for your father,” Mom instructed. “Kat,
get him a cold drink.”

“Now, honey,” Mom whispered, wiping Dad’s brow, “tell me what happened.”

When I came running back into the living room with a tall glass of ice water,
Mom and Dad had the weirdest expressions on their faces.

“Kat,” said Mom angrily, “did you push your father?”

“Why did you push the ladder?” Dad asked, rubbing his ankle.

“Huh? Excuse me?” I spluttered. “I didn’t push you! I wouldn’t!”

“We’ll discuss this later, young lady,” Mom said sternly. “For now, I’ve got
to take care of your father.”

She leaned over and applied the ice pack to Dad’s swelling ankle.

I felt a hot red flush of embarrassment creep over my face. How could Dad
think I pushed him?

I lowered my eyes and realized I still held the sponge.

And I realized something else. Something strange and scary.

Instead of pulsing gently, the sponge
throbbed
in my hand. Throbbed
wildly.

Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.

Vibrating—as if someone had turned a blender to high speed. The sponge
practically purred with excitement.

Whoa-ahhh. Whoa-ahhh.

I sat down on the hall floor, feeling shaky.

What’s going on here? I wondered. Daniel thought I pushed him. And then Dad
said the same thing.

They both think I pushed them. Why?

Ba-boom. Ba-boom. Ba-boom.
The sponge throbbed warmly in my hand.

I shivered with fear. Suddenly, the sponge seemed kind of scary. I didn’t
want the thing anywhere near me—or my family.

I ran outside. I found a big metal garbage can near the garage. I lifted the
lid. Dropped the sponge inside. Pushed the lid shut firmly.

Back inside the house, Mom called me into the living room. “I think Dad’s
ankle is only sprained,” she said. “Now, tell me what happened.”

Thursday, I sat at my desk, writing down the names of guests for my birthday
party. The big day was only two days away.

I had to give the list to Mom today, so she could buy enough favors by
Saturday.

I heard Daniel babbling away to Carlo as the two boys clambered noisily up
the stairs.

“Check it out—it looks like an old sponge. But it’s alive!” Daniel
explained. “I bet it’s a prehistoric creature, like a dinosaur or something.”

I jumped up and ran out of my room.

“Hey!” I yelled at Daniel. “What are you doing with that?” I pointed at the
sponge in his hands. “I threw that thing away.”

“I found it in the garbage can,” Daniel replied. “It’s too cool to throw
away. Right, Carlo?”

Carlo shrugged, his shaggy black hair touching his shoulders. “It looks like an old sponge. What’s the big deal?”

“It’s a very big deal,” I shot back. “And that thing is definitely not a
sponge.”

I pulled a large book from my new bookcase. “I checked the encyclopedia,” I
explained. “Under sponges. You should have left it in the trash, Daniel. You
really should have.”

“What did the encyclopedia say?” Daniel asked eagerly, plopping down on my
bed. He held the sponge between his hands.

“It said that sponges do not have eyes,” I replied. “And they can live only
in the water. If they’re out of the water for more than thirty minutes, they
die.”

“See, Carlo? It’s not a sponge,” Daniel declared. “Our creature has eyes.
It’s been out of water since we found it.”

“Well, I don’t see any eyes. And it sure doesn’t look alive to me,” said
Carlo doubtfully.

Daniel leaped off the bed and offered his friend the sponge. “Hold it. You’ll
see.”

Carlo carefully cradled the sponge in his hands. His big brown eyes grew
wide. “It’s warm! And… and… it’s moving. It’s squirming! It
is
alive.”

Carlo spun around to face me. “But if it’s not a sponge, then… then,
what is it?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I admitted.

“Maybe it’s some kind of a super-sponge,” Daniel offered. “So powerful that it can live on land.”

“It could be part sponge and part another animal,” added Carlo, gazing at it.
“Can I take it home for a while? It’ll really spook Sandy.”

Sandy is Carlo’s baby-sitter. “I’ll bring it right back,” Carlo promised.

“No way, Carlo,” I said quickly. “I think I’ll keep the sponge right here
until I know exactly what it is. Here—stick it in this old gerbil cage.”

“Aw, come on,” Carlo begged, petting the sponge on the top of its wrinkled
head. “See? It likes me.”

“No way!” I replied. “Daniel, tell your friend to quit bugging me.”

“Okay, okay,” Carlo muttered. “Hey, what does this little guy eat, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “But it seems to be fine without eating. Put it in
the cage.”

Carlo reached into the gerbil cage and set the creature down. As he did, his
face filled with horror.

I saw his arm tremble.

Then he let out a terrified scream.

“Aaagh! My hand! It ate my hand!”

“Noooo!” I shrieked.

His mouth twisted in horror, Carlo yanked his arm from the gerbil cage—and
shoved it in my face.

“Oh!” I gasped.

Carlo wiggled his hand in my face and began to laugh. His hand was perfectly
okay.

“You are horrible!” I yelled. “That is so completely
not
funny. It’s
sick!”

Carlo and Daniel collapsed with laughter.

“Excellent joke!” Daniel grinned. “Hey, Carlo. Give me a… hand! Haw,
haw, haw.”

He and Carlo slapped each other high fives. “Way to go, dude!” Daniel cried.

I glared at the dumb, immature brats.

“You know, guys, this isn’t funny,” I said seriously. “We don’t know what
kind of creature the sponge is.”

“We don’t know what kind of creature you are, either!” Daniel announced with
a big grin.

“If I’m a creature, you’re a creature’s baby brother!” I shot back.

“Hey, I have an idea,” said Carlo, winking at Daniel. “Maybe you should put
the sponge on a leash and take it for a walk. The exercise will give it an
appetite!” He hooted with laughter.

He really cracked himself up.

“But it doesn’t have legs,” Daniel chimed in.

“She can roll it down Maple Lane!” Carlo suggested.

More laughter.

“That’s it, you guys. Get out!” I shouted. “Leave me and the sponge alone!
Now!”

Slapping each other another high five, Daniel and Carlo turned to leave.

I could hardly wait for them to go. I needed to be by myself for a while. To
sit and figure out what I should do with the little round creature.

But before Carlo and Daniel got out the bedroom door, a scream made me nearly
jump to the ceiling.

I turned to see Carlo hopping frantically up and down on one foot.

“Oh, right,” I said. “Like I’m going to believe another one of your stupid
jokes.”

Carlo, his face twisted in pain, pointed wildly to his foot. Falling back
onto the bed with a groan, he yanked off his sneaker.

Blood oozed through his white sock.

“A nail!” he gasped. “I stepped on a nail!”

I dropped my eyes to the sneaker on the floor.

A long nail had poked through the thick rubber sole—and into Carlo’s foot!

Weird, I thought. Where did a nail come from?

“Hey, it’s really bleeding!” Carlo wailed. “Do something!”

I searched around frantically for something to use as a bandage. As I did, my
eyes rested on the sponge in the gerbil cage.

“Whoa!” I cried.

The sponge quivered and shook.

It shook with what seemed like
joy
!

And it breathed—so loudly that I could hear the eerie sound from the other
side of the room!

Whoa-ahhh. Whoa-ahhh.

As I wrapped an old T-shirt around Carlo’s foot, two questions ran through my
mind—what in the world is happening here? Why did the sponge creature suddenly
get so excited?