A Weird Case of Super-Goo (3 page)

At first, Giles liked it that Aunt Lillian was his own age. It was just like having a sister. Now that he’d decided to erase Tina and Kevin from his life, it was great to have a new friend right at home. After school, they’d watch TV or do a crossword puzzle together, or they’d work on one of Giles’s model airplanes, or she’d teach Giles about crystals and horoscopes. Aunt Lillian wasn’t very good at helping him with his homework, but he didn’t mind that. He’d much rather listen to her endless supply of ghost stories.

And he didn’t even miss the Quarks! Frankly, he was glad to be free of the genius business. There was always something going on—some big new case to solve, some mysterious problem, some new invention of Tina’s to test. He was tired of Tina’s infuriating know-it-all attitude, and
Kevin’s kooky ideas. It was all too much trouble! No, he was glad to be finished with them for good.

As for his orange hair, he’d tried several times now to dye it back to its normal colour, but it had never worked. Whenever he hurried from the shower to the mirror to look, it was still bright, flaming orange. There was nothing to do but let it grow out. At least Aunt Lillian didn’t laugh at it, like everyone at school did!

Mrs Barnes, needless to say, did not share Giles’s enthusiasm for the new Aunt Lillian.

“What about your job?” she would ask her sister pointedly. “Don’t you want to get back to work?”

“Not really.”

“And your house! You’ll want to get back to your own house!”

“I was thinking of renting it out, actually.”

“What about Roger, your boyfriend?” she asked desperately. “Don’t you miss him? He won’t be very happy about this!”

“I never liked him all that much. No, Liz, I’m glad to leave all that behind me. I’m happy with things just as they are.”

But over the next few days, Giles started to understand his mother’s feelings a bit better. For one thing, Aunt Lillian was messy. When she’d first arrived as a grown-up, she had at least kept the mess mostly in the guest room, but now that she was eleven, she let it spread—down the hallway into the bathroom, down the main stairs, into the living room and kitchen. Her things—clothes and hairbrushes and shoes and CDs and astrology books—were everywhere.

And there was something unsettling about Aunt Lillian’s looking young, but not really
being
young. Like the way she kept on smoking (more than ever, it seemed), puffing away as she read a magazine. Or the way she’d gulp down a vodka martini before dinner. Or the way she’d stay up till the wee hours of the morning, watching old movies on television. And she didn’t even have to go to school, which Giles thought was just a little unfair.

Even though their house was pretty big, Aunt Lillian seemed to fill it up completely. She liked taking hour-long baths—sometimes twice a day. At breakfast, she would finish off the last of Giles’s favourite cereal. After school
she insisted on watching the TV shows she liked best. She sprawled on Mr Barnes’s favourite chair and used Mrs Barnes’s hair dryer and curling iron without telling her. She wasn’t, Giles realized, very good at sharing.

Then one day, Mrs Barnes snapped.

Giles had just come home with his mom after a dentist appointment. Walking into the front hallway, Giles thought the house must be on fire.

The living room was so packed with smoke he could barely see Aunt Lillian. As usual, she was slouched in front of the television, smoking furiously, with a dozen ashtrays overflowing onto the carpet, and junk-food bags and pop cans strewn around her.

“Oh, hi, you guys,” she said, with a lazy wave.

It was then that Giles realized the room wasn’t just filled with cigarette smoke. There was another smell, too.

“Lillian, did you remember to take out the roast?” Mrs Barnes said in alarm.

“Oh, the roast. Whoops,” said Lillian, without much concern.

Mrs Barnes raced into the kitchen.

“Lillian!” she roared. “It’s completely incinerated! I told you to take it out at four!”

Lillian yawned and clicked off the television. “Well, I felt like a veggie burger anyway,” she said, standing and putting on her coat. “Can I get anyone anything while I’m out? No? Well, see you later.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Mrs Barnes.

Giles looked up at his mother, startled. He’d never heard her sound like this before—or at least, not since he was eight years old and had been using the sofa as a trampoline (even though she’d told him not to) and had bounced right off and landed on the side table, smashing her favourite vase. It was that kind of voice, a voice that made you stop everything and freeze.

It had the same effect on Aunt Lillian.

“Take your coat off,” said Mrs Barnes in this calm, steely voice. “Now…go to your room
this instant
!”

“Lillian,” said Mrs Barnes sternly, “we’ve decided that
since you’re determined to stay young, we’ll have to treat you like you
are
young.”

“What do you mean by that?” said Aunt Lillian, taking a suspicious puff on her cigarette.

After making Aunt Lillian stay in her room for an hour, Mrs Barnes had summoned her downstairs to the dining room. Giles and his father were there, too, seated solemnly around the table. They’d just held a war council, the three of them, and they now had a plan.

“To begin with,” Mrs Barnes told her sister, “bedtime at eight—after all, you’ll have to start getting up early for school.”

“I don’t need to go to school,” Aunt Lillian said. “I’ve been to school! I’ve learned everything!”

“There’s always new things to learn, Lillian,” said Mr Barnes. “Why, just the other day, Giles taught me about glaciers and French verbs.”

“You’ll be eating Brussels sprouts for dinner at least three times a week,” Mrs Barnes continued.

“I hate Brussels sprouts! I’ve always hated them. You know that, Liz.”

“Good nutrition,” said Mrs Barnes. “Of course, you’re only allowed one hour of TV on weeknights, and you’ll be starting piano lessons right away.”

“That’s outrageous! I don’t want to take piano lessons!”

“And one last thing. You’ll have to quit smoking.” She reached across the table and plucked the cigarette from Lillian’s mouth, grinding it out in the ashtray with a smile. “It’s very bad for the young.”

“Ten out of twenty-five!” moaned Aunt Lillian. “I can’t believe it!”

Giles shook his head. Miss Laframboise was handing back yesterday’s French verb quiz, and Aunt Lillian had got her usual failing score. It was no wonder, really; she never did her homework. She’d been going to school for almost a week now, and Giles could see it was nearly killing her. Every morning she practically had to be dragged out of bed. She walked to school like a zombie. And it wasn’t just French verbs she was failing; she couldn’t seem to get a handle on any of the subjects. What’s more, she’d already been caught twice having a smoke in the girls’ washroom in between classes.

“You should try studying a bit more,” Giles whispered to her.

“I’m not cut out for this, Giles. The pressure of school is too much for me.”

“Lillian, shush!” said Miss Laframboise.

“Sorry, ma’am,” muttered Aunt Lillian.

Giles couldn’t help smiling. Gradually, their plan had been working. School, homework, the eight o’clock curfew, and Brussels sprouts for dinner were all beginning to take their toll on Aunt Lillian. So were the piano lessons. For half an hour every evening, Aunt Lillian drooped listlessly over the piano, Mrs Barnes supervising, and slapped away at the keys. Frankly, Giles wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it, either. Every other note Aunt Lillian played was wrong; so to make up for it, she would bang away at the keys louder and louder, until Mr Barnes would suggest she’d done quite enough for one day, thank you very much.

Giles glanced across the class at Kevin and Tina. For the past week, they’d all been pretending to ignore each other. But the fact was, Giles was actually starting to miss
them. He didn’t know why, but he was. Still, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. They hadn’t even apologized for the orange hair glitch yet!

“I’m beginning to crack, Giles,” Aunt Lillian hissed to him a few minutes later. “Maybe this kid thing isn’t so great after all.”

Giles just nodded, copying down the verbs Miss Laframboise was writing on the board.

“I mean, I’m dying for a cigarette, and I haven’t had a drink in ages and—”

“Lillian!” exclaimed the French teacher. “I’ve heard quite enough out of you for one day! Come back after school for a detention!”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lillian feebly.

But then something seemed to snap inside her. She jumped to her feet. “A detention?” she exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding! I’m thirty-six years old! You can’t give me a detention!”

Everyone in the class just stared at her in amazement.

Aunt Lillian turned to Giles. “That’s it! I can’t take it anymore! I want to smoke and stay up late and watch as
much TV as I like and eat junk food and drive my car, and never, ever do homework again!”

And with that she stormed out of the classroom.

When Giles got home from school, he found Aunt Lillian upstairs with all her strange recipe books spread out around her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to find a recipe to make myself older again! I should never have dabbled in this stuff! Give me a hand, will you.”

Together, they pored over the ancient pages, sneezing from the dust and squinting to read the tiny, cracked print.

“Here’s one to find water,” said Giles.

“And here’s one that gets rid of warts, corns, and pimples.”

“This one promises to double your money overnight, but you need the ears of a giant Tibetan bat.”

They continued scouring the books, but after an hour they’d found nothing.

“Lots of stuff here to make you younger,” said Aunt Lillian gloomily, “but nothing to make you older. I think we’re out of luck, Giles. It looks like I’m stuck this way forever!”

“Well…I know some people who might be able to help,” said Giles hesitantly.

“You do? Warlocks or witches?”

“Neither. Geniuses.”

“Giles, I’m willing to try anything. Even science.”

With a sigh, Giles walked to the phone and punched in the familiar number. It was picked up on the first ring.

“Tina and Kevin Quark, local geniuses. May I help you?”

“Kevin, it’s Giles. I’ve got a job for you.”

“Now look, this is strictly business,” Giles told Tina and Kevin in their basement workshop. “I want to hire you. That’s all. My Mom will be more than willing to pay your fee. Are we clear on this?”

“Certainly, Barnes,” said Tina. “Or should we call you Mr Barnes?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I think that would be appropriate. Mr Barnes would be acceptable.”

“Very well. Kevin, remember that. Now then, what can we do for you, Mr Barnes?”

Giles introduced them to Aunt Lillian and filled them in on her super-goo predicament.

“Interesting,” said Tina. “Her mind is totally unchanged. It’s only her body that’s younger.”

“Any ideas?” Giles asked.

Tina was thoughtful for a moment. “Well, the obvious thing would be a brain transfer.”

“A what?” said Aunt Lillian in alarm.

“I could simply remove your brain and put it into the body of an older person.”

“Absolutely not!” yelled Aunt Lillian.

“We’d try to find someone who looked like you,” Tina assured her, “more or less, anyway.”

Aunt Lillian shook her head. “Giles, please tell Dr Frankenstein here that I’m very fond of my own body and have no intention of being parted from it!”

“Fair enough,” said Tina with an impatient sigh. “You
are
making this awfully difficult, though.”

She picked up a penlight and shone it into one of Aunt Lillian’s eyes.

“Could I at least take a brain sample? Just a small one?”

“That’s it,” said Aunt Lillian. “I’m leaving.”

Giles put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure Tina and Kevin can come up with something a little less drastic,” he said, turning a stern gaze on Tina.

“We’ve just got to make her older, right?” Kevin said,
as if he’d just solved a colossal problem by himself.

“Yes, Kevin, but how?” said Tina.

“Well, everyone says a bad scare can take years off a person’s life.”

“Brilliant, Kevin. So what are we going to do? Follow her around and shout ‘boo!’ every half hour?”

“I guess it’s not very practical.”

“No, it’s not,” said Tina, then fell silent.

“I can’t believe it!” said Giles. “I hired you two, and you can’t solve the problem?”

“Mr Barnes,” said Tina, “please. Rome was not built in a day.”

Kevin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and some things just take a little time.”

“Kevin,” sighed his sister, “that’s what I just said.”

“Whatever. Give us a day or two, Barnes—I mean, Mr Barnes. The genius business never fails.”

“Yeah? What about the Brain Drainer and my orange hair?”

“The Brain Drainer,” said Tina thoughtfully. “That might be an idea. Now if you’ll excuse us, Mr Barnes, Kevin and I would like to get to work.”

Giles and Aunt Lillian arrived home to find Mrs Barnes tidying up the living room, piling up her sister’s magazines and stray socks and hair clips, emptying ashtrays.

“Oh, here, let me give you a hand with that,” said Aunt Lillian, hurriedly gathering up all her junk. “I’m sorry, Liz. I’ve been awful. I’ve come into your house and messed everything up.”

“No, no…” said Mrs Barnes weakly.

“You don’t have to be polite. I’ve been a real pain, haven’t I?”

“Well, yes,” said Mrs Barnes. “But I’m sorry, too, Lillian. I mean, I know I’m not very nice when you come to stay. I’m not very open-minded about your work. I should try to be more tolerant.”

“You’ve been very tolerant, as a matter of fact. And I’ve completely overstayed my welcome.”

As the two sisters hugged, an ashtray slipped from Aunt Lillian’s hands, dumping soot onto the carpet.

“Where’s the vacuum?” she asked. “I’ll clean it up.”

And in that moment, right before Giles’s eyes, his aunt
suddenly looked older—not a lot older, a year or two maybe, but older all the same. Giles blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. It only lasted a moment, and then all at once, she went back to looking young again.

“Wow,” Giles breathed.

“What?” said Aunt Lillian, looking at him strangely.

“I’ve got to make a phone call.”

He rushed upstairs to call the Quarks.

He had a plan.