In the Land of the Lawn Weenies (7 page)

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Authors: David Lubar

BOOK: In the Land of the Lawn Weenies
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N
ormally, Joe wouldn't pick through garbage, but he'd glimpsed the edge of a shiny plastic case in the trash basket on the corner of Watson Street.
Electronics,
he thought as he leaned over and reached inside. Oh yes. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't trash.
Who would throw out a cellular phone?
Joe wondered as he pulled the object from its nest of crumpled papers and crushed cans.
“Probably doesn't work,” he said to himself as he flicked the on/off switch and held the phone to his ear. That's when he got his first surprise of the day. He heard someone talking. Joe listened for a moment, then said, “Hello? Hey, I found this phone. Can you hear me?”
But the voice on the other end didn't respond to
him. The man was speaking to someone else. “I just saw it on the news,” the man said.
“Lucky everybody got out,” a woman said. “Can you imagine what would have happened if there were lots of people in the bus station when the fire started? That would have been terrible.”
The bus station ?
Joe thought. He hadn't heard anything about a fire, and he hadn't heard any sirens. But if the man just saw it on the news, it might still be happening. Joe had to go see. He switched off the phone and slipped it in his pocket. Then he jogged to the bus terminal.
“They must be crazy,” he said when he reached the station. There was no sign of a fire. Joe looked at the clock on the bank across the street. It was seventy-four degrees. It was ten in the morning. He went home and put the phone in his desk drawer.
That evening, Joe was walking through the living room as his parents watched the news. “A fire broke out at the bus station around five this evening,” the announcer reported.
Joe couldn't believe it. He listened to the rest of the story, trying to compare the details to what he had heard on the phone.
“No one was hurt, but the station was badly damaged. We'll have more information on the eleven o'clock report.”
A shiver ran down Joe's back, then twisted through his stomach. He rushed to his room and grabbed the phone. He switched it on, but all he got was dead silence.
He tried the phone again an hour later. The line
was still dead. But on the next try, right before he went to bed, Joe heard the two people talking again.
“I just hate this weather,” the man said.
Joe looked out the window. Stars twinkled in a cloudless sky.
“I don't mind the rain,” the woman said, “but ever since I was a kid I hated thunder.”
Joe could hear a crackle over the line like there was lightning in the air.
Definitely crazy,
he thought as he turned off the phone and went to sleep.
Six hours later, clouds filled the night sky. A heavy rain fell. The first thunderclap woke Joe. Lightning danced across the clouds in jagged flashes.
Maybe they aren't crazy,
Joe thought as he watched the storm.
Joe started checking the phone as often as he could. Whatever the man and woman talked about—the weather, the news, the latest episode of their favorite television show—happened just as they said. But each event took less time to come true than the last. The future Joe overheard in the phone kept getting closer to the present. But none of it was worth anything to him.
The next day, Joe finally heard something exciting.
“Imagine that,” the man said. “All those bags of money lying there—right on Adams Street, just past the corner at Main.”
“Can you believe it was there for over an hour before the police found it?” the woman asked. “The robbers must have dropped the loot when they were getting away. Good thing Adams isn't
a busy street. It's still pretty amazing nobody picked up the money.”
Joe switched off the phone. This was better than knowing the weather or the news. This was information he could use. Main and Adams streets were less than half a mile away. Joe started running. He reached Main and headed toward Adams. As he turned the corner, he saw bulging canvas bags scattered across one side of the street.
Joe ran down the block, his eyes fixed on the sacks. A police car came speeding past. It slid to a stop right next to the money. Two officers jumped out, grabbed the sacks, and tossed them into the trunk.
“Stupid phone,” Joe said as he watched the patrol car drive away. He was so frustrated he almost threw it in the garbage. What good was knowing the future, he asked himself, if he couldn't get there in time?
Joe started walking home, holding the phone in his hand. He kept wondering what the man and woman were discussing right now. Probably chatting about the weather, he thought. Or something stupid, like a new movie. But maybe it was something
really
important …
Joe felt like he was holding onto the last piece of popcorn from a box. He couldn't leave it untasted. He had to try again. As he started across Bridge Street, he switched on the phone.
Tell me something I can use,
he thought.
That's all I want. Tell me something important. Just one small thing.
He held the phone to his ear. They were talking.
Joe relaxed. Hearing the voices was like running into old friends.
“Poor kid,” the woman was saying.
There was a sadness in the woman's tone that caused Joe to stop walking and listen carefully.
“Yeah, I saw it on the news. It's a shame he died.”
Joe shook his head. “Who cares,” he muttered. This didn't sound like anything useful or important. But he kept the phone to his ear. He couldn't help himself.
“He was just standing there,” the man said, “right in the middle of Bridge Street, by the place where the road curves. Imagine that. I wonder what was on his mind? They say he didn't even see the truck.”
Truck?
Joe thought as he heard the blare of a horn and the shriek of large tires skidding around the curve behind him.
What truck?
 
 
“Cool,” Lisa said as she looked down into the garbage can next to a lamppost on Bridge Street. She reached inside, wondering why someone would throw away a cellular phone. “Probably doesn't even work,” she said. She switched it on and held it to her ear. She smiled as she heard voices. This, she thought, could be very interesting.
 
 
K
elly had the sand castle almost perfect when Michael ran across the beach, screaming like a wild man. He smashed right through her marvelous castle, blowing it into fine fragments of sand that fell in a shower around her.
“Michael!”
“Sorry,” he said, barely glancing over his shoulder. “Didn't see it.”
“Yes you did. You ruined it on purpose.”
Michael turned toward Kelly and shook his head. “Didn't,” he said in a calm voice.
“Did!” Kelly shouted.
“Kids,” Dad said, looking up from his magazine. “Stop fighting. This is supposed to be a vacation. Kelly, you're old enough to know how to behave. You should set an example for Michael.”
“But Michael ruined my castle,” Kelly said. “And he did it on purpose. Just like he ruins everything.”
Mom glanced up from her book. “I'm sure it was an accident. There's no need for all this shouting.” She shifted her eyes back to her reading before Kelly could answer.
Kelly looked at Michael. Michael looked back, grinning. Then, as if to make sure she knew it was no accident at all, he stuck out his tongue.
Kelly grabbed a fistful of sand, squeezing it so hard she could almost imagine it forming into a hunk of rock. It would feel wonderful to hurl it at Michael. That would knock a little manners into him. Her arm tensed.
“Listen, kids,” Dad said, “your mom and I want to go back to the hotel and pick up some lunch for everyone. Can we trust the two of you to stay here alone?”
“Sure,” Michael said. “No problem.”
Kelly let the sand trickle from her fingers.
Alone out here?
The place was so bare and empty. They were the only people on the beach, and there weren't a whole lot of people on the island. A dozen frightening thoughts flashed through Kelly's mind.
“Well, Kell?” her Dad asked.
“Better take her with you,” Michael said. “She's scared.”
“Am not,” Kelly said. She looked at her dad. “Sure, we'll be fine.” The words fell from her mouth like specks of foam at the edge of a wave. In an instant, they were lost on the beach.
“Stay out of the water,” Mom said. “We'll hurry back.”
Kelly watched her parents walk up the beach to the road and wedge themselves into the small rental car. In a moment, the car was puttering along the narrow pathway. In another moment, it was out of sight.
Michael headed right for the ocean.
“Hey,” Kelly said, “they told us not to.”
“They aren't here, are they?” Michael walked deeper, kicking up water with each step.
Kelly glared at him.
I hope you drown,
she thought. Instantly, she felt awful for making such a terrible wish.
Michael screamed.
Kelly's heart slammed against her chest. Her brother slashed his arms down, striking at something in the water. He screamed again. Then he lurched and disappeared beneath the water.
“Michael!” Kelly ran to the edge of the ocean. She searched for any sign of her brother. She rushed into the water, unsure of what to do. “Mom! Dad! Come back! Help!” Kelly yelled toward the road. It was useless. They were gone. She ran farther out. The surf lapped at her knees. “Michael, where are you?” she called, desperately scanning the ocean.
Suddenly the water next to her exploded. A huge shape shot up from the ocean in a spray of white foam. Kelly jumped back, scraping her heel on a jagged shell. The thrashing creature next to her roared.
Then it laughed.
“That's not funny!” Kelly shouted.
“You should have seen your face.” Michael laughed again as he walked back toward the sand. He left the water and plunked down on a towel.
Kelly felt trapped. She knew she wasn't supposed to be in the water, but she didn't want to join her brother. It was always that way—Michael broke the rules, and then she got in trouble.
Kelly wanted to get even. There had to be some way. Maybe she could scare him.
“Watch out for the sand sharks,” she called.
“What?”
“Sand sharks,” she repeated. “They'll get you.”
“Don't be stupid,” Michael said. “Sand sharks live in the water.”
“Nope,” Kelly told him. “Not around here. Around here, they live in the sand. And they hunt for boys. I read about them in the guidebook.”
“Yeah, right.” Michael sprawled across the beach towel.
Kelly remained in the water. She watched Michael, wondering what he would do next. She was sure he wasn't through ruining her day. He had one foot in the sand by the corner of the towel, digging in with his toes. Suddenly he jerked his leg and stuck his foot deeper.
“Help!” he screamed.
Kelly wasn't amused.
“Ow! Help!” Michael twisted around like a fish on a hook. He thrust his foot farther into the sand. “Kelly, help me!”
“Yeah, right,” she said, repeating the words he'd used a moment earlier. She wasn't going to fall for his tricks twice in one day. “You'll have to do better than that.”
Somehow, Michael dug his foot even deeper in the sand. Kelly was amazed that her brother would work so hard to scare her.
“Ahhhh!” He was making fake screams now, not even shouting real words. He was really flopping around. He thrashed his arms and kicked at the sand with his other foot. Then he stuck that one in, too.
Kelly wondered how long he would keep it up. He'd actually gotten his legs into the sand all the way up to the knees. She hadn't thought that would be possible. It sure looked uncomfortable. Still, it was all wasted effort. She'd never fall for such a ridiculous trick.
Twisting and wriggling, Michael managed to get buried all the way up to the top of his bathing suit. “Kelly,” he said weakly.
Kelly had an idea. She decided to play along just enough to make him think she was fooled. After all, the sand shark story was her idea to begin with. “Oh, all right, I'll help you.” She walked slowly toward the shore. But she promised herself she wouldn't run or scream when he leaped up and shouted. She'd just laugh at him. It would be perfect.
Kelly waded through the surf, taking small steps to make Michael wait. She enjoyed the way the water felt as it ran back to the sea, tickling her toes. Her brother was still making sounds,
but they made no sense. She braced herself, knowing he would jump up and shout “Boo!” when she got close.
He didn't.
By the time Kelly reached Michael, all she could see was the top of his head. A moment later, the sand closed in over that, leaving nothing but a tiny crater.
Kelly heard a car coming down the road toward the beach. After the engine stopped, she heard car doors slamming.
“Where's Michael?” Mom called.
“He didn't feel like lunch,” Kelly said as she smoothed out the shallow crater with her foot. She decided that after she ate she'd go back into the water as soon as Mom let her. She really didn't want to spend much time on the sand.

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