Incredible Shrinking Kid! (2 page)

Suddenly, the man's crooked face smiled. Well, half of it did. “Welcome to Kruger's Toy World,” he said. Then he bowed really low and swept his hands toward the door. “I am Kruger.”

“Now there's a howdy for you!” Mr. Vickers exclaimed.

“I'm going to order a pizza,” said Mrs. Vickers. She swished across the street to Duffey's Diner as the others walked into the store.

“This is awesome,” said Sean, staring at shelf upon shelf of all the latest toys advertised on TV. “He's even got Moto-Men! My favorites!”

Sean ran across the room to where dozens of mega-warrior Moto-Men stood shoulder to shoulder on a shelf. Each Moto-Man was ten inches tall with a face that was all rivets and blinking lights. The arms were rocket launchers.

Sean reached for one. Suddenly, the robot's little head turned to face him. “Exterminate!” droned a little voice. Then it shot its arm rocket.

Flonk!
It bounced off Sean's chest. “Hey!”

“Ha-ha!” It was Mr. Kruger, holding a small radio controller box. “Rockets sold separately.”

Then the man turned to Sean's father and crooked a long finger at him. He shuffled across the floor. “Walk this way, yes?”

“Sure, if I can.” Mr. Vickers shuffled after him.

Sean noticed that the toymaker's streak of white hair went all the way back behind his ear to his skin. It ended in a black spot on his neck.

“Ultra creepy,” Sean whispered to himself.

“Will you take a look at this!” Mr. Vickers whistled from the backroom. “Now, this is my town! Grover's Mill! I can't believe the detail.”

Sean entered the backroom and walked over to a long table. He had to agree, the detail was amazing. One little house even had lights on inside. There was the Double Dunk Donut Den clock and even Lake Lake.

Suddenly the bell on the door jangled and Mrs. Vickers came in carrying a flat white box. The room smelled instantly of pizza with anchovies.

“What
is
that smell?” the toymaker snarled.

“Oh, no!” Mr. Vickers screamed out. “Don't anyone move!” He ran and snatched the white box from his wife and whipped out the steaming hot pizza. “Flying saucer from Pluto!” he screamed. “The fiercest alien force in the galaxy!”

Mr. Vickers flung the cheesy pizza over the model town. It whizzed and almost hovered for a second, just like real flying saucers do.

The horror movie director crouched low and made a frame with his fingers as if he were watching the pizza through a camera.

But then—no!—the cheesy pie started to dip.

“It's not going to make it!” Sean gasped.

The tall toymaker rushed over in horror as he saw the pizza coming in fast for a landing.

FLOOOOTH!

The crust caught the tip of a tiny water tower and pulled the whole thing down with a crash. A sudden rush of water splashed out on the table.

“Hey! Realistic!” Sean's father cried out in joy.

A big anchovy slapped the side of a little white house above the lake while the rest of the pizza spun to the distant mountains.

“Crash landing!” Mr. Vickers cheered. “Aliens all dead! Another victory for earth-lings!” He posed with his hands on his hips.

Mrs. Vickers hummed big movie music.

“Yoooooou!”
screamed the tall man, whipping the pizza off his creation. “How could you?”

Mr. Vickers' eyebrows shot up and he smiled like a kid opening presents. “Like this!” He curled his hand toward him then flipped it out, as if he were throwing another pizza. “Wanna try? I can run out and get a small cheese—”

“I AM A GENIUS!” the tall man proclaimed. “My incredible work is too good for you and your horrible movies!”

“Horror
movies,” Mr. Vickers corrected him. He looked at his wife. She smiled and nodded.

“No!” the man gasped. “I've seen them. They're terrible!”

“You mean
terror-filled?”
Mr. Vickers said.

“I mean—bad!” said Mr. Kruger.

“As in
evil
?” Mr. Vickers grinned delightedly. “Yes! I can see we're thinking the same way about my movies. I'll be back in two days to pick up my town!”

Mr. Vickers slipped his arm around his wife's waist, and strode out the door into the street, licking cheese from his fingers.

Sean edged to the back of the room toward a door that was slightly open.

The moment he reached for the doorknob, Mr. Kruger shuffled in front of him. “Forbidden!” he said.

“Eeeee!”
a scream suddenly filled the shop.

It was Holly! Sean whirled around just in time to see a furry white cat fly across the room and dive for a piece of little silver fish that had fallen off the flying pizza. Anchovy!

“Fluffy, no!” cried Mr. Kruger. “Not the stinky fish!” The tall man pushed his cat away from the anchovy. The cat flashed its eyes and snarled. Then it jumped on the table and began to slurp up the water from fake Lake Lake.

Mr. Kruger shuffled over to Sean, leaned down, and stared in his face. “You like it here, I can tell.” Then he paused and said, “You will be back.”

The man said it quietly and simply. As if it were a command.

You will be back.

Then Mr. Kruger rolled his hands over and over as if he was going to pick up a sandwich and bite it.

Sean's tongue got thick. He couldn't say a word. He felt all jittery and nervous again and he didn't like it.

He shoved past Holly and ran out the door.

4

The Trouble with Things

W
hen they got home Sean leaped right into his swimming trunks. “Going to the pool with Jeff!” he yelled on his way out the door.

When he jumped on his bike, he nearly fell over. The pedals seemed to be too far away.

“Hey, who's been messing with my bike?” he cried. But he was already late. He stood up on the pedals and pushed off down Elm Road.

Sean stopped at the corner of Oak Lane and waited. He looked up and down Birch Street. “Come on, Jeff, we're late,” he mumbled.

Sean felt his forehead. It was burning. That's the trouble, he thought, I'm coming down with something. I've got a fever and it's making me feel strange.

He searched the street for a sign of his friend on his bike. “Jeff, you are nowhere on time!”

Finally, Sean saw him. Jeff was leaping over the sidewalk cracks, in red high-tops with blue laces trailing behind. He was holding a towel.

Sean pedaled over. “Where's your bike?”

Jeff trotted to a stop, wiping his forehead. He bent to tie his shoes. “I can't find my bike.”

“You can't find it?” Sean asked.

Jeff shrugged. “Well, it was in the garage. My dad's car is gone, too.”

“Gone? You mean, stolen?” Sean said.

“I guess,” Jeff said. “But whoever took my bike and my dad's car, took the garage, too.”

Sean looked at him. “The garage?” He could see that Jeff was trying to be cheerful, but it wasn't working. He could burst into tears in a second. “Hey, they'll find it. I mean there's probably a special garage squad or something.”

“You think?” Jeff asked. “Maybe a team of special guys?”

“Sure. Now hop on,” said Sean. “We're late!”

Jeff stepped over the back fender and Sean stood, driving down hard on the pedals.

When they got to Beach Pool right next to Lake Lake, the line for diving lessons was already forming. Mr. Gilman, the school coach who taught swimming over the summer, was standing at the front of the line.

“Hurry, he's got his clipboard!” cried Jeff.

“Not the horrible clipboard!” Sean laughed.

Sean squeezed into line behind Liz Duffey. Liz was okay, but Sean thought she must have done something wacko with her hair. It was really big, In fact, it was like a huge forest towering over him.

“Ryan Jeff,” said Mr. Gilman, making a mark on his clipboard. He always called everybody by their last names first, even himself. “I'm Gilman Mister,” he said. “Good. Everybody here.”

Then the coach said something very strange. “Except Vickers Sean. Vickers not here. Not good.”

“Hey, I'm here!” Sean called out. He broke line and waved his arms back and forth. “I'm here.”

“Oh,” he said. “Stand tall, Vickers. Can't see you if you hide behind Duffey Liz's hair.”

Everybody laughed, even Liz and Jeff.

Sean tried to smile but couldn't. What's going on here? he thought.

“Okay, Vickers Sean, front and center,” said Mr. Gilman. “Show me how you dive.”

Sean walked over to the side of the pool. He tried to get into a good dive position, but his trunks were bothering him. They seemed a little loose. He hiked them up and twisted his waist. That felt better.

Sean aimed for the ripply blue water.

Mr. Gilman made some squiggles on his clipboard then looked up again. “No, no, Vickers. Trouble with your form. Ryan Jeff, do it with him.”

Jeff stepped over, tucked his head between his shoulders, and squatted low. “Like this.”

Sean twisted himself to look like Jeff.

“Dive!” Mr. Gilman called out.

The two boys dived together in their twin blue-and-orange racing trunks. They hit the water at the same time. It was warm. It felt great.

They swam over to the side together, slapping the water in unison. As they pulled themselves out of the pool, Mr. Gilman had his head buried in his clipboard.

“Water's warm,” Sean said.

A second later, everybody on the other side of the pool was laughing and pointing into the water. There, in the light and dark ripples on the surface of the water, something was floating. Something orange. With blue stripes.

“What?” Sean grabbed a towel from a chair.

He shot a look at Jeff. Jeff's trunks were tight around him.

Sean ran.

5

Something Bad

S
ean dashed into the pool house rest room and yanked his clothes off the hook. He jumped into his pants and pulled his belt tight. But even the last hole was too loose.

“My clothes are all against me!” he yelped. Finally, he just tied his belt in a knot.

“This is nutzoid!” he mumbled. “Something very weird is going on here.”

Sean peeked out the door of the rest room. He'd have to make a break for it. He tore off to the bike stand. He pulled his bike out, and climbed onto the seat.

In the fraction of a second before the bike tipped over, Sean saw his feet dangle inches above the pedals.

Wham!
He fell over onto the grass. His bike tumbled on top of him.

“Whoa!” yelled Jeff, running out of the rest room, pulling his T-shirt over his head. “What's with you and bikes? Did you forget how they work?”

“Not funny!” Sean snapped, getting up again.

Jeff pulled the bike up by its handlebar. “Stand aside. I'll pedal, you ride!”

The laughter still coming from the pool jabbed and jabbed poor Sean's brain like a fork trying to stab peas.

Sean felt as if he were burning up. His cheeks were red-hot.

When they rounded the corner of Maple and Elm, Sean saw his garage door open. “Leave me here, you take the bike.”

“What? Hey, wait!” Jeff yelled. But before he could turn around, Sean had disappeared into his garage.

From there, Sean slid into the house, dashed through the back hall, across the kitchen, and up the stairs without his parents seeing him.

He needed to get to his room. He needed time to think. He needed—

“Ooof!” He collided with Holly coming out of her bedroom.

Their noses nearly touched.

Sean froze. His whole body went icy cold.

Some tiny part of his brain that was still working said,
Holly is four inches shorter than you, Sean. Why is she staring at you, eye to eye? Why is she the same size as you?

Why? Why?

Sean pushed Holly aside, dived into his room, and slammed the door shut.

He stood in front of the mirror and let go of his pants. They fell limp on the floor. The sleeves on his T-shirt dangled to his wrists. The shirt bottom nearly touched the carpet.

What Sean saw in the mirror struck him with such terror that he almost fainted. His body was like a balloon losing air.

Inch by inch, he was getting shorter.

Getting smaller.

Shrinking!

That morning he was nearly five feet tall. But he must have lost almost five inches in the last hour! And it seemed to be going faster!

Sean's whole room seemed to be growing around him. What would happen when he reached four feet? Three feet?

His clothes puffed up around him.

“I'm melting!” he shrieked to himself.

Suddenly, the doorknob turned and the door opened into the room.

“No! Go away!” yelled Sean, backing away behind his desk. But the sound he made was high and whiny. Could anyone even hear that?

The door swung wide.

It was Holly. “Hey, Sean,” she started, looking all around the room. “Liz just called and told me what happened to you at the poo—poo—pool—”

She glanced behind the desk.

Sean got hot all over. His tongue felt thick and rubbery, like a school hamburger.

“Get out!” he squeaked. “Get out!”

But she didn't. Holly closed the door, stepped closer, and looked at Sean. He must have been down near two feet now. He could almost stand upright under his desk.

Holly stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “What's
happening
to you?”

Sean couldn't take it. A huge sob welled up in his throat and pushed itself out as if he had swallowed a baseball and his stomach didn't want it there. “I don't know! I'm … shrinking! It's stupid. I'm dying or something! It's probably some … bad thing.”

“What bad thing?” Holly asked.

“I don't know,” he sobbed. Terror began to creep into every thought. He couldn't be sure about anything. “Maybe something bad I did.”