The Bully Bug (8 page)

I tried to say something else, but everything got real fuzzy. Then everything faded away.

Next thing I knew, I was getting hit in the face with a hard stream of water. “Cut it out!”

“You okay now?” Bud asked. He was standing there with a hose.

I looked around. We were on the side of our house, next to the driveway. “How'd I get here?”

“I carried you,” Bud said. “It was like that time when you ran headfirst into the side of the house. Knocked you right out. I figured I'd better bring you home.” He looked over his shoulder. “Oh gross—you drooled all over my shirt, too.”

“Sorry.”

“That's okay. I'm drier than you.” He laughed and sprayed me with the hose again.

“Stop that.”

Bud turned off the nozzle. “Hey, you better wipe yourself off before we go inside. If you get the floor wet, Mom will be real steamed.”

He was right. So I dried off. But when we got inside, I found out that someone was real angry anyhow. And it wasn't Mom.

 

Sixteen

WHAT WOOD YOU CHEW?

 

The minute I stepped inside, I could hear Dad shouting from upstairs. “Those darn termites! That does it. Lud, get up here. I need you.”

“Sounds like work,” Bud said. “Think I'll go back outside.” He dashed out the door.

That was okay. I didn't mind helping Dad. “What's wrong?” I asked when I got to the top of the stairs.

“Look at this.” He pointed at the door to my room. He was so angry, his hand was shaking.

“Oh no.” I looked at the bottom. The wood was all chewed up, like something was eating at it. Man—I knew what had chewed the wood. Me.

“Termites!” Dad said. “I'm gonna get them once and for all. Go grab the sprayer.”

I went up to the attic and got Dad's spray can. I figured I'd have to slip out of the house before he started spraying, or I'd be in big trouble. “Maybe you should hold off,” I told him.

“Why? So they can eat up the rest of the house? Darn bugs.”

I couldn't answer him. What could I say?
Guess what, Dad? Your son's a bug. A real big bug.
I couldn't ever tell him that. He'd go crazy. I could just see him turning the spray on me. I started to walk away.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“Outside.” I figured I could hang out in the yard until the air cleared. I was still a little dizzy from Mr. Terranova's lawn.

“Stay here,” Dad said. “I need you to work the pump. Got to get two men on this. You pump hard and I'll spray. Hit 'em with full pressure, really get the stuff into every crack. We're going to wipe out every single insect in this house.”

It felt good that he thought of me as a man. It felt bad that I was about to end up in a cloud of bug-killer spray. Maybe I could stay out of the way if I kept behind him. I started pumping. Dad lifted the hose and pointed the nozzle at the floor, next to the door. “Die, bugs.” He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

“Darn. Let me see that.” He grabbed the can and shook it. “Empty.” He looked at his watch. “The store's closed. Don't worry. I'll get some more spray first thing in the morning.”

I put the sprayer back in the attic. Man, it was hot up there. I hurried out. I didn't want to be changing into a bug any faster than I had to.

I went downstairs. Dad was in the kitchen. “Maybe it's not termites,” I said.

“Doesn't matter what kind of bug it is,” he said. “I'm going to get the good stuff. It'll kill anything that wiggles, crawls, or flies. Big or small, kills 'em all.” He grinned.

“Great.” I went out back. Bud was playing monster ape again, knocking over stuff, but I didn't feel like joining him. I didn't feel like doing anything. So I just sat and watched him. He was lucky. Tomorrow, he'd be pretty much the same as he was today. And the same the next day. I didn't know what was going to happen to me. But I knew one thing: After everyone went to sleep, I was going to fix the sprayer so it wouldn't work. Hey, that was almost a joke. I'd said I'd fix it so it wouldn't work. But if it were fixed, it would work.

Even my jokes didn't cheer me up right then.

I walked over to one of the washing machines. I'd seen the bugs run under it the other day. Maybe they were still there. I didn't want to get bit again, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to get a closer look at them. I flipped over the machine.

There were plenty of bugs underneath. Except they weren't moving. My stomach twisted around when I looked at them. They were all dead.

A breeze came through the yard and scattered the dried-out bodies. Just like that, they were gone. I should have felt glad about them being dead, since they'd done this to me. But I didn't. I felt sorry for them.

When we went in for dinner, I forced down some food to make Mom happy. At bedtime, I waited until it sounded like everybody was asleep. We Mellons aren't the quietest sleepers in the world. Sometimes my parents' room sounds like a place where people test out chain saws. And May whistles through her nose when she sleeps. It's almost like she's playing a flute. Badly.

I went into the hall and up to the attic. I didn't want to turn on a light, so I felt my way around. I kept one hand on the door so I wouldn't get trapped, and reached around for the can.

That's when something dropped onto my hand. It must have been a spider. I jumped. Bad move, since the ceiling was pretty low in the attic. I smacked the top of my head so hard, it felt like someone had set off a firecracker inside my brain. For the second time in one day, everything went black.

The last thought I had as I passed out was how hot it felt. Real hot. Like an oven.

 

Seventeen

TOTALLY BUGGY

 

Oh man. It took me a minute to remember where I was. I sat up and felt my head for a bump.

Something was wrong.

Please. Let it be a dream.

My whole head was covered with stiff, pointy hairs. So was my hand. Only it wasn't a hand. It was too dark to see for sure what it had turned into. I think I was glad I couldn't see too much. But my hand ended in some kind of claw. It felt like my thumb had gotten bigger and my other four fingers had gotten stuck together.

A breeze from somewhere broke through the heat. I could feel it over my whole body. And the smell of flowers. Real strong. It was coming from outside. Mom had planted a cherry tree in the yard years ago. I could smell the blossoms. I could taste them, too. But my mouth was closed. I realized I could taste them with my arms. No joke. Where the air hit my arms, I could taste the flowers.

I stood up, making sure I didn't hit my head again. I needed to know what I'd become. There was a bulb in the middle of the attic, with a chain. I felt around for the chain, then gave it a yank.

The attic filled with light.

I'd forgotten that Dad stacked up a bunch of old mirrors against the far wall.

When I saw the reflections, I jumped.

But this time, I didn't bang my head. I spun around with my belly toward the ceiling. My hands—or whatever they were—and my feet hit the ceiling and stuck. I'd done it without thinking. Like how a cat lands on its feet. Or how a ninja in one of those karate movies leaps around. I felt strong and light. I could have hung there all day with no trouble.

I took a step, then another. The breeze was coming through the vent holes Dad had cut. I didn't even have to wonder whether I could fit through. I knew there was enough space. I crawled down the ceiling to the floor, and then slipped through the opening.

I crawled up to the roof. The sun was rising. The world filled with greens and blues and a color I had never seen before. Everything curved around from the center to the corners of my eyes. It was hard to describe, but it was sort of like those giant movie screens that wrap around a wall. It helped me know how far away everything was.

The sun felt wonderful. My skin, or whatever it was, soaked up the heat. It made my whole body feel good.

After a while, I crawled down the side of the house. The ground felt great. I could taste the grass through my hands. I'd decided to still call them hands, even though they looked more like claws. I stood up and looked around, thinking about what I'd seen in the mirror.

The eyes. That was the strangest thing. My eyes were huge. My head was bigger, too. And I had small antennas on top of it. If tonight was Halloween, I'd be the coolest kid on the planet. But it was spring, and I was nothing but a giant bug. I didn't know what to do. I thought about going back to the bedroom and getting Bud. But what could he do for me? I wasn't smart enough to figure anything out, and I was smarter than Bud. Besides, if Dad saw me, he'd flip. And I didn't want to scare Mom. She wasn't afraid of bugs, but she'd never seen one this size. I guess nobody had.

Something else felt wrong. My pajama top was tight. I took it off, but that didn't help. I kept seeing a shape out of the corner of my eye, like when you have stuff stuck to your nose and you almost can't see it. But this was on my shoulder. No, it was over my shoulder.

I turned my head around and saw that I had wings. Big ones. After a while, when I got over the shock, I found out I could move them. When I shrugged my shoulders, the wings moved. I tried flapping them together. First just one big flap. Nothing happened. Then I tried a couple faster flaps.

Whoa.

It was like someone had grabbed me under my arms and lifted me up. Right off, I went up a foot or two.

I stopped flapping and dropped to the ground.

Okay. This could be interesting. I flapped a bit slower. This time, I didn't shoot up into the air. I went up slowly. Not bad. I flew a little higher and looked down. It was weird, seeing my feet dangling like that, not touching the ground.

So I could go up. But that wouldn't do me much good unless I could also go other ways. I wondered how I could go forward. I tried leaning, then almost toppled over. No. That wasn't the way to do it. Then I tried flapping back a little with my wings.

It worked.

Except I shot forward real fast. Right into the side of the house.

Kasplat!

I felt like a bug that had smacked a windshield. I slid to the ground.

I guess it was like driving a car. You could go places easily, but if you messed up, you got hurt. I turned away from the house and tried again. This time, I managed to fly around the yard without slamming into anything.

I flew around the yard a couple more times.

“
Luuuudddddd!
Where are you?”

Oh man. May was calling for me. I thought about just flying away. But then Mom would worry. I fluttered back to the ground and stood by the side of the house.

“I'm out here,” I called. My voice sounded nearly normal. Maybe just a little bit buzzy. Hey, I thought of a joke. If my voice was kind of rough, that made me a hoarse fly. “I got up early. I'm heading out for school.”

“What about breakfast?” May called.

“I ate already,” I said. I looked over at the trees next to the house. Sure enough, I'd munched down on one of the branches. So I wasn't lying.

“There ain't no school,” May called. “It's Saturday.”

“I want to get a head start for next week,” I told her.

I slipped out of the yard before May could argue with me. But I hadn't gone more than a couple steps when I heard Bud shouting, “Hey, Lud! You out there? Wait for me. Okay? Wait for me, Lud.”

“I'll meet you later,” I called back. Then I hurried down the street. I was only wearing my pajama bottoms, but the way I looked, that didn't really seem to matter. With luck, nobody would see me.

It's amazing how bad luck can be when you need it to be good.

 

Eighteen

SEE YOU

 

I flew above the town. At first, I followed the streets. Then I realized I didn't have to. I could go wherever I wanted, even right over houses and trees. Somehow, I knew exactly how far away everything was. I knew how long it would take to get to Norman's house, or back home, or anywhere else. Once I got the hang of it, I didn't even have to think.

This was even better than having my own airplane.

After a while, my shoulders got tired, so I came down and started walking.

That's when I ran into her.

Dawn. The last person I wanted to scare. She was coming down her porch steps, holding her collie on a leash.