Where am I? I wondered.
My heart was pounding like a drum. I took a deep breath. Then I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Ryan? Hey — Ryan?”
No answer.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I saw a dim light. I started to walk toward it. My legs felt shaky, and my heart was still thudding away.
A narrow metal ladder stood in front of me. I nearly walked right into it.
I gripped the sides of the ladder and gazed up. I saw a square opening above me. And the glare of white light.
I squeezed both hands tightly on the ladder and began to climb. My shoes slapped the metal rungs and made them ring. I pulled myself to the top and stepped out of the darkness into the square of bright light.
“Ryan?”
He stood in front of me. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the silvery shades, but he looked dazed.
“Ryan? You’re okay?”
He nodded. “I guess.”
“Where are we?” I asked, squinting in the bright light.
He didn’t have to answer. I could see we were at the back of a store.
I took a few steps down the aisle. The shelves were crammed with souvenirs and joke items — stuffed monkeys and rubber chickens, skulls with glowing red eyes …
“A gift shop,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “Do you believe it? That big phony sent us to a gift shop.”
I chuckled. “Mondo sure had me fooled. I thought something terrible happened to you. He may be a lousy magician, but he’s a terrific actor. I really thought he was scared!”
“He just wanted to sell us stuff,” Ryan grumbled.
I picked up a cute brown-and-white stuffed puppy. “PUT ME DOWN!” it screamed.
Startled, I dropped it back on the shelf.
Ryan laughed. “Cool. Pick it up again.”
I picked up the little puppy. “I’LL BITE YOUR FACE!” it shrieked.
We both laughed.
I picked up a greenish skull. It was made of wax or something. “Hey, I think it’s a candle,” I said. “A skull candle.”
“Do you like that?” a voice asked.
I turned to see an old man in an old-fashioned suit and vest. He had thin gray hair swept back off his forehead. Square eyeglasses perched on the end of his long nose.
He looked a lot like the picture of Benjamin Franklin in my history textbook.
“Yes, it’s nice,” I said. I started to put it down, but it stuck to my hand.
“It’s a very special skull,” the old man said in a croaky voice. “It’s actually a man trap. It was used by a long-lost tribe of island warriors. Sadly, they took the secret of making the wax with them.”
I struggled with the candle. The wax was melting and sticking to my hand. It was growing hot. I tried to push it off my hand with my other hand. But the wax spread and tightened over my skin.
The old man chuckled. “Don’t fight it. The more you struggle, the more you heat it up.”
“Well, what do I do?” I cried. “Get it off me!”
He adjusted the square spectacles on his nose. His blue eyes flashed. “You have to know the secret cure,” he said. “Just blow on it.”
I didn’t hesitate. The hot wax was covering my hands like tight gloves. I blew on my hands as hard as I could.
And the green wax let go of me and rolled up into a tight ball the size of a golf ball.
“That is so awesome!” Ryan exclaimed. He took the little ball from me. “We have GOT to buy one of these and spring it on Boomer.”
Boomer is a big bully of a kid who is always in our faces. Boomer likes to pound us and take our lunch money and give Ryan and me a hard time.
I rolled my eyes. “For sure, Ryan. We’ll give him one of these. And then what will Boomer do to us? Turn us into wax skulls?”
Messing with Boomer was always a mistake. We both had the bruises to prove it.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the old man croaked. He straightened his floppy black bow tie. “My name is Jonathan Chiller, and this is my shop, Chiller House.”
“Nice place,” I said. My hands still throbbed a little from the hot wax.
“May I show you some interesting souvenirs I think you will like?” Chiller asked.
He gazed over the shelves and picked up a very real-looking bat. Its eyes glowed red, and its mouth was open as if ready to bite someone. He moved his hand up and down rapidly, and the bat’s wings flapped.
“It’s actually a kite,” he said. “But you can’t see the string. When the wind blows through it, it shrieks. Fly this into a crowd and you can terrify people. It’s so real.”
“Sweet,” Ryan said. He rubbed the bat’s stomach. “Feels like real fur.”
I searched a low shelf and found something I liked. “Ryan, check it out,” I said. I rolled it in my hand.
A two-headed gold coin. About the size of a quarter.
It had a man’s face on both sides. I didn’t know who it was.
“Ryan, this coin is perfect for magic tricks,” I said.
He grinned. “And awesome for winning bets!” he said. “Heads, I win — tails, you lose! It always comes up heads!”
Jonathan Chiller chuckled. “Yes. You’ll win every bet with that coin,” he said.
“I definitely need to buy this,” I told the old man. “Do you have another one for my dad?”
He frowned. “I’m so sorry. There is only one like it in the whole world.”
“Well, I’ll take it,” I said. “Ryan and I will have a lot of fun with this.” I handed it to Chiller.
“Let me wrap that for you,” Chiller said. He carried it to the front counter. He wrapped the coin in black paper. Then he tied a red ribbon around it.
I watched him attach a little figure to the ribbon. It was a tiny green-and-purple Horror. It looked just like all the park guides and workers at HorrorLand.
Chiller smiled. “Take a little Horror home with you,” he said to me. He handed me the package.
I reached into my shorts pocket for my money. “How much do I owe you?” I asked.
He waved me away. “No, no,” he said. “No charge now. You can pay me back next time you see me.”
I stared at him. Next time?
What did he mean by that?
A week later, I was back home. When I came down to breakfast, Dad was flipping the two-headed coin. Still yawning, I dropped down beside him at the breakfast counter.
“Heads or tails?” Dad said.
“Good morning to you, too,” I replied.
He grinned. “Good morning, Jessica. Heads or tails?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dad, you and I both know —”
He spun the coin in front of my face. “Winner gets five dollars. Heads or tails?” he said.
“Okay,” I said. “Heads.”
He rolled the coin in his hand. He made a fist. Then he flipped it into the air. It bounced onto the counter. Bounced again. And landed on its side!
I let out a shriek. “How did you do that?”
He laughed. “Do what? The coin did it!”
“Can you teach me that trick?” I asked.
He took a long sip of coffee. Then he made a face. He pretended to choke. Then he reached between his lips and pulled out the coin.
I shook my head. “That’s an old one,” I said.
He shrugged. “An oldie but a goodie.”
Dad is thin and wiry. Everything about him is slender. His parents used to call him Broom because he was as skinny as a broom.
He has wavy brown hair with just a little gray at the sides. Warm brown eyes and a warm smile. The first thing people notice about Dad is his hands. That’s because they are so big, with very long fingers.
Dad says with those hands, he could have been a great piano player. Except he has no musical talent at all. He can’t even hum!
But his long, slender hands are perfect for performing magic. He can hide anything in them. And he can switch coins or cards faster than a human can se
e.
Mom is tall and big, like me. Big-boned. That’s what she calls it. And she and I have the same straight brown hair and blue eyes.
I spooned down some Cheerios. Dad slid the two-headed coin between his fingers. “I’ll show you another trick,” he said.
He placed the coin flat in the palm of his hand. “Now, watch, Jessica. I’m going to make the coin flip over without moving a muscle.”
I glanced up from my cereal bowl — and my eye caught the flower clock on the kitchen wall. “Oh, no!” I cried. “Dad — I’m going to be late!”
I grabbed the coin and jumped to my feet. Dad was always doing this to me. Showing off trick after trick and making me late for school.
“Later!” I called. I slid the coin into my shorts pocket, grabbed my backpack off the front stairs, and ran out of the door.
The sun was rising over the houses. The grass sparkled. A typical Tampa morning, already hot and humid.
My school is only two blocks away from my house, but I knew I’d be sweaty by the time I got there. I didn’t care. Mrs. Leewood had already warned me a few times about coming in late.
I squeezed between the twin palm trees on the corner. I do it every morning. Don’t ask me why. It’s just a superstition I have.
Then I ran full speed down the next block, a block of little redwood houses. The playground came into view. Nearly empty. Almost everyone was inside the school.
I saw a few stragglers jogging toward the doors. And then I stopped — and gasped. “Oh, no …”
Boomer had Ryan pushed up against a tree. He held Ryan by the shirt with one big hand and waved his other fist in front of Ryan’s face.
Was I too late to save him?
I went running toward them, shouting. The backpack bounced hard against my back.
Boomer didn’t even turn around.
He pulled his fist back — and drove it hard into Ryan’s stomach.
Ryan made a gaaaack sound. He dropped to his knees. His sunglasses fell to the grass. He bent over, hugging himself.
“Boomer — you jerk!” I shouted angrily.
He turned. He had a toothy grin on his fat face. He likes punching kids. Boomer spends a lot of time punching kids or threatening to punch them.
Boomer is big and wide. He has tiny brown eyes close together above his piggy snout of a nose, and his two front teeth poke out of his mouth. He has very short rust-colored hair and dark freckles all over his face.
He has a hoarse, squeaky voice. Like chalk on a chalkboard. He doesn’t sound tough, but trust me, he’s tough.
Know his favorite superhero? You guessed it — The Incredible Hulk.
Boomer lives in some kind of fantasy world. He really thinks he is the Hulk! That makes him dangerous to us normal non-mutants.
“Why did you hit Ryan?” I cried, out of breath from running.
“He made a joke,” Boomer said. “I don’t like jokes.”
“Your parents made a joke!” Ryan said. “It’s YOU!”
Why does Ryan have to make Boomer mad? Why can’t he just hand over his lunch money like everyone else and keep his mouth shut?
All Boomer wants is money. That, and to see kids shake when he struts by doing his Hulk imitation. Everyone is afraid of him, too afraid to report him to Mrs. Leewood, our teacher, or Mr. Greene, the principal.
“Funny,” Boomer said. He pulled Ryan to his feet. “I told you, I don’t like funny.”
He raised his fist and got ready to deliver another punch.
I dove forward and grabbed his hand. “Wait, Boomer.”
He spun around. His face turned bright red. “What’s your problem, Jessica?” he squeaked. “You don’t want to get in the way of my fist — do you?”
“I have an idea,” I said. My heart started to pound.
“I have an idea, too,” Boomer said. He stuck out a hand. “Pay up.”
“Give me a second,” I said. “You’ll like this. It’s cool. We’ll flip a coin.”
Boomer wiped spit off his chin. “Maybe I’ll flip you,” he growled.
“We’ll flip a coin,” I repeated. “One toss. If you win, Ryan and I will give you lunch money every day for a week. And … if I win, you’ll let Ryan and me go.”
He stared at me with his tiny brown eyes. I could see his big freckled forehead crinkling. I knew he was thinking hard.
“Come on. Let’s try it,” I said. I slid the gold coin from my shorts pocket. “One toss. If you win, it’s money for a whole week. What can you lose?”
“You can lose some teeth,” Boomer muttered.
He’s like a bad cartoon. A SCARY bad cartoon.
I held the coin up. It gleamed in the sunlight. “Want to give it a try?” I asked.
I hoped he didn’t see my hand trembling. Ryan had his eyes on the coin. He knew what was happening. I could see him struggling not to smile.
Boomer nodded. “Go ahead, Jessica. Toss it.”
“Here goes,” I said, raising the coin higher. “Heads, I win.”
I flipped the coin high in the air. It came down quickly and bounced twice on the playground grass.
The three of us leaned over it. “Heads,” I said. “You lose, Boomer.”
I started to shove the coin back into my pocket. Boomer grabbed my wrist. “Again,” he said. “That was just practice. Now let’s do it for real.”
I hesitated. “Come on, Boomer. You agreed —”
He clapped his sweaty hand over my mouth. “Again,” he said.
I backed away from him. “Okay, okay. Here goes.” I flipped the coin even higher this time. “Heads, I win,” I said.
“Tails, you lose,” Ryan muttered.
It landed in front of Boomer’s huge sneakers. He squinted down at it. “Heads.”
Ryan and I cheered.
Boomer muttered some nasty words. His face turned bright red again. He spit on the grass. Then he spun around and stomped away toward school.
Ryan and I waited till he was in the building. We didn’t dare laugh or say anything. What if Boomer decided to come back for a third coin toss?
Finally, we couldn’t hold it inside any longer. We let out a victory cheer.
I heard the bell ring inside the school. “We’re late,” I said. “Better hurry.”
I bent down to pick up the coin. I didn’t see it. I began to crawl, searching the grass with both hands.
No coin.
“Where is it?” I cried, starting to panic. “Did Boomer take it?”
“I don’t think so,” Ryan said. He was squatting with his head down, searching, too.
“Hey — that shiny thing —”
We spotted the coin at the same time in a thick clump of grass.
We both dove and made a grab for it.
I wrapped my fingers around it. Ryan’s hand wrapped around mine.
And suddenly, I felt weird. Dizzy. The grass tilted up toward me. The sky tilted away.
“Hey!” I uttered a sharp cry. Ryan’s hand slipped away.
The grass spun under me. So dizzy … Did my feet leave the ground? Was the whole playground flying above me?
I felt as if I were being flipped over. Flipped over and over — tossed like a coin.
I tried to cry out again, but the sound caught in my throat.
The green grass and blue sky whirled and spun in front of my eyes.
And I was whirling and spinning, too. Flipping head over heels.
“Ow.” I landed sitting up with a hard thud.
I blinked several times, trying to clear my head. Trying to blink away my dizziness.
It took a few moments to get my eyes to focus. Sitting in the grass, I gazed all around.
Where was my school? Where was the playground?
Dazed, I murmured to myself: “Everything has changed.”
I climbed shakily to my knees. I seemed to be in a wide, empty field. Tall grass swayed all around me. It looked like ocean waves, a sea of grass.
A flock of large birds floated silent
ly overhead. They cast a fluttering shadow over me.
“Where are we?”
I heard a voice behind me. Startled, I whipped around — and saw Ryan sitting cross-legged on the grass.
“Ryan? You’re here!” I cried.
He pulled off the sunglasses and squinted at me. “Yes, I’m here,” he said. “But where is here? Where is the school?”
I stood up. I walked over and pulled him to his feet. We were both wobbly. I still felt dizzy.
“Did you feel like you were spinning?” I asked him. “Flipping over and over?”
He nodded. “Jessica, let’s find the street. If we can see the street, we’ll know where we are.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
I shielded my eyes with my hand. I gazed all around. “I don’t see any streets,” I said.
Ryan made a gulping sound. “Weird,” he murmured.
We started to walk. The tall, swaying grass brushed our legs. Insects buzzed and chirped all around us. Another silent flock of birds floated overhead.
“Where is our school?” I said. My voice came out shrill and tight.
“I don’t like this,” Ryan said in a whisper.
A gust of wind made the grass slap my legs. It seemed like the whole world was swaying, bending one way, then the other. An endless green world.
“Maybe, somehow, we got sent back to prehistoric times,” Ryan said. “And we’re the only two living humans.”
I gave him a shove. “That’s great, Ryan. I knew I could count on you to look on the bright side.”
He started to reply — then stopped with his mouth open. He pointed straight ahead.
I turned and saw a gray line in the distance, cutting through the grass.
“Is that a street?”
No. As we hurried closer, it came into clear view. A wall. Taller than us. Made of flat gray stone. It stretched in a straight line through the grass as far as I could see.
Ryan pulled a green bug off his cheek and tossed it away. The bug had a hard, round body and at least sixty spindly little legs!
“Why would someone build a wall in the middle of this field?” Ryan asked.
I felt a sting on my forehead. I slapped a green bug off. It left a sticky juice on my skin.
I brushed two more of the fat bugs off the legs of my jeans. “The grass is infested with these creepy bugs,” I groaned.