Wonkenstein

  We carefully checked her car for any sign of the little guy. He wasn’t in there. The only things we saw were a couple of CDs and an opened bag of Cheetos. We biked around the library searching the bushes and looking in the trees. I told Trevor that we needed to go into the library, but we couldn’t because I didn’t have a license.

  He laughed at me for two minutes and asked me when was the last time I went to the library. I was actually embarrassed to admit that it was when I was seven and came for a “Bookday” party for Jack. It was like a birthday party, but the only gifts you got were books. So it was a pretty big rip for Jack. He acted as if he liked it, but I could tell by the way he kept saying …

  … that he was just being polite. And every time his dad handed him a present to open, his dad shook it and said the same lame joke over and over:

  I guess adults just have a different sense of humor than kids.

  Trevor informed me that you didn’t need a license to go into the library, just to check out books. I told Trevor that I knew that, and that I’d just gotten mixed up.

  The inside of the library was huge. There was a big atrium in the center with a large tree and a small fishpond. Around the atrium was a spiral staircase. A lady with a crooked wig and big glasses was sitting at a desk near the front door. Her name tag said …

  She asked if she could help us and then licked her dry lips and handed us a bookmark.

  Trevor started to ask her if she had seen a short guy with a hat and some greenish skin. Luckily I elbowed him before he got his whole question out. The woman licked her lips again and stared at us. It was then that I spotted some tiny wet footprints on the floor.

  I pointed to the footprints and Trevor told the lady that we just wanted to look at the fishpond. She warned us not to throw anything at the fish and then handed us another bookmark.

  We followed the tiny footprints until they ended near the poetry section.

  I was about to call Trevor dumb when Janae came walking around the corner. She saw me and actually smiled. She then stopped right in front of me. I tried to say something cool.

  It wasn’t the smoothest thing to say, but she nodded. I asked her who she had come with, and she said her mother. Then I asked if she had come with anyone else, and she said no. I asked her if she was absolutely positive that she hadn’t come with anyone else, and she said yes. But when I asked her …

  Janae took a couple of steps back. Trevor sort of saved things by quickly asking her a normal question about the books she was checking out. Janae said she was getting some dramatic poems so she could pick one to perform at the school assembly coming up in a few weeks. When she asked us what we were doing there, I choked. Maybe it was because I was worried about the little guy we had lost. Maybe it was because Janae made me nervous and I had already said some dumb things. I don’t know what it was, but my mouth kept running and I said the stupidest thing ever.

  Janae seemed pleased. She smiled again and told me how surprised she was. She even offered to practice with me and help me memorize my poem if I wanted. I shook my head, wondering what a dramatic poem really was and wishing that my dumb mouth would stop making a fool out of me. I was going to try to straighten things out, but I spotted something small dashing past the end of the shelves. I told Janae that Trevor and I needed to go to the bathroom and left.

  Trevor also saw the mini shadow. We ran down a row of bookshelves as quietly as possible. Trevor moved off to the side and slipped through the science fiction section as I moved through fantasy.

  The tiny dark outline dashed across our path. I ran through the fiction section, and we trapped the thing in an empty chair. Luckily there was nobody else around. The little guy appeared more concerned than scared. He was shaking, and his eyes looked us up and down. I was about to wrap my arms around him and pick him up when he spoke.

  Trevor and I both stepped back. I had never heard the creature say anything that made this much sense. But who was Charlie? After shaking off the shock of hearing him speak an understandable sentence, I told him our real names and that he needed to come with us. He asked a second question.

  It wasn’t easy to answer. I picked him up and set him on one of the shelves so that I could look at him eye to eye. He sighed and called me friend. I asked him if he remembered anything about himself, and he answered by saying that one half of him remembered working in a factory, but the other half of him felt confused and lonely and out of place. When I asked him what kind of factory, he said all he could remember was that there was lots of chocolate. Trevor started dancing around like he really did need to use the bathroom.

  Trevor ran off, and I picked up the little thing and told him to keep quiet. He seemed to understand. He grunted and shut his mouth. By the time we caught up with Trevor, he had found what he was looking for. It was the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Trevor was jumping up and down. He started talking about how the little guy was a mix of Willy Wonka and Frankenstein.

  That made me think of Frank-n-Stick.

  Apparently Trevor had no idea who Frank-n-Stick was.

  Trevor insisted that the creature from my closet was kind of a half Willy Wonka and half a wee version of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster.

  I informed Trevor that Frankenstein was the name of the creature, but Trevor was pretty sure that Frankenstein was actually the man who had made the monster. I told him I had seen the cartoon and he was wrong. I even bet him five bucks that I was right.

  Trevor was okay with that, but he said we should check out the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a library card either. We also had Wonkenstein with us. There was no way we could get one with him babbling.

  Wonkenstein seemed sincere, so we took him and stood in line to get library cards. When we got to the front of the line, the lady commented on what an interesting and realistic-looking doll I had. I tried to explain that it wasn’t a doll, it was a ventriloquist dummy. Unfortunately, Janae was walking by at just the same moment.

  Trevor got a library card, and we checked out the book and hurried away. Wonkenstein was excellent at staying quiet. The Willy Wonka part of him seemed to understand how important it was, while the monster part of him was too confused to act out.

  We sat Wonk in Trevor’s bike basket and rode home as fast as we could. We cut through the golf course and raced down the hill behind the school. Trevor got going too fast, and while trying to straighten out, he accidentally swerved and hit a curb. Wonkenstein went flying over a fence. His arms were flailing as he screamed …

  Then we heard him splash down in someone’s backyard pool. I leapt off my bike and climbed over the fence as fast as I could. Wonkenstein was thrashing around in the water. I jumped in to try to save him, but he was hysterical. He kept scratching at my head and pulling my hair. He stuck one of his tiny thumbs in my right eye and kicked me in the stomach. Trevor got the skimmer from the side of the pool and tried to fish us out, but that just made things worse.

  I finally got hold of an inner tube and shoved it over him like a single handcuff. It bound Wonk’s arms, and he screamed while floating in the water. Eventually he calmed down and took a deep breath.

  He was fine—a little wet but fine. I, on the other hand, was not. I was missing a big chunk of hair, I had a black eye, and my shirt was ripped.

  The owner of the pool came out of his house and chased us off with a mop.

  By the time we got to my house and crawled in the window, we were exhausted. I was just about to breathe a huge sigh of relief when someone knocked loudly and forcefully on my bedroom door.

  CHAPTER 7

  FORCING THINGS

  I’m an expert at recognizing my family’s knocks. If it’s low down on the door and sounds like someone is slapping a dead fish against it, it’s Tuffin.

  If it’s to the side and just above the doorknob with an impatient rapping sound, it’s Libby. If it’s right in the center and only two knocks, it’s my mom. If it’s three hard knocks, it’s
my mom and she’s mad. And if it is a friendly

  then I know for sure it’s my dad. The rarest knock is the forceful, loud knock my father executes when he’s upset—and that was the knock I had just heard.

  Trevor looked at the window, but it was too late to escape. The doorknob turned, and my father stepped in. We quickly threw a quilt over the mumbling Wonkenstein.

  My dad was sporting his mean face, which didn’t look much different from his happy face, except there was no smile.

  He wanted to know who was responsible for almost burning down our kitchen and knocking a huge hole in the wall. Trevor glanced down at the floor and started shaking. I don’t always have brilliant ideas right when I need them, but I did this time. I knew my dad would never get mad at a guest, so I pointed to the blanket-covered Wonkenstein.

  My dad instantly cooled down. He pulled the blanket off Wonk. I thought we’d be busted for sure, but my dad barely flinched. He thought Wonkenstein was just a really small kid dressed oddly and with some green skin condition. My dad knelt on one knee and started to talk nicely to him.

  My dad tried out his really poor Spanish that he hadn’t spoken since his freshman year in high school. It was bad enough by itself, but it was even worse because he was mixing it with some of the French he hadn’t spoken since his sophomore year.

  My dad lectured Wonkenstein on how in our house we use doors, not walls, to leave. He then pulled me and Trevor aside and whispered something to us, acting like he was sharing some great secret.

  We thanked him for the advice and promised to help him patch up the wall. He seemed happy about that and left us.

  As soon as my dad was gone, I tried to open my closet again. I was thinking that I could just put Wonkenstein back in there and everything would return to normal. But the closet door was still stuck tight. Even the knob wouldn’t turn.

  Trevor jumped back out the window to go get a hammer. That left Wonkenstein and me alone in the room.

  I wanted to tell him that more than a bit of me was confused, but I kept it to myself. I sat down on the floor, and Wonkenstein patted me on the right shoulder. I smiled at him, and he grunted loudly.

  A few minutes later, Trevor climbed through the window carrying a huge hammer. I didn’t know what to say while swinging a hammer, so I just yelled …

  I whacked it against the doorknob, but nothing happened.

  Then Jack showed up at the window.

  Jack jumped through the window and was in the room before I could hide Wonkenstein. Jack looked at him.

  Trevor and I began to spill our guts. We told Jack everything that had happened, and when we were done, Jack volunteered to keep Wonkenstein for the night.

  It took me ten minutes to convince Jack that Wonk was not a pet. But since Jack’s parents were working and his older brother, Harry, was taking care of him, I thought it would be easier to hide Wonkenstein at his house. Besides, he had a huge closet with a door that actually opened. When I tried to explain to Wonkenstein what was happening, he looked at me and pointed toward Jack.

  I considered warning him about some of Jack’s less friendly traits, but I didn’t want to make things worse.

  As he was leaving, Wonkenstein handed me a small piece of candy.

  I thanked him, and he patted me on the knee. Then they left me and Trevor alone. We began to speculate about what was going on. We even wrote a list of what we knew.

  Then we wrote down the things we didn’t know.

  The lists didn’t really help. We both knew that the real answers were behind the closet door. My closet was crammed with books and junk and old laboratory supplies, but there had to be an explanation for what was happening in there. I tried the knob again, but it still wouldn’t budge.

  Trevor dashed off and was back in no time with a huge coil of rope. I guess his mom was expecting to tie up a really fat burglar. I took the rope and tied one end of it to my closet doorknob. I threw the rest out the window.

  As we headed out into the front yard, Trevor kept asking what I was doing. I didn’t answer him because I wanted it to be a surprise. I tied the other end of the rope to my bike and then hopped on. I pedaled as hard and fast as I could.

  The rope uncoiled quickly, but instead of yanking my closet open, it yanked my bike out from under me and sent me flying into the thick bushes on the rock island in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

  I think Trevor was finally surprised. At least he acted that way as he helped pull me out of the bushes. I was pretty scraped up, but all my arms and legs worked. The closet, however, was still shut tight. I suggested that maybe Trevor should try riding the bike, but he wasn’t willing. So we unhooked the rope from the bike and tied it to the back hitch of my neighbor Victor’s truck. Then I knocked on Victor’s door.

  As expected, Victor tore out of his house and jumped into his truck. He peeled out and raced down the street. For a brief moment, the rope went taut and then …

  The end whipped around my neighbor’s mailbox and ripped it from the ground. Trevor and I just stood there as mail rained down.

  I got hit in the eye by a furniture catalog, and Trevor got a phone bill down the back of his shirt. Plus, a small package thwacked me in the stomach. The one thing that didn’t happen, however, was my closet door opening, which made my stomach feel worse than the package hitting me.

  It was getting late, and Trevor started insisting he had to go home, so we agreed to meet in the morning before school.

  I was going to go to Jack’s house and check on Wonkenstein, but Tuffin came out holding a baseball bat and a jar of dill pickles.

  I figured I had done enough things to make my family mad for one day, so I decided to spend time with Tuffin. It was a bad decision for two reasons: One, Tuffin wanted to play pickleball, and that ended up making a huge mess. And, two, at the same moment I was hitting a “dill-ble,” things were getting a little sticky for Wonkenstein at Jack’s house.

  But I didn’t know about that yet, so I finished my game with Tuffin and went in to read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

  CHAPTER 8

  TAFFY

  I hate being woken up from a good dream. I mean, it’s a real letdown to be dreaming about hitting a home run in the World Series one moment and then just lying in your bed the next. But sometimes my dreams get a little confusing, and waking up is probably a good thing. I suppose that’s why I wasn’t too bothered to be woken up while dreaming about riding on a motorcycle and jumping over a large mound of spaghetti. I was wearing a big hat, and Janae was feeding me grapes while Jack was waving a Hey-There Kitty flag.

  It was raining outside, so the thunder must have woken me up. I shifted on my bed, and my book fell to the floor. I had read a lot of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory before falling asleep, and my head was still filled with thoughts of candy and chocolate. I looked over at my clock.

  I listened to the rain for a moment and then shut my eyes. As I felt myself beginning to drift off again, a steady wheezing noise started to fill my ears. My eyes flashed open once more.

  Jack had come in through my window without permission. He put his hand over my mouth and begged me to stop screaming. I bit his palm and then had to beg him to stop screaming. Luckily, the heavy rain covered up most of the noise we were making. Once we had both calmed down and were breathing normally, I spoke.

  I told Jack that the reason Wonk kept talking about candy was because half of him was Willy Wonka, the greatest candy maker in all of literature. Jack didn’t seem that impressed, but he did manage to tell me that both halves had run away. I got out of bed. Jack was holding a long wooden staff with what looked like a flashlight attached with duct tape to the end of it and a fork taped to that.

  I didn’t have time to make fun of him. I changed my clothes, and we both climbed out my window and ran to the rock island. Rain was dropping in buckets, but the palm trees provided some shelter. We huddled in the middle of the trees and yelled at each other. Jack had no idea where Wonk could have gone.
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  Jack explained how he had dressed Wonk up in one of his little sister’s dance outfits and was training him to jump through a Hula-Hoop when Wonkenstein accidentally knocked over their fish tank. They saved the fish, but the water spilled into one of the light sockets and shorted out the electricity in their house.

  Jack said when he lit a candle for light, the fire scared Wonkenstein and he bolted.

  My brain whirled. Ever since Wonkenstein had first appeared, my solution was to simply get rid of him so I wouldn’t get in trouble. But now I could see that probably wasn’t the best strategy.

  I shined Jack’s assault flashlight around the island and into the falling rain. The night was dark, but most of the houses in the neighborhood had their front porch lights on. There were no cars out, and weak lightning flashed, followed by a dull thunder. I looked up and saw that one of the top-floor windows of the Awful House was glowing. I aimed the assault flashlight toward it. I wouldn’t have paid too much attention to it if it hadn’t been for the fuzzy shadow I could see in the bottom corner of the window.