I knew I had a problem. It’s not like my brain wasn’t working. I was still me. I was still Kate Lipton, and I knew I had a big, horrifying problem.
I could still taste the flies on my tongue. They tasted kind of metallic. A little bit bitter, but not too bad.
I ate flies.
I ate flies and I liked them.
I had to tell Dad. Mom wouldn’t be home for hours. I needed help desperately, right now.
But what could I do? The house was full of reporters and cameras and TV interviewers.
I couldn’t burst in and say, “Dad, I have a problem. My skin is turning all lined and bumpy. And I caught some flies and ate them. And I saw a mouse, and it made me hungry.”
I stood there in the middle of the living room. The room was spinning. The whole house was spinning around me, whirling around like my crazy thoughts.
I could hear laughter from down the hall in the lizard room. A man was asking my dad more questions.
I couldn’t go back in there. I felt too weird. I was afraid of what I might say or do. I didn’t want to upset my dad in any way. This was his big day. His day to show the rare, precious lizard to the world and announce his big plans for a lizard attraction in Middle Village.
He was so proud and happy. I couldn’t spoil it for him. My problem would have to wait.
I staggered into the hall. I shook my head hard, trying to stop everything from spinning. I made my way to the stairs. I didn’t really know where I was going. To my room?
Yes. I climbed the stairs and walked down the hall to my room. And before I realized it, I was taking off my clothes. And stepping into my bathroom shower.
Yes. A shower. A long, hot shower. Without thinking about it, I realized that’s what I needed. I needed hot water to wash away all the weirdness. To wash all the dryness from my skin. A long shower to sweep away all my scary thoughts and hungers.
The hot water drummed against my body. I shut my eyes and let the water carry me away, soothe me, relax me, make me feel like myself again.
Steam rose around me. I wanted to hide inside it. Let it curl around me and close me inside, where I’d be safe.
I don’t know how long I stood there. When I shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was completely fogged up.
I moved to the mirror. Coated with steam. I grabbed a towel and wiped off the glass, wiped it till I could see clearly.
And I let out a cry.
The crisscross skin lines covered my shoulders now. My arms … my shoulders. The strange patterns in my skin—were spreading all over me.
The shower hadn’t helped at all. I knew what was happening. It was too horrifying to put into words. But I knew …
I suddenly remembered something. It flashed into my mind. I could picture it so clearly.
I pulled my bathrobe around me and tightened the belt. Then I walked back into my room and crossed to the dresser.
I think it’s in the bottom dresser drawer.
That’s where I dump all the things I want to keep but I know I’ll never use.
I slid open the drawer. It was jammed with old T-shirts, and vests, and sweatpants, and junk jewelry in a red wooden box, and some other boxes I didn’t know what they contained … and … yes. The little purse.
I tugged the little purse out from beneath a tangle of silvery belts. I had to untangle the knotted strap. Then I gave a hard tug and the purse came out.
I stared at it. The little yellow-brown purse my grandmother gave me a few years ago. I smoothed my fingers over the side. Like smooth leather but with lined patterns. Slender lines crisscrossing everywhere.
Just like my skin. The same pattern. The same.
My hands trembled as I opened the little purse. I found the tag inside and held it close to my face to read it.
Yes. Yes. I knew it.
The purse was made from lizard skin.
I gripped the little bag in my trembling hands. I rubbed my fingers over the lizard skin. Then I swept my right hand down my left arm.
My lizard skin arm.
That tiny lizard bit me, and now my skin was changing, and I was eating flies. Eating flies and enjoying them. I was turning into a lizard.
I had to tell Dad. But what could he do? He wasn’t a scientist or a doctor. He just had a crazy idea to start a lizard collection.
“He’ll take me to Dr. Wilkinson,” I said out loud. “Dr. Wilkinson will know how to help me.”
My heart was beating like crazy. I tossed the little purse onto my bed. Then I pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and hurried downstairs.
“Dad! Where are you?” I shouted. “I have to tell you something. Dad?”
I ran through the living room toward the back hall. The reporters had all left. The house was silent. The only sounds I heard were the steady ticking of the grandfather clock beside the mantel and the pounding of my bare feet on the floorboards.
“Dad? Where are you?”
I had to show him my lizard skin. I had to tell him about the flies I ate. With each step, I became more frantic. I started to choke. It felt as if my heart had jumped into my throat.
“Dad?”
I peered into the kitchen. No sign of him. He must still be in the lizard room, I realized.
I turned and ran down the hall. The door was shut. I could hear the macaw squawking inside the room. No other voices.
I grabbed the handle and tugged the door open. “Dad?”
I screamed when I saw the giant creature hunched over the worktable. A scaly green lizard. At least six feet tall. The creature stood balanced on its two hind legs and its fat tail.
It turned slowly at the sound of my voice. It lowered its warty head and stared. It saw me. It saw me and it flicked a long purple tongue at me.
And I screamed again.
The huge lizard flicked its long tongue at me again and again.
I spun away. I tried to run, but in my panic, I stumbled into the door. I grabbed the edge of the door to hold myself up.
Panting like an animal, I glanced back—and saw the lizard take a heavy step toward me.
“Nooooo!” My scream rang down the hall.
I stumbled again. Caught my balance. And bolted away, my bare feet slapping the floor.
“Dad! Where are you? Dad?” I screamed breathlessly.
Was he upstairs in his room? Had he gone out with some of the reporters? No. He wouldn’t have left without telling Freddy and me.
I grabbed the banister and pulled myself up the stairs. The door to his bedroom was open. I burst inside. “Dad?”
No sign of him. The bed was made. Some shirts had been tossed onto the chair beside the bed.
I took a deep, shuddering breath. I returned to the stairs. I peered down over the banister. No sign of the enormous lizard. Was he waiting for me somewhere? Hiding behind the couch? Waiting to pounce?
Then I spotted Dad by the front door. He was dressed in a business suit. He dropped a suitcase by the door.
“Dad!” I shouted. I hurtled down the stairs.
“Kate, I was looking for you,” he said. “I have to leave. Something wonderful just came up, and I have to go right now.”
“Dad—listen to me!” I cried. “A lizard, Dad. A giant lizard!” I pointed frantically toward the lizard room down the hall.
His face twisted in alarm. He grabbed my shoulders. “Easy. Take a breath. Easy. You’re shaking!”
“Listen to me,” I insisted. “There’s a giant lizard in the house. I mean giant. In the lizard room. Quick!”
Dad held on to me. “Wait. Wait. I was in the lizard room just a little while ago. I didn’t see any giant lizard.”
“Don’t just stand there!” I screamed. I tugged free, spun away from him, and took off. “Come on! Hurry!” I shouted.
I raced back down the hall to the lizard room. I knew I had left the door open when I turned and ran from the monster lizard. But the door was shut now.
Dad caught up to me. He squinted hard at m
e, as if he was trying to decide whether I was crazy or not. Then he pulled open the door and we both peered into the room.
“There it is!” I shouted.
But I wasn’t staring at a giant lizard. I was staring at a large green trash bag folded over the top of the worktable.
Dad didn’t say a word, but his eyes were still studying me. We stepped into the room. “Looks like a trash bag to me,” Dad murmured.
“But—But—” I sputtered.
The macaw hopped up and down excitedly on his perch. The Tasmanian cobra lizard sat at one end of his long glass case. His head was raised but his eyes were shut. As we stepped near, he remained very still. Asleep on his feet.
“I … I’m not crazy,” I stammered. “I didn’t see a trash bag. It was a huge lizard standing on two feet, and it started to come after me.”
Dad turned and glanced all around the room. “No place for a giant lizard to hide,” he said. “Kate, do you think maybe your imagination …” His voice trailed off. He eyed the trash bag.
“I don’t know what to think,” I confessed. “I … I really don’t.”
I followed him back to the living room. “Dad, what’s up with the suitcase?”
“I told you, something very exciting has come up. And I have to make a fast trip to Toronto.”
My mouth dropped open. “Huh? Toronto?”
He nodded. “They have a lizard for us. It just arrived. It’s being held by customs up there. I have to show the papers so I can bring it home.”
“But, Dad—” I started.
“Mrs. Overman is coming to stay with you and Freddy. I’m really sorry I have to leave before your mother gets home. But your aunt Bethany is sick. So Mom is staying a few more days in Shaker Heights.”
I groaned. “Ohhh no. Not Mrs. Overman. She just sits and knits all day, and falls asleep with her mouth wide open and makes sounds like a bullfrog.”
“That’s good,” Dad said. “Then she won’t be in your way.” He glanced out the front window. “There’s my cab.”
He started to lift his suitcase, but I grabbed his arm. “Dad, I have to talk to you. My skin—”
In the driveway, the taxi driver honked his horn.
“I’m sure Mrs. Overman can help you with skin problems,” Dad said. He kissed my forehead.
“Dad, it’s important!” I cried.
“Text me, okay?” he replied. The taxi honked again. “I’m very late. Text me, Kate. I’ll try to call from Toronto.”
Then he was out the door. I watched him run to the taxi.
“Did Dad leave?” Freddy called. He was halfway down the stairs.
“Yes. He had a taxi waiting,” I said.
Freddy’s face drooped. “He forgot to say good-bye.”
“He had to hurry to Toronto,” I explained. “He said there’s a lizard waiting for him there.”
Freddy nodded. Then he narrowed his eyes at me. “Hey, how did you do that to your fingernails? Awesome!”
“Huh?” I raised both hands and squinted at the nails. My fingernails had all changed shape. They came to sharp points now. Like lizard toenails.
“Grrrrr.” I growled at Freddy and swept my hands up and down, pretending to claw him. “The nails come in a kit,” I lied. “Awesome, right?”
“Awesome,” he said. He turned to go back to his room.
“Wait. Freddy, don’t go,” I said.
He spun back. “I’m in the middle of a game.”
“Save it,” I said. I stepped closer to him. “Listen to me. We’re not safe here.”
He grinned. “I get it. Dad left, so you’re trying to scare me?”
I shook my head. “No. Listen. I’m serious. I saw something. In the hatching room. I swear. It was a huge lizard. At least six feet tall. It was standing on its rear legs. It turned and saw me.”
Freddy laughed. “No way, Kate. I’m not buying it. Do you think I’m stupid or something?”
I pounded the banister with my fist. “I’m serious!” I shouted. “I’m not joking. There’s a creature somewhere in this house. We’re not safe here.”
I took another step toward him. “Stop laughing, Freddy. It isn’t a joke. If you don’t stop laughing, you’ll be sorry!”
His grin faded. He studied my face. I could see he was thinking hard. “A six-foot-tall lizard?” he said finally. “Was its name Godzilla?” He burst out laughing again.
I wanted to strangle him. Instead, I spun away from him, clenching my fists at my sides.
“You know it had to be Dad,” Freddy said. “Dad and his jokes. He was probably trying on a new Halloween costume.”
I turned and frowned at him. “It’s May. It’s nowhere near Halloween.”
“That wouldn’t stop Dad,” he shot back.
I ignored that. “Dad believed me,” I said. That wasn’t exactly true. But I was desperate.
“Is that why he left?” Freddy said.
“Come on. Help me find it,” I said. “It could be hiding anywhere. There are so many empty rooms in this old house. Come search with me, okay?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He turned and started back up the stairs. “Good luck with it.”
The little punk. “I hope the lizard eats you!” I shouted. “You insect!”
Of course he laughed.
I knew the giant lizard was hiding somewhere. I knew I hadn’t imagined it.
I began my search in the hatching room. Had the creature returned to where I had seen it? No. Screech was asleep on his perch. The Tasmanian cobra lizard was also asleep, flat on its stomach in its case. No sign of any intruder.
My throat was dry and my stomach felt tight with dread. I didn’t really want to find the giant lizard. What would I do if I found it?
But I had to know if it was lurking somewhere. Waiting until after dark, maybe, so it could sneak up on us. Waiting to pounce. Waiting to devour Freddy and me.
I forced myself to explore the back hall. This was the part of the house that we didn’t use. Some of the rooms had cartons stacked up in them and old furniture covered with sheets. Other rooms were empty and coated with thick layers of dust.
I used my phone as a flashlight to peer into the empty rooms. Most of them didn’t have light. The old floorboards creaked under my feet.
I was alert to every sound. Every creak, every crack, every thump made my heart skip a beat. I moved quickly from room to room, sweeping the white light around, squinting hard, searching for anything that moved.
I cried out when two mice scampered right over my feet and darted into an empty bedroom. I nearly dropped the phone. By the time I reached the end of the hall, my teeth were chattering.
“Hey, Lizard—where are you?” I called, my voice trembling in the dusty air.
I started to return to the front of the house. But I stopped with a sharp gasp as I heard a noise up ahead. I held my breath. And listened.
And heard a soft thud. A floorboard creak. And then another thud and a scraping sound.
My whole body shuddered. Footsteps. Soft footsteps from the end of the hall.
I’ve found it, I realized.
I knew I’d find the huge, ugly creature. I was desperate to find it. To prove I hadn’t imagined it. But now I just wanted to hide from it. My legs trembled. I tried to force my body to tense itself. I prepared to run.
More footsteps. More creaks and groans.
Then, before I could move, it loomed out of the shadows—and I started to scream.
“Kate! There you are!” a voice called.
Trembling, I gaped at the large creature.
No. Not a creature. Not a creature at all.
A large, white-haired woman in a baggy gray sweatsuit.
“Mrs. Overman?” I choked out in a high, shrill voice. “I—”
“I thought I heard you,” she said. “What are you doing back here? Why were you screaming?”
“Uh … it was nothing. I was just looking for something, and some mice scared me,” I stam
mered. With a relieved sigh, I made my way down the hall to her.
When she smiled, a hundred little wrinkles formed around her eyes. It suddenly reminded me of lizard skin. “I let myself in,” she said. “But I couldn’t find you or your brother.”
“Freddy is upstairs in his room,” I said. I began to lead the way to the kitchen. “How are you, Mrs. Overman?”
She sighed. “Hanging in. Your dad called me at the last minute. I’m glad I had no plans.”
“Me too,” I said. “He had to go pick up a lizard in Toronto.”
Her eyes widened in surprise for just a second. “Barry has some crazy ideas sometimes, doesn’t he?”
I had to agree, and I laughed. But then I pictured the six-foot-tall lizard, standing at the worktable in the hatching room. And I shivered.
I stared at the lizard skin on my hands, my arms. My curled nails.
How would I sleep tonight? How would I ever sleep again?
* * *
I tossed and turned all night. Every time I started to drift off, a noise or a gust of wind blowing my bedroom curtains or a squeak or a moan of the creaky old house shocked me alert again.
A beam of silvery moonlight poured over my bed from the window and lighted my cracked lizard skin. I forced back the urge to burst into sobs.
How could I go to school looking like this? How could I keep the other kids from seeing that I was turning into a freak of nature? What if I ate the class hamster or gobbled down insects in front of everyone?
But then I remembered that today was Ms. Arnold’s science test. And I had promised to help finish the set for the play. And oral book reports in the afternoon.
I couldn’t stay home. I wanted to hide. Hide forever. But I had to go. I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt to cover my lizard arms.
It was a hot day. The sun was beaming down in a clear blue sky. I was sweating by the time I walked the three blocks to school.
I stepped into Ms. Arnold’s class with my hands in my jeans pockets. With my pointed nails and lined and wrinkled skin, I looked like I had stepped out of a horror movie.
I slumped into my seat. Luckily, it was in the back row of the room.