HELLANDBACK KIDS:
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
A Middle-Grade Novel
By Laura Stolmeier/Helland
Copyright 2010
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CHAPTER 1
Eleven-year-old Chris Hellandback suddenly awoke in the middle of the night from an exhausted sleep.
He rubbed his eyes and mumbled, “What’s that noise?”
A crackling and slurping sound came from inside his closet.
It’s got to be a rodent, Chris thought.
His old box springs squeaked as he rolled out of bed. “I guess I’ll have to sleep in Jon’s room.”
His fifteen-year-old brother was in England. He was away at a boarding school. Jon would come home for the holidays; otherwise his room was empty.
Over the years, Chris had worked his mattress into a very comfortable bunk. “Great! I hate Jon’s bed.”
As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out a weird creature. It stood about two feet tall with a huge head and ears. Its eyes seemed to flicker in the dark. Chris rubbed his eyes again. He wanted to make sure he saw something. The last time he went to tell his parents, he was laughed at for weeks by his siblings. There was something standing in his closet. He bolted out the door and ran downstairs to his parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! Wake up!” he shouted as he slammed his parents’ bedroom door into the wall.
Mrs. Hellandback jolted up. “What’s wrong?”
Mr. Hellandback rolled over and muttered, “What time is it?”
Mrs. Hellandback looked at the clock on the bedside table and turned on the light. “It’s almost three thirty.” Chris was pale as a ghost, and you could see his heart beating through his T-shirt. Chris was sweating profusely, and Mrs. Hellandback said with concern in her voice, “Patrick, there is something really wrong with Chris.”
Mr. Hellandback slowly sat up and looked at Chris through his sleepy eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “Chris, what’s wrong?”
Chris grabbed his dad’s pillow and hugged it tightly to his body. “Dad, there is something in my closet.”
Mrs. Hellandback gave her husband a dirty look. “I told you not to let him watch all those scary movies.”
“No, Mom! It doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen, and it’s making a slurping, crunching sound.”
Mrs. Hellandback again looked back at her husband. “Go and take a look in his room.”
“Chris, the last time you thought you saw something in your room, you had eaten beans that day, and your room was filled with a mind-altering gas. It was so thick your mother and I thought one of the old pipes broke.”
“Dad, I didn’t eat any beans.”
Mrs. Hellandback gently put her hand on her husband’s arm. “It will only take a minute.”
As Mr. Hellandback got out of bed, his big toe started tingling. With his back turned to Anna—his wife—and Chris, he picked up his right foot and noticed that the tattoo on the bottom of his big toe was glowing.
Mrs. Hellandback asked softly, “What are you waiting for?”
Chris said, “Mom, I think he’s scared?”
Mr. Hellandback just stared at his son. “Chris, you wait here. I’ll go check it out.”
“No problem, Dad. You go right ahead.”
Mr. Hellandback made his way toward Chris’s room when he said half out loud, “Why would they appear now?” He rubbed his forehead. “I hope it’s not what I think it is. There’s got to be a reason for showing up in Chris’s room.”
As he entered the room, he flicked on the light and went straight to the closet. It was devoid of anything strange, but as he turned, he stepped on something. It was a large, dark fingernail, several inches long, with yellow ear jelly on one end, a telltale sign of a Bundlebob. He picked up the discolored nail and placed it on the top shelf of the closet. He walked back to the bedroom where Chris and Anna were waiting.
“Dad, what did you see? Did it put up much of a fight? I’d have helped, but I thought Mom looked a little scared.”
“Chris, I didn’t find any creature in your closet, but I did have an epiphany.”
“Wait. What! Dad, I’m not sure what you did in my room, but I’m not going back in there.”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Chris, I just meant I think it’s time you and your brother and sisters visited your great-grandmother in Scotland.”
Anna said, “I don’t understand.”
“Dad, you got that idea just now? And I thought my brain was messed up.”
“Chris, I just think you’re old enough now to learn some valuable life lessons.”
“Whatever you say, Dad.” Chris yanked the comforter off his parents’ bed and grabbed a pillow. He threw them on the floor. “If you’re going to babble with each other, can you keep it down? I need to get some sleep.”
Mrs. Hellandback said as quietly as possible, “Where did this idea come from?”
Before Mr. Hellandback could answer, Chris said, “I can still hear you.”
Mr. Hellandback leaned over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Dad, please, I’m in the room.”
Mrs. Hellandback reached over and turned off her light. “Night, Chris.”
“Night, Mom.”
CHAPTER 2
For the next several weeks, Chris checked his closet before going to bed. He also made sure the door was shut and there was a chair in front of it. Chris even found his old night-light and plugged it in by his bed.
“Mom, do you know where my baseball bat is?”
“I think I saw it in Jon’s room. Why do you ask?”
Chris wasn’t about ready to tell his mom that he needed it for protection. Whatever Chris saw in his closet that night would not be scaring him again.
“I think I’ll just hit a few balls.”
Chris looked around Jon’s room, but there was no bat. But, he did see all his brother’s trophies and awards. He was once again reminded not only what a great athlete his brother was, but also of his enormous brainpower. Chris’s friends laughed at him and would say he should take his brother’s spare brain cells, because Chris was missing a few. But, his friends were no better off than Chris.
It’s hard to follow such an accomplished brother your entire life through school. Chris’s teachers expected a lot from him, but good luck on that. He could only give them what he had. Chris thought about how proud his parents were when they talked about Jon and how brilliant he was.
He felt sorry for his brother, though. He was kind of a loner. He didn’t have a girlfriend, or many friends, for that matter. Now Chris, he had more friends than he needed.
Chris went to go look for the bat in his room. He checked under the bed and behind the dresser, but no bat. Chris decided to check his closet. He took his lacrosse stick and ran it along the top shelf. Something fell. It was long and hard and dark in color, with some yellow gunk on the end.
“What the…”
Chris then heard something behind his clothes. Mrs. Hellandback used Chris’s closet as a catchall for everyone’s clothes they outgrew. Chris tightened his grip on his lacrosse stick and pushed the garments back. There he saw several more of the dark, hard objects. He brought one close to his nose
and took in a large whiff.
Chris started coughing, and his eyes started watering. “Whoa! That thing is smoking.”
Chris blinked his eyes several times and wiped away the tears. He saw a half a dozen stairs in front of him. Chris debated whether he should go get his fourteen-year-old sister Trisha, but she thought she was Aphrodite reincarnated—Chris didn’t see the resemblance. She hated to get dirty, and the closet was full of dust.
There were two red beams of light coming from the top step. The beams were reflecting off the dust particles illuminating the stairs. Chris climbed the steps slowly and cautiously. With each step, the air grew colder. When he reached the last step, he wished he had worn more than just his shorts.
Chris stood on a small landing area and rubbed his hands along his arms to keep warm. The back wall felt like ice, and the small red lights seemed to come from an opening in the wall. As Chris reached to stick his arm through the opening, he heard his mom calling for him.
“Chris, I found the baseball bat.” She entered Chris’s room. “Chris, are you in here?”
Chris was lucky that his mom had good timing, or he would have been transported through the wall opening at the back of his closet.
Chris stuck his head out of the closet. “Hey Mom, you don’t have to yell. I’m right here.”
“I didn’t see you. I found the bat you were looking for.”
“Thanks, Mom. I didn’t know there were steps in my closet?”
“I always thought that was a bit odd. When we bought this house, I used to say they were stairs to nowhere. They have been useful over the years, though. I used to hide things from you kids on the landing. You never thought to look in there for any presents I bought early.”
“Mom, did you notice how cold it was at the top?”
“No. It was always a little on the hot side.”
The phone rang. “Chris, can you get that? I need to put your laundry away.”
“Can’t someone else in the house get the phone?”
“Yell down to Trisha to get it.”
Chris ran to get the phone. “Never mind.”
A moment later Chris yelled up at his mom, “Jon’s on the phone. I’m going to school to play lacrosse with my friends.”
Since this was a long-distance phone call, Mrs. Hellandback ran to get the phone.
“Jon! Jon! Are you there?” Mrs. Hellandback could barely hear her oldest son. “There must be a bad connection. Jon, I can barely hear you.” Although she couldn’t hear her son very well, she wrote down the flight number and time for his arrival home next week.
It sounded like a party line. She could hear other people talking. A Mr. Little was being yelled at by a boisterous man, and it sounded like her son’s voice talking to a Mr. Shark.
Chris was just leaving the house. “Hey Mom, Jon in trouble again?”
“No! Not that I know of. The academy would call me if anything were wrong.”
“Yeah, okay, Mom, but you know what happens if Jon gets bored.”
Anna changed the subject. “Chris, I want you home before dark tonight.”
Chris ran out the front door before his mother could load him up with other instructions to follow. “Bye, Mom.”
Mrs. Hellandback went and watched her youngest son run down the street. She said very quietly, “I wish Jon didn’t worry so much about money and had more friends like his brother.”
CHAPTER 3
The Hellandbacks lived in Boston, Massachusetts. They were all normal, nothing special about any of them. Patrick Hellandback had grown up in Inverness, Scotland, with his parents and his grandparents. He had moved to Boston many years ago, and now he had a thriving law practice in town, or that’s what Mr. Hellandback told his children.
But, Chris felt differently about his family’s economic situation. “Hey Dad, can I have a new titanium lacrosse stick?”
“Chris, you have plenty of equipment. You don’t need any more. Besides, we can’t afford it.”
“Dad, it’s not that my stuff is worn out, but it’s old. Everyone else gets new lacrosse equipment every summer. They have a lot of cool new things. I’m only asking for a stick. I suppose you think I should use Jon’s old stuff.”
“Well, Chris, there’s an idea!”
“You have got to be kidding me. His stuff is crap.”
“Chris, your mom wants to see you.”
Chris slowly walked into the kitchen, “Hey Mom, do you know why Dad is making us visit Great-Grandma in Scotland this summer?”
“He just wanted you to visit your great-grandmother, that’s all.”
“Well, is she going to show us our inheritance or something? I can’t see why we can’t just stay here in Boston.”
“Chris, your dad said you all will have a great time. He lived there as a boy and loved it.”
“You were there once, Mom. What did you think of her place?”
“Okay, that was over eleven years ago, and it was for your grandmother’s funeral. She passed away so suddenly. We all stayed at a bed and breakfast; I never saw the house. What are you getting at?”
“Just wanted to know what kind of TV she has or what video games—if any. I need to pack mine if she doesn’t have any.”
“Your father said not to bring any of that; you will be busy enough. Besides, Chris, when I was a little girl, we didn’t have all that stuff. As a matter of fact, we had one small TV in our house, with only a black-and-white picture.”
“Yeah, how did that work?”
“The point is that I was much older before we even got a color TV.”
“Wow, Mom, stick a finger in my eye. I bet that was painful to watch.”
“It was all we knew at the time. And I am sure your father is right—he says your great-grandmother will keep you very busy.”
“Yeah, probably have us clean out her garage or something.”
“Chris, your brother and sisters aren’t complaining. Just once go along and try not to make waves.”
“But Mom, how great could it be? Granmama is eighty-three years old, and I bet this trip is going to include a visit to her friend’s house for a wild game of gin rummy, a night or two out at an early bird special restaurant, coupon included. Let’s see, for a snack before we hit the hay around eight o’clock at night, she will offer us a butterscotch or toffee drop. Like that isn’t exciting enough, she will tell us to keep the TV noise down so she can sleep. Plus, she will wake us up at the crack of dawn to get ‘reacquainted.’
“I think of all the things I could be doing the last week of summer vacation—like sleeping till noon, playing lacrosse with my friends and showing them up, or just watching movies and playing video games. You know, Mom, just hanging out…
“I guess going to Scotland will impress my friends. The idea of anyone traveling outside the U.S. fascinates them. Most of them don’t even have passports. So I guess it won’t ruin my reputation, as long as I keep who I am staying with on the down low. What do you think?”
When he ran out of steam, she asked, “Was there a question in there you wanted answered?”
“No, I guess not. Are you sure we still have to go?”
“Yes, Chris, everything is already set. Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine. When she last visited us, your great-grandmother made you keep your TV turned down because she was exhausted from the long flight over here. Don’t take the hard candy when she offers it, and tell her you don’t want to play cards with her. She’ll understand; she’s your great-grandmother, not a mad stalker. Besides, Chris, you are not shy—that much I know—and it doesn’t bother you to be honest to the point of pain, so tell Granmama the truth.”
“It just seems like older people are so sensitive about their rituals and routines. I totally think this trip is gonna be a double case of boredom—a real yawner, if you know what I mean.”
“Chris, I do sympathize with you, but I am afraid you, your brother, and your two sisters are going.”
Chris didn’t like
how his older brother was always up for anything different. He was not only a very accomplished athlete in lacrosse and wrestling, but was a brilliant individual. That’s why Jon, at fifteen, was at a boarding school in England. He had taken some national test and come up with such high scores that he blew his competition away. That was one time Chris didn’t mind his brother winning something. He had gotten the entire third floor to himself. Besides, Jon was socially unskilled; he didn’t have many friends, like Chris, who needed the extra bedroom when his friends spent the night.
“Maybe you could call and tell her I got sick. The others can go. Why spoil their time?”
Chris’s sisters Brittany, twelve, and Trisha, fourteen, loved to fly, but Chris, with his ADHD, felt tortured in a confined area.
“Chris, I don’t want to discuss this anymore. You will be going!”
“Fine. What do you have for a snack?”
Mrs. Hellandback looked at her son very seriously and said, “I have a butterscotch drop or a hard piece of toffee.”
“Mom, I’m not in the mood for slapstick.” He leaned back in his chair.
“I have lunch meat, sliced cheese, and enough bread left to make you a couple of sandwiches.”
“One is fine, but I’m still not happy about going.”
“Yes, I understand. You have made that quite clear. Look at it this way—you go for a week in August, and you never have to go again.”. “Mom, you don’t understand. I will be going with the three people in the entire universe that hate me the most.” He ran his fingers through his hair and yelled, “Jon, Brittany, and Trisha are going to kill me on this trip!”
Mrs. Hellandback said, “Chris, I know you and your brother and sisters get on each other’s last nerve, but your father assured me that this vacation would make you change your attitude towards each other.”
Chris shook his head like he didn’t believe his mother. “Mom, so anyway, what did you want to see me about?”
Mrs. Hellandback rubbed her temples. “Chris, I forgot. I have a headache.” So many of Chris’s and her talks ended this way, never remembering what she wanted to talk to him about.
She handed Chris his sandwich.