The Thing At Black Hole Lake Page 10

  “That laugh is creepy, though,” said Lucy.

  Milo tsked. “I can’t believe you of all people would call an amazing supernatural being ‘creepy’. He’s not creepy; he’s cute.”

  “What I can’t believe is that he decided to turn into a bird when he could easily be a Pegasus or a centaur.”

  “Well, I’m hoping he’ll stick with being a cute animal when I show him to my dad,” said Milo. “That way, he’ll know Thingus isn’t dangerous.”

  “What?” Lucy dropped her notebook. “You’re going to show Thingus to your father? Are you insane?”

  Milo frowned. “He’ll find out eventually. Believe me.”

  Lucy did believe him. To her everlasting annoyance, Mr Fisher had been the first to discover the mysterious shapeshifters of Sticky Pines. But the only thing he could think to do with this mind-blowing information was to root out, dissect and destroy them. He’s not wrong about what they are; he’s just a dillweed. If Fisher found out about Thingus, there was no telling what he’d do. There was still time to persuade Milo not to tell his father about their discovery, but she’d have to tread carefully.

  “Okay –” Lucy picked up where she had left off in her translation – “these next symbols mean something like ‘with two-footed locomotion, balance with the head’.” She scratched her nose under her glasses. “Are these tips on how to walk like a person?”

  “Or a bird?” said Milo.

  “Good point,” said Lucy, writing that down. “I wonder if this rock is a giant instruction manual…”

  “An instruction manual for whom?”

  “For Thingus,” And the other Pretenders like him. “Do you think he can read?”

  “Now that would be something.”

  Milo shook the bag of candies like a maraca, then patted his shoulder. The creature barrelled towards him and tried to scramble up Milo’s legs, his wings flailing.

  “No,” Milo laughed. “You need to fly up. That’s what your wings are for.” The awkward albatross pecked at Milo’s shoelace like it was a worm.

  “Finished!” Lucy set down the compendium with a flourish.

  “Well?” Milo cradled Thingus to his chest.

  “Ahem. The Siren Stone says: ‘Welcome, Hidden Wanderer, to the Water of Life. This is your place of existence for many suns. In the lake and on the island, you will learn. You will extend. You will transmute. You will become. Crawl. Swim. Fly. Stand. Dance. Be. But a warning: do not leave the lake, do not leave the island, until you master your forms. The key to Becoming is Understanding. Hide from that which you cannot Become. Become only what you can befriend. To Dominate is to Overtake. Remember: you are never alone. Never far from home. Always Protected. If Those Who Dominate overwhelm, sound the Siren. Welcome, Hidden Wanderer, to your new home.’”

  “Wow.” Milo read it all again over Lucy’s shoulder. “What does it mean?”

  It means that this is where all the Pretenders came from. Right here, in the middle of Black Hole Lake. Lucy tried to envision Mrs Stricks squeezing out of the hot spring like blubbery black toothpaste from a tube. She shuddered.

  “It means that this area is like a training ground where they can learn how to take new forms,” she said.

  “They?”

  “I mean, Thingus,” Lucy corrected herself. “The royal ‘they’.”

  “So Thingus can read?”

  “Presumably.”

  Thingus squawked.

  “All right, buddy,” said Milo, “if you’re smart enough to read, you can definitely learn to fly.” He held out his arms and flapped to demonstrate.

  Thingus hopped and copied Milo’s action. He fluttered his wings and ran across the clearing, remaining disappointingly earthbound.

  Milo picked up the floundering bird, wings flapping against his face, and set him on top of the boulder. The boy took a few steps back and held out his hands. “Jump,” he commanded.

  Thingus shuffled uncertainly to the boulder’s edge. He prepared to jump, then changed his mind and retreated to the centre of the boulder, burying his head under his wing.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy spotted a dark speck hovering high above the treetops. When she turned to look, it darted off, disappearing from view in an instant. Is that what I think it is? “Um, Milo?”

  “Yeah?” Resignedly, Milo set Thingus safely on the ground.

  “I think I just saw a Nu Co. surveillance drone.”

  Milo paled. “Where?”

  Crashing through spiny briars and low pine branches, they rushed out to the shore and scoured the sky for any sign of a drone, but they saw nothing but a pair of Canada geese flying across the clouds.

  “Say it was a drone,” said Lucy. “What would it have seen? Just us playing with a bird, right?”

  “Right,” said Milo. “I’m sure it was nothing, anyway.” He looked far from certain.

  Lucy checked her watch. “It’s time to go home, anyway.”

  They bid farewell to Thingus, stuffed their things into the kayak, and took off across the lake, gliding under the sunset in thoughtful silence. Back ashore, they hopped on their bikes.

  “I’ll see you at school,” Milo called over his shoulder.

  “We saved your spot at the lunch table,” Lucy yelled back.

  It had been the best day Lucy had ever spent. So why did she have a nagging sense of impending doom?

  Lars Supper

  Milo was buzzing as he wound his way through the crowded school cafeteria. Life was finally returning to normal. All it had taken was the discovery of an otherworldly monster with unfathomable powers. But I guess, in Sticky Pines, that’s as normal as one might hope for.

  “Are my eyes deceiving me?” Tex embraced Milo at their usual table at the back of the canteen. “Welcome home, Feesh!”

  Milo ceremoniously took his seat across from Lucy, who looked as happy as a pig in a puddle. He unpacked his feta and lentil salad, which struck him as underwhelming for such a celebratory occasion. Maybe after school they could stop by that hokey burger joint again. He was craving another mint milkshake. And those sweet potato fries…

  Lucy ripped open a packet of hot sauce and squeezed it over her plateful of tacos. “Want one?” she offered her tray to Milo.

  “Thanks.” He eagerly nabbed a taco. The hot sauce burned his tongue, but the taco was one of the best things he’d ever tasted. Am I going nuts or is this wackadoodle mountain town growing on me?

  “Sladan!” called a strident voice from across the room.

  Lucy jumped in her seat. “What did I do?”

  A slender girl with short dark hair and a yellow blazer strode across the cafeteria.

  “You had a deadline this morning, did you not?” Tex whispered. He cradled his head in his hands.

  The girl stopped in front of their table, her arms crossed. Milo noticed that she had a nose ring. He’d never seen one in person before.

  “Where’s my article?” the girl demanded.

  “Oh, snap, the deadline,” said Lucy.

  “Milo Fisher, have you met Gertie Lee?” Tex introduced them. “She is the editor of the SPEAMS Sentinel.”

  Milo held out his hand, which Gertie shook harder than necessary.

  Without letting go she turned to Lucy. “Dining with the enemy, I see?”

  “Enemy?” Milo pulled his hand free.

  “No offence,” said Gertie, “but your father’s company is nothing but a force of destruction and despair. The world needs to retain its temperate rain forests, thank you very much.”

  Tex shrugged apologetically at Milo, who was at a loss for words.

  “And speaking of Nu Co. –” Gertie turned to Lucy – “what did your investigation uncover?”

  “You’re writing about my dad’s company?” asked Milo.

  “It’s my dad’s company, too,” Lucy responded, avoiding eye contact.

  Milo felt the sting of annoyance. Why was every aspect of his life now tainted by his father’s business affairs? Thi
s was not an issue most thirteen-year-olds had to navigate.

  “We go to print at the end of the week,” said Gertie. “I’ve made space for you on the front page, Sladan. You’ve got two days to turn in your piece, and it had better be good, and I mean polished like a diamond tiara, or your journalistic credibility is dust.”

  Milo had the impression that Ms Lee was a girl with a frighteningly bright future ahead of her.

  “Understood.” Lucy sheepishly saluted.

  “Gertie,” said Tex. He reclined, one arm dangling suavely over the back of his chair. “Did you see my latest satire on the school’s paltry response to the climate crisis?”

  “I did, indeed,” said Gertie. “Really good stuff, Arkhipov. You’re a go-getter. I like it. I wish some of that gusto would rub off on your slacker friend, here.”

  Lucy leaned back peevishly.

  Tex rose and offered his arm to Gertie. “May I explain the symbolism of the frog in boiling water as I escort you to the boiler room?”

  She linked her elbow with his. “You know,” she said as they sauntered off, “you’ve got an intriguingly dark sense of humour.”

  “As they say in Russia, it is better to laugh than to cry, since both are useless anyway.”

  “That’s profound, yo.”

  Tex winked at Lucy as he and Gertie exited the cafeteria, deep in conversation.

  Milo blinked. “And I thought I’d seen everything.”

  “I think he’s wearing a freshly ironed pair of jeans today,” said Lucy, disturbed.

  “So you’re writing an expose on Nu Co.?” Milo turned to face her. “Since when?”

  “Since you weren’t talking to me,” she said. “And anyway, something weird is going on over there. Everyone’s saying so.”

  “Seems like there’s something weird going on everywhere,” muttered Milo.

  “Welcome to Sladanville, my friend.”

  Milo laughed. “Speaking of strange places,” he said, lowering his voice, “how many shapeshifters like Thingus do you think there are in Sticky Pines?”

  Lucy choked on her food and started coughing.

  “If you think about it,” Milo continued, “they could be anywhere, right? They could be anyTHING.”

  Nodding, Lucy took a sip of water.

  Milo gasped as something occurred to him. “What if there are Thinguses that could actually turn into people?”

  Lucy coughed so hard she spat water all over the table.

  “Are you okay?” Milo hopped up and patted her on the back.

  Nanoseconds later, his chair went flying as someone deliberately rammed into it. His backpack was knocked to the floor, its contents spilling out across the linoleum.

  “Outta my way, rich boy,” said Lars, the hulking seventh-grade bully.

  Milo snapped round to face him. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you bug-brained barbarian?” It was by far the rudest thing he had ever said to anyone. For a split second he felt pretty good. Then Lars grabbed him by the collar and pulled him nose to nose. The warmth drained from Milo’s face. Uh-oh.

  “You telling me what to do, fish guts?” snarled Lars. His breath smelled like Cheetos and unbridled rage. “Like your old man does to my ma, keeping her at that stupid factory all day and night, cleaning up his stinking messes?”

  The cafeteria fell silent as everyone turned to stare.

  “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Milo.

  Lars pushed him back and Milo stumbled over his social studies book.

  “Back off, Lars,” Lucy sputtered, still coughing.

  “Stay out of it, grape-nut,” Lars spat. “What are you gonna do, tell your mommy?”

  Lucy shot daggers at Lars as he sidled up to Milo, towering menacingly overhead.

  “You and your old man think you can boss everyone around, don’t you?”

  “I. Uh. No?” said Milo. Nice going, Fish. That’ll teach him.

  Lars yanked Milo off the ground, pulling his collared shirt out of the waistband of his khakis. Toes dangling, Milo realised with a jolt that he’d never been in a physical fight before and he had no idea what to do. His arms and legs felt like wet noodles.

  “Is there a problem over there, Mr Darby?” shouted Principal Pakuna from the middle of the cafeteria. The middle-aged ponytailed woman marched towards them, her sleeveless cardigan swinging around her slight frame. She stopped halfway across the room, quietly daring the boys to make her walk all the way over there.

  Lars dropped Milo, who felt the shock of the impact rise from his heels to his knees as he landed on the floor.

  “No problem.” Lars tapped Milo roughly on the arm. “We were just horsing around.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Pakuna, hands on her hips.

  Milo seethed as Lars walked off like nothing had happened. Straightening her cardigan, the principal tailed the bully out of the room.

  Lucy, finally done coughing, knelt down to help Milo pick up his belongings. “Are you okay?”

  He huffily packed away his papers. “Here we are messing around with a cryptozoological oddity, and an oversized twelve-year-old is what makes me almost wet myself.” He crumpled his maths homework and shoved it into his pack.

  “I could kill that fewmet-flinging fool,” Lucy snarled. She picked up a small paper rectangle from the floor. “What’s this?”

  Milo glanced over. “Oh. That.” It was the tarot card of the crumbling pyramid. He’d been using it as a bookmark. “I accidentally took it from this weird lady at The Woo Woo Store. Why?”

  “Look.” Lucy pointed fiercely at the hand-drawn glyphs on the back of the card. “These are the same symbols as on the Siren Stone.”

  Milo stared in confusion. “They are?”

  “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

  Milo rubbed his neck, still smarting from Lars’s grip. “I forgot about it. The woman told me it was just a Sticky Pines thing. Maybe she saw them on the stone and thought they were pretty?”

  “Don’t you see, Fish?” Lucy’s face was so red he was worried her head might explode. “The tarot lady must know something about Thingus, about who made the symbols, about who knows what else? We need to go to The Woo Woo Store. Now.”

  “But I still have three more classes,” said Milo. He scanned the cafeteria, clocking all the kids who were staring. A table of popular kids he’d thought were friends avoided eye contact when he looked their way. A blonde girl (what’s her name, Amy Something?), leaned over and whispered something into Joey Peluso’s ear, then they both laughed. Does the whole school hate me? It was certainly starting to feel like it. Flip it. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Demon Deluge

  I can’t believe Milo may have discovered a WHOLE OTHER Pretender without even realising it! Lucy rode on the back of his bike seat, clinging to his middle as he bobbed up and down, pedalling through the rain while standing up. If only we’d been talking to one another, I could’ve known about this Marietta Corbin lady weeks ago. How many donkey-kickin’ Pretenders live in Sticky Pines, anyway?

  They splashed through a massive puddle as they turned on to Main Street. Lucy was drenched from the waist down, but Milo was wearing a set of yellow rain gear he’d retrieved from his locker that resembled a hazmat suit. It was extraordinarily unattractive but very effective.

  “You really think Ms Corbin knows about Thingus?” Milo tossed his oversized hood out of his eyes.

  “I’d bet my boots on it,” Lucy responded.

  They slid to a stop at the corner of Ravenstone Way. Lucy hopped off and jumped across the overflowing gutter while Milo locked his bike to a lamp post.

  Lucy had never been in Ms Corbin’s boutique before. Mostly because it was called “The Woo Woo Store”, and Lucy’s skin hurt whenever she encountered ‘mystical’ mumbo jumbo like that. It was all so boringly human. However, she was now kicking herself for not realising that some of the weirdos in Sticky Pines might actually be
, well, weirdos.

  The bells on the front door chimed frenetically as Lucy burst through. “Hello?” she called, bumping into a rotating display of dreamcatchers.

  Milo caught the stand before it could fall on her. “Calm down,” he warned. “People generally don’t answer questions after you’ve demolished their livelihoods.”

  Be cool, Sladan. Lucy took a deep breath and shook out her hair, which had gone frizzy in the rain. Marietta Corbin, I predict your future involves answering a slugload of questions.

  Lucy rounded the stand and stopped short. Instead of a woman with red hair, a man in a ruffly white shirt stood behind the shop counter. He was arranging a vase filled with black roses, his fingers adorned with silver rings and blue nail polish. A dark fringe fell jauntily across his forehead. “May I –” he glanced disapprovingly at the puddle gathering at Lucy’s feet – “help you?”

  “We’re looking for—” Lucy slipped in the puddle, splatting on the ground next to a gnome statue.

  Milo pulled her up by the sleeve. “Some supplies,” he finished. “For…” He looked to Lucy for help with what could possibly be done with the objects sold in The Woo Woo Store.

  “Summoning demons,” Lucy offered.

  Milo visibly shrank into his raincoat.

  “Demons?” The man looked positively appalled.

  Huh, thought Lucy. From the look of it I woulda thought this guy was into that sorta thing.

  Milo laughed loudly. “She’s joking.” He glared at Lucy. “We were hoping to speak to the lady who works here. She has red hair and reads people’s fortunes?”

  “I’m afraid Marietta’s out acquiring supplies for a private gathering this evening,” the man apologised. “You’re welcome to browse until she returns. Ouija boards are in the back.”

  Lucy and Milo strolled stiffly to the rear of the shop, huddling between a bookshelf and a case filled with crystals.

  “Can we just come back later?” Milo whispered. “This place creeps me out.”

  “Maybe that emo guy can give us the address where we can find her.” Lucy took out the unicorn notebook and turned to a fresh page.