My Hairiest Adventure (9 page)

“Howie Hurwin will jump for joy when he hears this news,” Jared muttered
glumly, shaking his head.

“I don’t know where Lily went,” I told them. “I saw her parents loading
suitcases into the car. Now they’re gone. That’s all I know. I’m sure Lily is
very unhappy. I know Lily wanted to be with us. I don’t think she had a choice.”

I had a sudden urge to tell them everything that had happened. But I didn’t
want them to start laughing at me. Or worrying about me.

I felt so mixed up. I didn’t know what I wanted to do.

I wanted Lily back. And Manny. That I knew.

And I wanted the ugly hair to stop sprouting all over my body.

If only I had never found that bottle of INSTA-TAN.

This was all my fault. All of it.

“So I guess The Geeks have to pull out of the band contest tomorrow,” I said
glumly.

“I guess,” Jared repeated, shaking his head.

“No way!” Kristina cried, surprising both of us. She jumped to her feet and
stood between Jared and me. She balled both hands into fists. “No way!” she
repeated.

“But we don’t have a singer—” Jared protested.

“I can sing,” Kristina replied quickly. “I’m a pretty good singer.”

“But you haven’t rehearsed any of the songs,” Jared said. “Do you know the
words?”

Kristina nodded. “All of them.”

“But, Kristina—” I started.

“Listen, guys,” she said sharply, “we
have
to go onstage tomorrow.
Even if it’s just the three of us. We can’t let Howie Hurwin win tomorrow—can
we?”

“I’d like to wipe that grin off Howie’s face,” I muttered.

“Me, too,” Jared agreed. “But how can we? Two guitars and a keyboard? Howie
has his full band. He’ll blast us out of the auditorium.”

“Not if we play our hearts out!” Kristina exclaimed with emotion. “Not if we
give it our best.”

“Let’s do it for Lily!” I blurted out. The words just tumbled from my mouth. As soon as I said it, I felt embarrassed.

But Kristina and Jared picked right up on it. “Let’s do it for Lily!” they
both cried. “We can win! We really can! Let’s win it for Lily!”

So it was decided. The Geeks would go onstage tomorrow afternoon. Could we
win? Could we beat Howie and the Shouters?

Probably not.

But we’d give it our best shot.

“Let’s go up to my room and practice a little,” I suggested.

Jared started toward the stairs. But Kristina didn’t move.

I turned and found her staring at my face in horror.

“Larry—!” she cried, pointing. “What’s
that
on your forehead?”

I gasped in horror.

My hand shot up to my forehead.

The ugly black hair—it had grown back, I knew. And now Kristina and Jared
were both staring at it. They both saw it—saw that I was becoming some kind of
hairy monster.

I rubbed my forehead with a trembling hand.

Smooth.

My forehead was smooth!

“It’s right there.” Kristina pointed.

I hurried over to the hallway mirror and gazed up at my forehead. I
discovered an orange smear near my right temple.

“It’s spaghetti sauce,” I moaned. “I must have rubbed my face during dinner.”

I rubbed off the orange spot. My entire body was shaking. Kristina had scared
me to death! Over a dumb spot of spaghetti sauce!

“Larry, are you okay?” she asked, standing behind me and staring at my reflection in the mirror. “You look kind of weird.”

“I’m okay,” I replied quickly, trying to force my body to stop shaking and
quaking.

“Hey—don’t get sick,” Jared warned. “Kristina and I can’t go on the stage
by ourselves tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there,” I told them. “Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be there.”

The next afternoon, the whole school jammed into the auditorium to watch the
Battle of the Bands.

Feeling really nervous, I stood backstage and peeked out through the curtain.
The lights in the auditorium were all on, and Mr. Fosburg, the principal, stood
in front of the curtain, both arms raised, trying to get everyone quiet.

Behind me, Howie Hurwin and his band were tuning up, adjusting the amps,
making sure the sound was right. Marissa was wearing a very short, sparkly red
dress over black tights. She caught me staring at her and flashed me a smug
smile.

The Geeks should have dressed up, I realized, watching Marissa. We didn’t
even think of it. The three of us were wearing T-shirts and jeans, our normal
school clothes.

I turned and gazed at Howie’s new synthesizer keyboard. It was about a mile long, and it had a thousand buttons and dials
on it. It made Jared’s keyboard look like a baby toy.

Howie caught me staring at it. “Cool, huh?” he called, grinning that gruesome
grin of his. “Hey, Larry—after we win the contest, you can have my autograph!”

Howie laughed. So did Marissa and the rest of the Shouters.

I turned and slumped away to join Jared and Kristina at the side of the
stage. “We’re total losers,” I moaned, shaking my head.

“Good attitude, Larry,” Jared replied sarcastically.

“Maybe Howie’s giant keyboard will blow out all the fuses,” I said glumly.
“That’s our only chance.”

Kristina rolled her eyes. “They can’t be
that
good,” she muttered.

But they were.

The auditorium lights darkened. The curtain slid open. Howie and the Shouters
stepped into the red-and-blue stage lights. And began blasting out the old Chuck
Berry rock-and-roll song “Johnny B. Goode.”

They sounded great. And they looked great.

Marissa’s dress sparkled in the light. They had worked out dance moves, and
they all danced and moved as they played.

We should have thought of that, I told myself glumly, watching from the side of the stage. When
we
play, the three
of us just stand around—like
geeks
!

The kids in the auditorium went crazy. They all jumped to their feet and
began clapping along, moving and dancing.

They stayed on their feet for all four of the Shouters’ songs. Each song came
louder and faster than the last. The old auditorium rocked and shook so hard, I
thought the floor might cave in!

Then, as Howie and Marissa and the others took their bows, the auditorium
erupted in wild cheers and shouts of, “More! Moooore! Mooooore!”

So Howie and the Shouters did two more songs.

Jared, Kristina, and I kept casting tense glances at each other as they
played. This wasn’t doing a whole lot for our confidence!

Finally, Howie and Marissa took several more bows and ran off the stage,
waving their fists high above their heads in triumph.

“Your turn!” Howie called to me as he ran past. He grinned. “Hey, Larry—where’s the rest of your band?”

I started to reply angrily. But Jared gave me a hard shove, and the three of
us moved uncertainly onto the stage.

I bent down and plugged my guitar into the amp. Jared worked quickly to
adjust the sound level of his little keyboard.

Howie’s giant keyboard had been pushed to the back of the stage. It seemed to
stare at us, reminding us how good—and loud—the Shouters had sounded.

Kristina stood tensely at the microphone, her arms crossed in front of her
T-shirt. I played a few chords, testing the level of the amp. My hands felt cold
and sweaty. They slipped over the strings.

The audience was talking and laughing, restless, waiting for us to start.

“Are we ready?” I whispered to Jared and Kristina. “Let’s do ‘I Want to Hold
Your Hand’ first. Then go into the Rolling Stones song.”

They nodded.

I took a deep breath and steadied my hands on my guitar.

Jared leaned over the keyboard. Kristina uncrossed her arms and stepped to
the microphone, jamming both hands into her jeans pockets.

We started the Beatles song.

Shaky at first. All three of us sang on this one. And the harmony was off.

My guitar was too loud. It was drowning out our voices. I wanted to stop and
turn it down. But of course I couldn’t.

The audience sat quietly, listening. They didn’t jump to their feet and start
dancing.

They applauded loudly as we finished the song. But it was polite applause. No
loud cheering. No real enthusiasm.

At least we got through it!
I told myself, wiping my sweaty hands on my
jeans legs.

I stepped forward as we started the Rolling Stones song.

I had a really long guitar solo in this number. I was praying I didn’t mess
up.

I nodded to Jared and Kristina. Kristina grabbed the floor microphone with
both hands, leaning close to it. Jared started the song on the keyboard.

I started my solo. Badly. I messed up the first chords.

My heart started to thump. My mouth was suddenly too dry to swallow.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut out everything—to concentrate on my
fingers, on the music.

As I played, the audience started to cheer. A few shouts at first. Some
scattered applause.

But then the cheering grew louder and louder.

Happily, I opened my eyes. Several kids were on their feet, shouting and
laughing.

I bent my knees and let my fingers move over the frets, the pick moving
automatically now over the strings.

I was starting to feel good—really good.

The cheers grew louder. I realized that several kids were pointing at me.

What’s going on? I wondered.

And I suddenly knew that something was wrong. The cheers were
too
loud. The laughter was too loud. Too many
kids were jumping up and pointing fingers at me.

“Great special effects!” I heard a boy shout from the first row.

“Yeah. Great special effects!”

Huh? I thought.
What
special effects?

It didn’t take me long to figure it out.

As Kristina started to sing, I reached my hand up and rubbed it over my face.

I cried out in horror as I felt the stiff, prickly hair.

My face was covered in it. My chin, my cheeks, my forehead.

The thick, black hair had sprouted over my entire face.

And the whole school was staring at it, staring at me.

The whole school knew my horrible, embarrassing secret.

“We won! We won!” I heard Jared and Kristina shouting gleefully behind me.

But I set my guitar on the stage floor, turned away from them, and started to
run.

The kids in the auditorium were still shouting and cheering.

We had won the contest because of my amazing hairy transformation. “Great
special effects!” that kid had shouted. The “special effects” had won the day.

But I wasn’t feeling like a winner.

I felt like an ugly freak.

The bushy hair had covered my face, then spread down to my neck and
shoulders. Both hands were covered in bristly fur, and I could feel it growing
up my arms. My back began to itch. Was it growing on my back, too?

“Hey, Larry—Larry!” I heard Kristina and Jared calling. “The trophy! Come get your trophy!”

But I was out the stage door, the wild cheers of the audience ringing in my
ears. Out the back door of the school. Into a chilly, gray afternoon. Dark
clouds low over the trees.

Running now. Running blindly, my heart thudding.

Running home. Covered in thick, black fur.

Running in panic, in shame. In fear.

The houses and trees passed in a gray blur. As I turned up my driveway, I saw
Mom and Dad back by the garage. They both turned to me, surprise on their faces.

“Look at me!” I shrieked. “Look!” My voice burst out, hoarse and terrified.
“Now do you believe me?”

They gaped at me, their mouths wide open in shock and horror.

I held my hands up so they could see my arms. “Do you see my face?” I wailed.
“See my arms? My hands?”

They both gasped. Mom grabbed Dad’s arm.

“Now do you believe me?” I cried. “Now do you believe that the INSTA-TAN
lotion makes hair grow?”

I stood staring at them, my chest heaving, panting loudly, tears in my eyes.
I stood waiting, waiting for them to say something.

Finally, Mom broke the silence. “Larry, it isn’t the tanning lotion,” she said softly, holding tightly onto Dad. “We tried to
keep it from you. But we can’t any longer.”

“Huh? Keep
what
from me?” I demanded.

They exchanged glances. Mom let out a sob. Dad slipped his arm around her.

“It isn’t the tanning lotion,” Dad said in a trembling voice. “Larry, you
have to know the truth now. You’re growing all that hair because you’re not a
human. You’re a dog.”

I bent down and lapped up some water from the plastic water bowl Mom and Dad
put on the front stoop for me. It’s so hard to drink without splashing water all
over my snout.

Then I bounded down the steps on all fours and joined Lily over by the
evergreen shrubs. We sniffed the shrubs for a while. Then we loped off to the
next yard to see if there was anything interesting to sniff.

It’s been two weeks since my human body vanished and I turned back into my
real dog identity. Luckily, before I changed back, Mom and Dad—or, I should
say, Mr. and Mrs. Boyd—were nice enough to explain to me what had happened.

They work for Dr. Murkin, you see. In fact, everyone in town works for Dr.
Murkin. The whole town is kind of an experimental testing lab.

A few years ago, Dr. Murkin found a way to change dogs into children. He
discovered a serum that made us dogs look and think and act like people. That’s what my shots were. He gave me fresh serum every two weeks.

But after a while, the serum doesn’t work anymore. It wears off. And the
children go back to being dogs.

“Dr. Murkin has decided to stop testing the serum on dogs,” Mom told me. “It
just doesn’t work. And it causes the families too much pain when the children
turn back into dogs.”