Squiggle (6 page)

16

Toby and Squiggle went home and said nothing about their plan to Mr. and Mrs. Sponge. At dinner Mr. Sponge talked constantly about his upcoming voyage. He talked with his mouth full, he was so excited. “When you come with me,” he said to Squiggle, grinning as if he were telling her about a wonderful treat, “I'll put you in charge of finding the Tabatoo Watoo. They live up in trees, you know. They look fierce, but they're generally not dangerous. Not if you wear a hockey mask and fire-resistant oven mitts. Think of the fun it'll be!”

“Jay,” said Mrs. Sponge sharply, “don't press her. She hasn't decided to go with you. Besides, she wants to stay right here with Toby and me and help out with the accounting. Just think, she can hold pencils in her hands and her tail, and work a calculator with her feet. Isn't that right, Dear?”

Squiggle smiled at her, but was careful not to agree to anything.

After dinner Squiggle and Toby announced that they were going to teach the octopus how to add and subtract. They went to Toby's bedroom and closed the door. They claimed that this was to prevent the octopus from getting distracted; but it was really so that they could work on their secret plan without being interrupted.

First, Squiggle wrote a thank-you note to Mr. and Mrs. Sponge. It said, “Dear Mr. and Mrs. Sponge, I am sorry that I had to run away. I liked staying with you a lot and wish I could stay forever. But I am going to become a girl again. I mean, I am going to try. I will send you a postcard if I can. Love, Squiggle Squagg.”

The note said nothing about how Toby was helping her, so that he wouldn't get into any trouble. They put the note on the windowsill and opened the window, to make it look like she had climbed out and escaped on her own.

Toby reached under his bed and took out a black briefcase. It was new and had a brass lock that could only be opened with the right combination. His Aunt Daffy had given it to him for his ninth birthday, to carry his eyeball collection in. He had never used it, because the collection was much too big.

“But it's the perfect size for transporting a monkey,” he said. He took out a pocketknife and began to bore a small hole through the side. This took a long time because the plastic was extremely hard.

When the air hole was done, Squiggle got inside the briefcase and practiced getting back out again by undoing the latch from the inside. She had to try this several times, because it was hard to find the right part of the latch in the dark. Finally she got good at it, and was certain that she could get out in any emergency.

They took some of the towels from the cat bed and arranged them in the briefcase, and also put in a handful of plastic palm leaves. Squiggle climbed in and tried to make herself comfortable. Before Toby closed it on her for the last time, he said, “Squig, this is it. I might never see you again.”

Squiggle leaped out, wrapped her furry arms around his neck, and gave him as tight a hug as a monkey could. Then she gave him a furry kiss, and jumped back down in the briefcase. She didn't realize it just then, but it was the first time she had ever hugged or kissed anybody in her life. The lid closed, and she was in darkness.

Toby put his mouth up to the hole and whispered, “Don't worry, Squig. You'll see, he's a horrible villain. He's so greedy, he'll do anything for us.”

He reached under the bed again, took out a spool of string, and tied one end around the handle of the briefcase. Then he lowered the case out the window. It was a second-floor window and faced a narrow alley between two buildings. When the suitcase had stopped gently against the ground, he dropped the rest of the string after it.

He turned out the light in the bedroom and sauntered out, closing the door behind him. His parents were in the family room. His mother was reading the newspaper, carefully correcting the typos with a pencil because she could not stand to see errors anywhere. His father was intently reading a book called,
The Complete Restaurant Guide to the South Pacific Island of Buttok Buttok
.

“Squiggle's asleep,” Toby said.

“Poor girl,” his mother said.

“Good for her,” his father said. “Sensible monkey! She better rest up, before the voyage.”

“I'm going outside to play,” Toby said. “I'll be back before bedtime.”

As soon as he was out the door, he slipped around to the side of the building and picked up the briefcase. He didn't need the string anymore, but he wrapped it up and stuck it in his pocket in case it should come in handy again some day. The sidewalk was still crowded, even though it was after dinnertime and dark already. He walked quickly for about five blocks, then turned and went through a maze of side streets. Finally he stopped at a metal door in the back wall of a building. It looked like a janitor's door, or an emergency exit. There was no sign over it but painted in the center of the door itself, in bright red paint, was an eye with long eyelashes. Toby opened the door (it was unlocked) and hurried inside.

 

 

17

Squiggle could see almost nothing. At first she put her eye to the hole in the briefcase, but it made her dizzy to look at the scenery bouncing and swinging past and she had to look away. The hole let in sound, however, and so she could hear quite well. She heard a metal door squeaking open and banging closed again. Then she heard a high snuffly voice, like an old man with a turnip stuffed up his nose.

“Terrance!” said the voice. “What a surprise! What an honor! What a wonderful. . . . You've brought me something, I see? Have you?”

“How are you Mr. Sclera?” Toby said, in a raised tone of voice that you use when talking to someone who is going deaf. He lifted the case and set it on a hard surface. Squiggle thought it must be on a counter. She peered out of the hole. At first she couldn't tell what she was looking at; this is because what she saw was so strange that she didn't quite believe it at first. But the more she looked, the more she seemed to see a fish tank full of swimming eyeballs. Each eyeball had a tail sticking out the back end of it, like a long tapered whip. The eyeballs swam slowly about the tank by wiggling their tails. A sign taped to the side of the tank said, “$15 each!!” She guessed that she was in a very unusual kind of a store.

“What's in the case Tony? What's there, what do you have?” Mr. Sclera said. Squiggle could hear somebody's hands running eagerly over the outside of the case.

“Nothing much, Mr. Sclera,” Toby said. “Only a few supplies.”

“Tools of the trade, is that it?” the snuffly voice said.

“You might say that,” Toby said. “My dad packed it. It's got a vacuum-sealed bottle, and the finest dental instruments, and sterile cotton, and a special book of instructions.”

“Is that all, Tommy?” the voice said. “What are you bringing it here for? When you came in the door, I said to myself, he's got a trade. He's found a hazel, or a green speckled. And he's come to trade it. But it isn't that? You don't have a nice new eyeball for me? Just a few silly instruments?”

“Sorry, Mr. Sclera, not this time. But I need a favor.”

“A favor?” the voice said, suspiciously. “What do I get out of it? What sort of a favor?”

“I need to get this case to a business partner of my dad's who lives in Paris. It's terribly important.”

“Business partner?” the voice said, sounding more and more suspicious. “Who's the partner? What kind of business? What kind of favor is this? And what do I get out of it?”

“I'll tell you that, Mr. Sclera. This man who lives in Paris—I can't tell you his name, because I don't know it, and he keeps it secret—he, well, how can I say this? He thinks he's found a. . . .” Here Toby's voice sank very low, and he whispered, “He's found an eye with a pentagonal pupil.”

There was a silence, and then the snuffly voice screamed in a high, quavery way that alarmed Squiggle very much. The voice began to cough, as if the scream had irritated its throat. Finally it got over its coughing fit and said, “A WHAT? Timmy, is that what you said? A . . . a . . . no, you're making it up.”

Toby insisted it was true.

“But do you know what that means?” the snuffly voice said. “Trevor, the last pentagonal eyeball was lost in 1754 at Versailles. And you say this man, this, ah, business partner, has found another one? A fresh one? Is it . . . is it actually still in, if you know what I mean? Still in somebody's head?”

“I'm afraid it is,” said Toby.

“And this business partner . . . very smart of him to keep his name secret. . . . I hope he isn't too shy to . . . that is . . . to remove it? From the, ah, person who currently owns it?”

“I hear he's offered a huge amount of money,” Toby said, “and the person who owns the eye is willing to sell it. But only if it's done with the best instruments. That's what the case is for.”

“I see, I see, I see,” said the voice, chuckling now. “Good boy, you've come to me, your old friend Sclera, to help you out, because you know how much I like you. Is there any chance I'd get to see this pentagonal? Or bid on it? Or . . . or . . . this is a dream come true, Tyler.”

“All I know,” Toby said, “is that the case has to get to Paris by tomorrow evening. It's to be left at the foot of the Eiffel Tower at eight o'clock sharp, and someone will come by and pick it up. But only if nobody is watching. It's all terribly secret.”

“I see, I see,” said Mr. Sclera. “That makes sense of course. In a situation like this. Yes, yes, I can get it there. Don't you worry. I can find someone all right. I can . . . yes. But not without some hard payment. It's all very exciting . . . but how can I know it's a real pentagonal? And maybe I'll never get to see it? I can't eat and live off of excitement. No, no, you'll pay me for the expense, won't you? What will you pay me?”

“In about a week,” Toby said, “my dad will hear back, and if everything went okay I'll be able to pay you. You know I have a Red Delicious. I'll—”

“A Red Delicious?” Mr. Sclera said, in another gurgly scream. “That's what you'll pay me? Don't mock me, Tyrone! I've got six Red Delicious already, and I don't even know how to sell them, they're that common. A Red Delicious! I might pay you fifty dollars for it, but a trip to Paris? On one hour notice? I thought you had a matched pair of Auburns. What about that as a start? As a start, I'm telling you.”

“My Auburns!” Toby said. “How did you know about my Auburns?”

“Well, well, Truman dear,” the voice said with a self-satisfied chuckle, “I know more than you think. I'm not so old and stupid as that. And I have my ways. Remember that Oval I sold you a few months ago? That and the Auburns would do it for me. Pay me that, and I'll get your case to Paris for you, on time too.”

Squiggle couldn't entirely follow this part of the conversation, because of all the strange and complicated names for different eyeballs and parts of eyeballs. In the end, Toby agreed to pay some part of his eyeball collection that was more valuable than he had wanted to give up, and less valuable than Mr. Sclera had hoped to get. But the deal was done, and on the whole, both sides seemed satisfied. Toby left, and for a little while the room was quiet except for the very low murmur of Mr. Sclera talking to himself. Squiggle couldn't make out the words.

As she peered out of the hole in the suitcase, she saw the old man's hand come into view holding a container that looked like a salt shaker. It was eyeball food, as she realized a moment later. He shook it over the tank, and the eyeballs swam up to nibble on the flakes of food.

“There now, darlings,” the man said. “Eat up, eat up! I'll be away for a day or two, darlings. Yes, I'll be going on a trip. An exciting trip! To Paree!” He started to chuckle.

He picked up the briefcase and felt all over it with his hands. “And to think, in a few days, a pentagonal will be packed in this suitcase and on its way to that hairy monster of a Sponge! Oh! It's not fair. But it's very exciting. Oh yes!” He put his eye to the hole, trying to peer inside. He couldn't see anything except darkness, but Squiggle got a good look at his face. He had a skinny, spotted, liver-colored face with a thin nose like a knife. When he grinned, Squiggle could see that he had only three teeth, each one pointing a different direction. And he had a black eye-patch over his left eye. His gray hair stuck up on the top of his head as if something had startled him; but it was only the natural way his hair grew.

“Little briefcase,” he said, grinning and chuckling and snuffling, “you and I are off to Paree. There's no time to lose!”

In a few minutes he had gathered together a few things, put on his coat, and left, locking the metal door behind him.