The Tiny Hero of Ferny Creek Library Read online

  A last, late Squisher. A young one, racing down the hall. THUD! THUD! THUD! She was almost past Eddie when—CRASH!—an untied shoelace took her down, along with her bag full of stuff. Pencils, notebook, sandwich went flying. A hard, flat object skittered across the floor and settled beside Eddie.

  He stared.

  A book.

  It had fallen open.

  “Don’t!” he told himself.

  But he couldn’t hold back. He darted to the book. Scrambling onto the open pages, he raced across these words, reading as he ran:

  roared their terrible roars

  and gnashed their terrible teeth

  Oh my gosh! Eddie knew this story. Where the Wild Things Are! Aunt Min could tell it from memory. It was a brilliant story.

  Then he remembered.

  Looked up.

  Gasped.

  The Squisher was right there! Kneeling on her great, colossal knees. Snatching up her belongings.

  I’m done for, thought Eddie. He couldn’t believe his own foolishness. Here he was, facing certain death—and trying to read a book!

  “Oh, Ma,” he thought. “You’re right. I am a nincompoop.”

  But Ma would never know she was right. Because looming above Eddie, staring straight down, was—the Squisher!

  “Ick!” said the Squisher. “A bug.”

  The last words I’ll ever hear, thought Eddie.

  He wished he had eyelids, so he could close them. He waited for it. The Big Squish. Would she take her shoe off to do it? Use her fist? Or would he end up like Grandpa George, squashed between the pages of a book?

  He waited.

  And waited.

  “Hmm,” said the Squisher. “Go on, little greenie. Go home.”

  Instead of a shoe, a huge finger came down. Flick! Eddie tumbled onto the floor. The book disappeared.

  So did the Squisher. THUD. THUD. THUD.

  Eddie was alone, the Squisher’s words still ringing in his ears.

  Go home?

  Suddenly he wished he could. He wished it more than anything.

  CHAPTER

  4

  If you have ever lived through a terrible disaster—a tornado, perhaps, or a hurricane, or a fiery, plunging meteorite—then you will know how Eddie felt as the Squisher walked away.

  He stumbled to the wall and slumped against it. His legs shook so badly that, gazing down, he could actually see the fear rippling through them.

  The word home echoed in his head.

  Should he go back? The Squishers were busy in their classrooms now. If he walked quickly, he could get back to Room 19 before the next bell. He could hide behind the door till everyone left.

  Yes, that was what he should do. Home was safe. It was cozy and warm and smelled pleasantly buggy. Looking down, he saw that his feet were already moving in that direction. Should he listen to his feet?

  “Go home,” they seemed to say. “What are you thinking, rushing off like this? You don’t know how to rescue anyone.”

  He was standing there wavering when a new thought struck—so sad and so scary, it made his whole being ache.

  Aunt Min.

  What if she never came back?

  She was his teacher. His first, best, and only. If it weren’t for Min, Eddie would know nothing of life—nothing except a small, crowded crack-in-a-wall. It was Aunt Min who had told Eddie stories about the Great Worlds Beyond. Amazing, mysterious places. One of them, you had to fly to. It was called Neverland. Another, at the end of a yellow brick road, was known as Oz. There was a magical school, too—called Hogwarts. And if you happened to fall down a rabbit hole, you might end up in a place called Wonderland, where if you ate a magic cake, you would grow huge.

  How Eddie would have loved to find that cake. For a moment, he let himself dream. . . .

  He came to with a start. And in that instant, looking around the hallway—at its towering height, its endless length, its echoing depth—he had a flash of understanding.

  He, Eddie, was in a Great World Beyond! He too was on a journey. Like Peter and Dorothy and Harry and Alice in the stories, he was traveling to a mysterious, magical place.

  He couldn’t turn back. Did Dorothy turn back? Peter? Harry? Alice? Never! Nor would Eddie. However small, green, and useless he was, he had to try.

  “Follow the yellow brick road,” he said out loud, remembering Dorothy. Eddie’s road wasn’t made of bricks, of course, but the wooden floorboards were yellow. It wasn’t hard to pretend.

  “Follow the yellow brick road,” he said even louder. And with the sound of his own voice and a road like that to follow, Eddie and his feet felt just a bit braver.

  The scariest part was the doorways.

  Each time he came to one, he peered inside, hoping to see the Library. Each time, he found a classroom instead.

  The doorways were wide. They forced Eddie to leave the safety of the wall and step into the open. Nowhere to hide. Each time he reached a doorway, he had to force himself across.

  There was only one way. Run! Just hope with all his heart it would be okay—and run, run, no stopping! Run!

  Three great gaping doorways in all. He crossed them at lightning speed.

  The fourth door was smaller and closed. Eddie could see black letters on it. Excited, he gazed up.

  BOYS

  Eddie read the word. Then he read it again, surprised. It was like a door in storybook, he thought. You open a door that says “Treasure,” and inside you find treasure. Heaps of it. You open a door that says “Boys,” and inside . . .

  He was so enjoying this thought that he stopped paying attention.

  Suddenly, his antennae buzzed wildly. He turned.

  Legs!

  Long, bendy, impossibly thin. Creeping along the baseboard.

  He looked up and almost fainted. That thing had way too many eyes! And in the second that he realized what the thing was—a spider—he also realized what he must look like through those eyes.

  Food!

  Eddie fled. Back he raced—to his parents, to the classroom. Away from the spider, bearing down now at a shocking rate. He ran for his life, even knowing it was hopeless. The spider was bigger. It was stronger. It had two extra legs!

  At that moment, eeeerrrk. A door opened.

  Eddie turned. It was the door that said “Boys.” And there in the doorway, just like in a storybook, was—a boy.

  “Hey!” said the boy, bending down. “Spider. Cool!”

  The spider stopped faster than Eddie would have believed possible. It turned and ran—in the opposite direction.

  “Don’t go,” said the boy. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Eddie watched as the boy followed the spider down the hall. The boy looked interested, that’s all. He hunched over as he walked, watching the spider and showing no inclination to squish. Eddie waited till they disappeared. Then, with a last little shudder, he moved on.

  Soon he came across another door with black letters.

  GIRLS

  He stared for a while, thinking about the girls behind the door. As he walked away, he let himself hope that there would be a third door that said “Bugs.” But of course there wasn’t.

  “Follow the yellow brick road,” he told himself again, trotting ever more quickly along the floorboards. He could feel a tingle in the air now. The Library was starting to become real. It was just ahead, he was sure. He could smell it more clearly with every step.

  And when he finally arrived . . .

  He knew it in an instant.

  Gazing into the room, he felt a jolt of recognition, even though he’d never been there before. Maybe it was the gentle hush in the air. Or the glorious, fusty smell of hundreds of books in one place. The paper. The ink. The stories. Oh, the stories! He stood there, breathing it in. He had smelled books before, of course. But never so many at once.

  The Library was just as he had dreamed. Just as Aunt Min had described. The shelves rose like friendly castle walls, each with its rows of treasures. There
was the story-time carpet, spread softly in welcome, waiting for young Squishers to gather. Over there was the comfy couch, offering its own invitation—sit down, curl up, enjoy. And there in the corner was a large rocking chair, brightly painted in many different colors. Eddie knew it immediately. It was the story-time chair where the Librarian read aloud in her rich, lilting voice. Eddie had never heard that voice, of course, but he knew all about it. Aunt Min said it was as sweet as a chocolate chip.

  And just as Eddie was having that thought, he heard it. The Librarian’s voice. It was coming from the bookshelves.

  “Are you looking for information on wolves, Jasper? That will be in nonfiction. Let’s look together.”

  Eddie’s antennae quivered. Bliss! If the Librarian sounded this wonderful just talking, how must she sound reading a story? He could have listened to her all day.

  He could have stood in that doorway all day, too . . . if it weren’t so dangerous. Sunshine poured through a skylight in the Library ceiling, flooding the whole entrance with light. Eddie glanced up. Dappled treetops. Plump white clouds.

  Min loved that skylight.

  Nervously he crept forward, checking for danger. The cream-colored linoleum on the Library floor was pleasant to walk on, but it made him stand out like a freshly picked pea. Plus there were young Squishers everywhere! The Librarian had just spoken to one, and Eddie could hear others roaming about.

  Where was Aunt Min?

  On the left side of the doorway, he could see the Librarian’s huge oak desk. Aunt Min said it was a “treasure” that had been there since the school was first built. Eddie paused to admire its rich golden wood. It stood away from the wall with a chair behind it where the Librarian could sit to greet children.

  Beyond the desk was a counter and then round tables with chairs. Along the wall was a row of desks, each with its own computer. There was also a large white screen.

  On the right side of the Library, beyond the Story Time area and bookshelves, huge windows looked out at the Ferny Creek woods, where Eddie had been born.

  And far away, at the very end of the Library, stood a tall wooden cabinet. It was beautifully carved and painted red with bright decorative trim—blue, green, yellow. Eddie couldn’t see it clearly, but he knew it well. It was Min’s favorite bookshelf in the whole Library.

  Might she be there?

  It was worth a try. He turned left, planning to creep along the wall for safety. He knew, from Aunt Min, that the Librarian was different from most Squishers. She was friendly to ants and flies and moths, and even shooed mosquitoes out the window. But the young Squishers? Unpredictable! You just never knew what a young Squisher would do. Eddie’s antennae trembled as he crept forward.

  The wall took Eddie behind the Librarian’s desk and behind the back of her chair—a cushy-looking green chair with tiny round wheels on the bottom. Eddie had never seen a chair with wheels before. He wondered if the Librarian went riding on it. A picture came into his head of the Librarian riding her chair down the hallway at night.

  “Wheee!” she shouted.

  The thought made him laugh—a sharp bark of mirth. He choked back the sound immediately. Had the Squishers heard?

  No, it didn’t seem so. He started to move on.

  But wait! What was that? Something strange, yet familiar. A sound so small and faint, he strained his whole body to listen.

  “Eddie,” he heard.

  Imagined?

  “Eddie.”

  He looked around.

  “Hello?” he said.

  “Up here, Eddie! Look up.”

  CHAPTER

  5

  Eddie gazed up, searching the Librarian’s chair and desk.

  There! On the top of the desk, at the edge. A tiny dot. And sticking out—were those antennae?

  “Aunt Min? Oh Auntie Min, is that you?”

  “Eddie, shh! Not so loud.”

  “Everyone’s so worried!” he cried. “Why haven’t you come home?”

  “Hush, Eddie! Scoot up here. Quickly.”

  Eddie was about to ask her to come down, where it was safer. But she had already disappeared. He had no choice but to start climbing the closest leg of the wooden desk. There were plenty of grooves and bumps to grip onto. Still, it wasn’t easy after his long, exhausting hike.

  He hauled himself onto the desktop, feeling confused. Why couldn’t Aunt Min have scooted down?

  Then he saw why. Two of her legs—middle-left and back-right—were bent in unusual ways as she balanced on the other four.

  “Aunt Min, you’re hurt!”

  “Just a couple of small breaks, dear. Oh, I am so glad to see you!” She gave Eddie a hug.

  It wasn’t her usual hug. Not at all. And when she pulled away, Eddie could see how thin she was. Aunt Min had never been a big bug, but now she looked shrunken. Old. Wispy enough to be blown away by a breeze.

  “How are your parents?” she asked in a rush. “And the little ones? Bobby? Ricky? Jenny? Milly, Billy, Margie, Lily, Mattie, Joey, Gerry, Rosie, Deb—”

  “Fine!” said Eddie. “Everyone’s fine. What about you, Aunt Min? What are you doing here? On a desk? In broad daylight?”

  He glanced around nervously. The far end of the desk was cluttered with mysterious objects, but here the desktop was open and exposed—in a room full of roving Squishers. Aunt Min could hardly have picked a more dangerous location.

  “No choice,” she said. “I had an accident last Tuesday. Ever since then, I’ve been trapped here. I tried to climb down, but I can’t.”

  “Oh, Aunt Min.”

  “No use fretting,” said Min, but she too looked worried as she glanced around. “We can’t stay here. Follow me.”

  He watched her stagger away, slow and unsteady. Each step required a great lurch from side to side. Eddie’s heart sank.

  “Here!” she said. “My hideaway.”

  Eddie stared at the two desk trays, one stacked above the other. The top tray was supported by four corner posts. The bottom held a sloppy stack of papers.

  “Home sweet home,” said Aunt Min, heaving herself into the bottom tray. She squeezed into a space between the side of the tray and the papers. Eddie followed.

  “You see?” she said. “Could be worse.”

  “Not much worse,” said Eddie, looking around.

  The living space was sliver thin. Eddie wasn’t used to a lot of space, of course. But this felt cramped, even for a bug. And that wasn’t the worst part.

  “It’s not safe,” he said. “You know it’s not. What if the Librarian moves these papers?”

  “She won’t. Have a look. They’ve been here since the first cockroaches walked the globe.”

  Eddie peered at the papers. The edges were curled. A thin coat of dust lay on top.

  “We’re safe,” said Min, “for now, anyway.”

  Suddenly she turned, her whole body trembling. “Oh, Eddie, I’m so desperately hungry. I don’t suppose you brought any food?”

  Eddie remembered the raisin. “Oh! Sorry, no. You mean . . . you haven’t eaten? In all this time?”

  “Not really. Just a little apple juice the Librarian spilled the other day. The problem is, she eats all her food at the couch these days. If only I could get to that couch, I know I’d find something.”

  Eddie said the only thing he could.

  “I’ll do it,” he promised. “I’ll go!”

  Min gave him a searching look. “Really? You think you can make it?”

  He thought hard. Getting to the couch was one thing. But could he carry back food? He stared at his aunt. So shaky. So frail.

  So hungry!

  “Absolutely,” he told her.

  “I don’t know,” muttered Min. “It’s so risky at this hour. Especially for a bright little guy like you.” She gestured at Eddie’s green body. She, too, had a greenish tint—but much darker, so she looked almost black. In Eddie’s whole family, he was the only truly colorful bug.

  “You’re starving,”
said Eddie simply.

  Min nodded. “If I don’t get a meal in me soon, I’ll probably eat you!”

  Eddie took a step back.

  She let out a weak laugh. “Kidding, Eddie, kidding. Okay, if you’re really willing to try, here’s what you do. Hide under the desk till the recess bell rings. Wait for the children to leave. Then run, quick as you can, to the couch and look underneath.”

  “Got it,” said Eddie, smiling at the word children. Aunt Min was the only bug he knew who called them that. “I’m fond of children,” she sometimes said. “From a distance, of course. If you listen to them talk, they can be quite amusing.”

  Remembering this, Eddie chose his words carefully. “I’ll wait till the children leave.”

  “Good. Now listen closely. You must be back before the next bell rings. Understand?”

  Eddie nodded. He knew, from growing up in Room 19, how the school bells worked. The first recess bell would send the children outdoors. The next would bring them thundering back, smelling of grass and fresh air.

  Min stared at him, fondness and fear in her eyes. “Dear book bug Eddie,” she said. “I shouldn’t be asking this of you. Your mother would be horrified. And speaking of your mother, I’m surprised she let you come.”

  Eddie felt a stab of guilt. He wondered if his mother was still asleep. When she woke up, she would be horrified. He remembered the words she had used to describe him.

  Dreamer. Fool. Nincompoop.

  For a second, he sagged.

  Then he rose again to his full height. “Auntie Min, if I’m as hopeless as everyone thinks, how do you suppose I got here?”

  Min cocked her head, then cackled. “Well, that’s true, isn’t it? How did you get here? I don’t remember giving you directions. And your parents certainly don’t know the way.”

  “I’ll tell you the whole story,” said Eddie. “Later! First, food.”

  He was surprised at how scary it felt to step into the open again. He had to force himself. Quick as a flick, across the desk. Down to the floor in a flash. Under the desk to wait.

  It didn’t take long.

  BRINNNNNGGGGG! went the bell.

  Chairs shifted, scraping the floor, as young Squishers rose to their feet. In a chattering rush, they surged out of the room.