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chest.
    But they seemed to be healing.
    I went back to my room.
    Pit came running in a minute later, waving an action figure in my face. “Captain Spazmodic saves the universe!” he shouted.
    â€œThat’s great,” I told him.
    â€œWant to play?” he asked.
    I almost said no. I wasn’t feeling real good. But playing wouldn’t make me feel any worse. And I hated to let Pit down. “Sure. Let’s play.”
    So we sat and played for a while, saving the universe. Pit was lucky. Life was simple for him. At least, right now it was. He just had kindergarten to deal with.
    â€œLud,” Pit said when he was getting up to leave.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDanny Milliken called me stupid today.”
    â€œDon’t you listen to him,” I said. I took his arm and pulled him onto my lap. “That’s going to happen. People who call names. They’re the stupid ones. You remember that. Okay?”
    Pit nodded. “Okay.”
    â€œAnd remember something else. What do I always tell you?”
    â€œMellons stick together,” he said.
    â€œThat’s right. No matter what. No matter who calls you names, or who makes fun of you, you’ve got Mom and Dad and me and everyone else in the family.”
    â€œYeah.” He smiled.
    â€œNow, go to bed before May starts shouting.”
    He nodded and climbed off my lap. Then he laughed and pointed at my shirt.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    â€œYou’re drooling,” he said. He threw his head back and laughed even louder.
    â€œThanks for letting me know.” I wiped my chin. It was soaked.
    â€œPiiiiiittttt!” May hollered from downstairs. “Bed tiiiimmme!”
    I watched him race out of the room. Maybe it wasn’t any easier in kindergarten. Maybe it’s never easy.
    I got up from the floor. It was still early. I can stay up later than Pit. But I was feeling really tired. And worried. Especially about not seeing red. And about all the drooling. It was bad enough being big and stupid. It would be awful to be all slobbery on top of that. People who don’t care either way about sweat can get all funny about a little bit of spit. That’s a fact.
    Right now, all I could do was get ready for bed. Maybe I could figure out something tomorrow. Or better yet, maybe I’d wake up and be all normal, like when you go to sleep sick but in the morning your fever is all gone. That’s the best kind of problem—the kind that goes away all by itself.
    But I didn’t get better while I was asleep. I got buggier. A whole lot buggier.

 
    Ten
    EAT PLENTY OF GREENS
    Â 
    I woke up early again. Bud was still snoring away. At least this time I wasn’t hanging from the ceiling. As I sat up on the edge of the bed and stretched, I noticed there were dark things all over my pajama top.
    â€œWhat the heck?”
    I reached down and tried to brush one off. It was like a thin spike, about as thick as the tube inside those clear pens. The spike didn’t brush off. I pulled at one, but it wouldn’t pull out, either. When I pulled, I felt this strange tugging at my chest.
    I didn’t like that feeling at all. I yanked off my top. Oh man. The things were stuck on me. No. It was even worse: They were growing out of me. I ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror.
    All over my chest, on my arms, too, I had them. Wherever I had a bite, a thick hair or two was sticking up. I touched the tip of one. It was springy, but kind of sharp, too. Then I felt my chest. The skin around the hair had turned hard, like plastic. I tapped it with a fingernail, and it made this clicking sound.
    Man. I didn’t want anyone to see that. They’d think I was some kind of freak. There’s a kid in school with a bunch of pimples on his forehead, and everyone makes fun of him. I can imagine what they’d do to me.
    Someone was walking down the hall. It sounded like Dad. I slammed the bathroom door shut and