The Ooze Read Free Page B

away.
    â€œThis stuff is weird!” Colin exclaimed. “Really weird!”
    â€œTry it like this,” I suggested. With a paper towel in each hand, I trapped some ooze between them. Even through the toweling the stuff felt spongy and squishy.
    â€œI’ll finish the table. You wipe up the floor,” I ordered as I captured another neon-orange glob.
    â€œWe’re never going to clean up all this gunk! It keeps running away!” Colin made another paper towel catcher’s mitt. He crawled across the floor. Trying to wipe up the runny goop.
    â€œWe have to,” I told him. “We have to clean it up. No way Mom can see this mess. No way!” I opened up a second roll of paper towels and started a fresh attack on the ooze.
    We chased the stuff around the room until there was only one puddle left—on the table. It slid away as soon as the paper towel touched it. But I had my other hand ready to stop it.
    â€œDone!” Colin cried. “What should we do with all the paper towels? Flush them?”
    I stared at the floor. At the mountain of paper towels heaped there.
    â€œNo. No. We can’t do that. They’ll clog up the toilet,” I answered.
    â€œOkay,” Colin replied. “I’ll just throw them in the garbage.”
    â€œNo. No. We can’t do that, either. They don’t pick up garbage until Thursday,” I explained. “I don’t want any sign of this stuff around.”
    My eyes searched the basement. I spotted a big red chest—an old cooler that Dad used when he went fishing. Perfect.
    â€œWe’ll stuff them in here,” I said. “And we’d better hurry. Mom will be home any second.”
    I lifted the top of the chest. It was filled with kitty litter. Bags and bags of kitty litter.
    â€œAl? Are you down there? Al?” Mom called from the top of the basement steps. “I’m home!”

5

    â€œH elp me, Colin!” I whispered as I started tossing the bags out.
    Click. Click. Click.
    The sound of Mom’s high-heeled shoes clicked down the basement steps.
    â€œHurry, Colin. Hurry!”
    I gathered up huge bunches of paper towels, careful not to get any of the ooze on my hands.
    Chester yowled. “What’s wrong, kitty cat?” Mom said on the way down. “It’s just me. Nothing to be afraid of.”
    Mom’s heels clicked down the stairs louder—closer.
    I yanked the lid off the cooler and crammed thepaper towels inside. Colin shoved his on top and slammed on the lid.
    We did it! With my left foot I kicked the cooler under the table—just as Mom stepped into the room. “Having fun?” she asked.
    â€œJust hanging out,” I answered, trying to sound normal.
    Mom studied me suspiciously. “I see you have the chemistry set out. Did Michelle give you the safety lesson yet, Al?”
    â€œNot yet. But she will,” I said. “When the chess club leaves.”
    Oh, no! I noticed a big drop of the ooze on the worktable. I leaned against the table—trying to look casual. I placed my right hand on top of the orange glob.
    â€œI really don’t want you using the chemistry set until you know all the safety rules,” Mom warned.
    Good. She didn’t notice the ooze. “Honest, Mom,” I answered. “We were just looking at the test tubes.”
    I could feel the ooze under my palm. It was growing warm. And it started to slide up between my fingers.
    â€œOkay. If you boys want a snack, there’s still plenty of birthday cake left,” Mom told us.
    The ooze seeped out some more. I slammed my left hand down on top of my right one to cover it. I wasn’t going to be able to hide the gooey stuff much longer.
    â€œAwesome, Mrs. Sterner,” Colin said. “We will most definitely come up for some cake later.”
    The ooze started to crawl up through my left hand now. Go, I silently begged my mom. Go upstairs.
    â€œAll right,” Mom