Oddity by Sarah Cannon

Author:Sarah Cannon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends

Chapter 21

Night, Gunnar

It’s pitch-black outside when we finally decide the coast is clear. By the time we get home, I’m limping pretty bad. We circle our block, in case Dewey forgot not to remember me after all, but nothing seems out of the ordinary at either of our houses. We should probably talk, but I’m so tired I can barely think. All I want is to cry myself to sleep in my own bed.

“I’m going to tell them we decided not to sleep over after all,” I say, and Cayden nods wearily. I wave good-bye, but he’s already disappearing through his front door.

I can just make out a little cluster of screaming aliens over on one side of the field, the field being our side yard. I shake my head over them as I head inside in search of a snack. I’m not about to get involved. They’ve been known to riot like soccer fans. Once they even set the Hollowells’ car on fire. As I put my hand on the front doorknob, though, someone squalls piteously, and I recognize the voice.

It’s Xerple.

“But I did not know it was a rule infraction!” he pleads, and I draw closer to listen in spite of myself, grabbing a rake that Mason should not have left outside because it could very easily get used on one of us. I’ve armed myself without having to go to the garage, though, so I guess he gets a pass this time.

“You did not KNOW? The ugly bunnies are our mortal enemies!” This comes from an alien who is almost entirely head. It’s round, and orange, and its arms and legs appear to be wearing a suit and fancy shoes. When it shouts, its whole mouth blows open like when we flap a parachute in gym class after using it to practice emergency skydiving.

“I was not helping the bunnies, I was helping Cayden!” wails Xerple.

“Ahhhh,” burbles a squishy pink alien, who has a permanent frown and some kind of brain coral growing out of its head. “But the Cayden helps the bunnies, doesn’t he? He and the landlady have been resupplying the bunnies since the punkball game began.”

I’m a landlady, huh? I guess I am the human they see most often. If I’m the voice of authority, maybe I can help Xerple out.

“Uh, fellas? The marshmallows are part of a previous agreement. They don’t have anything to do with punkball.”

Three little faces look up at me, two glaring, one cringing.

“We live here, too,” gargles the squishy alien. “You do not give us marshmallows.”

I frown. “Do you eat them?”

Its mouth opens and closes several times in outrage. “No!” it says at last. “But it’s rude not to offer.”

Long on mouth, short on logic.

“Look, Xerple helped because he owed us one. We helped him out when he was, um, up a flagpole.” Xerple is bobbing agitatedly behind the other two aliens, shaking his head frantically. Too late.

“Whaaat?” shrieks Bigmouth, its lips and cheeks billowing out to expose its choppers.

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