chapter eleven

Globlet and I followed the thick vine, which led us down to a narrow, crooked alley that we never would have found otherwise. And from there, we escaped the head-spinning neighborhood maze.

And I thought we left this thing behind us too.

But nope. He’s here.

He doesn’t bare his teeth or flash his talons or anything. He just . . . watches us.

“Maybe it’s like, y’know—when you see a spider,” I say. “And it’s just as scared of you as you are of it.”

“Which is NOT SCARED AT ALL!” Globlet exclaims. “HI, WRETCH! HUG PARTY?!”

“Globlet!” I snap, throwing my hand over her rubbery mouth hole. “Just, like, don’t pay attention to him—and maybe he’ll leave. Don’t look him in the eye or anything. Just be, like, nonchalant. . . .”

I glance back, just to see if he’s still there.

He is.

He’s hanging behind, but doesn’t get too close. It’s almost like HE’S wary of US. Which is insane.

He just, like . . . wants to be nearby.

Which would be fine, if he wasn’t evil. Finally, I’m just too fed up. . . .

I turn to the Wretch and exclaim, “I don’t know what you want—but whatever it is, I don’t have it!”

The creature looks at me, and our eyes catch. Suddenly, a brief burst of Wretch-like vision appears in my mind.

A tennis ball hitting the zombie. . . .

My locker at school—

All my shouting works.

The vision, which was just beginning to bubble up, stops.

But as it clears, my eyes catch sight of a huge electrical tower in the distance, and I can’t help but think—TOWER.

Argh. I look away, shaking my head. My gut is overriding my brain in a big way.

“Globlet,” I say softly. “I know what we have to do. . . .”

“Yup.” She nods. “Rob a bank!” Globlet says, just as I say, “Get him back home.”

“Nope, Globlet. Not ‘rob a bank.’ The answer is never ‘rob a bank.’”

“Never?”

“Never.”

She kicks the ground and mutters.

We need to get him someplace safe. Someplace the Rifters won’t find him—because if they do, they’ll hand him over to Thrull.

This creature is just a baby. A Winged Wretch baby, but still. He’s alone and he’s hurt, and that was why I helped him back at the playground.

I can’t just stop helping him now. Solo adventure or not.

“Okay, here’s the deal, Wretch,” I say. I pace a little bit, trying to find my words. Finally, I set my jaw and tell him. . . .

The creature squawks. I think it’s with delight.

“Y’know,” Globlet says. “He needs a name, if he’s going to be your trusty friendship chum—”

“He’s not my ‘trusty friendship chum’! Didn’t you hear what I just—”

Suddenly, some sort of rat-rodent critter skitters past us, and the Wretch chases after it, like a beagle puppy after a squirrel. All I see is a flash of neon and—

“COME BACK, NEON!” Globlet shouts.

“Wait . . . Neon?” I ask. “Where’d you get the name Neon?”

“Helloooo. He’s all neon-looking!” Globlet says. “Why? You think it’s a bad name?”

“No, it’s fine. We just hadn’t, like, agreed on it. And then you just started using it. I was just caught off-guard.”

And then I’m caught off-guard again: Neon reappears, poking his head over a pile of rubble.

“Okay, Neon, so now we get you home,” I say, taking a big, dramatic, first-man-on-the-moon sorta step forward. We brave souls are going to get you home and away from Thrull.

“And where is his home?” Globlet asks.

“Oh right,” I say, and stop. “Good question. We should probably know that before we—”

WHACK!

And the ground beneath my feet SPRINGS open with a loud SNAP. I go tumbling back. Wiping dirt from my eyes, I see that the ground I was standing on was not ground at all. It was the door to a port-a-potty!

First of all, gross.

Second, who opened the door?

“Well, hello there, fine gentlefolks!” a voice says. A little monster is climbing from the overturned toilet, like it’s emerging from a secret, underground bunker.

And then, half a second later, just as I’m getting a glimpse of this thing—