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.
Eddie listened. Hearing nothing more, he set off. Soon he was at the couch, searching the floor in wide sweeping arcs. A bit of torn paper. A hair elastic.
Suddenly the floor shook!
He darted beneath the couch just as a Squisher plopped heavily onto its cushions.
“Aaahhh,” said a voice above him.
Eddie knew that voice. The Librarian!
Yes, there were her legs. Firm and roundish, in yellow stockings. As Eddie watched, she kicked off her shoes—dark blue, with silver buckles—and stretched out.
“Aaahhh,” she said again, rubbing her feet together. “That’s gooooood.”
Eddie smiled. He understood completely. He often rubbed his feet together when he wanted to relax.
Paper crinkled. A moment later, a sweet smell drifted down—Eddie couldn’t tell what it was, but he knew it was food. He listened again and heard one of his favorite sounds. A turning page.
She’s reading, thought Eddie.
A giggle erupted up on the couch. Then a long, gleeful laugh.
A funny book! Eddie loved funny books. If only he could read it with her.
The Librarian had a hearty laugh. Eddie was soon chuckling along.
A few minutes later, he heard the Librarian stir. There was a brushing sound, then something rained onto the floor. He crept closer to see.
Crumbs, he thought. Lucky me! She’s a sloppy eater.
He snuck out into the open, keeping a close watch on the Librarian’s feet. Only her toes moved, wiggling madly.
Raspberry muffin, thought Eddie when he reached the crumbs. Yes!
He picked up a large, moist crumb with a bit of berry, and then—unable to resist—a second smaller crumb. Leaving the Librarian still giggling, he headed back to Min.
It was slow going. The crumbs weren’t heavy, but they were awkward, especially when he reached the desk. Eddie had to haul them up one at a time, using a special three-leg hold. He took the smaller crumb first, dropping it carefully at the top. He was halfway up with the larger one when . . .
BRRRIINNNGGGG!
In his shock, Eddie lost his grip.
THUD, THUD, THUD! Footsteps!
The crumb slipped. Eddie reached, grabbed—it broke into bits and tumbled to the floor.
All he could do was keep climbing. He clung for a moment at the top, jaws clenched. Then he heaved himself over. As he lay there, gathering his strength, he heard Min’s voice from the tray.
“Eddie! Watch out!”
Too late, he saw the shadow on the surface of the desk.
A Squisher!
Hide! But where?
He spotted a square of yellow paper and dashed underneath it. Peeking from under his flimsy shelter, he saw Min. She was trying to climb out of the tray.
What was she doing?
Suddenly he knew. She was using herself as a decoy. She was offering up her own frail body to the Squishers.
“Nooooooo!” he whispered. “Stay there, Aunt Min. I’m fine.”
She froze. Half in. Half out.
“Hey, Nathan!” said a voice. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Something moved. A bug or something.”
“Where?”
Beneath the paper, Eddie tried to stop quivering.
“I don’t see anything,” said Nathan. “Anyhow, there are no bugs in the library.”
At that moment, like a miracle—it was almost as if she was on the bugs’ side—the Librarian spoke. “Everyone to the carpet now, please!”
Eddie collapsed onto his abdomen in relief.
And that’s when he discovered a new problem. The yellow paper had a sticky edge. It was glued to his back!
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” he muttered as he stumbled to the tray, wearing the yellow sticky like a roof. “Aunt Min, can you get this off me?”
Min laughed. “Don’t worry. Just a jiff!” She pulled the paper one way, Eddie pulled his body the other way, and—brrrrripp!—the sticky tore loose.
Quickly, Eddie ran back to fetch the crumb that had survived. It was a bit squashed but still looked tasty.
Min’s eyes bugged out when she saw it. “Raspberry. My favorite! Oh, Eddie, I’m in heaven.”
“I had a bigger crumb, Aunt Min. I dropped it.”
“This one is perfect.” She gulped a piece down.
And in fact, there was plenty for them both. Aunt Min let out little chirps of satisfaction as she ate.
“I feel like a whole new bug,” she said when she’d finished. Then she settled herself down, faced Eddie squarely, and folded her front legs.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m listening. How did you get here, Eddie? I can’t believe your parents let you go. Tell me everything!”
So Eddie recounted the story of his journey. He left out only two bits. That his parents had not given him permission to go. And that his mother had been angry at Aunt Min.
Min wasn’t fooled. “Your mother’s mad at me, isn’t she?”
Eddie didn’t answer. He had learned the hard way that it was best to stay out of his mother’s quarrels with Aunt Min.
“Oh, I don’t blame her,” said Min. “It’s my fault that her baby boy is stuck in a paper tray, surrounded by danger. But honestly, dear, what could I do? Some bugs are meant to be stay-at-home stick-in-the-muds, while others are destined for adventure. I can’t stop myself from searching any more than your mother can stop herself from sitting like a banana slug in that crack-in-the-wall all day. We are who we are.”
Eddie wondered what kind of bug he was. It was a big question, he realized, and one that had caused him confusion ever since he had left home. It made him nervous right this minute, as he thought about his mother.
“It’s your turn, Aunt Min,” he said, changing the subject. “Tell me how you got trapped here.”
Min sighed. “I wish I had a happier story to tell. . . .”