Dr. Sawyer answered the door. She has the same hazel eyes as Matt and the same brown hair, only hers is long and shiny. She must have just come home from working at the hospital because she was still in her blue doctor uniform that looks just like pajamas. That’s one reason I’d love to be a doctor. You get to wear pajamas to work.
There was a smudge of red on her top. When I saw it, I gulped hard.
“Um, Dr. Sawyer?” I said. “You have a little blood on your shirt.”
She looked down, stuck her finger in the smudge, and popped her finger in her mouth. Then she laughed.
“It’s ketchup,” she said. “I was just eating a burger and fries.”
Then Dr. Sawyer invited Mom into the kitchen for a cup of tea, and she told Jude and me that we could go upstairs.
We got to the top of the stairs and saw a beautiful blue bedroom with clouds painted on the wall near the ceiling. There was a tidy bed, piled high with fluffy pillows. In the corner, there was a desk full of books, and sitting at the desk was Chloe, hunched over her dictionary.
“Hi there,” she said.
“What letter are you up to now?” asked Jude.
“I,” she said. “And if you think there are a lot of con words, just wait until you get to the in words!”
“Inform, inquire, intelligence,” Jude rattled off.
“Involve, insist, interfere,” Chloe added.
“In need of help!” I cried. “Which is what we are! Because of your brother! Where is his room, anyway?”
“The next door over,” said Chloe. “Enter at your own risk.”
I walked down the hall, but Jude stayed behind with Chloe, thinking up more in words. I was wondering what Chloe had meant by “enter at your own risk.” Then I got to Matt’s doorway, and I knew.
Matthew Sawyer’s room was an enormous, gigantic, ginormous mess.
On every single inch of the room were heaps of books and Lego pieces and candy wrappers and empty cups and shoes and trading cards and comics and soccer balls and lots and lots of striped shirts. You couldn’t even see the floor or the furniture. His bed and desk and dresser just looked like big mountains of stuff.
It took me a minute to even find Matt in the middle of it all. But finally, I spotted him, lying on his stomach on the floor, reading a book about spiders.
“Matthew Sawyer!” I cried.
“Oh, hey, what’s up?” he asked oh-so-casually. He said it like there was nothing at all the matter. “Did Pearl come with you? I read an article about the plague I wanted to tell her about.”
I was speechless. Truly speechless! I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
I just started pacing back and forth. Or, at least, I tried to pace. His floor was so messy, I couldn’t even walk! I just kept tripping!
“Matthew Sawyer!” I exclaimed. “Your room—it’s—it’s—”
My mom always says that if I don’t have anything nice to say, I shouldn’t say anything at all. So I was trying to think of a nice way to say “disaster.”
But he finished my sentence: “It’s cool, I know. Did you see my mealworm? It’s in the larvae stage.”
“Your room is a hideous nightmare!” I screeched. “No wonder you can’t find our project! You probably can’t even find your bed!”
“Sure I can.” He walked over to a big lump and said, “Here it is!”
But then he patted it a bit and said, “Strike that. This is my desk. But don’t worry. I know my bed is in here somewhere. And so is our project.”
“We’re doomed,” I moaned. “We’re sunk. We’re the Titanic.”
I sank down to the ground, but instead of my butt hitting the floor, it hit something very gooey and sticky. I stood up and looked at my backside. It was covered in a bright green gloop.
Matt smiled. “Oh good! You found my oobleck!”
“JUDE!” I shouted. “CHLOE! ANYONE!”
