The Interdimensional Fish Sticks Read online

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  Text copyright © 2021 by Aaron Starmer. Illustrations copyright © 2021 by Penguin Random House LLC. All rights reserved. Published by Penguin Workshop, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. PENGUIN and PENGUIN WORKSHOP are trademarks of Penguin Books Ltd, and the W colophon is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 9780593222898 (pbk)

  ISBN 9780593222317 (hc)

  ISBN 9780593222324 (ebook)

  Adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero

  pid_prh_5.7.1_c0_r0

  To Dave, Pete, and Magela—AS

  For Kate, Phylicia, Sydney, and Jeremy, for keeping me sane through this crazier-than-interdimensional-travel last year. ily!!
  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: A Green Skittle

  Chapter Two: Vice Principal Meehan

  Chapter Three: The Cracked Mirror

  Chapter Four: Locker 37

  Chapter Five: Yuck, Yuck, Yuckety-Yuck

  Chapter Six: Hallowhat?

  Chapter Seven: Back to the Dungeon

  Chapter Eight: The Multiverse, Infinity, and Fish Sticks

  Chapter Nine: The Kidocracy

  Chapter Ten: Vice Principal Barnes

  Chapter Eleven: The Face Behind the Tree

  Chapter Twelve: Gummy Bear Picnic

  Chapter Thirteen: Do Not Think About Unicorns

  Chapter Fourteen: Favorite Food

  Chapter Fifteen: Checklist

  Chapter Sixteen: The Ballad of the Screamin’ Beagles

  Chapter Seventeen: Weird New Place

  Chapter Eighteen: Number One Fan

  Chapter Nineteen: Important Beagle Business

  Chapter Twenty: Mind, Blown

  Chapter Twenty-One: Must Feel Right

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Locker 37,000

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Really-Good-Verse

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Driving a Hot-Dog Car Through the Fourth Dimension

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Bryce’s Trail

  Chapter Twenty-Six: No!

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Empty

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Rainbow Specter

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Love Song of the Rainbow Specter

  Chapter Thirty: Interdimensional

  Chapter Thirty-One: The Great Fish Stick Lick

  Chapter Thirty-Two: An Unnecessarily Long Chapter About Geometry . . . and Fish Sticks

  Chapter Thirty-Three: Hopewell Elementary

  Chapter Thirty-Four: Keisha

  Chapter Thirty-Five: What Does It Mean to You?

  Chapter Thirty-Six: This Chapter Is About You

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  A GREEN SKITTLE

  Bryce Dodd was in a pickle.

  Well, not literally in a pickle. That would be salty. And wet. Being in a pickle was simply another way of saying that Bryce had a problem. Only he was refusing to acknowledge that problem at the moment.

  He was too busy standing in front of his bathroom mirror, smearing green face paint on his skin, and singing a song. It was an original song by his favorite band, the Screamin’ Beagles, and it was called “Weird New Place.” The first verse went like this:

  You know you are my favorite girl,

  You send me to a different world.

  Whenever I look at your face

  I’m swept away to a weird new place.

  He sang so loud that he almost didn’t hear his mom calling out, “The bus will be here in five minutes! And Dad and I are leaving in four! Get moving!”

  Five minutes later, Bryce was moving. Or perhaps waddling is a better description. He was waddling because of the green cardboard sphere wrapped around his body. The sphere had a white S marked on the front and green suspenders holding it in place. He also wore a green beanie, a green shirt, green gloves, and green pants. In other words, Bryce was dressed as a green Skittle.

  “Uh-oh, Bryce,” the bus driver, Mary-Ann, said as he squeezed on board. “Did you not hear the announcement last week?”

  “The one about wombat poop?” Bryce asked. “And how scientists figured out why it’s cube-shaped?”

  “Um . . . no,” Mary-Ann said. “The one from the vice principal. About the rules?”

  She didn’t need to tell him what the announcement was. The other kids on the bus were the only reminder he needed.

  Today was Halloween. And Bryce was the only one wearing a costume. Because wearing a costume to school, even on Halloween, was against the rules.

  Keisha James, a girl who lived her life by the rules, was sitting near the back of the bus, in the hump seat. Seeing Bryce all alone, and all in green, made her face go red. She had never been so embarrassed for someone. She hid her face in her hands.

  Bryce noticed this, of course. It gave him a lump in his green throat. He had honestly thought that an overachiever like Keisha would be impressed by the effort he put into his costume. But she couldn’t even look at it.

  Hunter Barnes, a boy who spent his life breaking rules, was sitting in the hump seat next to Keisha. His reaction to Bryce was the opposite. He couldn’t stop looking at the costume. He hopped up, stood on the hump, and pointed a finger. Even though he was small, it made him tower over all his peers as he said, “Ha ha, this stinky Skittle doesn’t know we’re not supposed to dress up for Halloween! He’s so busted!”

  “Do you have another set of clothes?” Mary-Ann whispered to Bryce.

  He shook his head. Most of the time Bryce wore a pair of shorts under his pants in case the weather got warm. But not today.

  “Sorry, but I can’t hold the bus and wait for you to get changed,” Mary-Ann told him. “But if you want to go home and get a ride—”

  Bryce shook his head again. His house was locked and his parents’ car had already pulled away. The bus was his only option.

  He had to go to school dressed as a green Skittle.

  Chapter Two

  VICE PRINCIPAL MEEHAN

  Vice Principal Meehan stood on the front steps of Hopewell Elementary, next to a no skateboarding sign. There was a large crate of apples at his feet, and he waved to students as they got off their buses. “Happy Halloween!” he called out. “There’s enough sweet, delicious treats for everyone. Take one. Take two. Happy Halloween!”

  Kids grabbed apples, mostly to be polite, as they walked into school. Meehan flashed them a thumbs-up and said, “Make sure to brush your teeth after.”

  But his cheery demeanor changed when Bryce lumbered up the
steps.

  “Oh no, Mr. Dodd,” he said. “Oh no no no no.”

  “Yeah,” Bryce replied with a sigh. “Costumes aren’t allowed today, huh?”

  “And yet you’re wearing one,” Meehan said, and he motioned to the door. “Come with me, son.”

  A few minutes later, Bryce was trying to sit in a chair in front of Meehan’s desk, but his costume was too wide to fit between the armrests.

  “You do know why we don’t wear costumes to school, even on Halloween, right?” Meehan asked.

  Bryce gave up his attempt to sit and stood like a giant green sun at the center of a solar system of books and office supplies.

  “Because someone might mistake me for a real Skittle and try to eat me?” Bryce asked.

  “No, Mr. Dodd,” Vice Principal Meehan said with a hand on his head. “It’s because they’re a distraction.”

  “Okay. That makes a little more sense.”

  “I will be contacting your parents about this, because the rules were clearly communicated. But first things first, you will remove the Skittle and wash your face.”

  Bryce wanted to explain that costumes were one of the ways he expressed himself. He wanted to tell Vice Principal Meehan that Halloween was the most important holiday of the year to him, because it was a celebration of being different. But that’s not what Bryce said, because he wasn’t sure he could say that without getting in trouble. Instead, he mumbled, “Yessir.”

  This satisfied Vice Principal Meehan, who replied, “I’ll inform Mrs. Shen that you’ll be missing homeroom. Now go clean yourself up.”

  “Yessir,” Bryce said again. “But are there . . . more?”

  “I assume you mean more consequences?”

  Bryce nodded.

  “Depends on if you prove to me that you’re finally paying attention, Mr. Dodd. For now, go do as I asked.”

  Chapter Three

  THE CRACKED MIRROR

  Bryce stood alone in the basement bathroom known as the Dungeon. Fourth-graders sometimes used this bathroom as a secret meeting spot, because they knew no one else would ever step foot in it. The Dungeon was an awful place, a simply horrible bathroom. “Stinky, rusty, dark, and dusty,” was the way Bryce often referred to it.

  There were creepy squeaks and creaks. There was graffiti everywhere, including a message on one of the toilet stalls that read: Flush The Toilet + U Will B Sucked into the Burrito Dimension! But it was quiet and it was private and, by some miracle, the sink actually worked. Bryce could wash off his green face paint without anyone asking him why he broke the rules.

  This was important, because Bryce didn’t want to lie. He also didn’t want to tell the truth.

  The truth was this: He knew wearing a costume was against the rules at Hopewell Elementary, even on Halloween. He had known that ever since kindergarten, and he was now in fourth grade. Yet he did it, anyway.

  This wasn’t Bryce’s way of rebelling, exactly. Instead, it could be explained by Bryce’s very specific brain.

  If you saw Bryce’s brain, you would see a bundle of nerves and wrinkles and brain goo, just like anyone’s brain. But if you saw the way Bryce’s brain actually worked, you would see his thoughts were organized into two colorful, overflowing wicker baskets . . . and a drab plastic container with a lid sealing the top. The first colorful basket was spilling over with weird thoughts, while the second was jam-packed with nice thoughts. The drab plastic container, however, was where Bryce stored the thoughts that he preferred not to think about.

  An example of a weird thought was one Bryce had recently. He wondered to himself if tornadoes could wear tuxedos. He was possibly the first person to ever wonder such a thing.

  An example of a nice thought was pretty much any thought he had about Keisha. She was incredibly smart and brave and honorable. And he wanted nothing more than to be her friend.

  An example of a thought he preferred not to think about was knowing that wearing a costume was against the rules and knowing that it would get him in trouble. He had stored that thought far away from his other thoughts, as if it were leftovers pushed to the back of the fridge.

  But now he had no choice but to pull those leftovers out, open them up, and smell their rotten smell. That’s right. He had to accept that if he didn’t ditch the cardboard and wash off the face paint, he’d face some serious consequences.

  He turned on the tap and the water came out a dark brown. The mirror above the sink was cracked, and Bryce stared at the fractured reflection of his green face. He took a deep breath and said, “Here we go.”

  Then he turned off the tap and turned away from the mirror.

  He walked out of the Dungeon, still green, still round, still looking exactly like a Skittle.

  He headed toward Locker 37.

  Chapter Four

  LOCKER 37

  Locker 37 was the universe’s most wondrous creation, and it was conveniently located in Bryce’s school. You probably don’t have the universe’s most wondrous creation in your school, because you probably don’t go to Hopewell Elementary. And even if you do go to Hopewell Elementary, there’s still a good chance you don’t know about Locker 37.

  When Bryce went to Hopewell Elementary, only the fourth-graders knew about Locker 37. They didn’t share their secret with younger kids, and older kids forgot about the secret as soon as they finished fourth grade. The secret was that Locker 37 gave out magical objects and those magical objects could solve any problem.

  Imagine if everyone in the world knew such a secret. There’d be a line down the hall from Locker 37, out the building, along the street, through the next town, into the next state, across the border to Canada, then into the Arctic Ocean, and down to the ocean floor. Even if you could provide enough food, shelter, and bathrooms for people in line, just think of all the scuba gear and wetsuits you’d need to supply. It would be entirely unsustainable.

  Therefore, Locker 37 restricted its access to a few dozen fourth-graders every year. When Bryce approached it on Halloween morning, there was no line. He was alone in the dark hallway. Maybe no one else had a problem that needed solving that day. At least not yet.

  Bryce would’ve preferred not to rely on Locker 37. He could usually figure out creative solutions to his problems. But he wasn’t even sure what his problem was. He only knew that he wanted to wear his costume without getting in trouble. But what could help with that?

  When he opened Locker 37, he got his answer. He smelled them before he saw them, but he could hardly believe his nose.

  They couldn’t be . . .

  They shouldn’t be . . .

  And yet there they were, surrounded by an orange glow . . .

  On a round plate, next to a dab of ketchup . . .

  A pile of . . .

  Freshly fried . . .

  Fish sticks.

  That’s right. Fish sticks.

  Chapter Five

  YUCK, YUCK, YUCKETY-YUCK

  “No way, no how,” Bryce said as he looked at the fish sticks. “Yuck, yuck, yuckety-yuck.”

  He said this to no one in particular. Because no one else was there. Not even someone sneaking up behind him to interject some witty or surprising dialogue.

  That meant no one was there to see whatever he decided to do next.

  Would he get rid of the fish sticks? Because that’s what he wanted to do. He wanted to throw them in a dumpster. Or better yet, he wanted to erase their existence from the face of the earth.

  Was that even allowed? The items that Locker 37 gave out were extremely powerful things, such as:

  A gym pinny that would turn any fourth-grader who wore it into a professional level athlete . . . and the only ten-year-old in the world who could dunk a basketball.

  A pair of rain boots that made the wearer invincible. Walk through fire, dive into a bottomless pit, eat
really spicy chicken wings. As long as you were wearing these yellow rubber boots, you’d be fine.

  A tube of glue that could fix anything that was broken, including bones, school buses, and promises.

  Destroying something so powerful seemed unwise, like it might unleash an unbreakable curse. And yet, Bryce hated the taste of fish sticks. He certainly didn’t want to eat them.

  But that’s what he had to do if he wanted to solve his problem. It was obvious, especially since one word was written on the plate:

  EAT

  “Oh, come on, plate,” Bryce said. “Be reasonable. Can’t I do something else to the fish sticks? Like launch them into space? Or throw them into a pit of hot lava or something? “

  But the word on the plate stayed the same.

  EAT

  “Fine, but just a nibble.”

  Bryce pinched his nose with one hand and lifted one of the fish sticks with the other. With his front teeth he broke off the tiniest bit of fish stick, then gulped it down.

  Not terrible. Though also not wonderful. But it was done.

  “Now what?” Bryce said.

  Well . . . this:

  His eyes went blurry for a second. Or was it that the entire world went blurry? Bryce wasn’t sure. But when the focus came back, he thought to himself, Uh-oh, did I just come down with a turbocharged case of food poisoning?

  His stomach felt okay. He wasn’t dizzy. Nothing seemed to have changed, except for that brief blurry moment.

  Maybe the fish sticks hadn’t worked.

  Still, he knew it was probably best to hold onto them. Luckily, the plate could be hidden and balanced inside his costume on the ridges of the cardboard frame. Unluckily, he’d have to smell the fish sticks until he knew what to do next.

  “Looking good, Bryce,” a voice said.

  This time there was someone sneaking up behind him, but when Bryce turned around to see who it might be, he couldn’t be more surprised.