The Stone Child by Dan Poblocki Page A

noticed that the person on the floor was Maggie Ringer. The books she’d been carrying were scattered across the rug. She winced in pain as she tried to sit.
    “I’m so sorry!” Eddie exclaimed. “We were running from—”
    Harris nudged Eddie’s leg with his foot.
    “We were just running. Like … for fun?” He struggled to his feet. After he stood up, he offered his hand to Maggie, who still seemed to be in shock.
    “Great. Well, next time, it might be more fun for
me
if you look where you’re going,” she said.
    “Are you kids okay?” The librarian, Mrs. Singh, came out from behind her desk. “Why are you standing like that?” she said, looking at Harris.
    “We’re fine,” said Harris, pressing his back against the door. Just then, something slammed against the glass. Harris screamed, then quickly composed himself, bracing the door even harder. His sneakers slid a bit on the rug. He squeezed his eyes shut and said, “Just fine.”
    “What the heck is that?” shouted Maggie. She pointed at the door, just beyond Harris’s feet. Through the glass, Eddie saw what Maggie was looking at. He clutched at his mouth to hold back a scream.
    On the library’s top step stood a creature unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was about a foot tall. Its skin was bruise-purple. Twists of vine and clumps of dirt and dead leaves littered its greasy green hair, which hung from its head almost all the way down to the ground. Other than this strange cape of thick hair, the creature was naked. The gremlin watchedthem for several seconds with its yellow catlike eyes, then smiled viciously with its wide greenish lips. It raised its little hand, as if to wave, then brought it down hard against the glass.
    Wham!
    The door rattled, and once again, Harris screamed.
    “A rabid monkey?” said Eddie, feeling foolish even as the words came out of his mouth.
    “Does this door lock?” Harris asked quietly.
    Mrs. Singh flittered forward, keeping her wide eyes on the thing on the doorstep. “A monkey?” she said, her voice trembling into a weird operatic register. “That is
not
a monkey.” She reached around behind Harris and turned the latch. “Excuse me, please,” she said. Something inside the door clicked. It was now locked, so Harris stepped away from it.
    “Thanks,” Harris said to Mrs. Singh. Turning around, he saw the creature staring at him. The thing opened its mouth and tried to bite the glass. Its tiny purple stump of a tongue flipped and flopped like a dissected worm, sliming the door with saliva. Then, from two small pockets on either side of its mouth, several thin green tendrils began to unfurl, their barbed tips tapping and scratching at the breath-fogged glass.
    Holding her hand to her mouth, Mrs. Singh uttered a horrified squeak. “I’m calling the police!” she cried, running back toward her desk.
    The creature smacked the door with its hand again. Thistime, the glass cracked a bit. The thing’s mouth-tendrils squirmed to the edge of the door, as if searching for a way inside. The three kids scrambled away.
    “That is
not
a monkey,” Maggie repeated.
    “What are we going to do?” said Eddie, glancing toward Mrs. Singh. “We’ve both read
The Curse of the Gremlin’s Tongue
, Harris. You know the police won’t be able to help us.”
    Harris shook his head in frustration. Then his face lit up. “You’re right!” he said. “The police can’t help. But you can!”
    “Me?” said Eddie. “How?”
    “You know how! You were the one who picked the flower. He wants to eat
you!
”
    Eddie felt nauseated. “So? That’s not a solution! He
can’t
eat me!”
    “I know that. We won’t let him,” said Harris, pulling Eddie away from the door. Maggie stayed behind, fascinated by the little monster who continued to watch them from the other side of the glass. “You picked the flower. Only you can send him away. Don’t you remember how?”
    Eddie racked his brain. He knew the answer to this