The Interdimensional Fish Sticks #4

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.