Chapter 9

chapter nine "We'll walk this sewer until we're far away from that lousy playground," I tell Globlet. "Then we'll come back up and find our way home." "Genius! Genius!" Globlet exclaims. But the farther we walk, the less I like my plan. The sewer is dark and slimy. Dirty water and garbage rush beneath my feet, and sometimes I'll hear a crunch that sounds suspiciously like breaking bone. Only Globlet's glow guides us. I hold her out like I'm some old-timey, Ebenezer Scrooge inn-keeper....

I feel used useful When we finally come to another open manhole cover, it's been hours. I'm so eager for fresh air that I don't care where it takes us —I just climb up and out. "I'm happy to be out of these tunnels!" Globlet chirps. "All that glowing was making me sleepy." "Only problem," I say, looking around at our new surroundings. "Now I have even less of an idea where we are...." "I know where we are!" Globlet proclaims triumphantly. "This is the place you call

Earth!" I sigh. She suddenly looks concerned. Wait,we are still on earth, aren't we? Aren't we? Yep, goblet though. The way it looks now, you wouldn't know it. I dimension isn't supposed to look like this. We're in one of those just-built-yesterday neighborhoods, where every house is almost identical to every other house, and the only way you can remember which one is yours is if you plant some tulips or something. Then every time some parent is dropping you off, you gotta say, "It's the one with tulips out

front!" But then it snows and the tulips die and nobody knows the difference anymore. There aren't any tulips here now. Just an endless web of thick, pulsating Vine-Thingies that weave the houses together. "I just want to get home." But that'll be easier said than done. We walk. And walk. And walk. And it's not just that every house looks like same. Every street looks the same. And they're all named after trees! I go left onto Maple Street, which turns onto Pine Street, and loops us around to Poplar Street. Where even are we? We pass a huge, snaking Vine-Thingy that I'm sure we've passed before. The houses are rotting while the Vine-Thingies are flourishing. "I need a sec, Globlet," I finally say, as I take a seat on the ground. "My legs are like rubber." "I know the feeling," Globlet says.

Just then, I look over. And I gasp. Wait, we passed this same mailbox an hour ago. Yay, I love reunions. "No, Globlet!" I groan. "That means we're going in circles! We're lost!" A scary question starts gnawing at my insides. What if we don't make it back? What if we're not just lost but we're, like, lost lost?

It's like the TV remote. Sometimes you can't find it for a while, but you know it'll turn up eventually—you just have to finally get frustrated enough and go digging between the couch cushions. But other times you lose something, like my lucky slap bracelet, and somehow you just know that it's never turning up. Like, ever. Is that me? Am I now my lucky slap bracelet? Am I lost lost? My shoulders sag. My legs are throbbing and my feet are on fire. I want to curl up. I want to fall asleep to the cute, soothing sounds of Globlet's bubbly snoring. I want to hear— RAWRR Not that. That's a roar. A soft, shrill, barely there roar. I look up. The blur creature.