Isn't It Funny When-- : 219 Stories by Canadian Children
Author: Oppel, Kenneth
Date: 2003-04-15 13:33:42+00:00
Description: Anthology of works by Canadian Children collected and sponsored by Staples Ltd.
Publisher: Business Depot
Rights: All rights reserved

A Weird Case of Super-Goo

Barnes & The Brains

Kenneth Oppel

Dedication
for Philippa

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1 Weak Brainwaves

Chapter 2 The Visitor

Chapter 3 Pig’s Spit and Alligator Eyes

Chapter 4 A Kid Again

Chapter 5 The War Council

Chapter 6 Snapped

Chapter 7 Call Me Mister

Chapter 8 Spontaneous Display of Responsibility

Have you read all of the Barnes & the Brains adventures?

Also By Kenneth Oppel

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter 1
Weak Brainwaves

“I quit!” shouted Giles. “I’ve had it with you two!”

“Now, Barnes,” said Tina, “there’s no need to get so worked up. It’s just a small glitch.”

“Look at my hair! Look at it! It’s bright orange! That’s not what I would call a small glitch!”

Giles turned back to the mirror and stared at himself in horror. How stupid, he thought angrily. Why had he volunteered to test Tina’s latest invention? He glared at the smoking metal helmet which, until a few seconds ago, had been fastened to his head. Tina called it the Brain Drainer. The helmet bristled with all sorts of lights and dials, and sprouted bundles of wires which trailed across the basement floor to a small radio.

What was supposed to happen was this: you put on the helmet and tried to concentrate on the radio. The power of your brainwaves was supposed to turn into electricity and switch on the radio. Tina had said you could even tune it, if your brainwaves were powerful enough.

But it didn’t work out like that. In fact, it didn’t work at all. Giles had sat in a chair for over half an hour, concentrating so hard he got a headache and a crick in his neck. The radio sat, silent, at the other end of the workshop.

“Come on, Barnes,” Tina said impatiently, looking at her stopwatch, “you’re not trying hard enough.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” said Giles through gritted teeth. The helmet on his head was starting to overheat.

“You must have very weak brainwaves,” she said in annoyance. “A very weak brain indeed.”

“I’ll try,” Kevin volunteered.

“No thank you, Kevin. At least Barnes has a brain.”

When the helmet began to buzz and smoke, Giles angrily snatched it off his head.

“That’s it! See, it doesn’t work. Nothing happened!”

But something had happened.

His hair had turned bright orange.

“Barnes, it’ll probably grow out. In a few months,” said Tina.

“It’s not so bad, Barnes—really,” said Kevin, who was trying very hard not to laugh. “I mean, orange is a great colour. Lots of kids at school would love to have orange hair.”

Suddenly both Kevin and Tina were laughing uncontrollably, eyes screwed shut, doubled over.

“Okay, this is the last straw,” shouted Giles. “I’m tired of your stupid inventions! I’m tired of all the little glitches! I’m tired of this whole genius business! I quit!”

“I just quit the genius business,” Giles shouted as he walked into his house, slamming the door behind him. “Mom? Dad?”

“In here,” came his father’s voice from the living room.

Giles turned down the hall and stopped in the doorway, waiting for his parents to notice his hair. Mr and Mrs Barnes were sitting side by side on the sofa. They looked like they’d been sitting there for quite some time. Mrs Barnes cradled a mug of tea in her hands and was staring blankly out the window.

“Hi, Giles,” said Mr Barnes, glancing at him distractedly.

Giles frowned in amazement. “Haven’t you noticed anything unusual about me?” he said. “Anything different about…my hair, maybe?”

“It’s orange,” said Mr Barnes placidly.

Giles knew that something must be wrong.

“Is everything okay?” he said worriedly. “Is someone sick?”

“No, no,” said Mr Barnes. “Your mother’s had a bit of a shock. She just got a call from your Aunt Lillian. She’s coming to stay.”

Chapter 2
The Visitor

Aunt Lillian was a supernatural specialist. She told fortunes, read palms, interpreted tarot cards, and made astrological predictions. She was an expert on ghosts, goblins, and ghouls.

She was Mrs Barnes’s younger sister—and no matter what his Mom said about Aunt Lillian, Giles liked her. He liked the way she dressed, with scarves and headbands and too much makeup on her cheeks and eyes. He liked the ghost stories she always told. He liked the dramatic way she talked and did things, like reciting old poetry and flambéing vegetables for dinner. The only thing he didn’t like about Aunt Lillian was her smoking. She smoked the stinkiest cigarettes he’d ever smelled.

“She’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” said Mrs Barnes in a dazed, hollow voice.

“How long is she staying?” Giles asked, trying not to seem too enthusiastic.

“About two w-w-weeks,” his mother stuttered. She turned to Giles’s father. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it.”

“It’ll be fine, Elizabeth,” said Mr Barnes. “You’ll be working at the university most days, and in the evenings we’ll all be here to help you cope with her.”

Mrs Barnes nodded silently, taking quick, desperate sips of her tea. Giles knew that Aunt Lillian drove her crazy. It went way back to when they were kids. Mom said she always had to take care of Lillian, clean up after her, and get her out of trouble. Whenever she did something messy or bad—which was almost every day, and sometimes twice—Giles’s Mom usually ended up taking the blame. According to her, she had been the most overworked babysitter in the world.

Giles had heard all sorts of fabulous stories about Aunt Lillian’s crimes—from almost setting fire to the cats, to painting her whole body pink. When she was older she had sleep-over parties where she held séances and talked to the spirits of long-dead gangsters, scaring some of the girls so badly that their parents had to come in the middle of the night and take them home.

“Why’s she coming?” Giles asked.

“I didn’t quite catch the reason,” said Mr Barnes. “Something about her apartment needing spraying, I think.”

Giles was glad Aunt Lillian was coming—so glad that he’d almost forgotten his orange hair. Those rotten Quarks! Well, with his aunt here, he wouldn’t even notice that Tina and Kevin were gone from his life. Who needed them?

A car pulled up outside the house with a fanfare of honking.

“I hate it when she does that,” said Mrs Barnes through clenched teeth.

“Try to stay calm,” Mr Barnes told his wife. “It’ll be much easier if you stay calm.”

“All right,” she said, getting up and walking to the door like a zombie.

“Deep breath,” Giles’s Dad told her.

Mrs Barnes took a deep breath.

“Smile.”

Giles’s Mom smiled, and Giles could practically hear her mouth cracking as she stretched it into a big, friendly, fake smile. She looked like a demented clown.

Before Mom could even put her hand on the knob, the front door flew open, and Aunt Lillian burst in.

“Hello, hello!” she cried. “I’m here at last. Sorry I took so long but the traffic was terrible. Hello, Liz, you look gorgeous! Hello Matt, hello, Giles.”

Giles was swept up into her arms and smothered with her perfume. Both of his cheeks were smacked with kisses, and then Aunt Lillian held him at arm’s length and looked him over.

“Giles,” she cooed, “love the hair.”

“It was an accident.”

“Nonsense. It’s perfect, it’s fabulous, it’s phenomenal. It’s you.”

“It’s me?”

“Oh, yes. Orange hair suits you. It goes with your skin tone. And your astrological sign, of course. Scorpio, right?”

“Right.” Giles was impressed that she’d remembered.

“Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea, Lillian,” said Mrs Barnes. “Giles and Matt will get your luggage.”

“Well, I’d better supervise,” said Aunt Lillian. “I’ve got some pretty important stuff out there.”

They all went out to the car, which was crammed with suitcases and cardboard boxes.

“What is all that?” exclaimed Mrs Barnes.

“Oh, just a few things. This and that. You know.”

Mrs Barnes was beginning to look suspicious.

“What’s in all those boxes, Lillian?”

“Herbs, spices, roots, and berries—oh, I’d better take that one,” she said to Giles, as he reached for a small wooden box. “It’s a bit fragile—full of glassware, you know.”

Giles caught a glimpse of several bottles—one filled with brightly-coloured liquid, the other with green and purple powders, and a third with what looked like tiny eyeballs.

After they’d unloaded the car and taken all of Aunt Lillian’s things up to the spare bedroom, they sat around the living room, talking.

“This is really so nice of you,” she said. “There was just no way around it, though. My apartment had to be sprayed.”

“You’ve got a bug problem?” Giles asked.

“No, no,” she laughed. “Not bugs. Spirits. Ghouls. The odd demon or two. They’re everywhere. I’ve called in the supernatural exterminator. He should have them cleared out in no time.”

“But where did they come from?” Giles asked.

“Oh, you know, the usual places. A few probably followed me home from the occult bookstore. Others might have jumped out of a graveyard or some dusty old magic book.” She threw her hands up into the air. “These things happen.”

“To some people,” said Mrs Barnes wryly.

“Well, we had ghosts once,” Giles pointed out.

“Yes, well, that had nothing to do with us,” said Mrs Barnes indignantly. She did not like to be reminded of the ghost incident. “The house was haunted when we moved in, that’s all. We were never told about it.”

“Really?” said Aunt Lillian, her face all lit up. “Oh, I’d love to hear all about it.” She looked at Giles. “Maybe you can fill me in later.”

“So how’s your work going, Lillian?” Mr Barnes asked politely.

“Well, it’s been a little slow…To be honest, I’m out of work. There’s not as much demand for horoscopes as there used to be. Everyone’s into crystals and aromatherapy these days. But—” and her face broke into a mysterious smile—“I have been working on a little something of my own, on the side.”

“Oh?” said Mrs Barnes nervously.

“A new wrinkle cream,” she said. “I’m just putting the finishing touches on the recipe.”

“You invented it yourself?” Giles said.

“Well, I’ve taken bits from here and there. I brought my equipment with me so I wouldn’t lose any time. That’s why I have so much luggage. I thought maybe you could lend me a hand, if you had some free time after school.”

“Sure,” said Giles.

“Um, Lillian,” said Mrs Barnes warily, “there’s no weird hocus pocus involved in this new wrinkle cream of yours, is there?”

“Oh, no,” said Aunt Lillian with a laugh, “no hocus pocus.”

“That’s good,” said Mrs Barnes, looking relieved.

“Just cooking,” said Aunt Lillian, smiling innocently. “Good old herbs and spices.”

Chapter 3
Pig’s Spit and Alligator Eyes

School was going to be torture with his new orange hair.

As Giles walked down the hall toward his locker, he knew everyone was staring at him. He could hear them whispering, then laughing, then calling out jokes.

“Hey, Giles, you look like a jack-o’-lantern!”

“Ooooh, is your hair hot to touch?”

“It looks like an atomic bomb went off over your head!”

Giles tried to stare straight ahead and pretend he hadn’t heard. He could feel his face burning. He’d never felt so embarrassed in his whole life. He had wanted to dye his hair back to its normal colour, but with all the commotion of Aunt Lillian’s arrival, he hadn’t had time. So now he was stuck with flaming orange hair for the whole day!

In class, he sat as far away from Kevin and Tina as possible, and wouldn’t even look in their direction. But during recess, Kevin caught up to him.

“Hey, Barnes, you weren’t really serious about quitting, were you?”

“Yes, I was,” he said, walking on.

“Well, I wouldn’t quit if I were you,” said Kevin, hurrying to keep up.

“Why not?”

“Because Tina’s already looking for someone to replace you!”

“Fine by me,” said Giles. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to English class.”

“You’ll be sorry, Barnes!” Kevin called out. “It’s not easy finding work in genius businesses these days!”

Giles kept walking.

“You can’t just ignore us forever!” Kevin shouted.

“Oh, I think I can,” said Giles.

“Hey, Giles!” Aunt Lillian cried when he walked into the kitchen after school. “You’re just in time!”

Just in time for what? Giles thought. The end of the world?

He felt like he’d walked into a mad scientist’s laboratory. There were four pots bubbling on the stove and something sizzling in the microwave. Things were being blended in the blender and diced and sliced in the food processor. Aunt Lillian was busy mixing something in the mixer. The counter was buried under piles of strange herbs and spices and bottles of coloured goo. And propped open everywhere were dozens of ancient herbal recipe books, their pages splotched and stained with use.

Mom was not going to be happy when she saw all of this.

“I’m very close! Very close!” said Aunt Lillian. “And, as when cooking a good meal, timing is everything—so I’m going to need another pair of hands to do this right. Are you game?”

“Um, I’ll try,” said Giles.

“So. How was school?”

“I wish I were a grown-up,” Giles muttered.

“Why?” Aunt Lillian asked, surprised.

“I wouldn’t have to go to school and have everyone laugh at my stupid hair, and I wouldn’t have to see Kevin and Tina anymore. I could skip all that and just get a job and go to work like Mom and Dad and every other normal adult.”

“Oh, no, Giles,” said Aunt Lillian. “You’re not missing a thing. There are too many responsibilities when you’re a grown-up. Being a kid is great. No worries! I’d trade places with you any day. All right now, roll up your sleeves. This can be messy work! I’ll give you the run-down.”

She quickly led him around the kitchen, explaining what was in every pot and pan. “Alligator eyes here, cream of orchid there, that’s pig’s spit bubbling over there…”

Suddenly she snatched up an old-fashioned hourglass. All the sand had settled into the bottom half.

“It’s time!” she said. “Go grab those oven mitts! Ready, Giles?”

“Ready!” he yelled above the bubbling and hissing and burbling and honking din of the kitchen.

“Let’s go!”

Each gripping one end of a huge soup pot, Aunt Lillian and Giles went racing around the kitchen, grabbing saucepans and dumping the contents in all together.

“Pour!” she yelled, then, “Stir!” then, “Shake!” and then, “Stir again!” and then, “Mash!” And then, “Whisk!” she wailed, “Whisk as if your life depended on it!”

All pandemonium broke loose. The microwave was beeping, smoke was gushing from the toaster, and herbs and spices were flying through the air as Aunt Lillian sprinkled them into the soup pot.

In went the green goo, then the mashed-up alligator eyes, then the goat’s fingernails! The pot was quickly filling up with this strange concoction, which bubbled and spattered and gave off the most diabolical smell.

“All right! Into the oven!” cried Aunt Lillian. “Open the door, here I come!”

Giles flung open the oven door and was nearly bowled over by the blast of intense heat. She must have preheated it to a million degrees! Aunt Lillian slung the pot into the oven’s bright-orange furnace mouth and slammed the door shut, panting loudly.

“Great,” she said. “Excellent work, Giles. Now, in ten minutes, we’ll see what we’ve got!”

“Wow. They weren’t kidding when they said it reduces,” said Aunt Lillian, peering into the steaming pot. “Not a lot left, is there?”

Giles looked. At the bottom of the pot was a tiny slick of bluish goo. It was definitely the gooiest goo he’d ever seen. In fact, he’d have to say it was super-goo. It smelled terrible.

“Well, here goes,” said Aunt Lillian, dabbing at it with her fingertip. “Ooh, still hot. Want some?”

“No, it’s okay.”

Aunt Lillian rubbed some of the goo onto her cheek, then went back for more.

“Feels nice,” she said. “I think we might have something here, Giles. I can already feel it soothing my skin. I can feel those wrinkles fading! Now let’s get some on those smile lines around the eyes. Ooooh, yes…”

She dabbed on more and more of the super-goo—until the pot was empty and her face was almost completely blue.

“Well, I feel pretty good about this, Giles. I really do.”

“I don’t mean to alarm you, Aunt Lillian,” said Giles, “but you’re beginning to glow.”

“Really?” she said.

Giles nodded. It was unmistakable now—a deep, transparent blue aura was emanating from her skin and enveloping her whole head. Aunt Lillian didn’t seem terribly concerned. She walked over to a mirror to take a look.

“There’s definitely a bit of a glow there,” she said happily. “Of course, the books said this might happen. A healthy glow—that’s all it is, Giles. I’m sure it’ll fade eventually.”

But it didn’t. It got deeper and deeper, and started spreading down the rest of her body over her clothing, down her neck and arms, across her chest, down towards her legs.

“Hmmm. It’s a bit more powerful than I thought. But you know, Giles, I really feel younger. Do I look younger?”

In fact, she was looking younger.

She was also looking shorter.

She was also looking smaller! Her clothes seemed a little too big—sagging at the shoulders, bagging around the hips and ankles.

“Um, Aunt Lillian,” said Giles. “I think you’re shrinking.”

She turned back to the mirror.

“You know, I think you’re right.” Her voice was different now, too—slightly higher. Her face was changing as well—smoothing out, rounding out. Her hair was sprouting and curling. And all the time she was getting shorter and shorter. You could see it happening now, right before your eyes!

“It’s wonderful!” Aunt Lillian cried. “I mean, look at me. I look twenty years younger…well, maybe twenty-two…or twenty-three…or twenty-four years younger…”

“Aunt Lillian?” Giles said.

Suddenly she stopped glowing, and standing before him was a girl who couldn’t have been any older than him.

“Well, I think it worked,” said the girl. “We’ve got a winner, Giles!”

At that moment, Giles heard the front door open.

“Hello!” Mrs Barnes called out.

Chapter 4
A Kid Again

Mrs Barnes walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the colossal mess.

“What on earth have you been doing?” she demanded.

“Just a little experiment, Liz,” said Lillian.

Both Aunt Lillian and Giles were standing very still, watching Mrs Barnes, waiting for her reaction. But she was too busy taking in the dirty pots and pans, the seeping mess on the counters, the gooey footprints across the tiles.

“Well, you can start cleaning it up right now, both of you. I knew this would happen, Lillian, with all this hocus pocus you…you were…”

Mrs Barnes’s gaze now settled on her younger sister, and the oversized clothes hanging from her small body. A frown of confusion flickered across her brow.

“Lillian?” she said. “What happened to your clothes?”

Aunt Lillian looked puzzled. “My clothes?”

“They’re huge!” said Mrs Barnes. “What are you doing in clothes so…big, so…”

Mrs Barnes took a quick step back, her eyes wide. “Lillian, you’re…small!”

“I’m young,” she said happily.

“About eleven, I figure,” said Giles.

Mrs Barnes narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “All right, what’s going on here? What have you done?”

“It’s the super-goo,” sighed Giles.

“My wrinkle cream,” Aunt Lillian explained. “It worked!”

“A little too well,” Giles added.

“It turned you into an eleven-year-old again?” Mrs Barnes said in a dazed voice. “All those herbs and spices and crackpot recipes?”

“Wonderful, isn’t it?”

“No, it is not wonderful!” roared Mrs Barnes. “I spent my whole childhood taking care of you, little sister, and I am not prepared to do it again! Now, I want you to just…grow up, this minute!”

“That might be a bit of a problem.”

“Why?”

“Well, first of all, I think the wrinkle cream might be permanent. And second of all, I don’t want to grow up.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want to? You’re eleven years old! You’re telling me you want to stay this way?”

“Yes. How many people get the chance to have their youth again, Liz? I’m not going to miss out on a chance like this!”

“Oh, no,” said Mrs Barnes. “Not on your life. You are not staying young, Lillian. Absolutely not.”

Aunt Lillian just smiled stubbornly. “Oh, yes, I am.”

“She can’t stay here!” Mrs Barnes said. “I will not have her in this house!”

“Elizabeth, we can’t just turn her out!” said Mr Barnes.

“She’s just a kid,” said Giles.

“Oh, no, she’s not just a kid,” Giles’s mother said severely. “She’s a fully grown woman. She just looks like a kid—and I won’t have her in the house!”

The three of them sat around the dining-room table while Aunt Lillian was upstairs in the spare bedroom, blasting the radio and singing along.

“Liz,” said Mr Barnes, “if anyone else saw her, they’d think she was eleven. She couldn’t get a job. She couldn’t even drive her own car now. If we kicked her out, the police would come and arrest us! Try explaining herbal wrinkle cream to them!”

“Why can’t she just go back to her own place?”

“It’s still being sprayed for spirits,” Giles told her.

Mrs Barnes tried to control her seething temper. “Of course,” she said through clenched teeth. “I was forgetting those pesky spirits of hers.”

“She’ll have to stay here for the time being,” said Mr Barnes. “We’ll just have to make do. Maybe this wrinkle cream will wear off. Maybe she’ll wake up tomorrow and be back to normal.”

“Oh, I doubt it,” said Mrs Barnes gloomily. “If I know Lillian, she’s managed to make things as bad as humanly possible. It’s permanent, Matt. Mark my words.”

“Maybe there’s another super-goo recipe that can turn her back to normal,” suggested Giles.

“No more super-goo!” said Mrs Barnes firmly. “Tomorrow morning, I’m taking her to the doctor to get this straightened out!”

“What seems to be the trouble?” Dr Plint asked when Mrs Barnes walked into his office with Giles and Aunt Lillian.

He was sitting behind his desk, reading his mail, and he didn’t even look up as they came in and sat down. Giles didn’t like Dr Plint. He never seemed to be paying much attention. Whenever Giles went to see him, he was always reading a magazine, or talking on the phone, or staring out the window, lost in thought. Occasionally he would get up from behind his desk, glance down Giles’s throat, poke his stomach, and then tell him it would probably get better on its own.

Mrs Barnes cleared her throat. “Well, my sister, Lillian, here—” she pointed at the young girl at her side—“she’s about twenty-five years younger than she was yesterday.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” said Dr Plint distractedly, still reading his mail. “I’m sure it’ll clear up on its own.”

“Dr Plint,” said Mrs Barnes firmly. “You don’t seem to understand what I’m telling you. Yesterday she was a woman of thirty-six. Today, she is eleven.”

With a sigh, Dr Plint put down his mail and stood up. He looked at Aunt Lillian and frowned irritably.

“This is your sister?” he asked Mrs Barnes.

“Yes.”

“You say she’s actually thirty-six years old.”

“That’s correct.”

“I whipped up a potion,” said Aunt Lillian helpfully. “A herbal wrinkle cream, actually.”

Dr Plint didn’t seem very impressed by this information.

“A wrinkle cream,” he muttered. “I see. Well, we’d better take a look.”

He glanced down Aunt Lillian’s throat, poked her in the stomach and then sat back down behind his desk.

“Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with her. What do you want me to do about it?”

“Can’t you…make her go back to normal.”

“I don’t want to go back to normal, Elizabeth!” said Aunt Lillian. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

Mrs Barnes ignored her sister. “It’s not normal,” she told the doctor. “This is not normal. She shouldn’t look like this! You’ve got to give her something that will make her look her age again. I’ve got a picture of how she used to look.”

She rooted around in her purse for a photo, but Dr Plint wasn’t interested. Just by looking at the faint smirk on his face, Giles could tell the doctor thought this was all some big joke—or that they were all crazy.

“My advice to you,” said Dr Plint to Aunt Lillian, “is to enjoy your second youth. Few of us are given such a miraculous gift. Make the most of it. Good-bye.”

Chapter 5
The War Council

At first, Giles liked it that Aunt Lillian was his own age. It was just like having a sister. Now that he’d decided to erase Tina and Kevin from his life, it was great to have a new friend right at home. After school, they’d watch TV or do a crossword puzzle together, or they’d work on one of Giles’s model airplanes, or she’d teach Giles about crystals and horoscopes. Aunt Lillian wasn’t very good at helping him with his homework, but he didn’t mind that. He’d much rather listen to her endless supply of ghost stories.

And he didn’t even miss the Quarks! Frankly, he was glad to be free of the genius business. There was always something going on—some big new case to solve, some mysterious problem, some new invention of Tina’s to test. He was tired of Tina’s infuriating know-it-all attitude, and Kevin’s kooky ideas. It was all too much trouble! No, he was glad to be finished with them for good.

As for his orange hair, he’d tried several times now to dye it back to its normal colour, but it had never worked. Whenever he hurried from the shower to the mirror to look, it was still bright, flaming orange. There was nothing to do but let it grow out. At least Aunt Lillian didn’t laugh at it, like everyone at school did!

Mrs Barnes, needless to say, did not share Giles’s enthusiasm for the new Aunt Lillian.

“What about your job?” she would ask her sister pointedly. “Don’t you want to get back to work?”

“Not really.”

“And your house! You’ll want to get back to your own house!”

“I was thinking of renting it out, actually.”

“What about Roger, your boyfriend?” she asked desperately. “Don’t you miss him? He won’t be very happy about this!”

“I never liked him all that much. No, Liz, I’m glad to leave all that behind me. I’m happy with things just as they are.”

But over the next few days, Giles started to understand his mother’s feelings a bit better. For one thing, Aunt Lillian was messy. When she’d first arrived as a grown-up, she had at least kept the mess mostly in the guest room, but now that she was eleven, she let it spread—down the hallway into the bathroom, down the main stairs, into the living room and kitchen. Her things—clothes and hairbrushes and shoes and CDs and astrology books—were everywhere.

And there was something unsettling about Aunt Lillian’s looking young, but not really being young. Like the way she kept on smoking (more than ever, it seemed), puffing away as she read a magazine. Or the way she’d gulp down a vodka martini before dinner. Or the way she’d stay up till the wee hours of the morning, watching old movies on television. And she didn’t even have to go to school, which Giles thought was just a little unfair.

Even though their house was pretty big, Aunt Lillian seemed to fill it up completely. She liked taking hour-long baths—sometimes twice a day. At breakfast, she would finish off the last of Giles’s favourite cereal. After school she insisted on watching the TV shows she liked best. She sprawled on Mr Barnes’s favourite chair and used Mrs Barnes’s hair dryer and curling iron without telling her. She wasn’t, Giles realized, very good at sharing.

Then one day, Mrs Barnes snapped.

Giles had just come home with his mom after a dentist appointment. Walking into the front hallway, Giles thought the house must be on fire.

The living room was so packed with smoke he could barely see Aunt Lillian. As usual, she was slouched in front of the television, smoking furiously, with a dozen ashtrays overflowing onto the carpet, and junk-food bags and pop cans strewn around her.

“Oh, hi, you guys,” she said, with a lazy wave.

It was then that Giles realized the room wasn’t just filled with cigarette smoke. There was another smell, too.

“Lillian, did you remember to take out the roast?” Mrs Barnes said in alarm.

“Oh, the roast. Whoops,” said Lillian, without much concern.

Mrs Barnes raced into the kitchen.

“Lillian!” she roared. “It’s completely incinerated! I told you to take it out at four!”

Lillian yawned and clicked off the television. “Well, I felt like a veggie burger anyway,” she said, standing and putting on her coat. “Can I get anyone anything while I’m out? No? Well, see you later.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Mrs Barnes.

Giles looked up at his mother, startled. He’d never heard her sound like this before—or at least, not since he was eight years old and had been using the sofa as a trampoline (even though she’d told him not to) and had bounced right off and landed on the side table, smashing her favourite vase. It was that kind of voice, a voice that made you stop everything and freeze.

It had the same effect on Aunt Lillian.

“Take your coat off,” said Mrs Barnes in this calm, steely voice. “Now…go to your room this instant!”

“Lillian,” said Mrs Barnes sternly, “we’ve decided that since you’re determined to stay young, we’ll have to treat you like you are young.”

“What do you mean by that?” said Aunt Lillian, taking a suspicious puff on her cigarette.

After making Aunt Lillian stay in her room for an hour, Mrs Barnes had summoned her downstairs to the dining room. Giles and his father were there, too, seated solemnly around the table. They’d just held a war council, the three of them, and they now had a plan.

“To begin with,” Mrs Barnes told her sister, “bedtime at eight—after all, you’ll have to start getting up early for school.”

“I don’t need to go to school,” Aunt Lillian said. “I’ve been to school! I’ve learned everything!”

“There’s always new things to learn, Lillian,” said Mr Barnes. “Why, just the other day, Giles taught me about glaciers and French verbs.”

“You’ll be eating Brussels sprouts for dinner at least three times a week,” Mrs Barnes continued.

“I hate Brussels sprouts! I’ve always hated them. You know that, Liz.”

“Good nutrition,” said Mrs Barnes. “Of course, you’re only allowed one hour of TV on weeknights, and you’ll be starting piano lessons right away.”

“That’s outrageous! I don’t want to take piano lessons!”

“And one last thing. You’ll have to quit smoking.” She reached across the table and plucked the cigarette from Lillian’s mouth, grinding it out in the ashtray with a smile. “It’s very bad for the young.”

Chapter 6
Snapped

“Ten out of twenty-five!” moaned Aunt Lillian. “I can’t believe it!”

Giles shook his head. Miss Laframboise was handing back yesterday’s French verb quiz, and Aunt Lillian had got her usual failing score. It was no wonder, really; she never did her homework. She’d been going to school for almost a week now, and Giles could see it was nearly killing her. Every morning she practically had to be dragged out of bed. She walked to school like a zombie. And it wasn’t just French verbs she was failing; she couldn’t seem to get a handle on any of the subjects. What’s more, she’d already been caught twice having a smoke in the girls’ washroom in between classes.

“You should try studying a bit more,” Giles whispered to her.

“I’m not cut out for this, Giles. The pressure of school is too much for me.”

“Lillian, shush!” said Miss Laframboise.

“Sorry, ma’am,” muttered Aunt Lillian.

Giles couldn’t help smiling. Gradually, their plan had been working. School, homework, the eight o’clock curfew, and Brussels sprouts for dinner were all beginning to take their toll on Aunt Lillian. So were the piano lessons. For half an hour every evening, Aunt Lillian drooped listlessly over the piano, Mrs Barnes supervising, and slapped away at the keys. Frankly, Giles wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand it, either. Every other note Aunt Lillian played was wrong; so to make up for it, she would bang away at the keys louder and louder, until Mr Barnes would suggest she’d done quite enough for one day, thank you very much.

Giles glanced across the class at Kevin and Tina. For the past week, they’d all been pretending to ignore each other. But the fact was, Giles was actually starting to miss them. He didn’t know why, but he was. Still, he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to break the silence. They hadn’t even apologized for the orange hair glitch yet!

“I’m beginning to crack, Giles,” Aunt Lillian hissed to him a few minutes later. “Maybe this kid thing isn’t so great after all.”

Giles just nodded, copying down the verbs Miss Laframboise was writing on the board.

“I mean, I’m dying for a cigarette, and I haven’t had a drink in ages and—”

“Lillian!” exclaimed the French teacher. “I’ve heard quite enough out of you for one day! Come back after school for a detention!”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Lillian feebly.

But then something seemed to snap inside her. She jumped to her feet. “A detention?” she exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding! I’m thirty-six years old! You can’t give me a detention!”

Everyone in the class just stared at her in amazement.

Aunt Lillian turned to Giles. “That’s it! I can’t take it anymore! I want to smoke and stay up late and watch as much TV as I like and eat junk food and drive my car, and never, ever do homework again!”

And with that she stormed out of the classroom.

When Giles got home from school, he found Aunt Lillian upstairs with all her strange recipe books spread out around her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m trying to find a recipe to make myself older again! I should never have dabbled in this stuff! Give me a hand, will you.”

Together, they pored over the ancient pages, sneezing from the dust and squinting to read the tiny, cracked print.

“Here’s one to find water,” said Giles.

“And here’s one that gets rid of warts, corns, and pimples.”

“This one promises to double your money overnight, but you need the ears of a giant Tibetan bat.”

They continued scouring the books, but after an hour they’d found nothing.

“Lots of stuff here to make you younger,” said Aunt Lillian gloomily, “but nothing to make you older. I think we’re out of luck, Giles. It looks like I’m stuck this way forever!”

“Well…I know some people who might be able to help,” said Giles hesitantly.

“You do? Warlocks or witches?”

“Neither. Geniuses.”

“Giles, I’m willing to try anything. Even science.”

With a sigh, Giles walked to the phone and punched in the familiar number. It was picked up on the first ring.

“Tina and Kevin Quark, local geniuses. May I help you?”

“Kevin, it’s Giles. I’ve got a job for you.”

Chapter 7
Call Me Mister

“Now look, this is strictly business,” Giles told Tina and Kevin in their basement workshop. “I want to hire you. That’s all. My Mom will be more than willing to pay your fee. Are we clear on this?”

“Certainly, Barnes,” said Tina. “Or should we call you Mr Barnes?”

“Yes,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I think that would be appropriate. Mr Barnes would be acceptable.”

“Very well. Kevin, remember that. Now then, what can we do for you, Mr Barnes?”

Giles introduced them to Aunt Lillian and filled them in on her super-goo predicament.

“Interesting,” said Tina. “Her mind is totally unchanged. It’s only her body that’s younger.”

“Any ideas?” Giles asked.

Tina was thoughtful for a moment. “Well, the obvious thing would be a brain transfer.”

“A what?” said Aunt Lillian in alarm.

“I could simply remove your brain and put it into the body of an older person.”

“Absolutely not!” yelled Aunt Lillian.

“We’d try to find someone who looked like you,” Tina assured her, “more or less, anyway.”

Aunt Lillian shook her head. “Giles, please tell Dr Frankenstein here that I’m very fond of my own body and have no intention of being parted from it!”

“Fair enough,” said Tina with an impatient sigh. “You are making this awfully difficult, though.”

She picked up a penlight and shone it into one of Aunt Lillian’s eyes.

“Could I at least take a brain sample? Just a small one?”

“That’s it,” said Aunt Lillian. “I’m leaving.”

Giles put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure Tina and Kevin can come up with something a little less drastic,” he said, turning a stern gaze on Tina.

“We’ve just got to make her older, right?” Kevin said, as if he’d just solved a colossal problem by himself.

“Yes, Kevin, but how?” said Tina.

“Well, everyone says a bad scare can take years off a person’s life.”

“Brilliant, Kevin. So what are we going to do? Follow her around and shout ‘boo!’ every half hour?”

“I guess it’s not very practical.”

“No, it’s not,” said Tina, then fell silent.

“I can’t believe it!” said Giles. “I hired you two, and you can’t solve the problem?”

“Mr Barnes,” said Tina, “please. Rome was not built in a day.”

Kevin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and some things just take a little time.”

“Kevin,” sighed his sister, “that’s what I just said.”

“Whatever. Give us a day or two, Barnes—I mean, Mr Barnes. The genius business never fails.”

“Yeah? What about the Brain Drainer and my orange hair?”

“The Brain Drainer,” said Tina thoughtfully. “That might be an idea. Now if you’ll excuse us, Mr Barnes, Kevin and I would like to get to work.”

Giles and Aunt Lillian arrived home to find Mrs Barnes tidying up the living room, piling up her sister’s magazines and stray socks and hair clips, emptying ashtrays.

“Oh, here, let me give you a hand with that,” said Aunt Lillian, hurriedly gathering up all her junk. “I’m sorry, Liz. I’ve been awful. I’ve come into your house and messed everything up.”

“No, no…” said Mrs Barnes weakly.

“You don’t have to be polite. I’ve been a real pain, haven’t I?”

“Well, yes,” said Mrs Barnes. “But I’m sorry, too, Lillian. I mean, I know I’m not very nice when you come to stay. I’m not very open-minded about your work. I should try to be more tolerant.”

“You’ve been very tolerant, as a matter of fact. And I’ve completely overstayed my welcome.”

As the two sisters hugged, an ashtray slipped from Aunt Lillian’s hands, dumping soot onto the carpet.

“Where’s the vacuum?” she asked. “I’ll clean it up.”

And in that moment, right before Giles’s eyes, his aunt suddenly looked older—not a lot older, a year or two maybe, but older all the same. Giles blinked, wondering if he was seeing things. It only lasted a moment, and then all at once, she went back to looking young again.

“Wow,” Giles breathed.

“What?” said Aunt Lillian, looking at him strangely.

“I’ve got to make a phone call.”

He rushed upstairs to call the Quarks.

He had a plan.

Chapter 8
Spontaneous Display of Responsibility

“Do I really have to wear this helmet?” Aunt Lillian asked the next morning, patting at all the wires sprouting from her head.

“Yes. It’s to help focus your brainwaves,” said Tina. “Kevin, is the battery fully charged?”

“Brainwaves—you mean like ESP?” Aunt Lillian asked.

“Yes, sort of like that,” said Tina.

Aunt Lillian looked ridiculous with the Brain Drainer strapped to her head and the wires taped all over her arms, legs, hands, and feet. What’s more, she was dressed in her old baggy clothing.

“Giles, can you explain all of this to me, please?”

“Well, yesterday, when you helped Mom clean up, you got a little older, just for a bit. I saw it. And I think it’s because you were acting older. So maybe if you spend a whole day doing grown-up things, you’ll go back to the way you were.”

“We’ve got your whole day planned out,” said Kevin.

“And the Brain Drainer should simply speed things up,” explained Tina. “All you have to do is concentrate, and your brain’s energy will help age your body.”

“That’s why we wanted you to wear your old clothes,” said Giles. “So you could just grow right back into them.”

“It sounds kind of kooky,” said Aunt Lillian.

“You do want to get older, don’t you?” said Giles.

“You bet your socks I do!” she said.

It was first thing in the morning, and Tina and Kevin had come over to Giles’s house for the big experiment. Giles gripped a stopwatch and Tina and Kevin had each brought a clipboard and pen.

“We’re ready to begin, Mr Barnes,” Tina said to Giles. “Kevin, please turn on the Brain Drainer.”

Kevin flicked a switch on the helmet and it started to hum.

“We have ignition,” said Kevin.

Giles watched the second hand on his stopwatch.

“Five…four…three…two…one. Seven-thirty!”

“Breakfast!” Tina shouted, glancing at her clipboard.

They all rushed into the kitchen.

“And remember,” said Giles, “no sugar-coated cereal.”

Aunt Lillian hurriedly set the table, made herself two pieces of whole-wheat toast, and cut half a grapefruit. After eating, she cleared away her dirty dishes, loaded them into the dishwasher, and wiped down the tabletop.

“Check!” said Kevin, making a big tick on his clipboard.

“Eight o’clock!” said Giles. “Clean up bedroom.”

They followed Aunt Lillian upstairs to her room and watched as she made the bed, folded her clothes, and tidied up.

“Wow,” said Kevin. “I think it’s working, Barnes.”

Giles peered at Aunt Lillian. He thought she was looking a little older already. But he didn’t want to waste even a second.

“Eight-thirty! Read newspaper!”

They all rushed back downstairs to the living room and observed Aunt Lillian as she read the morning newspaper.

“Remember, no comics!” Kevin said.

“And no turning on the TV,” Giles warned her when he caught her eyes straying.

“All right, all right,” she grumbled. She skimmed the day’s headlines, and then the job listings, circling anything she thought might be right for her.

“Now, the bank!” shouted Giles.

They all got on their bicycles and headed off for the local branch, where Aunt Lillian was to open her very own bank account. The customers and the clerk looked at them all a little strangely (especially Aunt Lillian, whose Brain Drainer was humming quite loudly by now) but Aunt Lillian acted so grown up that there wasn’t much trouble at all.

“Excellent work,” said Tina. “Very grown up indeed.”

When they got back to Giles’s house, Tina stopped them in the driveway.

“Eleven o’clock. Time to rescue cat in tree!”

“Cat in tree?” said Giles. “That’s not on the list!”

“A little surprise,” she said. “I got Kevin to scare it up there earlier this morning.”

Aunt Lillian dutifully clambered up the tree and brought down the quavering cat, which purred at her adoringly as she patted it on the head.

“Roger on the cat rescue,” said Kevin, checking his clipboard. “This is amazing!”

Aunt Lillian was looking like a very grown-up teenager by now.

“Lunchtime!” Giles announced.

“Without any kind of frozen meal,” Kevin added.

Much to Giles’s surprise, Aunt Lillian made them all a very tasty meal of cream of celery soup and tuna-salad sandwiches.

“Great job,” said Tina.

“How am I doing?” panted Aunt Lillian. She was now in her late twenties.

“We’re getting there!” said Giles. “Vacuum car.”

As she was finishing off the car, a little girl riding down the sidewalk on a skateboard fell and skinned her knee. Aunt Lillian immediately rushed over to the whimpering child and patted her scraped knee with a tissue. Then, with a comforting hug, she sent her on her way home to get a Band-Aid.

“Was that on the schedule?” Giles asked Kevin in amazement.

“No,” Kevin whispered back.

“Spontaneous display of responsibility,” said Tina, making a note on her clipboard. “This is very impressive. I think we’re almost there, Mr Barnes.”

The rest of the day sped by in a blur. They made Aunt Lillian listen to a whole Brahms concerto, then recite the news headlines she’d read earlier. They observed her while she figured out her taxes, cleaned the inside of the oven, defrosted the refrigerator. She helped Giles with his homework, spending at least half an hour on French verbs, and then made him an eye-doctor appointment. She typed up her resumé on the computer and sent out job applications.

By now, Aunt Lillian was putting on years by the second, growing back into her own clothing. Her face was not quite so smooth, not quite so round. Her hair was losing some of its curl, getting shorter. It was like watching some kind of time-lapse nature film. Suddenly she was back to her old self.

“Stop!” Giles shouted.

“Cut power!” Tina cried. Kevin rushed over and threw the switch on the Brain Drainer.

Aunt Lillian was looking at her body, examining her hands and arms. Kevin wheeled over a full-length mirror. She slowly removed the helmet.

“Uh-oh,” said Kevin.

“Orange hair!” cried Aunt Lillian.

Tina winced. “I thought I’d ironed out that little glitch.”

“Don’t worry! I love it! What a great bonus!”

“What a relief,” Kevin whispered to Giles. “Some people are very sensitive about orange hair.”

“And you know what else?” Aunt Lillian said, peering at herself in the mirror with a mischievous smile. “I think you stopped me a year or two early.”

“Oh. Well, we can always put you back in the Brain Drainer for another session,” said Tina seriously.

“No, no,” said Aunt Lillian. “I’m very happy with the results. Thank you. You kids could make a fortune with that orange hair thing, by the way.”

“I trust you’re happy with the results, too, Mr Barnes?” Tina asked Giles.

“Look, you don’t have to call me Mr Barnes anymore,” he told the Quarks with a grin.

“Oh. I was kind of starting to like it,” Kevin said.

“You know, Barnes,” said Tina, “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but we’ve still got an opening in the genius business.”

“Having trouble finding willing victims?” he asked.

“Barnes, we’re really sorry about your hair,” Kevin said. “We were pretty mean to laugh at you. But you know what? You’ve started a fad at school! I saw two other kids with orange hair today. It’s going to be big, Barnes, very big—and you started it all!”

“I hope you’ll consider my offer,” Tina said. “Good partners are hard to come by.”

“I don’t have to consider it,” said Giles. “I’ve already decided. I’d like my old job back.”

“Great!” exclaimed Kevin. “And we’ll try not to be so annoying. Promise.”

“Don’t worry,” said Giles. “I’ll learn to live with you.”

Have you read all of the Barnes & the Brains adventures?

Also By Kenneth Oppel

Starclimber

Skybreaker

Airborn

Darkwing

Firewing

Sunwing

Silverwing

Dead Water Zone

The Live-Forever Machine

(For Younger Readers)

The King’s Taster

Peg and the Yeti

Peg and the Whale

Emma’s Emu

A Bad Case of Ghosts

A Strange Case of Magic

A Crazy Case of Robots

An Incredible Case of Dinosaurs

A Creepy Case of Vampires

Copyright

A Weird Case of Super-Goo
Copyright © 1996, 2002 by Firewing Productions Inc.

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