"AAAAAIIIIIIII!"

You could probably hear Daniel's wail for blocks.

That got Mom's attention. She came banging through the screen door from the backyard.

"What happened? Who screamed? What's wrong? What's going on?" Mom demanded.

Daniel backed out from under the sink, holding his head. He squinted up at us. "I hit my head on the sink," he wailed. "Kat pushed me!"

Mom knelt down and put her arm around Daniel. "You poor thing," she said soothingly. She patted his head softly.

"I did not push him," I declared. "I didn't even touch him."

Daniel groaned and rubbed the side of his head. "It really hurts," he complained. "I'll probably have a huge bump there."

He glared at me. "You did it on purpose! And it's not your sponge, anyway. It was in the house. So it belongs to all of us!"

"It is so my sponge!" I insisted. "What's your problem, Daniel? Why do you always want what's mine?"

"That's enough!" Mom cried impatiently. "I can't believe you're fighting over a stupid sponge!"

Mom turned to me. "Kat, you are supposed to be keeping an eye on your brother, aren't you?" she demanded. "And, Daniel, don't take things that aren't yours."

She turned to leave the room. "Not one more word about a silly sponge! Or you'll both be sorry!"

As soon as Mom left the room, Daniel stuck out his tongue at me and crossed his eyes. "Thanks for getting me in trouble," he grumbled.

He stomped off, with Killer at his heels.

Alone in the kitchen, I bent down, reached my hand under the sink, and picked up the sponge.

"Everyone's yelling and screaming around here," I whispered to it. "You're causing a lot of trouble—aren't you?"

I felt sort of dumb talking to a sponge. But it didn't feel like a sponge. Not at all.

It's warm, I thought in surprise. Warm and damp. "Are you alive?" I asked the wrinkled little ball.

I closed my hand around it softly—and the weirdest thing happened. The sponge started moving in my hand.

Well, not exactly moving.

Pulsing—slowly and gently. Ca-chunk. Ca-chunk.

It moved like the plastic model heart we used in science class. Could I be feeling a heartbeat?

I peered curiously at the thing. I ran my fingertips over the wrinkles that covered it, pushing back the folds of spongy, moist material.

"Whoa!" I cried, startled. Two wet, black eyes stared out at me. I shuddered. "Yuck!"

You aren't a sponge at all, I thought. Sponges don't have eyes, do they? What are you?

I needed some answers. Quick. But who could I talk to? Not Mom. She didn't want to hear about the sponge.

"Dad! Dad!" I called out, dashing through the living room and dining room. "Where are you?"

"Mmmmph," he shouted. "Mmmmmpph."

"What?" I yelled, running through the house. "Oh, here you are."

Dad stood at the top of a ladder in the front hall. He had a hammer in one hand and a big roll of black electrician's tape in the other.

And a bunch of nails in his mouth. "Mmmmpph," he mumbled. "Dad, what are you trying to say?" I asked.

He spit the nails out.

"Sorry," Dad grumbled. "I've got to get this hall light working. These darn old wires."

He stared down at a pile of tools on the floor. "Kat, hand me those pliers. If this doesn't do it, I'll have to call an electrician."

Dad is great at getting flowers to bloom and grass to grow. But when it comes to handyman stuff, he messes up. A lot.

One time, he tried to fix a fan—and knocked out the electricity all over the neighborhood.

"Here, Dad." I handed him the pliers and held up the sponge.

"Check this out," I urged. I stood on tiptoes so he could see the sponge up close. "I found it under the sink, and it's warm and it has eyes and it's alive. I can't figure out what it is."

Dad peered out from under his baseball cap. "Let's have a look at that," he offered.

I shoved the sponge up so he could reach it. He leaned down to grab the sponge from me. I didn't see the ladder wobble.

And I didn't see it start to tilt over.

I only saw Dad's expression change. I saw his eyes go wide. And his mouth open in a startled scream.

As he started to fall, he grabbed at the light in the ceiling for support. "Nooooooo!"

The light came crashing down on his head. Dad sailed off the top of the ladder. He lay on the hall floor, perfectly still. "Mom! Mo-om! Mom!" I shrieked. "Come quick! It's Dad!"