The Bully Bug by David Lubar

thinking real hard. “Unfortunately, it seems to be progressing,” he said. Then he jumped back from me and said, “I mean, it’s spreading.”
    I looked down. I did seem to have more of the hairs poking through my skin. And the hard patches looked wider. “Can you stop it?”
    â€œTell me everything that’s happened.”
    I told him about the cereal box and the bugs and the barrel of green goo. I told him about the museum. When I mentioned the mimic beetle, his face got a funny expression for a second, but he didn’t say anything.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I asked.
    â€œMimic beetles copy other insects. So, maybe that’s what you’re doing. And if you looked at all the insects in the museum, maybe you’re copying all of them. I suspect the green liquid had an effect on the beetles that bit you, also. First, we have to figure out what’s going on. There had to be some kind of mutation involved. But it’s too soon to really make any guesses.” He grabbed a camera from a shelf over his desk. “We can keep track of the spread this way.” He clicked a picture.

    â€œHow?”
    â€œIn an hour, I’ll take another picture. We can compare them to see how much you’ve changed. Hey, I have a better idea. We can use a computer program to compare the pictures.”
    â€œYou have a program to do that?” The only programs I knew about were the writing ones we used in school, and games.
    â€œI don’t have one, but it should be easy enough to write.” He sat down at his computer and started typing. I didn’t say anything. It looked like he was real busy. And happy. So I just sat and waited. After a while, he got up and said, “Okay. Let’s get another shot.”
    I stood and lifted my shirt for the camera. He took the picture, then sent it to the computer. As he was doing that, I thought of a joke. I guess I was so worried about what he was doing that I didn’t even realize I was talking out loud until I heard my own voice. “Aren’t you worried your program will have bugs in it?”
    He glanced at me with a puzzled look, then turned back to the screen. “It’s definitely spreading,” he said. “Okay. We’ve established a baseline. Now we have to determine what factors might slow the transformation and perhaps even enable us to reverse the process.” He looked up at me with a grin. Then his face got a worried look and he said, “I mean, let’s see if we can stop this and then make you better. Okay?”
    â€œGreat.” I still couldn’t believe he was helping me. Especially after he’d mentioned how often I’d hurt him.
    â€œFollow me.” He grabbed a flashlight from his desk drawer and a stack of comic books from the floor and headed down the stairs.
    I followed him into a kitchen. If his room looked like it belonged in a museum, his kitchen looked like it should be in a restaurant. I saw a couple of ovens and two refrigerators. He headed for a huge metal door that was built into one wall. He pulled the handle, and the door swung open. A blast of cold air hit me in the face. “Man. That’s a big freezer,” I said.
    He nodded, then handed me the flashlight and the books. “Get in,” he said.

 
    Fourteen
    COLD FACTS
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    â€œWhat?”
    â€œGet in,” he said again. “We need to see if temperature is a factor. Hurry up. Get in. You’ll skew the results if you stay at room temperature.”
    â€œCan I breathe in there?” I looked inside. There were long shelves on both sides and in the back. But unfortunately, there was plenty of room in the middle for me to stand.
    â€œNo problem. The volume of air is adequate for the time span we need. Besides, there’s a handle on the inside. You won’t be trapped.”
    I took a step inside. It felt like winter. Hey—I thought of a joke. I guess my bites