The Great Interactive Dream Machine by Richard Peck Page B

was confused.
    Aaron looked at me. “The sister is always the last to know, right, Hulk?”
    I nodded. Muffie’s eyes were burning asteroid craters in me.
    â€œYou see,” Aaron said, chopping the air with a big hand, “Aaron and Josh have a lot of raw talent, on and off the soccer field. We think they both have leadership potential. We see great things for them when they get to upper school: soccer team, student government, you name it.”
    Muffie and Heather swayed.
    â€œBut, hey, Hulk.” Aaron gave me a power punch on the arm like a mature Hardy Boy. “We better get going. Every minute counts. Right?”
    He turned back to Heather. “Tell your brother we dropped by, Heather. It is Heather, isn’t it?” Then he added, “And tell Aaron if you run into him.”
    Another couple of squeezes on their hands and we were out of there. But we weren’t through the front door before we heard serious squealing from the living room.
    Out in the hall take-charge Aaron said, “Ring for the elevator and press Penthouse.”
    On the way up I said, “Aaron, you were awesome. You’re going to be really good with girls.”
    He grinned, which he never does in real life.
    â€œI mean it,” I said. “Sometimes the nerdiest guys in middle school turn out to be ...”
    But his grin was beginning to fade.
    Getting into the penthouse was a piece of cake. The housekeeper was in the kitchen. Aaron’s room seemed like a closet now that we were in these big new bodies. He clumped over to boot up his workstation. He entered his virused formula, and it came up on the screen.
    â€œIt’s time to go back to the way we were,” he said. “We really want this, am I right? Our parents better not see us like this. We both want this real bad. We agree, okay?”
    I nodded.
    â€œSo stand with me between the keyboards. I’m sensing radioactivity here. I’m sensing a matrix. Let’s line up our numbers with our need.”
    I stood there. “I wish I may,” I muttered, “I wish I might—”
    â€œJosh, this isn’t like wishing on a star. Really concentrate.”
    We did our best, but nothing happened. Aaron ran a finger around Stink’s collar. “I could fiddle the formula while we’re both standing here, but I better not. We could be one digit from dinosaurs. Maybe we’re rushing things.”
    I wanted to hide till it happened. I wanted to phone Mom and tell her I was sleeping over at Aaron‘s, but I had the wrong voice.
    Finally I went home, right past his housekeeper, who doesn’t notice too much, and down the back stairs to our kitchen door. Aaron wasn’t that sorry to see me go. He couldn’t wait to do a major revamp on his formula and micromanage his technopolis. I saw him eyeing the soldering iron.
    I made it to my room, and I wasn’t in there five minutes before it happened. The whole room wobbled with my pain. Shrinking hurts just as bad as growing, maybe more. My ears rang. My cells raged. Then I was standing low in the room in these gigantic clothes. They were like a clown suit. Hulk’s big blazer and the tip of his Huckley tie swept the floor with my little feet in his size twelves poking out beneath. I could have turned around in his shirt. I was ridiculous.
    Then I fought my way out of this giant dress code. The underpants fell off me. I could walk out of the shoes. I grabbed a Bulls sweatshirt Dad had sent me from Chicago and a pair of my old jeans and my own sneakers and jumped into them. I hustled all Hulk’s clothes into the closet. I was breathing hard.
    My door opened, and Heather looked in. She was still starry-eyed from Stink Stuyvesant. “Yes, Mom, Josh is home,” she screamed over her shoulder. “He’s lurking in his room.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here anyway?” she said to me.
    â€œHomework,” I squeaked in a dweebish