Here's Gray's experience in one word: marshmallows.
Okay, I'll add a second one: microwaves.
* * *
The next morning, Leslie, Gray, and Savannah stood huddled in the hallway as they waited for Mr. Matheson to wake up. Gray looked a little better this morning—physically at least; his cheeks had a healthy pink flush, a little bit of gold had returned to his hair, and he didn’t move like it pained him. His face, however, still looked haunted from the events of the previous night.
“What should we say?” whispered Leslie. “I don’t think he’ll believe the truth.”
“Just leave it to me,” said Savannah.
“But what if he asks one of us?” said Leslie.
“Say we were at a beach party.”
“A beach party?” asked Gray.
Savannah rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me people don’t have parties where you’re from. You know, where you go to the beach, build a bonfire, roast marshmallows, and listen to music.”
Gray tilted his head. “What are marshmallows?”
Leslie giggled. She couldn’t help it. After all they’d been through, Gray still got caught up on little things like marshmallows. Gray looked at her.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ve got some marshmallows in the pantry.”
Leslie led the way down to the kitchen and got out a bag of puffy white marshmallows. She handed Gray one. Savannah snatched the bag from Leslie and stuffed two in her mouth at the same time.
Gray pressed the marshmallow lightly between two fingers and released. The marshmallow sprang back to its original shape. He looked at Leslie. “This is food?”
Leslie nodded. “It’s sort of a type of candy. Go ahead, eat it.”
Gray squished the marshmallow between his fingers one last time and, after watching it pop back to full size, raised an eyebrow at Leslie. The he popped it in his mouth.
Gray’s eyes went wide, then he ran to the garbage and spat the marshmallow out. Leslie and Savannah stared at him. “It’s sweet!” he coughed.
“Yeah…” said Leslie hesitantly.
“It’s too sweet!” Gray continued. “It’s like eating pure sugar.”
“Duh,” said Savannah. “That’s the point.”
“But it doesn’t feel like sugar.” Gray insisted, “It’s just…wrong!”
Leslie laughed. “Gray, you’re officially the first person I’ve met who doesn’t like marshmallows.”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. The marshmallow will taste better this way,” said Savannah. She grabbed a small plate from the cupboard, placed a marshmallow on top, and put it in the microwave. “Gray, come watch this.”
When Gray was sitting in front of the microwave, Savannah pressed the power button. Slowly, the marshmallow began to expand until it covered the entire plate. The plate rotated slowly, and the surface of the marshmallow became sticky and wet.
Gray leaned against the counter and stared in slack-jawed fascination. “It’s growing! How is it doing that?”
“That’s the magic of the marshmallow,” said Savannah. She got out a fork and swiftly reached around Gray to turn off the microwave. The marshmallow immediately began to deflate. Savannah took the plate out of the microwave, set it in front of Gray, and, after twirling the fork, handed it to him.
“Eat it quickly,” said Savannah, “before it hardens.”
Gray stared at the marshmallow.
“Quick!” snapped Savannah.
Gray flinched and stabbed the marshmallow with the fork. As he lifted the fork towards his mouth, long strands of sticky marshmallow trailed behind it. Gray lifted the marshmallow over his head and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue in an effort to get all of the marshmallow inside. It didn’t work. Strands of marshmallow stuck to his chin and stretched all the way to the plate. More strands stuck to the fork when he took it out of his mouth. Leslie giggled.
Gray grabbed at the marshmallow strands with his free hand. The strands stuck, and he put the fork down and tried to pull off the marshmallow bits. Pretty soon his entire front was covered in a sticky white marshmallow web. Savannah roared with laughter. Gray looked at Leslie helplessly.
Leslie couldn’t hold it in anymore. She laughed until her sides hurt. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.
Gray swallowed what little marshmallow was in his mouth. “Help,” he said pitifully.
“You’re going to have to clean yourself up,” said Leslie. She walked over to the sink. “But I’ll be willing to turn on the faucet for you.”
Gray shuffled over to the sink and washed his hands and face vigorously. His shirt, however, was another story. So much gooey white marshmallow had gotten on it that it was destined for the washing machine.
As Gray dried his hands on a paper towel, Mr. Matheson walked into the kitchen. “Well,” he said, “you’re all looking happy.”
“We were just showing Gray the joys of microwaving marshmallows,” said Savannah.
“Oh?” said Mr. Matheson. He crossed his arms. “And is that what you were doing last night?”
“No, we—” started Leslie.
“We were helping Gray,” Savannah interrupted. “You see, Gray’s kind of like a superhero, and last night we were helping him complete a mission, but things kind of backfired, and before we knew it we were surrounded by enemy forces fighting in the fog. We barely got away, but not before Gray went berserk, kind of like Hulk but much smaller, and not green, more black, and anyway it was—”
Mr. Matheson held up a hand, cutting Savannah off. He moaned and rubbed his temples. “You were saying, Leslie?”
Leslie felt her face go red. She had to lie. “We—we went to a beach party. There was a bonfire and they roasted marshmallows, but they were all out by the time we got there. We didn’t mean to stay out so late.”
“And who all were at this beach party?” asked Mr. Matheson.
Leslie shrugged. “Just kids from school. Gray’s never been to a bonfire party, so we thought we’d go.”
“Without asking me first?”
Leslie hung her head.
Mr. Matheson looked from Savannah, to Leslie, and finally to Gray. He sighed. “All right. Thank you for telling me, but you’re all still grounded, and you all have extra chores today. This house needs to be completely scrubbed from top to bottom—walls, windows, everything. Now, get to work.”
Leslie led the way to the laundry room to grab cleaning supplies. Savannah sidled up next to her. She whispered, “Nice ad libbing.”
Leslie crinkled her nose. “I hate having to hide all this from Dad.”
“He wouldn’t believe it anyway,” said Savannah.
“Not the way you’d tell it,” said Gray from behind. “I could show him if you like.”
“No,” said Leslie and Savannah together. Leslie sighed and grabbed some window cleaner. She said, “Let’s just clean.”
