Every morning, my mom makes me eat a huge breakfast – toast, fruit, corn flakes, and milk. One whole glass of gross, Elmer’s Glue-colored stuff that comes out of a cow. Fortunately, I’ve found a way out of it. As I eat my cereal, the milk level in the bowl goes down. I gradually refill the bowl with the milk from my glass, making sure to eat just the cereal. Then, I go to the sink, dump all the milk in the bowl down the drain, and rinse the bowl.

My best friend, Winnie, is always warning me that my bones will get so weak and stunted that I’ll never be able to play any sports because I’ll be too busy tripping over my own deformed feet. Although I’ll never admit it to her, she could be just a little right. I’m on the basketball team at school, but I never get to play. I guess I could use the excuse that I’m too short. But honestly, I don’t think I’m very good. Winnie says maybe I should give another sport a try if I want to play on a team so badly. Winnie is not a team player. She’s obsessed with archery and has been taking lessons since the beginning of the year. She wants to be on the Olympic team one day. She’ll do it, too.

Winnie was my next-door neighbor all the way through elementary school. Our moms used to swap watching us so they could run to the store and stuff. But even though Winnie and I were often stuck together, we only said things to each other like, “Can I have the blue crayon?” or “Do you guys have any ice cream?” Then, her family moved across town the summer after fourth grade. All of the sudden we weren’t seeing each other all the time any more and it was really weird. We’ve been best friends ever since.

So, Winnie and I are sitting in English class one day. We have a sub and the class is watching a movie. Well, some of the class is watching. I’m already 20 pages into my book and Winnie is doodling on her desk. Behind me, Jared and Matt are whispering about something going on in the field behind the water tower a few streets away from me. I get interested and eavesdrop.

“My brother and his dorky little friends saw lights coming from the old barn one day when they were riding their bikes.”

“That old homeless guy fell from the loft and broke his neck there a year ago. Think it could be haunted?”

“I dunno. The guy at the 7-Eleven swears he hears really loud moaning coming from there all the time and . . .”

“Shhhh!”

I already knew about the barn. People were freaked out when that guy died. Nobody even knew until Mr. Frank’s Rottweiler ran in there and wouldn’t stop howling.

I scribble a quick note on the corner of a page in my notebook and rip it out. Then, I lean over and poke Winnie on her shoulder.

“What!” she hisses.

I quickly stick the note on the edge of her desk and return to my book.

After school that day, I meet Winnie by the bike rack.

“Are we really gonna do this?”

“Come on, Winnie. It’ll be cool. It’s something to do.”

“There’s probably nothing there.”

I grin. “So we’ll have a really uneventful afternoon.”

“Okay, okay. I just wish I had my bow and arrow.”

Ten minutes later, we ditch our bikes at the water tower and carefully make our way through the marshy, overgrown field surrounding the barn. We stop about 100 feet away and squat down behind a particularly leafy bush.

“How long are we planning to wait here?”

“I dunno, Winnie. See anything?”

“No. And I don’t hear anything either.”

She doesn’t sound too disappointed.

“Just wait,” I say.

We stay there, not moving, for a long time. Then, just when my legs are going numb, I catch a glint of something through a window.

“Did you see that?”

“It could have been the sun.”

“I don’t think so.”

Winnie shuffles her feet. “I feel like we’re characters on some mystery show.”

“Yeah, some detectives we are - hiding in the grass with wet, squishy shoes. Think we should move in closer?”

“If you want to,” Winnie says.

Winnie and I slowly get up and move forward.

“What was that?” whispers Winnie.

We squat and listen.

A chorus of loud groaning sounds is coming from the barn.

Winnie and I look at each other.

“We should rethink this,” Winnie says.

“No way. I gotta see what’s going on in there.”

Winnie probably knows I’m a little scared, but she doesn’t say so.

“Fine. Go. Somebody has to stay behind and tell your family how you disappeared into the haunted barn and never came out again.”

“Great,” I mutter.

“You’ll be here?” I ask.

Winnie sighs. “I won’t move. It’s probably nothing.”

She looks sort of worried anyway.

As I creep towards the barn, I can feel Winnie’s eyes boring into my back. When I get closer, I realize that the windows are too high for me to see through. I would have to go through the front doors, which, fortunately for me, are already slightly open. I look behind me and barely see Winnie in the grass. I think of going back, but I can hear some serious activity going on inside. I take a deep breath and slip into the crack between the doors.

There must be at least a 100 of them. Cows. Rows and rows of cows. That’s weird. The barn didn’t look that big from the outside. And they’re being milked. I’ve only ever seen it on TV, but that’s what it looks like. At first, I think there’s some sort of machine under each cow. But then one of the machines steps out from under a cow and moves on to the next one. They must have seen me, because suddenly they stop and all I can hear is the cow choir. Another robot comes out from under a cow and looks up behind him. I do, too.

A creature stands in the loft. It looks like a giant raccoon – only wearing overalls and boots. It comes down the ladder and walks toward me. It’s easily as tall as Michael Jordan. For some reason, I just can’t make myself turn around and run away. I try to speak, but nothing comes out. The raccoon smiles. At least I think it smiles. I can see all of its pointy teeth. Then, it reaches out one long, furry arm . . .

The next thing I remember is Winnie standing over me, holding a thick branch in one hand.

“Jess! Jessie! Are you ok? Wake up! Jess!”

I sit up and look around. The barn is completely empty. No mooing cows, no shiny robots, no gigantic raccoon.

“Where’d they go?”

“Where did who go? There’s no one in here. I waited for like, 15 minutes. Then I saw a bright flash and thought you were in trouble. When I got here, you were out cold on the floor. What happened?”

I stand up and walk around the barn, searching for any evidence of what I’d seen.

“What are you looking for?”

“There!” I yell.

Winnie practically knocks me over. “What! What d’you find?”

In my hand, I’m holding a clear blue bottle. It has a white label with some strange, glowing, silver writing. As Winnie and I watch, the writing blurs and then clears up again.

Mrax’s Miraculous Mix!

Exported Everywhere in the Universe!

Excellent for All Kinds of Ailments!

From Brittle Bones to Flanky Freex!

Winnie gurgles. “Flanky Freex?”

For weeks after that, I have to repeat the story over and over again. Winnie wants to analyze every detail of every second. I can’t really tell her much. I mean, if it hadn’t been for the bottle, I think I’d imagined the whole thing. Aliens milking Earth cows and selling the milk as medicine? Who would believe us! Which is why Winnie and I keep the whole thing a secret. Besides, the barn is torn down a couple months later. They’re building a Wal-Mart there.

And if you think I start drinking milk after that, you’re absolutely right. I mean, come on! A raccoon over six feet tall! I can’t ignore that. Anyway, I’ve decided to try out for the soccer team at school next year. Winnie’s dad coaches the summer league and Winnie says he’d be happy for me to play. And maybe, with enough practice, I won’t be tripping over my own feet all the time.

The End

A former teacher, Natasha J. Stillman moved to New Zealand from the United States three years ago with her husband and their schizophrenic cat. Her typical day involves writing, reading, tickling the ivories, and kickboxing. She has a passion for movies, orca whales, and crepes with nutella and strawberry jam..

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