House of Worms

“Worms! You’re going to keep worms in our garage?”

“Yes, Maddie.” Mom nods. She asks me to pass the cheese.

“Cool,” says my older brother, Carter. He spins his spaghetti around his fork.

Cool is not the word I would use. Some people think big bugs are gross. Or cleaning up after your dog in the park is gross. Me, I am OK with those. But I am totally, completely disgusted by worms. I can’t even look at them! They make me gag.

So yeah, worms kind of make me want to throw up. But it’s a secret. You know how brothers are. Once they find out your weakness, you’re done for.

“I’m going to use the worms in a composting bin,” Mom says. “It’s a special type of box for composting.”

“What’s composting?” I ask.

“Well, we’ll put our leftover food in the bin,” Mom says. “The worms will eat it. They’ll leave their poop behind. Then we’ll add the poop to our garden, and it will help the plants grow.”

Ew. Is my mom really talking about worm poop at the dinner table? I stare at my spaghetti noodles. They look like worms. 

I think I’m going to puke.

Three days later, a package of worms arrives. There are 1,500 of them! 

When Mom opens the box, she holds up a few. 

They are pink. They are slimy. They wriggle in her hands. 

She calls them her “cuties.” Cuties? My mom is acting like they are our pets! How revolting!

She takes her time getting the composting bin ready. The bin can’t be too hot or too cold for her babies. I mean, worms. 

The bin is in the garage. It’s a wooden box with a lid. It sits a little off the ground. There are tiny holes in the bottom and sides so the worms get air. 

Finally, the bin is all ready and the worms go into their new home. 

And now we’re going to feed them for the first time. We gather around the bin. Mom lifts the lid.

“Enjoy your breakfast!” she says. She seems to think the worms can understand her. 

Then we tip our dinner plates. The leftovers spill out into the bin. 

I turn my head away. I think I’ll barf if I see even a tiny bit of the worms. I think they are vile.

Once we close the lid, I notice some straw against the wall.

“What’s the straw for?” I ask.

“It’s for winter,” Mom says. “I’ll put straw in the bin when it’s cold out. It will keep the worms warm.”

Can’t be too hot. Can’t be too cold. These worms sure are delicate. 

Two months later, I’m still grossed out. You’d think I’d get used to worms in the garage by now. But I always try to finish every bit of food on my plate so I don’t have to dump it into that bin!

My bedroom is above the garage. Sometimes I lie awake at night. I worry that the floor will collapse and I’ll fall into a pile of worms. They’ll be wet. They’ll be wriggling. And there will be more than a thousand of them. GROSS! 

Today Mom is visiting my aunt. Carter is still sleeping, and I’m eating breakfast. I have a few bits of toast I can’t finish. I consider putting what’s left in the trash. But then I think about Mom and her worms. I know she would want me to give the toast to them. 

I open the door to the garage. It takes a moment to understand what I’m seeing. 

Hundreds of worms are wiggling around under the composting bin. They are crawling across the garage floor! 

I scream! I hope Carter will come to save me. I keep screaming until I realize that Carter isn’t coming. He sleeps like a log. I also realize some of the worms are no longer wiggling.

They’re dead.

Remember those tiny holes on the bottom of the bin? The ones that let the worms get air? Worms are dropping from the holes onto the floor.

Maybe I should go and not tell anyone. Maybe the worms will all die.

But what if most of them don’t? What if they find their way inside to wherever I am, like in some kind of scary movie?

I run inside and call Mom. “The worms! They’re dropping onto the floor,” I yell into the phone.

Mom is upset. She hadn’t realized that it had been so cold last night. She explains that when it gets cold, worms dig into the ground to find warmth. But these worms aren’t in the ground. So they dug themselves out of the holes in the bottom of the bin.

“Act fast, Maddie!” she says.

“Pick up the worms that are still alive,” says Mom. “Put them in the bin. Then move the bin to the floor. Put some straw on the bin. That will keep the worms warm. Hurry!”

I run back out to the garage. I open the lid to the bin.

Mom said to act fact. I crouch down and begin pushing the worms into a pile. I scoop up about 15 of them and carry them back to the bin.