The bathroom in Alice’s family home was a cozy, cluttered little sanctuary of chipped tiles and mismatched towels. Steam hung heavy in the air, curling lazily around the dim light fixture above the sink, casting soft shadows on the cracked mirror. The faint scent of lavender soap mingled with the damp musk of a recent shower, creating an oddly comforting haze. Alice, all of ten years old with a mop of untamed chestnut curls and a glint of mischief in her hazel eyes, tiptoed down the hallway, her bare feet silent on the worn wooden floor. She wasn’t supposed to be here—not now, not when the bathroom door was only half-closed, a sliver of forbidden territory peeking through the gap.
She’d been on a mission for her favorite hairclip, the sparkly pink one shaped like a butterfly that she swore had been left on the sink. But as she neared the door, a low, off-key hum drifted out, a familiar tune her dad always butchered. Alice froze, her small hand hovering just shy of the doorknob. Her heart gave a little thump, curiosity prickling at the back of her neck like a pesky mosquito. She knew she should turn around, scamper back to her room, and pretend she’d never been here. But Alice wasn’t the type to back down from a mystery. She was the queen of her own little kingdom, after all—ruler of pillow forts and mastermind of backyard treasure hunts. What was one little peek?
Leaning forward, she pressed her face to the narrow opening, one eye squinting to focus. The steam blurred the edges of her vision, but there, through the mist, was her dad, oblivious as ever. He stood with his back half-turned, a towel slung low around his hips as he rubbed another over his damp hair, still humming that god-awful song. But it wasn’t his terrible singing that made Alice’s breath catch in her throat. It was something else—something dangling, something she’d never seen before, something that made her eyes widen to the size of saucers.
“What in the heck is *that*?” she whispered to herself, her voice a tiny squeak she barely dared to let out. Her mind raced, a jumble of half-formed thoughts and wild guesses. It wasn’t a toy, that’s for sure. It wasn’t anything she’d seen in her science books or on the nature shows her mom loved. It wiggled a little as her dad shifted to grab a comb, and Alice had to slap a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Mr. Wiggly,” she dubbed it in her head, the name popping up unbidden and sending another wave of silent laughter through her. Oh, she was clever, wasn’t she? A regular naming genius.
Her dad, still clueless, started talking to himself in the mirror, his voice a low grumble. “Gotta shave this mess off tomorrow. Lookin’ like a bear, Frank. A damn bear.” He chuckled, shaking his head, and Alice bit her lip, imagining herself as the stealthiest spy in all the land. She was practically invisible, wasn’t she? A shadow, a ghost, a—
“Alice, you out there?” Her dad’s voice cut through her thoughts like a knife, and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She jerked back from the doorframe, her small body pressing flat against the hallway wall as if she could melt into it.
“Nope!” she called back, her voice a little too high, a little too quick. “Just… just passin’ by! Lookin’ for my hairclip!” She winced at how guilty she sounded, but her dad only grunted, clearly not suspicious enough to investigate.
“Well, hurry up and get to bed, kiddo. No stalling tonight,” he said, his tone gruff but warm, the kind of tone that meant he’d probably sneak her an extra cookie if she begged hard enough.
“Fine, fine, Mr. Bossy Pants!” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at the empty hallway as if he could see her sass. She heard him laugh, a deep, rumbling sound, and the tension in her chest eased just a bit. But her mind was still buzzing, still replaying that strange, wiggly sight over and over like a broken record. Mr. Wiggly. She snorted under her breath, already plotting her next move. She wasn’t done with this mystery—not by a long shot. If there was something to figure out, Alice was going to be the one to crack the case. She was the boss around here, after all, even if no one else knew it yet.
With one last glance at the bathroom door, now fully closed as her dad finished up, Alice spun on her heel and darted back to her room, her giggles trailing behind her like a mischievous echo. She dove onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow to muffle the laughter bubbling up inside her. “Mr. Wiggly,” she muttered again, shaking her head. “Oh, I’m gonna find out all your secrets. Just you wait.” Her eyes gleamed with determination, her young mind already spinning with plans for another sneak, another peek. Curiosity, after all, was her crown—and she wore it with pride.
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