Gabby Duran and the Unsittables Novelization

by Disney Books

  “I don’t know that you will do it at school tomorrow, Gabby,” Dina said, her voice sounding like a newscaster’s even when she wasn’t on TV. “I mean, you’re trashing principals’ offices now? Who knows what you’re gonna do?”

  Gabby was hurt. Her mom had never lost faith in her before. She had to fix this. “Okay, fine. I’ll go apologize. But I’m gonna do it on my own so I can prove to you I’m a responsible, trustworthy person.”

  Dina’s skeptical expression softened into a smile. That was the considerate daughter she knew and loved.

  “Oh, Gabby, wait,” she called out, remembering something. “Bring him one of these.” Dina handed her daughter a Local 6 News Team mug with her face on it. “What? People love mugs.”

  Gabby shrugged and reluctantly headed out on her errand.

  Principal Swift didn’t live far from Gabby. She shifted the Local 6 News Team mug in her hand as she walked up Swift’s front steps and rang the bell. No answer. “Hello?” She tugged on the door; it was locked.

  Gabby surveyed her surroundings while waiting for an answer. The house was big and brown and eerily quiet. She muttered to herself, “Way to pick a super-creepy house, guy.”

  Gabby decided to take matters into her own hands. She crossed the front porch, turned down the side path, and knocked on the back door. “Hello? Anybody? I am one hundred percent not coming back here again,” she yelled to no one in particular.

  Lifting herself up on her tippy-toes, Gabby peered through the back door blinds. There was no movement inside. “Well, I guess this was all just one big waste of—”

  Gabby spun around to find herself face to face with a seven-foot-tall…um…well…she wasn’t even sure what to call that thing. A giant slimy blob monster? A green goo beast? Whatever it was, it opened its gaping jaw to reveal rows of sharpened teeth.

  “Graraaaaaahhhhh!” roared the blob monster, its gargantuan tongue flapping about.

  “Aaaaaagggghhhhh!” Gabby roared right back.

  The ginormous blob towered over Gabby’s petite frame. But did she run away? Please. Gabby Duran? As if! She grabbed a rake off the ground, brandished it like a sword, and attacked the beast head-on.

  “Aaggghh! Get away from me, you gross whatever you are!” she shouted, walloping the blob again and again with the rake. She’d show him. No one crept up on Gabby Duran and got away with it.

  “Time-out! Time-out! Time-out!” called the blob, suddenly morphing into a small eight-year-old boy with tousled brown hair. Dressed in a green striped tee and jeans he’d rolled up at the ankles, the boy looked like an average elementary school student. His name was Jeremy. He tried to shield himself from Gabby’s blows. “Time-out!”

  Upholding the universal playground rule, Gabby acquiesced and lowered the rake. Her brain couldn’t process what she’d just seen. On a scale of one to weird, it was off-the-charts bizarre. “Seriously, what is going—”

  Before Gabby could finish that thought, she was zapped unconscious by an otherworldly device.

  When Gabby came to, she was clamped into a futuristic silver chair in an egg-shaped room. The black-and-white walls glowed with pulsing light, and a complex communication console sat to her right. A menacing metal orb floated above her.

  “Consciousness detected,” said the Orb in a stilted, robotic voice. “State your name.”

  Gabby stared at the Orb incredulously. “State my name? State your name!” Clearly the over-entitled soccer ball didn’t know whom he was dealing with. “I have rights, you know. You can’t—”

  “Subject hostile,” declared the Orb. Its surface lights started to flash in a threatening manner. “Begin probing sequence.” A laser-edged scalpel extended from the sphere and advanced toward Gabby’s head.

  She pulled against the arm restraints, but they were too tight. They wouldn’t budge. “Hey! Don’t you get any closer.… I, uh, took two years of karate!” threatened Gabby, refusing to show fear.

  The Orb considered the strange human in front of it, then cut the distance between them. “Probability assessment: Subject is lying.”

  “You’re right,” Gabby said, smirking. “It was two years of youth soccer! And I hated it!” In a whirl of motion, Gabby threw back her body with all the force she could muster. She tipped the chair back and bicycle-kicked the Orb straight across the room. Freaky robot or not, no one messed with Gabby Duran.

  With the chair knocked over, Gabby was able to free herself from the arm restraints and rushed full speed for the door. Freedom was a few feet away. But just before she reached the entrance, the strangest thing happened: a houseplant positioned next to the door morphed into Principal Swift.

  Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait—what? Now she’d seen it all. “Principal Swift?” Gabby asked, gaping. “What is going on?” She backed up, ready to take a flying leap at him if necessary.

  “Come, Gabby. There is much to discuss.”

  Come? With him? Just your average, run-of-the-mill houseplant–slash–school administrator? “Okay, first item to discuss,” challenged Gabby. “Where are we?”

  Swift pressed a button. The metallic door slid open with a futuristic purr to reveal the bottom few steps of a very ordinary staircase. Stacked to the side were old cardboard boxes labeled Halloween Decorations, Christmas Lights, and To Donate.

  “My basement,” answered Swift as if that had been obvious all along.

  Gabby followed Principal Swift up the staircase and into his living room. Compared with the cutting-edge communications room below, the decor looked like something someone’s great-uncle left them. Tufted leather couches, old-fashioned lamps, and dark wood bookcases filled the space. A phrenology bust sat atop a stodgy coffee table.

  Gabby plopped down on the couch next to Swift, still trying to process everything she’d just seen. Blob monsters, alien tech, and now the strangest thing of all: a massive tray of shrimp cocktail set out on Swift’s coffee table. Swift was eating shrimp after shrimp, tails and all. Jeremy kept flicking shrimp into the air, trying to catch it in his mouth and failing horribly. This was so not normal.

  “Ooooooh, yummy,” said Swift, licking his fingers.

  Gabby had to ask. “So you two are—”

  “Aliens, yes,” confirmed Swift. “Jeremy and I are Gor-Mons—shape-shifters from the planet Gor-Monia,” he explained, as if that was a planet Gabby had heard of. It was not. But she wasn’t sure if that was because it wasn’t part of this solar system or because she’d zoned out in astronomy class. It was honestly a toss-up.

  “Shrimp cocktail?” offered Swift. “I’m told it’s a very popular human meal.”

  Gabby lifted a shrimp off the tray. The shellfish was rubbery, overcooked, and utterly unappealing. She was definitely not going to eat it. “I’m good, thanks,” she said, dropping the shrimp back onto the tray. “Also, I don’t think you’re supposed to eat the tails.”

  “Oh, um, oh…ahhh,” said Swift, pulling several shrimp tails from his mouth. “Well, when in Rome . . .” He placed the tails in his front shirt pocket. Gabby gave up on correcting him. Instead, she leaned in and tried to focus on Swift’s words.

  “Jeremy is heir to the Gor-Monite throne,” continued Swift. “However, there are some on our planet who would be less than happy to see him rise to the position of supreme leader.”

  “You get in my mouth, shrimp,” ordered Jeremy, tossing yet another shrimp in the air.

  Gabby watched as that shrimp, too, bounced off the future leader’s forehead. “Really? That kid?” she quipped. “Can’t imagine why.…” His food-catching game was not on point.

  “Yes, well, as his uncle, it is my job to keep him hidden here, in the most boring Earth town we could find, until he comes of age. Obviously, keeping our alien identities a secret is of the utmost importance. However, Jeremy has certain behavioral challenges that can complicate things.”

  They both observed the boy, who was still struggling with the shrimp. “Stupid thing’s broken!” whined Jeremy, throwing the crus
tacean to the ground in frustration. “I’m calling the police,” he said, and picked up his cell.

  “Stop that!” Swift slapped the phone away from the boy. Had the child no common sense? He turned his attention back to Gabby. “My job at the school helps us blend in seamlessly to Earth culture.” His face contorted into an unearthly expression, and he started to violently clear something from his throat. “Ach, chhhaaaaa. Sorry. Shrimp tails.” He pulled one from his mouth.

  Gabby was just glad he hadn’t decided to try lobster.

  Swift carried on. “But what it also means is that I can’t watch him all the time. Now, as such, I require a good babysitter. That’s where you come in,” he said, finally arriving at his point.

  “Whoa, whoa, hold up.” Gabby held up her hand and looked at Swift. He had to be joking. “Babysitting? That’s what this is about? Sorry to say it, but you got the wrong kid, Swifty.” She turned to stand up, hoping she could still make it home in time for her mom’s enchilada casserole. It was Wednesday, after all.

  Swift looked Gabby in the eye, his face expressing nothing but the highest respect for her. “Oh, Gabby, Gabby, Gabby, Gabby, Gabby, Gabby, Gabby. I have precisely the right kid. You may be the most fearless, resourceful human I have ever met. The way you handled yourself in the basement. The way you attacked Jeremy when he revealed his true, admittedly hideous self. The way you nobly shielded my car from the droppings of those foul, vile birds.”

  Gabby jumped in. “Again, that’s really not—”

  Swift held up his finger to stop her midsentence. “Gabbity, Gab, Gab. There’s something special about you, Gabby. If anyone on Earth can babysit Jeremy, you can,” he said, pointing right at her.

  Gabby let his words bounce about her brain. Special? Fearless? Noble? A smile crept across her face. Maybe this weird alien dude actually got her after all. Finally, someone in Havensburg who could see her for who she was.

  “Wait! You want her to babysit me?” questioned Jeremy, offended by the very suggestion.

  Gabby noticed the boy’s movements were jerky and awkward, as if he wasn’t quite comfortable in his own skin…which suddenly made sense. It was all starting to come together.

  “Yes, Jeremy. That’s literally what we’ve been talking about this entire time,” said Swift, reaching his breaking point with his nephew.

  “No way! Humans are gross,” announced Jeremy. “And that one smells like taquitos.”

  “Hey, taquitos are awesome! You’re gross!” Okay, it was admittedly not Gabby’s best comeback, but she wasn’t about to let anyone—or any alien—insult the greatest food in the galaxy.

  “You’re gross!” shouted Jeremy.

  “Jeremy, why don’t you go help yourself to an ice cream sandwich from the freezer?” suggested Swift.

  “Free ice cream sandwich? Baller,” said Jeremy, trying out what he thought was a commonly used Earthling expression. “But this isn’t over, human. You and me are now serious frenemies.” He gave Gabby the stink eye as he morphed back into his gelatinous blob form. Then he oozed out of the room, making an odd squishing sound.

  Swift turned to Gabby. “So what do you say?”

  Gabby responded without hesitation. “Yeah…I’m in!” It was all so weird…and so incredibly awesome.

  The next day, Gabby strutted down the school hallway in white flowered shorts, a cropped goldenrod jacket, and matching goldenrod high-tops. She had a new bounce in her step. She’d gotten her groove back, plus some. Maybe Havensburg wasn’t so loathsome after all. She, the one and only Gabby Duran, had been tapped by Principal Swift to babysit aliens. It didn’t get more dope than that.

  She spotted Wesley at his locker. “Wesley!” she shouted, saluting her friend. Friend—Gabby liked the sound of that.

  “Oh, hey! Look who didn’t get kicked out of school!” Wesley replied.

  “Yep. I guess I’m here to stay,” said Gabby, realizing she was actually happy about that. “Speaking of which, does that club of yours ever talk about, like…aliens?”

  Wesley’s face lit up. “Um, only all the time. I’ve never actually been able to prove alien existence in Havensburg, though. If they are here, they are super good at blending in.”

  Gabby smiled to herself. If Wes had seen Swift and Jeremy attempting to eat shrimp, he’d revise that statement.

  Wes looked at Gabby, his eyes filled with optimism. “So does this mean you wanna join?”

  “Sure,” said Gabby cheerfully. “Why not?”

  “Wait, really?” he said with a giant grin, hardly able to control his excitement.

  “Yeah. You seem cool.” Gabby gave his arm a little punch. “And I’m starting to feel like this club is really something I should be a part of.”

  “Yes! You are not gonna regret this!” Wesley cheered. He wrapped Gabby in a huge bear hug.

  Gabby reported to Principal Swift’s house directly after school. Getting to babysit an alien was basically the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, and she didn’t want to be late. Standing in Swift’s living room, she riffled through some magazines, then held up a piece of his mail. It was addressed to Mr. Principal Swift. Huh . . .

  “‘Mr. Principal Swift,’” Gabby read aloud. She wanted to make sure she was seeing that correctly. “So your first name is just Principal?” She gawked, eyebrows raised.

  “Yes,” said Swift, as if stating the obvious.

  “Your name is just Principal Swift?” Gabby asked again.

  “Yes, Gabby. Obviously. How else would people know that I’m a principal?” Swift grabbed a file folder that had been sitting on a leather chair. He couldn’t understand where this silly question was going. He’d selected an appropriate Earthling alias that clearly identified his profession. What was the issue?

  “So you go to a dentist, and he says—”

  “Gabby, please! We need to finish going through the rules.” He tucked the file into his briefcase and clipped it shut. “Rule number seventy-four: Absolutely no soda pop of any sort.”

  Gabby glanced down at her tote bag, which was crammed with two-liter soda bottles and boxes of frozen taquitos. They were the two key ingredients in her secret recipe for a highly successful babysitting session. “No soda? Why not?”

  Principal Swift glanced at her dubiously. “That was covered extensively in the orientation materials I gave you. Now, you did read the orientation materials I gave you?”

  If by “read,” Principal Principal Swift meant “dumped them in the kitchen trash without bothering to look at them,” then…“Of course. I mean, who doesn’t love long, boring binders of instructions?”

  “Exactly!” said Swift, pleased to find someone who loved rules as much as he did.

  “Now, I’m holding a mandatory safety seminar for the teachers and I should be back in a couple of hours,” said Swift. “Oh, and you’ll need this.” He pulled an outdated razor-style flip phone from his pocket and gave it to her.

  Gabby stared at the hinged device in her hand. She was pretty sure her abuela had the same one. “Cool. One super-old phone,” she said smugly.

  “No. One incredibly powerful piece of alien technology to aid in your babysitting duties,” Swift corrected her. “As you can see, I’ve disguised it to seamlessly blend in with Earth culture.”

  That was true, if they were talking about Earth culture circa 2004. Gabby flipped open the phone and a high-tech alien interface sprang to life. The glowing symbols and bleeping configurations were like nothing Gabby had ever encountered. Was she supposed to tap them or swipe them? Did this thing have a data plan? Could she text Mars?

  “I won’t waste time explaining how to use it,” noted Swift, “since that was also covered extensively in the orientation materials. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” He walked with purpose toward the front door.

  Ugh, again with the orientation materials. Rule book, schmule book. Gabby’s babysitting game was on point. Did she really need to waste her time sifting through an encyclopedia of orient
ation materials?

  With Swift’s back still to her, Gabby eagerly thumbed at random symbols on the flip phone’s interface. A potent pulse of blue energy rushed out from the phone and rippled across the room, where it disintegrated an expensive-looking vase. Gabby was startled. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed the button without reading the instructions. Oh well, too late. She desperately jabbed at the phone’s interface again. Didn’t the thing have a reverse button? Before she could locate one, she heard Swift say, “Gabby . . .”

  He turned around to look at her intensely. “You are now responsible for the future leader of an entire planet. I’m placing a lot of trust in you,” he said.

  Gabby flashed her megawatt smile. “Swifty, come on! I got this. Everything is gonna be fine,” she assured him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in an attempt to block Swift’s view of the empty spot formerly occupied by a valuable vase.

  Swift gave Gabby a curt nod good-bye, then left the future of Gor-Monia under her responsible watch.

  As soon as Swift shut the door, Gabby reached for her secret stash of soda and taquitos. If Jeremy was going to learn to blend in with Earth culture, he might as well start by learning to eat like a human.

  A dozen spicy taquitos and three two-liter bottles of root beer later, Gabby and Jeremy were having a blast. Gabby was thoroughly impressed by how quickly the alien kid adopted the sloth-like qualities of an Earthling tween. He was splayed out on the couch, not a care in the galaxy.

  “Buuuuuuuurp. You were right,” Jeremy said after a huge swig of soda. “Taquitos rule.” He chugged the rest of the bottle, then tossed it aside with attitude.

  “I told ya, kid. I got mad wisdom,” said Gabby, tapping away at random buttons on the alien flip phone. To her surprise, the phone projected a 3-D hologram of the universe. It twinkled and rotated and emitted a slightly tinny sound.