The construction worker squinted his eyes and thought about it for a while. “Mmmm . . . a project like this, if we work some overtime and assuming material costs don’t go too high and we get all the parts we need . . . I’d say you’re probably looking at a millennium or two. Give or take.”
“A thousand years? Is there a detour?”
“No sir, there is not.”
“That’s what my spaceship said,” Dexter said. “I don’t think she likes me.”
The construction worker blinked at Dexter. “Uh-huh.”
“Are you sure there isn’t any possible way through? It’s really urgent. I’m not supposed to be in outer space and my parents don’t know I’m here.” Dexter felt tears forming in his eyes, and he was embarrassed that the construction worker could see them. “I really, really have to go home right now.”
“Wow, I’m sorry, kid,” the man said. “We’ll probably have an alternate route set up in a year or so, but I . . . wish there was something I could do.”
“A year?! I can’t wait a year!”
“Young man,” Lucy said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I can’t take you home, but I do know about something that could help. There’s something called the Looking Glass.”
“Yes, the Looking Glass,” the construction worker said. “Good idea, spaceship!”
“My name is Lucy,” she snapped.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“What’s the Looking Glass?” Dexter asked.
“It’s a mirror you can look into and see anything in the universe. Anything anywhere. You won’t be able to talk to your parents or to go Earth, but you might be able to see how they are doing.”
“Where is it?”
“Well . . . It’s back on Planet Archimedes.”
CHAPTER 29
Sarah Daisy awoke from a deep slumber in the perfectly soft sheets and heavy blankets of her bed on Planet Royale. As her eyes slowly began to focus, she stared up at the twenty-foot ceiling painted with murals of stars and spaceships. She had tossed and turned with worry the night before, but had eventually succumbed to sleep. She realized how tired she had been, not only from the stress and chaos of her space voyage, but from the early-morning soccer practices and the piano lessons and the homework and extracredit homework and all of the other extracurriculars she had to endure so that she would have a bright future and get into a top-tier college.
After a couple of minutes staring at the ceiling, Sarah finally decided that she needed to get up and move around. She put on a robe that had been draped over a magnificent antique chair. As she slipped into it she was suddenly so comfortable she nearly tripped and fell.
She opened the French doors to her terrace and she gasped when she saw the view. She had arrived the night before and was seeing Planet Royale in the daylight for the first time. Her terrace overlooked a beautiful turquoise lagoon surrounded by crystal white sand beaches and exotic green trees. The water stirred and a pink dolphin sailed into the air in a graceful arc before splashing contentedly back down. The splash was followed closely by a smaller dolphin, who leaped into the air and said “Hi!” before landing with a belly flop and heading back beneath the surface.
Sarah’s breath caught. She wasn’t sure she heard what she thought she heard, and . . .
“Hi!” the baby dolphin shouted when it leaped back above the surface.
“Hi!” Sarah shouted back.
The baby dolphin soared into the air in response and spun in a circle before landing with a splash.
Sarah heard a rap on her doorframe, and she turned and saw her butler, Sven, carrying a platter of food.
He placed waffles and fruit and orange juice on the table. “This is the finest breakfast we could provide on such short notice based on your specifications. Please accept the chef’s apologies because the flour in the waffles was made from wheat that was harvested a week ago. I’m really sorry we weren’t able to find anything fresher. The fruit was picked this morning rather than minutes ago, as we would normally prefer. For dessert, the chef is currently preparing the finest chocolate the universe has ever known, but he’s going to need a bit more time, as he is currently attempting groundbreaking feats of chocolate preparation that will revolutionize dessert forever. He said he’d be finished shortly, but I should warn you that you may faint from the deliciousness and thus you must take great care and eat the chocolate only while sitting down, and furthermore ...”
“Sven, have you heard anything about Earth?” Sarah asked.
Sven nodded. “Yes, I have. Earth is perfectly fine, Miss Daisy.”
“It is?” Sarah wanted to jump for joy, but there was something about Sven’s demeanor that made her unsure that she could trust him. Any resident of a royal palace that housed Mick Cracken was surely suspect.
She took a bite of her waffle and squeezed her eyes shut in amazement. It was the softest, most impeccable waffle she had ever tasted. She felt perfectly warm rays of sunshine on her cheeks and she tried to relax for the first time since they blasted off. Sven slipped quietly away.
After a few moments of lying in the sun, Sarah started tapping her finger on the lounge chair. She tried to focus on the soft breeze and the magnificent weather. Then her foot started fidgeting. Her back started itching and she reached around to scratch it. Then she found that she was uncomfortable and flung herself onto her side. Her mind strayed to her upcoming piano recital, and she realized that if Earth still existed, she really needed to practice her sonata, because if she made it home, she needed to please her piano teacher, and she had made a side bet with Jacob that she would win the state competition and . . .
She bolted upright. She had been so caught up celebrating and relaxing, she had stopped planning how to save Jacob Wonderbar. She also realized she was extremely bored.
“Sven?” Sarah called.
He appeared at her side within moments. “Yes, Miss Daisy?”
“I need to leave now.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Miss Daisy. The king has requested that all children stay on the planet until further notice.”
Sarah glared at Sven and her mind raced as she considered what to do. She needed an excuse to wander around and explore so she could find a way to escape. And perhaps get some rehearsing in while she was at it. “Are there any pianos in the palace? I have a big competition coming up and I really need to practice.”
Sven beamed. “Miss Daisy, I’m so pleased that you asked about that. When we heard that an Earth girl would be joining us on our planet, we had every piano on the entire planet swiftly sent through the nearest wood chipper so you couldn’t possibly be tempted to rehearse. I’m sure you’ll agree that their mere existence was a risk we couldn’t take. We know how many Earther children are tortured with that infernal instrument. I hope your stay will be filled with nothing but relaxation.”
“Relaxation? I can’t relax! What in the heck am I supposed to do with myself? I like playing the piano!” Sarah frowned. It was the first time she had ever admitted out loud that she actually enjoyed playing the piano.
Sven backed up a step. “Why . . . Why . . . Shall I schedule an appointment with the royal masseuse?”
“You want me to lie down for half an hour on a board and do nothing?!”
Sarah heard a door slam in her suite, and she turned and saw Mick Cracken walking in with a beautiful brunette girl about Sarah’s age. She wore a blue flowing dress that looked terribly expensive and she had a sparkling tiara in her hair. Sarah clutched her robe around herself. Sven slipped away as they joined her on the terrace.
Mick seemed utterly depressed, and he waved in the girl’s direction. “Sarah, Mistress Silver Spoon,” Mick mumbled. “Mistress Silver Spoon, Sarah.”
“Oh, STOP,” the girl said, punching Mick playfully. Her voice was melodious, her eyes were lively, and Sarah thought they might be fast friends. “Isn’t my brother Michaelus quite something?”
“Michaelus?” Sarah laughed. “That’s your real na
me?”
Mick closed his eyes and looked as if he were praying to be struck by lightning.
“I’m ever so sorry to barge in on you like this,” the girl said. “My name is Princess Catalina Penelope Cassandra Crackenarium. You can call me Princess Catalina, but that’s as informal as I can bear.” She presented her hand for Sarah to shake.
“Um. Nice to meet you,” Sarah said. “Princess Catalina.”
“Charmed. Are you finding everything to your liking? I told that rotten chef not to serve you week-old flour, but my orders arrived too late. I hope you weren’t forced to spit out your food.”
“No, not at all. It was incredible.”
“Oh, you silly thing. I’ve just been dying to meet you. When I heard there was a girl aboard my ship and that she would be joining us for a gala, I had been worried that she might be prettier than me.” Catalina looked Sarah up and down. “I needn’t have worried, clearly.” She burst out laughing.
Sarah laughed as well, but then stopped. “Wait, what?”
“Earthers are just so terribly boring, don’t you think? Always yammering about their stress levels and how they need a vacation. Personally, I don’t know how you can stand them. You seem passable, I suppose, if a tad on the plain side.”
Sarah’s ears started burning and she clenched her fists.
“Oh my,” Catalina said. “Would you look at that? I’ve gone and upset her.” She laughed. “Oh Sarah dear, we must work on those Earther instincts. I’m going to let you get back to sunning that ghostly pale skin of yours, and you ring me if you need any fashion advice. Mmkay? Ta, darling.”
Sarah watched Catalina sashay out the room, and then looked over at Mick, who had his eyebrows raised, waiting for Sarah to tell him that he had been right about his sister. Sarah turned away in a huff. She wasn’t going to give that scoundrel the time of day after his performance aboard Praiseworthy.
All the same, she really couldn’t believe how Mistress Silver Spoon had treated her. When she found out that Mick Cracken had a princess for a sister, she had never for a second considered the notion that Mick Cracken might actually be the better sibling.
There were some very questionable genetics running through the Crackenarium family.
CHAPTER 30
Jacob ran down the street on Planet Paisley, compiling a mental list of the pranks he had pulled on substitute teachers over the years. He had insisted that substitutes pronounce his last name with a German accent: “Jacob . . . Voonderbar.” He had pretended to be a foreign exchange student. He’d convinced one substitute that he was a soccer phenom who didn’t have to do his homework because he was leaving to join Manchester United’s youth squad. He’d convinced another that Barack Obama was his uncle. He had once faked choking in the middle of class and made Dexter act like he was performing the Heimlich maneuver, which nearly caused the sub to pass out when Jacob spit the peanut that had been “choking” him onto the teacher’s desk.
Jacob was quite confident the subs that were chasing him were out for blood.
“Young man!” he heard a woman on the street shout. “Young man, do you have a hall pass?”
“Come back here this instant!” a man shouted. “You’ll get detention for this!”
Jacob looked behind him and saw a group of subs running after him, but they were not in good shape and were slowing down. Jacob relaxed his pace as the subs bent over and caught their breath, holding one another up and fanning themselves. He didn’t know why he had been so worried.
“Ha-ha! That’s Jacob Voonderbar to you!” Jacob shouted.
That was when he saw the cavalry.
Two young subs wearing bow ties and thick black glasses swooped into the street aboard two ancient but lively ten-speed bicycles. They were heading straight toward Jacob at an impressive speed and were armed with white earphones, which they had tied into lassoes and were swinging over their heads, preparing to snare Jacob.
Jacob turned around and started running again. The young subs were quickly right behind him. When Jacob looked over his shoulder they were so close that he could see the buttons on their book bags.
They threw some guitar picks in front of Jacob, and he slipped on them but regained his balance and kept running.
Jacob was getting tired. He was no match for these younger subs in their natural habitat. Normally in class they made for some of the easiest foils of all and he was able to distract them permanently off of the lesson plan simply by asking for some good music recommendations. But this was different.
Jacob saw some trees up ahead, and he headed straight toward them, hoping he could lose the subs there.
One of the subs rode up beside him and swung his white lasso around Jacob, pulling him tight and stopping him in his tracks. He tried to move his arms, but he was stuck. The subs screeched to a stop beside him.
“Ah! No! Stop!” Jacob shouted. He racked his brain for his best tactics against young subs. “Are you in a band? What instrument do you play? Can I see your guitar?”
“You’re not fooling us this time,” the first one sneered. “Jacob Voonderbar . . .”
“We are in a band, though,” the second one said.
“He’s right. It’s sort of an emo punk thing, really inaccessible. You probably wouldn’t get it.”
Jacob swung his hands up and grabbed hold of the lasso and pulled as hard as he could. The first sub stumbled forward and fell off his bike. Jacob pulled hard again and a small black piece of plastic swung through the air and hit him square in the forehead.
“Ow!”
“My Telly!” the first sub shouted. “No!! Please, not my Telly!”
Jacob shrugged off the lasso and ran toward the trees. The subs got back on their bikes and rode in pursuit.
Jacob reached the first tree, and turned around to see the subs screech to a halt a safe distance away. Jacob blinked in shock. They refused to chase him farther.
“We’ll get you!” the first young sub shouted.
“And let us know if you need any music recommendations!” the second one yelled. “I could put together a playlist that would blow your mind.”
Then they turned around and rode away.
Jacob leaned against a tree as he caught his breath. He could not for the life of him understand why the subs had suddenly stopped chasing him. Given Jacob’s antics over the years, he was surprised they hadn’t succeeded in tearing him limb from limb, or at the least captured him and placed him before a spitwad-firing squad.
But whatever had just happened, Jacob had a distinct feeling that he was not out of danger.
He looked around to get his bearings and saw that he was in an apple orchard. Beautiful plump red apples were hanging from the trees, ready to be picked.
He walked farther into the orchard and saw some shrubby trees with skinny trunks and big leaves, but he wasn’t sure what kind they were. As he walked farther still, he saw a small hut with piles of small green pods outside and smoke coming out of its chimney, and he smelled an unmistakable aroma: coffee beans.
Jacob’s mind raced. Where was he?
CHAPTER 31
Dexter landed on Planet Archimedes in a state of anxiety that was extreme even by his own elevated standards. He tried to calculate how long it had been since they had blasted off from Earth, but because he had been flying so much between planets and through space, it was tough to estimate just how much time had elapsed. He was sure it had been at least a couple of days, which was more than enough time for his parents to go mad with worry, police to be notified, search parties organized, news stations called, and mass hysteria spread around their state. He dearly hoped that when he saw his parents in the Looking Glass, they wouldn’t appear too worried.
“Lucy, what do you think I’m going to see?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But you’d better make it snappy.”
Dexter left the spaceship and walked toward the Looking Glass. The façade of the building was itself a giant mirror, with an ornate
wooden frame around the edges and reflective glass covering all four sides. As he walked toward it Dexter could see himself approaching. He did not look at all like the confident kid he had resolved to be just a short while ago. The Era of Dexter was not off to a promising start, what with crying in front of a construction worker and not being able to find a way home. But he puffed up his chest, gave himself a bounce in his step, and told himself that whatever he was going to see in the Looking Glass, well, he could handle it.
He walked through the front door and into the foyer, which was entirely covered in mirrors. He stared at the floor, which reflected the ceiling, which reflected the walls, and he had to focus to stand upright because the effect was so disorienting. He wasn’t sure which way to walk.
“Appellation?” asked a scientist sitting at a mirrored desk. Even her lab coat was made of reflective material. She had a deep, dry voice, and a slight accent that made her sound as if she would have felt quite at home in an old vampire movie.
“Huh?”
“Name, young man. What is your name?”
“Dexter Goldstein.”
“And whom do you want to see?”
“My parents.”
“I see.” She typed Dexter’s name into the desk and nodded. “Right this way.”
Dexter followed the scientist into a cavernous room. He stared up at the mirrored ceiling, which was incredibly far away, and he looked very tiny, just a speck in a giant space. The scientist talked as they made their way toward the middle of the room.
“The Looking Glass will allow you to see anyone in the universe. All you have to do is think of a person, and through brain imaging and some patent-pending technological innovations the Looking Glass will show you these individuals. Space and time are not impediments. You may see them, but you will not be able to communicate with them. You must take care with the results, and do not use this device for any purpose other than research. We must adhere to the strongest ethics. No mucking about.” She turned around and stared down at Dexter. “Do you understand?”
Jacob Wonderbar and the Cosmic Space Kapow Page 11
