Take Us to Your Sugar

by Jonathan Roth

  CONTENTS

  Splog Entry #1: Send Snacks!

  Splog Entry #2: A Broken Part

  Splog Entry #3: Scream for No Ice Cream

  Splog Entry #4: Serious Club Arguments Really End Sadly

  Splog Entry #5: Principal’s Principles

  Splog Entry #6: Lanced a Lot

  Splog Entry #7: Cosmic Costuming

  Splog Entry #8: Bob-Monster

  Splog Entry #9: Beep Bag

  Splog Entry #10: Ding, Dong

  Splog Entry #11: Sugar Blues

  Splog Entry #12: We’re Goo

  Splog Entry #13: Sweet Surprise

  Bob’s Extra-Credit Fun Space Facts! (Even though nothing is fun about space!)

  Double Trouble Excerpt

  About the Author

  For Elizabeth and Catherine

  SPLOG ENTRY #1:

  Send Snacks!

  Dear Kids of the Past,

  Hi. My name’s Bob and I live and go to school in space. That’s right, space. Pretty sporky, huh? Only a hundred Earth kids are picked to go to Astro Elementary each year, and I was one of them. There’s just one micro little problem:

  THE FOOD!

  I mean, they have the technology to make anything, but the only pizza toppings in our cafeteria are broccoli bits and proton sprinkles!

  Beep just said, “Sprinkles, yum!” Beep is a young alien who got separated from his 600 siblings when they were playing hide-and-seek in some asteroid field. Then he floated around space for a while, until he ended up here. Sad, huh?

  You know what’s even sadder? I was the one who found him knocking on our space station’s air lock door and let him in. Now he thinks I’m his new mother! Obviously, Beep can be very confused (especially about food, since he tastes with his eyes). But I still like him.

  “Beep like Bob-mother, too!”

  Beep is pretty good at drawing, so I let him do all the pictures for these space logs (splogs, as we call them). Unfortunately, his pencils are yellow, so he thinks they taste like banana. It’s not even snack time, and he’s already gone through a dozen!

  Anyway, that’s my life. Enjoy!

  SPLOG ENTRY #2:

  A Broken Part

  I probably shouldn’t have spent so much of the last entry talking about food, because now all I can think about is lunch. To make things worse, Professor Zoome has been telling us about a planet covered with volcanoes that spew hot fudge.

  “I’d give anything for some hot fudge,” I whispered to Beep. “Anything!”

  Beep pouted. “Even give Beep?”

  “No, not you, Beep.”

  He smiled.

  “I mean, unless,” I added, “it was a whole lot of hot fudge.”

  Lani turned from the seat next to me. Lani, short for Laniakea Supercluster, is supersmart, supercool, and superfun (and possibly supercute, not that I notice that kind of thing). “Beep is worth way more than hot fudge,” she said. “Even if you poured it on the biggest banana split on Saturn.”

  “Oooh, banana,” Beep said, and gulped down the last of his pencils.

  When the lunch bell finally rang, we all shot out of there. “About time,” I said. “I’m famished.”

  “Even after that huge stack of fiberjacks they gave us for breakfast?” Lani asked.

  “I only ate the syrup.”

  Lani made a face. “What about last night’s protein patties?”

  “I only licked the ketchup.”

  “Do you eat anything, Bob, that’s actually good for you?”

  “Sure. I had two slices of blueberry cheesecake for dessert.” I folded my arms. “Blueberry is fruit.”

  Beep clapped. “Blueberry, yay!” Blue is one of his favorites.

  We floated around a corner and grabbed the railings that led to the cafeteria, which is the one place in our school that has gravity. Gravity is super pricey in space, but it’s really hard to keep food on your tray without it. Not to mention chocolate milk.

  Mr. Da Vinci, the school’s maintenance man, eyed us as we entered. I squirmed uncomfortably. (Okay, so I may have had a major chocolate milk spill recently.)

  “Hey, Mr. Da Vinci,” I said.

  He glared.

  “Sorry again about the milk,” I said. (Did I mention it was a whole tray? With cartons for my entire class?)

  Mr. Da Vinci leaned on his mop and sighed. “All my incredible genius, wasted on the carelessness of children.”

  I pulled Beep up to the Servo-server. Today’s lunch was peanut butter and jelly slabwiches, green matter number B, chocolate milk (no thanks!), and non-astronaut ice cream.

  I deleted everything but the jelly and the ice cream.

  “I’m allergic to peanuts!” I said to Lani when she shot me a look.

  The Servo-server made some cranking sounds and then squirted my order onto my tray. I was particularly excited about non-astronaut ice cream for a change. It wasn’t even dry and powdery!

  Beep waddled next to me. (When he walks, he looks like a penguin.) “Where Beep and Bob-mother sit?” he asked.

  This was always tricky. Astro Elementary is full of cliques. The Kids Who Love Math. The Kids Who Really, Really Love Math. The Kids Who Want to Marry Math. And so on.

  Me, I’m more of a Kid Who Loves Naps. I like to sit in the back, where you can lean against the wall.

  “There,” I said, pointing to a table at the far end of the room. “Quick, while it’s empty.” If I spread out enough, I could even lie down. And no offense to Beep, but he makes a pretty good cushion.

  Beep eyed his peanut butter slabwich, then tossed it into his mouth whole.

  “You should chew,” I said.

  “Chew gross,” he said.

  I put a dab of jelly on my ice cream. “Nothing gross about this. Watch me savor every last drop of goodness.”

  I shoved a large spoonful into my mouth. “Mmm, mmm,” I began to hum, but then I made a very startling and horrific discovery: The ice cream tasted . . . bad.

  While my throat was already saying, Swallow, my brain was saying, Don’t! With one hack, a stream of jelly and cream spewed out of my nose.

  Beep shook his head. “Bob-mother super gross.”

  Of course it was at just that moment that Lani, accompanied by her friend Zenith, chose to join us. Zenith’s butt never even hit the seat. “There goes my appetite for a week,” she muttered, and spun to leave.

  “Bob!” Lani said.

  I grabbed a handful of napkins. “It’s not”—I hacked again—“not my fault! It’s the ice cream and jelly. They’re”—I shuddered at the horror—“not sweet!”

  She took a taste from her own tray. “Blech, you’re right. Something must be broken.”

  A quick glance at the sparks coming off the Servo-server confirmed it. I rushed to Mr. Da Vinci. “There’s an emergency! You have to do something! Quick!”

  His eyes lit up. “Do you need me to build a device that can control every atom within all six trillion overlapping universes? Because, happily, I’m nearly finished with one!”

  There were six trillion universes? “Uh, actually, the Servo-server is on the fritz.”

  He sighed. “Let me get my tools.” He opened the machine and removed a blackened part. “And here we find the problem. The artificial sweetenizer is kaput!”

  I froze. In space, it can be very bad when things break. Such as when you’re floating in the void, and your oxygen tank gets pierced by a micro-meteor. Or when you’re getting ready for bed, and your hypertoothbrush leaks nuclear plasma.

  But none of that comes close to the horror of losing the artificial sweetenizer! Sweet was my life! My hands were already shaking from withdrawal.

  I grabbed his sleeve. “Tell me you can fix it!”
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  “Of course I can fix it.” He stroked his bushy white beard. “Just have to tinker a bit.”

  “Will it be done by dinner?!”

  “Not a problem, young man. I do my best work in the afternoon.”

  I let out a sigh. “I guess I can wait that long.”

  “I’m certain I’ll have it by two, maybe three o’clock at the latest.” He nodded. “Yes, three o’clock. Of the first Thursday next May.”

  SPLOG ENTRY #3:

  Scream for No Ice Cream

  They say in space, no one can hear you scream. But I think that applies only to outdoor space, which is a soundless vacuum.

  I collapsed onto our lunch table. “Did you hear him, Beep? This is unthinkable. Everything will be unsweetened until next May!”

  Beep put his arm on my back. “Not so bad, Bob-mother.”

  “Easy for you to say. As long as your food is colorful, you’re fine. But what about me? Do you know how many days it is to next May?” I began to count on my fingers. Tomorrow was September 30, minus the leap year, carry the Tuesday. “Nine thousand!” I said.

  Lani rolled her eyes. “Two hundred and fourteen days until Thursday, May first,” she said. She was definitely the math-marrying kind.

  “When it comes to going without sugar,” I admitted, “I’m not sure I can even last another two hundred and fourteen minutes.”

  “Relax, Bob,” Lani said. “It could be worse.”

  “Oh yeah. How?”

  “Well, um”—she thought for a moment and then lifted a finger—“the sun could go supernova.” Supernovas are when stars collapse into themselves and then explode, vaporizing everything.

  I slumped. “About the same.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “There’s always another solution.”

  I brightened. “Like asking Principal Quark for a new sweetenizer?”

  Lani shuddered. “The last kid who asked the principal for something is still cleaning the plumbing tubes on the outside of the station.”

  I held up my trembling hands. “See, this is why I always hid a big bag of trick-or-treat candy under my bed back on Earth. For emergencies just like . . . Wait. That’s it! Halloween is only”—I calculated on my fingers—“four days away!”

  “Actually, thirty-one,” Lani said.

  I really needed a better math tutor.

  “What be Halloween?” Beep asked.

  “Halloween,” I explained, “is a magical time, Beep. When children dress as monsters and go door-to-door collecting giant bagfuls of free candy.” I could feel a tear welling up at the thought of it. “It’s the most wonderful day of the year.”

  Beep’s eyes widened. “Bob-mother be monster?”

  “Just for pretend, Beep. Or I could dress as a ghost. Or an alien.”

  “Bob-mother already alien.”

  “No, Beep. You’re the alien.”

  “Beep alien?!”

  I sighed. “We’ve gone over this.”

  He began to bounce and flap his arms. “Beep not alien! Beep not alien!”

  “Fine, Beep. You’re not an alien.”

  “Beep want meet other not alien,” he said. “Other Beeps.”

  “There aren’t any other Beeps here.”

  “No Beeps?” he said, his eyes filling with tears. I quickly tossed him a pencil. He swallowed it whole.

  “You better?” I asked.

  “Beep better.”

  “You know what?” I said. “I’m better too. Even though we’ve been struck by an unspeakable tragedy, I think I can summon the will to survive another month. Then I’ll simply collect enough sweets to last for six years, and that should get me through June.”

  “Uh, Bob?” Lani said. “Remember when I said it could be worse?”

  “What?”

  “Promise me you won’t scream?”

  “Yes, yes, I promise.”

  “Good. Because, as much as you like Halloween, I think you should know that—well, I’m not sure how far it goes back, at least before I started here . . .”

  “Just say it!!”

  “Bob.” She looked into my eyes. “In space, there is no Halloween.”

  Everything went black.

  SPLOG ENTRY #4:

  Serious Club Arguments Really End Sadly

  I wish I could say I woke to find it had all been a horrible dream. But as my eyes opened upon a circle of kids (and Beep) staring down at me, I knew it was all too real.

  “It’s okay, everyone,” Lani said. “He’s alive.”

  The crowd immediately lost interest and backed away. Lani held out her hand. “Do you need to go to the nurse?”

  I flinched at the mention of Nurse Lance. “No, no! I’m fine. I’m not even seeing little yellow flashing spots on the ceiling.”

  Lani looked up. “But there are little yellow flashing spots on the ceiling.”

  I squinted. “Really?”

  She helped me to my seat. “You don’t have to go to the nurse if you promise not to faint again.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Because, as I was saying, you can’t count on Halloween to solve your sugar problems, because we don’t celebrate it here.”

  “GAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

  “Bob, you promised you wouldn’t scream!”

  “Okay, okay. So why can’t we have Halloween?”

  “Principal Quark has a strict policy against celebrating any planetary-based holidays.”

  “But that’s no fair! There must be something we can do.”

  “Well,” Lani said, “we can always gather a group of students and come up with a reasonable list of demands.”

  “I meant, like time travel.”

  “I like my plan better,” she said.

  No one ever likes time travel.

  Lani leaned in close. “We should act fast. Gather some kids who believe in the cause and meet me in my room after school.”

  “But I like to nap after school.”

  “Bob, do you want to take back Halloween or what?”

  I raised a fist. “Or what!”

  “Great, you’re in charge of snacks. See you there!”

  At exactly 3:05, Beep and I knocked on Lani’s dorm room door. I wasn’t crazy about missing a nap, but without my normal sugar crash, I actually wasn’t all that tired.

  She peered down the hall, then let us in. “Bob, I told you to bring others.”

  “I brought Beep.”

  “Okay, then, Beep,” she said, “who did you bring?”

  “Beep bring Flash,” he said.

  “I don’t see Flash.”

  “Beep lose Flash,” he said with a pout.

  “How can you lose Flash?”

  Beep shrugged. “Happen fast.”

  “Well, at least I got Zenith and Hadron to come,” Lani said. “Hope that will be enough.”

  We floated into a circle. Lani raised a small gavel. “I hereby begin the first meeting of the secret club known as S.C.A.R.E.S.”

  “S.C.A.R.E.S.?” I asked.

  Lani smiled. “It’s a clever acronym I came up with: Scary Costumes Are the Right of Every Student!”

  Beep backed away. “Beep no like scary.”

  “But it’s about Halloween,” Lani said.

  “I thought it was about free treats,” I said, then thought for a second. “Maybe S.C.A.R.E.S. should stand for the Society of Candy Addicts who Rely on Energy from Sugar.”

  “Good one, Bob,” Hadron said, and we high-fived.

  “As the president and founder of S.C.A.R.E.S., I say this is not up for discussion!” Lani said. “We’re here to come up with a serious plan. Any thoughts?”

  Beep waved. “Beep president too?”

  “There’s only one president,” Lani said. Beep pouted. “Fine, you can be vice president, Beep.”

  Zenith gasped. “Hey, you said I could be vice president!”

  “I said I’d think about it,” Lani said.

  “Well, then I think I’m going to leave,” Zen
ith said, and huffed away.

  “The vice president has no real power!” Lani called after her.

  “Beep power no real?” Beep said.

  “Only if I die,” Lani said.

  Beep clapped. “Yay die!”

  “Wait,” Hadron said. “Who said anything about dying?”

  “No one’s going to die,” Lani said. “The worst thing that’s going to happen is that we won’t make it out of Principal Quark’s office alive.”

  Hadron spun for the door. “I just remembered. I have chess club on Tuesday.”

  “Today’s Wednesday.”

  The door swished open. “Bye!”

  Lani banged the table with her gavel. “Even though S.C.A.R.E.S. is down to just the three of us, I still think we can do this.”

  “Uh, do what exactly?” I asked.

  “March into Principal Quark’s office first thing in the morning to demand our rights!” She pushed us toward the door. “So you better rest up. You’ll need all your strength and more if she decides to punish us. See you both then!”

  SPLOG ENTRY #5:

  Principal’s Principles

  Between my fear of Principal Quark and my greater fear of no candy, I hardly slept a wink. I was still in pajamas when I heard a knock at our door the next morning.

  “Beep! Bob! Wake up!” Lani called. “Time to go.”

  “Coming,” I groaned, and got dressed.

  We floated down the hall. “Have you given thought to what you’re going to say to the principal?” Lani asked.

  “I have to say something?!” I asked.

  “Beep give thought,” Beep said.

  Lani smiled. “That’s wonderful, Beep.”

  “About club secret shake,” he said, and held out his arm. “Go up, up, down, round.”

  I took hold of his hand and tried to follow along. “Up, down, up, around?”

  “Up, up, down, round.”

  “Guys, we’re here!” Lani said.

  We entered the front office.

  “May I help you?” asked Secretary Octoblob. Secretary Octoblob was one of the few alien staff members. He/she/it? had eight suction-pad arms, which were always brimming with phones, rosters, charts, staplers, and an occasional student who came too close and couldn’t get unstuck.