“It did?”
“Sure. The aliens got their fuel. Mr. Da Vinci got a new job away from milk-spilling kids. And I”—I patted Beep—“still have some candy.”
“But, Bob,” Lani said. “You vowed to eat healthy from now on if you survived.”
“Hey, you were at the nurse’s office when I said that.”
“Actually, I was waiting right outside the door when you made your little speech.”
“Waiting for what? They were about to kill me!”
“I know,” she said, smiling. “Which means my dramatic timing was perfect!”
I folded my arms. “Okay. Well, at least everyone else is happy.”
Lani nodded toward Beep. “Not everyone, Bob.”
“Beep?” I said to him.
Beep sniffed. “More Beeps no come after all.”
“Oh, Beep, it’ll be okay.” I looked at Lani. “Won’t it?”
She gave me a look that said I better make this right.
“Um, I just remembered,” I said, “there’s something I have to do. Lani, how about you bring Beep to Professor Zoome’s classroom in about twenty minutes?”
I then flew out of the cafeteria and down to the art room. I quickly cut a bunch of construction paper and made it back to Professor Zoome’s just ahead of Lani and Beep. I hovered in front of the door as they tried to come in.
“Before you come in, Beep,” I said, “shut your eyes.”
“Then Beep no see.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Oooh, Beep like surprise!”
Lani led him to the center of the room, and the entire class surrounded him.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Beep’s eyes widened as he saw that each one of us was wearing a pair of Beep arms (or flippers or flappers or whatever they’re called).
“You don’t need more Beeps, Beep. We’re your family now,” I said. “And to you we all say . . . yay!”
Everyone lifted their Beep arms. “YAY!”
Beep smiled, then grabbed me in a big hug.
“Who needs sweet,” Lani said, “when we have Beep!”
I started to raise my hand, then lowered it when she shot me a look.
Because she was right. I may not have had any candy. But I had my good friends.
And so ended what really was the best Astroween ever.
*SEND*
Bob’s Extra-Credit Fun Space Facts! (Even though nothing is fun about space!)
On Earth, every day is a holiday for someone somewhere! (Though they tell you about only some of them, so you don’t get too many days off school.) Holidays usually come once a year, but here’s the wild part: Since a year = the amount of time it takes for a planet to travel once around its sun, if you go to other planets, years are totally different lengths!
Like on Mercury, for example, one year = about 88 Earth days! Compare that to 365 and a quarter days for one Earth year, and think how rushed things must feel on Mercury. The baseball season probably has only about forty games (which is still way too many), and summer vacation must be over in a blink (though summer vacation everywhere is over in a blink).
On the other hand, since a day = the amount of time it takes for a planet to rotate one time on its axis, one day on Mercury = about 58 Earth days! Which means that if you ever moved to Mercury, you could probably pop a giant bowl of popcorn and spend an entire Saturday watching all the Star Wars movies in order, from Episode IV (IV is Star Wars for “4 but really 1”) to Episode ZZZZZ (which is Star Wars for “I fell asleep after they blew up the 600th Death Star”).
Wait—does Mercury even have Saturdays?
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT THE NEXT BEEP AND BOB ADVENTURE!
SPLOG ENTRY #1:
Hard Work Is Hard!
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? I’m the new kid this year at Astro Elementary, the only school in orbit around one of the outer planets. There’s just one micro little problem:
GETTING GOOD GRADES HERE IS NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE!
I mean, back on Earth at my old school, I got a trophy for learning how to Velcro my shoe. But if you dare ask your teachers here for a little help putting on your space helmet the right way so your head doesn’t explode, they deduct six points from your grade average and make you sharpen pencils for a week!
Beep just clapped and said, “Head go pop, yay!” 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!
On the bright side Beep not only likes sharpening pencils but also most of the other mind-numbing tasks I give him. Which frees up my time to do more important things like . . . like . . . like . . .
“Bob-mother like sleep late!” Beep said.
Well, who doesn’t?
Beep is also really good at drawing, so I let him do all the pictures for these space logs (splogs as we call them) before sending them back in time for you to read. Beep says to tell you that he once was terrible at drawing, but that he worked really hard and that you can too. (Unlike me, of course, who was smart enough to give up art the second I realized I could draw only stick figures!)
Anyway, I promise to try to write more entries soon, maybe between my after-school nap and my predinner rest time.
Enjoy!
SPLOG ENTRY #2:
Sad and Sadder
Okay, so things didn’t go exactly as planned. Somehow, I accidentally napped through dinner, and then I accidentally played video games for four hours, and now it’s past midnight and I still haven’t started my giant homework project that was assigned only two weeks ago and is suddenly due tomorrow.
Beep patted his tummy as he floated across the dorm room we share (sadly there’s no gravity in space).
“Din-din yummy tonight,” he said. “Beep eat for Beep and Beep eat for Bob-mother, too.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Bob-mother look cute when drool on pillow.”
No one had ever called me cute before. But that was beside the point. “Listen, Beep, we have to focus on this project. Are you going to help me or what?”
Beep clapped. “Or what!”
“Help me look for the work sheet with the assignment written on it.” I opened a drawer and a bunch of papers and junk floated out.
“This work sheet?” Beep said, holding up a floppy manila time-velope.
“No, that’s for mailing our splog journals to the kids of the past.”
Beep studied the time-velope. “Mail Beep and Bob-mother to past too?”
“We’d have to be two inches tall, Beep, to fit in there. Besides, those aren’t meant for mailing people.”
Beep shoved the time-velope in his pouch. “This work sheet?” he said, holding up a crumpled paper.
“That’s the one!” I grabbed it from him and read. “All we have to do is build an accurate model of a famous structure, such as the Eiffel Space Tower, using ice pop sticks.”
Beep clapped again. “Ice pop sticks, yay!” Ice pops were kind of Beep’s weakness.
“The best model in the class will be chosen to represent our school at the Ice Pop Stick Finals on Earth’s moon. Which, you know, actually sounds kind of fun. I’ve never been to the moon.”
“Beep neither.”
I lowered the paper. “I’ve also never won anything. I wonder what that’s like, to win a contest in front of everyone. With all the kids and teachers gazing up at you and everything. It must be the best feeling ever.”
Beep clapped. “Bob-mother win prize! Go to moon!”
“Well, not yet. But I suppose there’s a chance. If we work really hard.”
“Bob-mother no like work h
ard.”
“That is a problem.” I straightened with resolve. “But you know what, Beep? We’re going to do this project thing, and we’re going to do it well. Okay, first we need about ten thousand ice pop sticks.”
Beep raised his hand. “Oo, oo! Job for Beep! Job for Beep!” He spun. “Where ten thousand ice pop for Beep eat?”
“Sorry, Beep, that’s not how it’s done. Professor Zoome gave me one ice pop stick”—I reached into my backpack—“and this duplicator ray.”
“Ray not look yummy.”
“That’s because it’s a tool, not a treat. Watch.” I let the ice pop stick float, aimed the duplicator, and pushed the button. A yellow ray zapped out. Suddenly, there were two floating sticks.
“See, Beep. Now we just have to do it”—I tried to subtract two from ten thousand in my head—“about ninety thousand and eight something more times.” (I’m not so great at math.)
Beep folded his arms. “Beep like eat ice pop better.”
“Well, we don’t have ten thousand ice pops. So this will have to do.” I handed the ray to Beep. “Here, you work on that while I start gluing the sticks together.”
Beep immediately pointed the ray at my head. “Idea more better! Make two Bobs. Then work go two time fast!”
“No, Beep, wait—”
He pushed the button. Click.
Beep pouted. “No work.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. Duplicator rays are designed to work on objects only. Not life-forms.”
“Bob life-form?”
“Yes, I’m a life-form!”
Beep pointed the ray at my desk. “Desk life-form?”
“No, but—”
Zap! Suddenly, there were two desks.
He pointed at the dresser. “That life-form?”
“Beep, we don’t need another—”
Zap!
“Pillow life-form?” Beep said.
Zap! Zap! Zap!
“Stop that, Beep! This room is crowded enough!”
“Beep life-form?” He pointed at his foot.
Click.
His face grew sad when it didn’t work. “But Beep want more Beeps.”
“Sorry, Beep, that’s not how it works.”
He unscrewed a panel on the back of the duplicator ray, exposing the wiring inside. “Beep have idea! Beep switch blue and red wire!”
I shot forward. “Beep, stop fiddling with that! You don’t know how it works.”
Beep put the panel back on. “Now Beep make ray work on life-form!”
“Give me that!” I said. But as I yanked it away, my finger may have brushed the button . . . just as the ray was pointed at Beep!
Zap!
“Oh no!” I froze. “What have I done?”
Beep looked down at himself and pouted. “Ray still not work on life-form. Beep sad.”
Next to him, another Beep nodded. “Beep Two sadder.”
“Here tissue,” the first Beep said, turning.
The second Beep dabbed his eyes.
And I promptly passed out.
SPLOG ENTRY #3:
Trouble Times Two
My eyes opened to the sight of Beep patting a wet cloth on my forehead.
“Thanks, Beep,” I said. “For a second there I thought you had—”
A second Beep patted me with another wet cloth.
“Gaaahhhhh!” I said. “Beep, what have you done?!”
They looked at each other. Then the truth finally hit them, and the two Beeps squealed, high-fived and hugged.
“Guys, keep it down!” I said just as there was a knock on my dorm room door. It was followed by a voice: “Bob, are you okay in there?”
I pointed to the bunk bed. “Quick,” I hissed at the Beeps. “Hide!”
Beep took his normal spot on top while, annoyingly, the duplicate Beep took my bed.
I opened the door a crack. “Oh, Lani, hey,” I said.
Laniakea Supercluster is my best human friend at Astro Elementary. She’s smart, cool, and fun, so I do my best to also act smart, cool, and fun whenever she’s around. (The key word there is “act.”)
“What’s going on?” she said. “I was passing by and heard all this commotion.”
“Oh, that was just Beep making some noise,” I said. “And me. And Beep. I mean, Beep making more noise. Not a second Beep.”
She gave me a funny look.
“So,” I said, trying to change the subject, “what are you doing up so late?”
“Homework,” she said.
“Me too!” I admitted. “After all, our ice pop stick thingies are due in just a few hours.”
“Not that assignment, Bob. I finished that ages ago. I’m studying for my final exams for eighth grade.”
“Eighth grade! But that’s”—I counted on my fingers—“sixteen years from now!”
She laughed. “Not quite.”
Beep and Beep giggled from the bed. I tried to talk loudly so she wouldn’t hear them. “Speaking of science,” I said, “I was wondering: What would happen if someone, uh, switched the red and blue wires on a duplicator ray and accidentally zapped their little buddy?”
Lani thought. “Theoretically, switching the wires could allow for animate organic matter, or life-forms, to be duplicated too. But as I said, only theoretically.”
The Beeps giggled again.
“So if someone theoretically duplicated someone,” I went on, “it would be pretty easy to reverse, right?”
She pinched her chin. “As far as I know, the creation of matter cannot be reversed without risking total annihilation of the universe. Why do you ask?”
I gulped. “No reason. Well, nice talking to you. Good night!”
I felt bad about closing the door on her, but I was in a near panic. I shot around the room. “Quick, Beep, I’ll throw away the duplicator ray and you get rid of the extra Beep.”
The other Beep floated out from the sheets. “Get rid of Beep Two make Beep Two sad.” He flashed those big Beep eyes.
“Listen,” I said, “I’m really sorry, but . . . would you stop looking at me like that?!”
“Bob-mother mean,” Beep said.
Beep Two nodded. “We need new Bob-mother,” he said, and promptly grabbed the duplicator from my hands.
I lunged forward. “NO, WAIT, I—”
Zap! A yellow flash blinded me. Then all I saw were blinking spots. But as those faded, a face came into focus. A face that looked exactly like mine.
“Hello, Bob,” the other Bob said.
“Oh, hey,” I answered back. And once again passed out.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Author-illustrator Jonathan Roth is a public elementary school art teacher in Maryland who likes reading, writing, drawing, cycling, and napping. Though he has never left Earth, he has met four of the astronauts who have gone to the moon. Beep and Bob is his first series.
BEEPANDBOB.COM
Simon & Schuster, New York
VISIT US AT SIMONANDSCHUSTER.COM/KIDS
Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Jonathan-Roth
Read more about Beep and Bob’s adventures in space!
Book 1: Too Much Space!
Book 2: Party Crashers
And coming soon:
Book 4: Double Trouble
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
First Aladdin paperback edition September 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Jonathan Roth
Also available in an Aladdin hardcover edition.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any fo
rm.
ALADDIN and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Book designed by Nina Simoneaux
Cover designed by Nina Simoneaux
Cover illustration copyright © 2018 by Jonathan Roth
The illustrations for this book were rendered digitally.
Library of Congress Control Number 2018930169
ISBN 978-1-4814-8859-4 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4814-8858-7 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4814-8860-0 (eBook)
Take Us to Your Sugar Page 4
