by Luke Sharpe
“I know, honey, and I’m proud of you,” says Dad in a calm voice.
“I even bought these special driving gloves!” Emily yells.
So that’s what those black gloves are, I think.
“It’s not fair! Why won’t you teach me to drive?”
“Of course I’ll teach you to drive, honey,” says Dad. “But it’s going to have to wait a couple of weeks. I really have to work on portraits by the gallery deadline next Friday. After that is done, we can start your driving lessons.”
I really hate it when my family members argue with each other. Dad sounds reasonable to me. I think Emily is being really impatient and unfair.
A few minutes later I hear Emily stomp up the stairs and slam!!! the door to her room.
Eventually, when everything has quieted down, I fall asleep.
• • •
I dream that I build a perfect working hovercraft. I hop in, anxious to go for a test ride. But just as I’m about to turn it on, the hovercraft shakes and starts to CHANGE! It morphs quickly into a GIANT BLOB OF JIGGLING JELLY, which wraps itself around me, trapping me inside—and then it launches straight up, through the ceiling, through the roof, and up into orbit around Earth!
LICK! LICK! LICK! I wake up for real by way of Philo licking my nose, or as I like to call it, my alarm clock.
I sit up in bed, looking around, trying to shake off the weird dream I just had.
I glance over at the prototype. It is still in a corner, covered by the sheet. Slipping out of bed, I walk to my desk and discover that I really did sleep-invent fully rendered blueprints for a working hovercraft. I see that I’ve come up with a few minor changes to the basic design, but nothing that should stump us, once I get this blueprint and the current prototype back to the office.
One thing that does surprise me, though, is that it seems the only way to power the hovercraft is with SOCKS! But not just any socks . . . they have be to REALLY STINKY SOCKS! Thankfully, that shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I always turn my socks inside out and wear them for two days. A week’s worth of my socks could probably keep this thing flying for a long time.
I hurry to the prototype, anxious to look at the changes I’m going to have to work on at the office today. I pull off the sheet. That’s when I stumble back in shock.
THE HOVERCRAFT IS GONE!
In its place is a pile of pillows and towels. On top of the pile is a picture of Emily sticking out her tongue, and a typed note that reads:
Dear Genius,
Since Dad won’t let me drive and Mom won’t take me on a trip, I’m going to do both by myself—in your hovercraft! Sorry I had to borrow it. I’ll return it when I come back—if I ever decide to come back!
In other words,
Bye forever,
Emily
Emily is gone—and so is the hovercraft.
Emily—Vanished!
PANIC. PANIC. PANIC. Panic.
Not only has Emily stolen my invention—which is a whole new level of bad just by itself—but she has no idea that the prototype she is flying isn’t ready. I could kick myself. I told her last night that it was working!
Which means Emily doesn’t know that she can’t steer it properly, or that the prototype will take her wherever it wants to go, not where she wants to go. . . .
Okay, I HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. But what? What should I do?
Dad. Dad will know!
I race out to Dad’s art studio. He’s got to be there, right? I mean other than making meals for us, he’s hardly left home lately. He’ll be there, I’m sure, working on a painting for his gallery exhibit.
I race to his studio. He’s not there.
How can he not be there? He’s always there! What now?! What now?!?!
That’s when I see a note:
Hi kids,
If you are looking for me I had to go to meet with the gallery director to nail down the final number of Philo’s earlobe paintings we should include in my show. Ah, the life of an artist. Be back soon.
Love,
Dad
I call Dad on his cell and leave a message telling him to call me back as soon as possible. Now what? After another moment of panic, I think of the answer. I’ll do what I always do when I don’t know what to do . . . talk to MANNY!
I send Manny a quick text to tell him I’m coming over, then I get dressed, snatch up my blueprints, and race downstairs.
I gotta hurry. Emily could be anywhere by now. She could be circling around the neighborhood, or she could be all the way on the other side of the world!
With Philo at my side, I bike at TOP SPEED over to the office. I’ve got be in school in less than an hour, but I can’t even think about that right now. I can’t even imagine attempting to concentrate on anything in school until I find out where Emily is. This is a family emergency, plain and simple. I’m sure even Principal Gilamon would understand.
Arriving at the office, I skid to a stop, drop my bike, and hurry inside. Philo follows me, but instead of going right to his doggy bed, which is his usual afternoon routine, he paces back and forth around the office. Maybe being here in the early morning has him confused, or maybe he just senses how freaked out I am.
Have I mentioned that I’m pretty FREAKED OUT?!
Manny is at his computer. I know he usually tries to catch up on e-mail and sales reports before school, so I’m not surprised to find him here. He, however, is surprised to see me, though you’d never know it from his reaction.
“What’s going on?” he asks in his usual calm voice.
“Emily!” I shout. “She’s gone off on her own trip . . . with the hovercraft prototype.”
“Slow down, Billy,” Manny says, taking his eyes off his computer screen. “Start at the beginning.”
I quickly fill Manny in on what happened.
“Hmm, so Emily is off in a haywire hovercraft,” Manny says. “I’ll call Greg. I think we need the whole hovercraft team for this one.”
A few minutes later, Greg arrives.
“What’s that?” asks Greg, pointing to the rolled-up paper under my arm.
“THE BLUEPRINTS,” I say. “In all this craziness I completely forgot. I worked out the bugs in the hovercraft last night by sleep-inventing!”
“Let’s have a look,” says Greg.
I roll out the blueprints and the three of us scan the page.
“So the engines need to alternate in sequence with the electric fans,” says Greg. “Interesting. I don’t think any of these changes will be difficult to pull off.”
“What’s this?” asks Manny, pointing at the design for the hovercraft’s fuel chamber.
“That’s where you put the really stinky socks,” I explain. “That’s what fuels the hovercraft. I certainly have plenty of those!”
I check my phone to see if there’s a response from Dad yet. No such luck.
“I think we have to build this and go find Emily,” Manny says. “It’s the fastest way.”
Greg and I nod in agreement and we all get to work.
“If you look at this design, the first thing that jumps out is that we need to make this more than a one-person craft,” I explain.
Manny, as usual, is one step ahead of me. He drags an old kayak, capable of holding three passengers, into the office.
“I think this will make a pretty good body,” he says.
“It’s perfect!” I say. “Let’s get busy!”
Using the kayak as a body we start to build out from there. With all three of us working feverishly, the new prototype is soon ready to test.
“I’ll take the test flight again,” I say, climbing into the roomy cockpit.
I push the starter—an old electric toothbrush—and nothing happens. That’s when it hits me.
“There’s no fuel in this thing! GIVE ME YOUR SOCKS,” I say, pulling off my shoes and peeling off my socks. Manny and Greg follow suit. Greg shoves the socks into the fuel chamber.
“This should be enough for a quick test,�
� I say, glancing down at our six bare feet.
This time, when I press the starter, the hovercraft comes to life, humming with a steady rhythm.
I soar up to the ceiling, fly once around the room in one direction, then back around in the opposite direction, feeling in control the entire time.
“IT WORKS!” I yelp, and land softly. I’m thrilled that we now have a working prototype, but I’m still really worried about Emily.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, climbing out of the hovercraft. “I mean we all have to be at school in a few minutes, but we can’t just ignore the fact that Emily flew off in an unsafe vehicle!”
“We are going to find her,” Manny says incredibly calmly. “After all, what we are doing here, we are doing in the name of science and humanity. Not to mention that this is a FAMILY EMERGENCY.”
Manny’s deep understanding of the big picture in any situation—life, school, inventing, and Emily’s safety—coupled with his always amazing super calmness is reason #224 why I’m so glad he is my best friend.
“I agree,” says Greg. “But where do we even start to look for her? She could be anywhere!”
At that moment, Manny gets a ping! on his phone indicating that a breaking news story is underway. “Look at this,” he says, opening the story on his phone.
It reads:
Filming for the much-anticipated blockbuster film Alien Zombie Attack! is underway at the Really Great Movies studio. Right in the middle of filming a scene in which actress Gemma Weston plays a zombie-fighting secret agent, a REAL spacecraft landed from the sky!
At first the film crew thought it was a new special effect being introduced into the movie, but when it became clear that the cameraman, director, and writer knew nothing about it, panic ensued on set.
No details have yet been released about who—or what—was piloting the spacecraft strangely resembling a trash can. We are left to wonder if this is simply a publicity stunt, or if in fact we are all under attack by a real alien, or zombie, or alien zombie. Are we doomed? Is this the end of the world as we know it?
“No!” I scream. “It’s not an alien! It’s not a zombie! It’s not the end of the world! It’s EMILY in our hovercraft!”
Team Emily Rescue
“HOW DID EMILY manage to steer the hovercraft to the movie studio? At least she didn’t crash. Still, do you think she’s okay?” I blurt out.
“That’s the most IMPORTANT THING, of course,” says Greg, trying to sound as kind and sympathetic as possible.
“Of course, but there’s more to worry about,” I explain. “What if word about the hovercraft gets out to the public? I mean, once the movie studio and the press figure out that what really landed was our invention and not a UFO, everyone will know about it! I don’t think we’re ready for that kind of publicity yet.”
Manny remains silent, but I know him well enough to see that he is quietly fuming.
“Why didn’t we think of that?” he asks.
“Think of what?”
“Of launching the hovercraft with this brilliant publicity stunt!” Manny says. “REALLY GREAT MOVIES should pay us for publicizing their upcoming movie! Look at all the press they’re getting because of our hovercraft! We missed a major promotion and revenue opportunity here!”
“Um . . . I guess you’re right,” I say, “but also, what do we do about Emily? I think my mom and dad might be a bit upset if we let Emily fly off in our invention and never see her again . . . even though, according to the note she left, that’s what she wants.”
Speaking of Dad, I check my phone again. Still no response. He’s probably still talking about Philo’s earlobes with the gallery director!
“I think we need to finalize a few things on the hovercraft before we head off on a rescue mission,” says Greg, focusing in the thing he came here to do: invent.
“Yeah, the thing flies,” he continues, “but it needs a FEW EXTRAS before it’s ready to go the distance.”
Greg pulls out his toolbox and gets to work.
“I’m going to install a high-tech communications device, similar to an old-school walkie-talkie, that’s able to cover much farther distances,” he says.
Greg leans into the cockpit. He’s holding a long black rectangular box with an antenna sticking out and a bunch of knobs lined up.
“Our cell phone signals might get spotty in flight,” Greg explains. “This COMM-DEVICE will make it easy to communicate with someone on the ground.”
Wow! I’m impressed—and a tiny bit jealous—that Greg can invent something this cool, this fast, without even having to sleep-invent.
“Okay, things are looking up. We know where Emily is, and we have a way of getting there,” I say. “The movie studio is not that far away. The hovercraft can get us there in no time. But I do think someone should stay here and remain in touch with the hovercraft using Greg’s Comm-Device. Just in case there’s another Emily sighting or something.”
“Our Comm-Device,” Greg says, correcting me. “We’re a team.”
I am so glad I chose Greg to help us with this invention. Although if I had asked Emily, we probably wouldn’t be in the situation we’re in now.
“I’ll stay,” Greg volunteers.
“I’ll go with you, Billy,” says Manny. “Should we let your dad know what’s going on?”
“DAD!” I cry. “He still hasn’t called me back. I hope he’s out of his meeting.”
I snatch up the phone and dial Dad’s cell phone number.
One ring.
Two rings. Come on, Dad. Be there be there, be—
“Hello?” Dad’s voice chimes in my ear.
“Dad!! It’s Billy,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Hey, Billy, I’m still in my meeting, but guess what?” says Dad. “The gallery is going to display all seven of my Philo earlobe paintings. ISN’T THAT FANTASTIC?!”
“Yeah, Dad it’s great,” I say. “But we’ve got a problem. Emily stole my hovercraft prototype!”
“Well, I’ll have to have a word with her,” Dad says very seriously. “She knows better than to take something that doesn’t belong—”
“That’s only half the problem,” I say, interrupting him. “She’s flown off and has landed at the Really Great Movies studio. I’m at Manny’s. We need to go on a rescue mission and save her.”
“Give me a couple of minutes to get there,” says Dad. “I want to come along and make sure she’s okay.”
“One more thing, Dad,” I say. “Can you stop by the house and raid the hamper for all the REALLY STINKY SOCKS you can find? I’ll explain when you get here.”
I check the hovercraft’s settings to be sure we’ll be ready to take off as soon as Dad shows.
Which he does, about ten minutes later.
“WHOA!” Dad exclaims. “I thought we were just going to drive, but I guess this, this . . .”
“We built a new hovercraft,” I explain. “Way faster than driving.”
“All right, I just put the movie studio’s location into the hovercraft’s GPS,” Greg says as Manny, Dad, and I climb on board.
Greg opens up the laundry bag full of really stinky socks that Dad brought from home. He shoves the socks into the hovercraft’s fuel tank.
“That’s what the socks are for?” Dad asks.
“They’re the power source for the hovercraft, Mr. Sure,” says Greg.
The engine hums! to life and lifts off the floor.
“Let me know if you hear of any more Emily sightings!” I say to Greg, flipping on the Comm-Device and heading to the door.
We fly out of the office and I push the controls harder. The hovercraft climbs higher into the sky. After a few seconds of nervousness about flying so high in a craft that has only had minimal testing, I start to enjoy the thrill of both soaring through the sky and of a successful invention. This thing works PERFECTLY. I have nothing to worry about!
Then it hits me.
“We have to turn around!” I cry.
/> “What’s the matter?” Dad asks. “Is something wrong with the hovercraft?”
“No, the hovercraft is fine,” I reply. “It’s just that I forgot to show Greg where Philo’s food, bones, and toys are. I just left Philo sleeping in his doggy bed.”
Ruffff! A surprising but familiar sound comes from just below me. I glance over the edge of the hovercraft’s cockpit. There is Philo, hanging from the bottom of the hovercraft by a single paw!
“Philo! He must have jumped onto the craft as we took off!” I reach down and pull Philo into the cockpit.
I give Philo a good pat and he licks my face. Then he puts his front paws up on the edge of the cockpit, allowing the wind to press back his ears.
“Should we turn around and bring him back?” I ask.
“No time,” Dad replies. “We’ve got to make sure that Emily is okay. Looks like Philo just became part of TEAM EMILY RESCUE!”
Greg’s voice comes crackling through the Comm-Device.
“I added a little something extra for you guys,” he says. “Press the red button on the side of the Comm-Device.”
I press the button. Music suddenly blares from its speaker.
“I loaded in some of your favorite tunes,” says Greg.
“Thanks,” I say, cranking up the volume to Dustin Peeler’s new hit song. He was off the radar for a while, but after an awesome performance on the TV show Sing Out and Shout!, he is back in business.
Manny and I sing and dance around the cockpit. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel like a REGULAR KID. I’m not a world-class inventor with a big company, not the (well, former) president of a school club, not a spy tasked with saving the world—I’m just a kid who is hanging out with his best friend, his dad, and his dog in a hovercraft.
I switch on the hovercraft’s cruise control and tear into a bag of chocolate chip cookies that Manny had the good sense to bring along. Together we polish off the cookies in no time. But as I turn up the music for the next song, something starts to go HORRIBLY WRONG with the hovercraft!
“We’re losing altitude!” I cry, watching as the hovercraft starts slowly slipping downward.
