by Luke Sharpe
I push the controls as far forward as they will move. We continue to move downward at a turtle’s pace. Still, even turtles hit the ground eventually. . . .
“Check the fuel gauge,” Dad says calmly.
It’s almost on EMPTY!
I grab the Comm-Device. “Greg, we need more really stinky socks!” I yell. “And we need them fast—or this thing is going to crash!”
Really Great Movies!
GREG’S VOICE COMES crackling through the Comm-Device.
“Got it!” says Greg. “I’m transmitting the GPS coordinates to you now. Over, Billy.”
A blinking light appears on the Comm-Device’s screen, showing a location not far from where we are. I guide the sinking hovercraft over there ASAP!
As I’m making the soft crash landing, I realize that I have no idea what place Greg is sending us to. I guess it doesn’t really matter as long as they sell socks.
“There it is!”
Manny, Dad, and I all look down at a huge sign that reads: THE CRAZY SOCK DEPOT.
It looks like Greg found us the perfect place!
“Hang on, everyone!” I shout, bracing myself.
We hit the blacktop of the Crazy Sock Depot’s parking lot and skid toward the enormous building, spinning in a circle. Trees, cars, and people go whizzing by.
After a few seconds, the hovercraft screeches to a halt.
I open my eyes and see that we’ve stopped about two feet from the front door of the store.
“Everyone okay?” I ask.
“Do you think you could have landed a little closer?” Manny says, keeping a perfectly straight face. “I guess we could grab a taxi from here.”
“Nice flying, Billy,” says Dad reassuringly.
Dad has always been a little on the wacky side—like with his art and food creations—but I never expected him to be this . . . well, cool. Even in the face of danger, Dad rocks it. I wonder how many times Dad has been on a dangerous mission before—has my mom ever dragged him along to any of her spy assignments?!
I enter the store with Manny, Dad, and Philo close behind me. I’m stunned. Socks. There are socks everywhere. Socks covering the ceiling fans, socks pinned to the salespeople’s pockets, socks hanging from the ceiling. It’s really the perfect place to refuel a sock-powered hovercraft.
But, true to its name, the Crazy Sock Depot has no NORMAL-LOOKING SOCKS—no white socks, no black socks, no solid-colored socks at all.
What they do have are rainbow-colored socks, socks that grow real hair, socks that turn different colors to match whatever outfit you are wearing, and socks that change color based on your mood. They even have socks that give you the ability to read someone’s mind.
This last one I doubt, though I really don’t have time to investigate. I rush down the aisle, grabbing socks and shoving them into my shopping basket. Manny and Dad do the same in different aisles.
If we weren’t in such a rush, I think I would actually like to try on a few of these socks. The “make you taller” socks intrigue me. So do the socks claiming to give you X-ray vision! But we have no time. We’ve got to get to Emily, so we have to grab, buy, and get moving.
I reach the checkout counter at the same time as Manny and Dad. Each of us is carrying an ARMFUL OF SOCKS. Dad even has socks coming out of his ears—for real!
“Check this out,” says Manny as he dumps his pile onto the counter. “Socks that solve math problems for you. Now these we could really use!”
“And I could use these,” says Dad, also dropping his pile onto the counter. “Photographic socks. They store every image you see while wearing them. Too bad we have to burn these up as fuel. We definitely have to come back here the next time we’re not on Team Emily Rescue.”
Philo has a pair of bacon-flavored socks in his mouth. I’m not really sure why anyone but a dog would want bacon-flavored socks, but I guess I’m not a sock eater, so I wouldn’t know.
A few minutes later the four of us are back outside. We each carry a bulging bag of socks. I yank open the fuel door on the hovercraft and shove our socks into the chamber.
“Okay, HERE WE GO,” I say once everyone is inside. I press the starter.
Nothing happens. I press it again. Again, nothing.
And that’s when it hits me.
“Well, here’s a great big DUH!” I say. “These socks may be CRAZY, but they’re not STINKY! The hovercraft only runs on really stinky socks.”
“No problemo,” says Dad. “We have six potentially stinky feet—ten if you count Philo. So come on, boys, LET’S GET STINKIN’!”
I pull the socks back out of the fuel chamber. We each slip off our shoes and the socks we are wearing and put on a pair from the store.
“Okay,” says Dad, “let’s run around the parking lot until our feet get stinky!”
As I trot behind Dad and just in front of Manny, I see the socks I have put on change from blue to green to white, matching my pants, shirt, and sneakers in order.
Dad’s socks start to glow and flash, swirling in rhythm with every step he takes.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I notice that Manny’s socks roaaaaaaar like a lion every time he takes a step.
After a few trips around the parking lot, we stop, pull off our socks, and smell them.
“Yup, these are definitely stinky,” I say, tossing them to the ground.
“Mine too,” says Manny, tossing his.
“Mine three,” says Dad, adding his socks to the pile.
Philo yips.
We each grab another pair and take off running, with Philo close behind.
This time Dad wears anti-gravity socks. As he runs, his feet lift about an inch off the ground. It looks like he’s running on a cushion of air.
“I may have to get a pair of these socks to keep!” he says, his face beaming.
Now, why didn’t Manny and I think of inventing that one!?
The anti-gravity socks go into the pile. Dad slips on another pair—socks that sing as you move—and goes back to running. The song is an oldie from when Dad was a teenager, and he happily sings along as he runs. Philo chases, howling a harmony:
Ah-woooooo!
As I watch Dad singing and jogging around the parking lot, I realize how much he is enjoying just being silly, and how much I like hanging out with my dad.
After a few trips around the parking lot, more socks are ready to be added to the stinky pile. We repeat this for a while until the pile is about up to my waist.
“I have an idea,” says Dad. “Now that we’re all sweating, let’s take some more socks and rub them on our armpits. We can get them REALLY stinky that way.”
My dad is a genius when it comes to stinky-ness!
“There’s no way to know for sure,” I say after stink-a-fying some more socks, “but I think we have enough. Let’s try it.”
Holding my breath, I cram the hefty pile of really stinky socks into the fuel chamber. Then we all climb back into the hovercraft.
I press the starter. It whirrs and buzzes, then the engines roar to life.
“Hang on!” I cry.
“Team Emily Rescue is back in business!” shouts Dad.
We soar back into the sky. I pull on the parachute wings with one hand while adjusting the joystick with the other, setting our course for the Really Great Movies studio.
“THE BIRD IS BACK IN THE AIR,” I announce into the Comm-Device.
Greg’s voice crackles back out of the speaker. “Good job, guys. I guess those socks did the trick.”
“With a little help from us,” I explain, pushing the hovercraft to its top speed. I’m in such a good mood about getting back into the air that I have to remind myself that we are still on a serious rescue mission.
We fly into a bank of clouds, making it hard to see where we’re going. A couple of minutes later, the clouds break up, revealing a sight that looks as if it’s straight out of a dream.
Below us, mountains rise to the sky. MOUNTAINS! There are no moun
tains where I live. It’s as flat as one of Dad’s pancakes there. But here there are real, giant, awe-inspiring mountains!
Suddenly one of the mountains ERUPTS! This is not just a mountain, it’s a VOLCANO! Flaming orange lava spews from the top and pours down the side of the mountain, sending plumes of thick white smoke right toward us.
“Um, Billy,” says Manny, in what passes for panic in my partner.
“On it!” I say, steering us away from the blinding smoke.
As we skirt around the dense white smoke, my view clears again. Looking down I spot a herd of dinosaurs—Brontosauruses to be exact—happily munching tall plants by a stream in a thick jungle.
Um . . . we don’t have dinosaurs or jungles where I live either.
“I love dinosaurs!” cries Dad, unfazed by the strange scene below.
Just then, a Tyrannosaurus rex runs into the jungle.
ROOOOAAAARRRRRR!!!!
Philo jumps up from the floor of the hovercraft, rests his front paws on the edge of the cockpit, and looks down.
ROOOOAAAARRRRRR!!!!
The T-Rex looks right up at us as he roars again, revealing his long sharp teeth.
YIP! YIP! YIP! Philo barks madly back at the beast.
We pass above the jungle, which comes to a sudden end, giving way to a huge complex of buildings. Below, a crowd of people walks from building to building. But these are not just ordinary people.
A group of hairy beasts and vampires stroll along, chatting as they walk. One holds a computer tablet.
Several zombies, complete with blood dripping from their mouths and hollow, sunken eyes, share sandwiches and sodas, while nearby a pair of three-headed, twelve-armed aliens toss a Frisbee back and forth.
The scenery below changes again, and we fly past the top of a huge spaceship sitting on a launchpad ready to blast off.
In the distance sits a MEDIEVAL CASTLE. A dragon lands on the castle’s roof, spreads its enormous leathery wings, and shoots a stream of fire from its mouth.
“I guess we’ve arrived at the Really Great Movies studio,” says Manny. “They specialize in monster, sci-fi, and fantasy movies.”
We come to a row of trailers. Actors walk in and out, carrying scripts.
Manny stares intently at the trailers. “Billy, bring the hovercraft down a bit,” he says.
When we are low enough, I can read the names on the sides of the trailers.
“Look!” I shout, pointing. “That one says ‘Gemma Weston’!”
As I said before, Gemma Weston is one of my favorite actresses. She’s about Emily’s age and is one of the most popular celebrities in the world. And she’s right here!
In the midst of this excitement, I almost don’t see the name on the next trailer over.
Almost.
Emily Sure, Movie Star!
I’M STUNNED.
I’m relieved.
And I’m SUPER annoyed.
I’m stunned to see my sister’s name on a movie star trailer—right next to the trailer of my favorite celebrity. This makes no sense in my mind.
I’m relieved, of course, because this means that Emily is safe, that somehow our faulty hovercraft prototype got her here and landed safely.
And, I’m pretty annoyed at Emily for scaring me this way when she has probably been having the TIME OF HER LIFE!
I guide the hovercraft toward the ground, setting it down gently next to the trailer with Emily’s name.
We all climb out. Philo rushes to the trailer.
“Ewwwwww!” comes a bloodcurdling scream from inside.
“Emily!” cries Dad.
Just as Dad takes a step toward the trailer’s door to see what Emily is screaming about, the door flies open.
“What is that HORRIBLE SMELL?!” shrieks a voice from the doorway.
The voice sounds like Emily, but what appears next doesn’t look like Emily. A zombie stumbles out of the trailer, moaning and walking stiffly right toward me!
I back away, fear and panic shooting through me. Philo whimpers and runs behind my legs. All I can think is that A ZOMBIE HAS EATEN EMILY, and now it’s coming for me!
And that’s when my brain takes a moment to remember that there are no such things as zombies, and that I am, after all, at a movie studio that makes monster movies.
The zombie stops in front of us, looks up, and breaks into a huge smile.
“Dad! Billy! Manny!” the zombie cries, grabbing the three of us in a group hug. “I’m so glad to see you!”
A clump of zombie flesh lands on my shoulder.
“Emily? Is that you?” asks Dad.
“What? How do you not—oh, the makeup,” replies Emily. “Yes, it’s me. I’ve been in this makeup for so long I forgot I was even wearing it.”
She sniffs the air. “But what is that smell? It’s like, really, really dirty laundry, but somehow worse.”
“Stinky socks, actually,” I explain. “Lots and lots of stinky socks. They’re what powers our new hovercraft.”
“Well, they smell awful,” she says, wrinkling her half-rotted zombie nose. “Still, it is nice to know that my gross little brother is useful for something.”
Manny, who has been silent since we landed, finally speaks up.
“Am I the only one here wondering what is going on? Emily takes off in a defective, uncontrollable hovercraft, and instead of being in terrible danger, she ends up with her own trailer on the Really Great Movies studio lot, dressed like zombie. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this all just a little bit weird?”
Emily bursts out laughing.
I have to admit, a LAUGHING ZOMBIE is a pretty strange sight.
“First of all, you are all on the set of Really Great Movies’ latest blockbuster, Alien Zombie Attack! Come in to my trailer and I’ll tell you the rest of what happened,” Emily says.
Before stepping inside, I ping Greg through the Comm-Device and let him know we’re all okay.
We follow Emily inside. I’m amazed at how luxurious the trailer is. Emily must be A REALLY BIG DEAL. A large flat-screen TV takes up half a wall. A long couch sits along the opposite wall. Philo hops onto the couch and curls right up.
Emily’s laptop sits open on a small desk, streaming some music. The trailer also has a full kitchen, complete with a COTTON CANDY MAKER. Hmm . . . maybe I’ll get one for the Sure Things, Inc. office.
“Who wants a soda or a snack?” Emily asks, pulling open the fridge to reveal that it’s fully stocked with delicious-looking stuff.
I grab a soda and half a tuna sandwich. Until this very moment, under all the pressure of our rescue mission, I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was. Once everyone is settled comfortably, Emily launches into her story.
“So, as you know, I was pretty upset that everyone has been ignoring me lately—whether it’s about driving, or vacation, or Sure Things, Inc.,” Emily starts off.
“I wasn’t ignoring you—” I start to say, but Emily cuts me off.
“Sorry, Billy,” she says. “But I’ve got to tell this story now. Anyway . . .
“When Billy brought home the hovercraft, I saw my chance to get out of a house where everyone ignores me. I waited until he fell asleep, dragged the hovercraft outside, and took off. I originally planned on flying to England so I could meet all my favorite British celebrities, but shortly after my flight began I realized that the hovercraft was out of control—”
“A haywire hovercraft,” interrupts Manny.
Emily just gives him a look. With her zombie makeup on, I’m a little afraid she might eat his brains, but luckily for Manny she continues with her story.
“So I started losing ALTITUDE and was worried that I might crash. Doing my best to steer the hovercraft, I landed at the nearest open spot—which just happened to be here at the movie studio.
“As soon as I hit the ground a man came running toward me. In one hand he held a computer tablet. In his other hand he clutched an old-fashioned megaphone. He asked me if I was okay, and I told h
im I was, and then he told me that I was on set for Alien Zombie Attack! and introduced himself as Felipe LaVita, the director.”
“Felipe LaVita?” Dad interrupts. “But, Emily, he’s FAMOUS! He owns this entire movie studio.”
Emily smiles. “Yeah, well I know that now,” she says. “Felipe was so impressed by the hovercraft, he made a deal with me. If I could get the hovercraft to work again, he’d write me into the script—to play Gemma Weston’s best-friend-turned-zombie, of course. So I agreed. I mean, I did invent Gross-to-Good Powder, so I totally thought I could fix the hovercraft.
“Well, then, get this. Felipe brings out Gemma Weston to meet me! Who just so happens to be my FAVORITE BRITISH CELEBRITY! Gemma and I immediately hit it off, and we bonded over some of the great food she has in her trailer. She’s awesome. Anyway, she is one of, like, my best friends now. So we’re friends on and off screen.” Emily smiles, finishing her story.
“Why didn’t you call to tell us you were all right?” I ask. “We were worried.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet of you, Billy,” she says.
She seems to be genuinely touched by my concern, although the expression of sweetness coming from her zombie face—or actually, any of Emily’s faces—is not very comforting.
“The studio blocks all cell signals during filming,” Emily explains. “Felipe is a nut about SECRECY around his films. He’s afraid the press will leak spoilers.”
“As long as everything’s okay, I guess,” I say.
“Well, that’s the thing,” Emily says. “Really Great Movies wants to use the hovercraft in the film. But, despite my best efforts, I can’t get it to work again. And so, now that you’re here, Felipe, Gemma, and I could really use your help.”
Felipe, Gemma, and I? This stardom thing has apparently gone directly to Emily’s head!
“So, Billy,” she asks. “What do you think? Can you help me?”
Philo’s Big Adventure
WE FINISH OUR snacks and step back outside. I stand in front of Emily’s trailer, thinking about her question. Should I try to repair the first hovercraft prototype so Emily can keep her part in the movie? What about the second version of the hovercraft that brought us here?
