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Authors: Liane Moriarty

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BOOK: War on Whimsy
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She hopped out of bed and walked to one of the windows. As usual, she was the first one up. The rest of the Space Brigade was still sound asleep.
Nicola opened the window and leaned out, eager to see what Volcomania looked like in the daylight.
The first thing she noticed was the sky.
So far, in her space travels, Nicola had experienced four planets.
The Planet of Earth had one sun.
The Planet of Globagaskar had
two
cherry-colored suns.
The Planet of Shobble had one sun.
The Planet of Arth had—she couldn't remember, she'd been too busy trying to avoid being eaten by Arth-Creatures.
And now, here she was on a planet with not one, not two, but dozens of tiny, fiercely glowing, orange suns.The sky looked busy, like it had been decorated with balloons for a party.
The suns lit up the landscape with a harsh orange glow. The volcanoes were still erupting regularly, but the lava didn't seem as molten red as it had during the night. Or perhaps she was just getting used to it. The sound of the eruptions was starting to seem as ordinary as the sound of waves crashing on a beach.
Nicola yawned and turned away from the window.
“Good morning,” whispered Tyler. He was sitting up in bed peering short-sightedly at Nicola. “I can't see who you are but I would bet a million dollars you're Nicola.” He reached for his glasses sitting next to his bed, put them on, and smiled when he saw he was right. “Knew it.You owe me a million dollars.”
“Ha,” said Nicola. “Let's find breakfast!”
Tyler hopped out of bed and together they explored the hut until they found a small kitchen. There was a pile of boxes on the table.
Tyler picked up one and read out the label: “
Bapples: imported from the Planet of Plenty
.”
He opened it up to reveal an unfamiliar fruit that looked like banana-shaped apples.
“All the food is imported from other planets,” said Nicola, as she looked through the boxes.
“That's because they can't grow any food here,” said Tyler. “Remember? Oh, look—this box is imported from Earth! It says
oggs
. Have you ever eaten oggs?”
They tore open the box.

Eggs,
” said Nicola. “They got the name wrong.”
“Excellent,” said Tyler. “I can make scrambled eggs.”
Suddenly another box caught Nicola's eye.
“Is that what I think it is?” said Nicola. “Yes, yes, it is! It's
hot ShobbleChoc
from the Planet of Shobble!” She opened the box and saw rows of steaming mugs.
“I wonder how they keep it hot during transportation,” said Tyler, as he helped himself to a mug, but then he stopped talking and drank. Hot chocolate from Shobble did that to you. It was so blissfully delicious, you couldn't think of anything except hot chocolate.
Half an hour later, the rest of the Space Brigade woke up to find a table set with a white tablecloth, and a strange and wonderful breakfast. There were Tyler's scrambled eggs, together with an array of unrecognizable, imported food from other planets. And of course, next to each plate was a mug of hot ShobbleChoc.
“Well done, you guys,” said Sean, who was always generous with praise when it came to his stomach.
As they all sat around the table eating their breakfast and listening to the sounds of volcano eruptions, they talked about the day ahead.
“I guess you'll have to drive the bus, Tyler,” said Nicola. Tyler was definitely their most qualified person when it came to flying, driving, or even piloting hot-air balloons.
“Yeah,” said Tyler. He sounded uncertain.
“If you can fly a spaceship,” said Katie, “I'm pretty sure you could drive an ordinary school bus.”
“I'm sure I
could
do it,” said Tyler. “I've watched our school bus driver and I think I'd be a better driver than him. The only thing is, I don't think my legs will reach the pedals.”
“So that means the person with the longest legs will have to drive it,” said Greta.
They all turned to look at Shimlara, who was about a head taller than their school bus driver.They were all thinking about the time she had flown them in her helicopter to the Rainbow Palace to kidnap Princess Petronella. It had been a very scary flight.
“Maybe we should all wear crash helmets,” said Sean.
Shimlara looked down at her untouched plate of breakfast and her face crumpled. They all stared as tears began to slip down her face.
Sean was horrified. “I was only joking!” Shimlara wasn't normally the sensitive type.
Shimlara took a deep, shaky breath. “It's not you,” she said. “I just suddenly remembered that Mom tried to talk to me the other day about the War on Whimsy. She asked if I would like to come along to a meeting. I told her I would rather die and couldn't she talk about something interesting for once? Wasn't that the most horrible thing to say! And now she's been kidnapped and who knows if we'll be able to save her.”
“That was a pretty horrible thing to say to your mother,” agreed Greta, as if she'd never said anything unkind in her life. “You probably really hurt her feelings.”

Greta!
” said Katie. “It's all right, Shimlara. I think mothers are pretty forgiving about things like that. I know my mother is.”
As if Katie would ever say anything mean to her mother,
thought Nicola. She said out loud, “And we
are
going to find your family, Shimlara. I guarantee it.”
“That's actually pretty irresponsible of you to say, Nicola,” said Greta. “I mean, nobody can guarantee that. We've got to go into a war zone and we don't have any idea where they are on the Planet of Whimsy. Be honest. This mission is probably doomed.”

Greta!
” said everybody at the same time.
“What?” Greta looked around at the cranky expressions on everybody's faces.
Nicola sighed. It was true, she couldn't guarantee they would find the Gorgioskios, but wasn't it better to try and give Shimlara some hope?
She changed the subject. “Well, I guess we should see what clothes JJ-11 left for us to wear. Oh, and we'd better work out our roles.”
“What do you mean, roles?” said Sean.
“Well, if we're pretending to be a news crew, then you know, one of us should be the camera operator, somebody else should look after sound. That sort of thing. Oh, and one of us should be the actual journalist who does the interviewing.”
She tried to make the last part sound casual.
Sean grinned. “And I bet
you
want to be the reporter, hey, Nic?”
“Oh, well, not necessarily,” said Nicola, although that was exactly the role she wanted. “Maybe it would be better if Shimlara was the journalist, so she could read people's minds.”
“It's easier to read minds when you're not asking questions at the same time,” said Shimlara, who seemed to have recovered from her tears. “I'll just be the crazy bus driver.”
“I'll be the makeup artist,” said Katie cheerfully.
“And I'll be the cameraman,” said Tyler.
“I'll do sound,” said Sean. “The guy wearing headphones always looks the coolest.”
That left Greta and Nicola.
There was a pause. Nicola didn't look at Greta.
“I'll be the
producer
,” announced Greta.
Yes!
“So I guess that leaves you as the reporter,” said Katie to Nicola.
“I guess it does,” said Nicola nonchalantly. She would be so good at it! She would ask clever, probing questions with a serious, thoughtful expression on her face.
“The producer is the one who organizes everything,” said Greta. “So basically I'm in charge of everything. I tell the reporter what to do, what questions to ask, where to stand, who to interview, all that sort of thing.”
“Umm, I'm not sure about that,” began Nicola. Had she just made a terrible mistake?
“Ah, guys,” said Sean. “Remember, we're just
pretending
to be journalists. Don't take your undercover identities too seriously.”
“Of course not,” said Nicola and Greta hastily.
Katie had left the table and now she returned with her arms full of clothes.
“I found our outfits,” she said. “They're fine, except they're a bit big. I think he forgot how short we are compared to Globagaskarians.”
She held up the sort of plain, neutral-colored clothes that journalists would wear on assignment in a war zone: longsleeved shirts, pants, sleeveless flak jackets, dark sunglasses, and hats.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The Space Brigade put their hands over their ears as three volcanoes all erupted in quick succession.
“How do people live on this planet?” asked Katie, as she dropped her hands.
Nicola stood up. “Let's go meet some Volcomanians and find out.”
CHAPTER 13
The Space Brigade climbed aboard the school bus, dressed in the clothes JJ-11 had left for them. Everyone except for Shimlara had rolled up their sleeves and hems. Naturally they were all slathered in lava screen from the tops of their caps to the tips of their toes.
“You don't need to sit all the way back there!” said Nicola, as she saw Sean automatically heading for the backseat of the school bus.
“Can't sit anywhere else!” Sean called back without turning around. “It doesn't feel natural.”
Funnily enough, they all seemed to sit in the seats they would normally sit in if they were going to school. Greta was at the front, while Katie and Nicola sat next to each other in the middle of the bus. Only Tyler didn't bother to sit down. He stood next to Shimlara in the driver's seat, ready to give her instructions.
Nicola watched him take a firm hold of the pole. “All right, Shimlara. Turn the key.”
The bus engine roared and Nicola and Katie gripped on tight to the seat in front of them as they lurched off down the hill away from the hut. “Piece of pie!” called out Shimlara.
“You mean piece of
cake
,” corrected Greta.
“Nope!” said Shimlara. “I mean—
whoops
!” Tyler leaned over and helped pull the steering wheel back as the bus nearly veered off the road.
The bus continued at a slower pace, winding down the side of the volcano.
“That looks like a city down there!” called out Greta.
Nicola peered out the window and saw a constellation of flickering lights in the distance and what looked like office towers and church steeples silhouetted against the gray sky.
“And there's the Blue-5 road!” shouted Greta, who seemed to have the best spot on the bus.
Nicola could see they were heading toward an orderly intersection with clear, easy-to-read signs indicating roads paved with different colored bricks. “Blue-5, Blue-5—
not
Red- 11!” cried Tyler, grabbing the wheel again from Shimlara.
They made it onto the Blue-5 road and Nicola relaxed. Good. Now they just had to stay on this road until they got to the Underground Sea.
“How about we turn the radio on?” called out Sean. “We can hear some Volcomanian music!”
“Quiet down at the back of the bus!” Tyler called back, in a good imitation of their normal school bus driver, but he reached over and turned a dial. The radio crackled to life. It was a news bulletin. Nicola wasn't especially interested in current affairs on Earth, but it was entirely different when she was on another planet. She leaned forward with interest as a deep, authoritative voice read out the news:
The President, Mrs. Mania, has ordered the drafting of a further ten thousand soldiers for the war on Whimsy. Anyone with a name beginning with N, S, T, M, or L should report immediately for duty at their nearest Draft Office.
In other news, the Volcomanian Army has captured the Whimsian town of Melody. Mrs. Mania said this was an important strategic move for the army. Total surrender by the Planet of Whimsy is expected within a matter of days.
(“Then why are they drafting more soldiers?” asked Tyler.)
A small group of anti-war protesters is creating traffic chaos on the Blue-5 road, heading south.
(“We're heading straight for the chaos,” said Greta.)
Police have been called.
In intergalactic news, there has been no sign of the United Aunts for the last twenty-four hours. Kidnapping is suspected. Mrs. Mania reacted angrily to allegations that Volcomania was in any way involved.
(“Bet they did it!” called out Sean.)
It should be a cool to mild day
(“Cool to mild?” exploded Shimlara)
with south to south easterly breezes and low-level volcanic eruptions throughout the day.
A cheery DJ's voice came on the radio.
And now turn up your dials for the latest top-ten hit from the Lava-Heads! It's going to rock your socks off, people!
Everyone winced as a strange sound erupted from the radio like the wails of a badly injured cat. Tyler quickly switched it off.
“Right,” said Greta. She stood up and turned around so she was facing the back of the bus. “I think we should pretend to be doing a story on the anti-war protest.That way, we can interview the protesters and we might find some important information to help us find Shimlara's family.”
Nicola nearly groaned out loud. This was an excellent idea. Why hadn't she thought of it herself? Now Greta would use it as an opportunity to prove that
she
should be the leader of the Space Brigade.
“Great idea,” said Nicola generously.
BOOK: War on Whimsy
9.85Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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