Yumbas were flying in. I wondered if they got tired of seeing the same scenery over and over again.
Then a really weird thing happened. A second flock of Yumbas passed overhead, and I thought for sure they were crossing over us in a slightly different direction. The time before, they had come from the left-hand side of the ship and had flown across to the right. This time it was just a little more from the front of the ship, heading toward the back, I sat there and waited to see if more Yumbas would pass overhead.
Sure enough, another group flew over us, and this time it was even more obvious that they were changing direction.
“Hey, Mr. Beeba,” I said, “I think you might be wrong about those Yumbas.”
“Me?” Mr. Beeba asked, as if I’d just proposed something altogether impossible.
“Wrong?”
“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Beeba,” I explained cautiously. “I just think that maybe sometimes they fly in more than one direction.”
“
Really
, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba clucked disapprovingly, “It’s one thing to postulate a theory contrary to my own, but quite another to do so without offering any proof whatsoever to back it up.”
“Well, look up there and see what I’m talking about,” I said, pointing at yet another group of Yumbas in the sky. Mr. Beeba coughed, cleared his throat, and watched as they passed over us, this time coming a little from the right and heading slightly to the left.
There was a long, awkward silence as Mr. Beeba followed the path of the Yumbas with his eyes.
“Inconceivable!” he said at last, scratching agitatedly at his head. “Yumbas
never
change direction.”
“Now, wait a gol-darned second here,” Spuckler said, jumping to his feet.
Mr. Beeba and I turned around to face him, a little surprised that he had any interest whatsoever in the conversation. Spuckler paced back and forth across the deck, looking up at the clouds and down at the Moonguzzit Sea beneath us, a very grim expression coming over his face. Gax watched him nervously, as if experience had taught him to be prepared for sudden drastic changes in Spuckler’s mood.
“Those birds ain’t changin’ directions,” he announced. “
We
are!”
“Us?” Mr. Beeba asked, his eyes widening. “You mean the
ship
? Don’t be ridiculous!” There was a slightly uneasy sound in his voice, though, as if some terrible truth had just begun to dawn on him.
“We’re goin’ around in
circles
is what we’re doin’,” Spuckler said, now starting to sound angry. “No
wonder
we been flyin’ all this time and we still ain’t past the Moonguzzit Sea!”
“F-flying in circles?” Mr. Beeba stuttered. “Nonsense! I’ve been steering this ship in an absolutely straight line!”
“You don’t get it, do ya, Beebs?” Spuckler exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. “We are lost!
L-A-W-S-T
, lost!”
“We . . . ,” Mr. Beeba began, trying rather desperately to defend himself, “we’d have
finished
this mission by now if your Sky Pirate friends hadn’t destroyed all my books!”
“Aw, you an’ your stupid books!” Spuckler said. He was actually kind of shouting. “You ain’t in your cozy little
library
anymore, Beebs. This is
reality
out here—take a good look!”
This argument seemed more serious than the little spats I’d seen so far, and I figured if I didn’t interrupt they’d end up throwing punches or something. I cleared my throat and jumped in between the two of them.
“Look, we’re never going to get anywhere if you two don’t stop
arguing
all the time!”
Without even a pause, they stopped, turned, pointed at each other, and said (at exactly the same time), “
He
started it.”
Honestly! You’d think they were first-graders or something.
“I don’t care
who
started it,” I said, putting on my best bossy voice and wagging a finger in front of both of them. “I’m in charge of this mission and I
order
you to stop fighting.”
And it worked, too. They both got
Then a really weird thing happened. A second flock of Yumbas passed overhead, and I thought for sure they were crossing over us in a slightly different direction. The time before, they had come from the left-hand side of the ship and had flown across to the right. This time it was just a little more from the front of the ship, heading toward the back, I sat there and waited to see if more Yumbas would pass overhead.
Sure enough, another group flew over us, and this time it was even more obvious that they were changing direction.
“Hey, Mr. Beeba,” I said, “I think you might be wrong about those Yumbas.”
“Me?” Mr. Beeba asked, as if I’d just proposed something altogether impossible.
“Wrong?”
“It’s nothing personal, Mr. Beeba,” I explained cautiously. “I just think that maybe sometimes they fly in more than one direction.”
“
Really
, Akiko,” Mr. Beeba clucked disapprovingly, “It’s one thing to postulate a theory contrary to my own, but quite another to do so without offering any proof whatsoever to back it up.”
“Well, look up there and see what I’m talking about,” I said, pointing at yet another group of Yumbas in the sky. Mr. Beeba coughed, cleared his throat, and watched as they passed over us, this time coming a little from the right and heading slightly to the left.
There was a long, awkward silence as Mr. Beeba followed the path of the Yumbas with his eyes.
“Inconceivable!” he said at last, scratching agitatedly at his head. “Yumbas
never
change direction.”
“Now, wait a gol-darned second here,” Spuckler said, jumping to his feet.
Mr. Beeba and I turned around to face him, a little surprised that he had any interest whatsoever in the conversation. Spuckler paced back and forth across the deck, looking up at the clouds and down at the Moonguzzit Sea beneath us, a very grim expression coming over his face. Gax watched him nervously, as if experience had taught him to be prepared for sudden drastic changes in Spuckler’s mood.
“Those birds ain’t changin’ directions,” he announced. “
We
are!”
“Us?” Mr. Beeba asked, his eyes widening. “You mean the
ship
? Don’t be ridiculous!” There was a slightly uneasy sound in his voice, though, as if some terrible truth had just begun to dawn on him.
“We’re goin’ around in
circles
is what we’re doin’,” Spuckler said, now starting to sound angry. “No
wonder
we been flyin’ all this time and we still ain’t past the Moonguzzit Sea!”
“F-flying in circles?” Mr. Beeba stuttered. “Nonsense! I’ve been steering this ship in an absolutely straight line!”
“You don’t get it, do ya, Beebs?” Spuckler exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air. “We are lost!
L-A-W-S-T
, lost!”
“We . . . ,” Mr. Beeba began, trying rather desperately to defend himself, “we’d have
finished
this mission by now if your Sky Pirate friends hadn’t destroyed all my books!”
“Aw, you an’ your stupid books!” Spuckler said. He was actually kind of shouting. “You ain’t in your cozy little
library
anymore, Beebs. This is
reality
out here—take a good look!”
This argument seemed more serious than the little spats I’d seen so far, and I figured if I didn’t interrupt they’d end up throwing punches or something. I cleared my throat and jumped in between the two of them.
“Look, we’re never going to get anywhere if you two don’t stop
arguing
all the time!”
Without even a pause, they stopped, turned, pointed at each other, and said (at exactly the same time), “
He
started it.”
Honestly! You’d think they were first-graders or something.
“I don’t care
who
started it,” I said, putting on my best bossy voice and wagging a finger in front of both of them. “I’m in charge of this mission and I
order
you to stop fighting.”
And it worked, too. They both got
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