The Boy from Earth (2 page)

Before we go much further, I should tell you a bit about Norbert. I first ran into him about a year ago, while I was cutting the grass. I thought he was a bumblebee. Turned out the bumblebee was a spaceship, and a tiny alien named Norbert – he introduced himself and everything – was going to be staying in my nose for a while. I had no idea I had an apartment in there, but apparently I do. There's a kitchen, hot and cold running water, parking, and everything. All I knew about was the running.

Norbert is from Jupiter. He's almost four years old – but it takes Jupiter almost eleven Earth years to go around the sun, so he's either middle-aged or just a kid. I can tell you, he doesn't act middle-aged. He plays soccer and drinks cocoa, and makes fun of people. He has a mouth on him, that boy. I don't know much about his home life, though
he talks about his mom, and someone named Nerissa. She's a girlfriend, I think. He misses her.

Norbert and I have been through a lot together. He left me briefly to stay with k.d. lang, then came back to help me find my way through the wilds of Manhattan and the skyscraping forests of Northern Ontario. (That was the camping trip I just finished, with Mom's ex-boyfriend.) I can't tell you much else. I don't know how come Norbert has grown so much. I don't know what on earth – on jupiter, I guess – I'm supposed to be doing here. I think I'm about to find out.

The door of the spaceship is in the top. It unscrews. Getting out is like opening a pickle jar from the inside. We climb onto a platform that crunches underfoot.

We're in a big echoing cavern. Bright lights overhead, and a crowd in the distance. A brass band is playing a fanfare. I've been to the horse races a couple of times with my uncle, and they play this fanfare at the start of each race.

–
Oh, no
, says Norbert.

“What's wrong? Is that band here to welcome us?” I ask.

–
They follow my … the queen around
, he says.

Norbert doesn't sound very happy, but I am. A band and a queen!

“Great!” I say.

I've got a big smile on my face. I have no desire to go home. None. I never understood why Dorothy wants to get back to Kansas, when she's having so much fun in Oz. Why not stay and have adventures with your new friends? That's
what I'd do. It's not even like Auntie Em cares that much about you – no way I'd go into the storm cellar while my little girl was wandering about in the middle of a cyclone.

Anyway, now that I'm not spinning I'm having a swell time. And why not? I'm on Jupiter, for crying out loud. How cool is that?

The trumpet call repeats two more times. I hear a rustling sound, like the tide coming in. The crowd is moving towards us.

I'd love to take off my helmet. I can't hear or move very well with it on, and everything looks green. But if there's one thing I know about Jupiter, it's that the air is poisonous.

The twin view screens on Norbert's helmet are flexible, like eyes. Right now they're crinkled at the corners, giving him a sad look. His antennae are drooping a bit too.

–
Let's get this over with
, he says.

I'm a bit nervous. The only royalty I know are Burger King and Dairy Queen. “What do I say to a real queen?” I ask him.

He laughs without humor. –
Don't worry. She'll do all the talking.

There's a short ladder to the ground. We climb down, Norbert leading the way. The ladder is made of the same material as the platform. It crunches under my weight. I wonder what the stuff is – it's not quite plastic, but it's not quite metal either.

The steps are really close together. I use every other one, and then, to save time, I jump the last four or five steps.
The floor is spongy – it's like landing on a gym mat. I jump up and down a few times.

The crowd gets closer. I can hear individual voices. High voices, like Norbert's. I peer at the crowd. They sound like him, and look like him too. Little kids in poufy space suits with antennae coming out of their helmets. Kind of cute-looking, for aliens.

Except that they're not aliens. They live here. I'm the alien. I'd better call them jupiterlings. (Well, if I'm an earthling, what the heck else am I going to call them?) Actually, they look a whole lot like a set of astronaut action figures I played with when I was little. There was a space shuttle too, and a moon buggy, and an American flag. I sold the set at a garage sale, along with some
Simpsons'
toys, and spent my money on candy.

A single figure advances from the crowd towards us. She's Norbert's size, and has a white suit and round helmet-head, like him. She carries a bright stick in one hand, like a wand, and wears a blue cloak around her shoulders. A circle of fiery stones weaves around her antennae.

The queen.

Her voice is loud and clear, and it gets louder, and clearer, as she approaches.

“NOR-BERT! Is that you? Finally! What took you so long? Where have you been? I've been worrying and worrying. You don't call, you hardly ever answer your phone, I hear such stories, I worry myself into a standstill! And – oh, wait, I'm picking up a call, but don't go away, there's an IMPORTANT THING I want to say….”

She drops her voice. “Hello? Oh, Cecile, you poor angel, how have you been? I was so mad when I heard….”

The band plays a fanfare. Norbert sighs.

“What do you think the important thing is?” I ask, in a whisper.

–
There isn't one. She says that all the time, and then forgets what she's talking about. It's … the way she is.

“Oh. Have you known the queen long?”

–
All my life.

I puzzle over that one for a bit.

The queen has a phone headset wrapped around her head and attached to one of her antennae. She moves in a hopping, shuffling motion. She wears slippers, like Norbert's. More bright stones in them. The crowd follows. There must be a dozen of them here, huffling together like so many bunnies. They're not much bigger than bunnies, either. No one in the place comes up past my waist.

The queen hasn't stopped talking. “… and that's what I'd do, Cecile. Of course, I can get away with things because I'm the queen, so maybe you'd better let him keep his fingers. Listen, it's been wonderful, but …”

The queen keeps talking on the phone until she's right in front of Norbert and me. A bunch of small lights flash together like sparklers. I guess the jupiterlings are taking pictures of us.

“NOR-BERT!” She says his name as if she owns him. My mom says my name that way sometimes. “Welcome home! I see your mission to Earth was successful. This is so exciting to see a genuine earthling.”

Without giving him a chance to speak, she goes on: “You heard what happened to Princess Nerissa? Of course you did. I remember, I called you. Terrible, just terrible. Stolen away while she was visiting here in Betunkaville. By now she's on her way to that horrible castle of his.” She shakes her head. “I don't know what this planet is coming to. I don't know what to tell King Sheldon if he calls. Nerissa isn't due back in Sheldonburg until the day after tomorrow, but he could call at any time. She is his only daughter. Maybe I'll just say she's out shopping. Or hunting. Or –”

–
MOM! SHUT UP!

It's a shout, almost a scream, and it comes from Norbert. I peer around, startled. I wonder where his mom is. He's staring at the queen. Her view screens close and open again, so that it looks like she's blinking.

And she shuts up.

–
Mom, I'm sorry, but you must stop talking for a moment. We don't have much time if we're going to save Nerissa.

She gasps. I suppose she's used to talking any time she wants – one of the many good things about being the queen.

The crowd gasps. I guess you don't talk to the queen that way.

And I gasp too. The queen is Norbert's mom. And, if his mom is queen, that makes him a prince, right? Prince Norbert.

Well, well. Prince Norbert. Didn't I say the queen said his name like she owned him? Didn't I say she sounded like my mom talking to me? Didn't I? I'm smarter than I think, sometimes.

The queen recovers first. “Oh, Norbert, dear,” she says. “Am I babbling? I
am
sorry. It's just that I …” She catches
herself, and covers her mouth guiltily. “Sorry,” she says.

–
I brought Dingwall from, Earth in a hurry, when I heard about Nerissa being taken. I do not want anything to happen to her. If Dingwall is going to find the Schloss in time, then we're going to start right now. There's no time for your kind of talking, Mom.
He sounds grim and determined, and a little bit nervous. In fact, he sounds like a kid chewing out his mom.

I don't pay too much attention to what he says. There's more to work out. Norbert has mentioned Nerissa before. Is she the princess we're after? I'd bet on it.

Poor guy. His mom is a queen, and his girl has been captured. No wonder he's acting strangely.

I have a sudden memory: Norbert telling me that the inside of my nose was a lot bigger than his place on Jupiter. What a liar. Imagine that. I had a prince living in my nose! And now I'm his guest.

Alan Dingwall, I say to myself, you are really having adventures.

Norbert introduces me to his mom, Queen Betunka of Betunkaville, calling me a champion. I bow, and call her Your Majesty. He introduces me to the queen's entourage. I wave. They clap. He joins them, speaking over the applause.

–
Dingwall comes from Earth to fulfill the ancient prophecy. Soon, we will not be afraid of the black day.

Everyone shivers when he mentions the black day. The queen's space suit ripples, as if in a high wind. Her jewels sparkle. I wonder when the black day was. I can remember one day when I failed a math test, got punched by Mary
the bully, and spilled water all down the front of my pants in the bathroom, so that it looked like I wet myself. That was a pretty black day. There was leftover tuna and spinach casserole for dinner that night, too.

“Say, what is this ancient prophecy?” I ask Norbert. The whole cavern hears me, and they all start reciting. Listening to the high-pitched voices chanting together reminds me of the way we learned our times tables back in the second grade. Only instead of “two times two is four, three times two is six, four times two is eight,” they're chanting about this black day. Turns out I have it wrong. It's
Dey
, not day (Norbert spells it for me later) – a
who
, not a
when.
This is what I hear:

The queen chants along with the rest. When the rhyme is over, she grabs my arm. “Everyone on Jupiter knows that,” she says. “I learned it from our nursemaid when I was very young. I can't remember the maid, but I do remember the rhyme. Isn't that funny. Do you remember rhymes, Dingwall? Or maids?”

“My family has never had a maid,” I say.

Norbert is casting quick glances around the cavern.

–
There's a lot to do before we go, Dingwall
, he says.
We have to see Mad Guy. I want to pack. And you'll need some slippers.

“But you can't leave now,” says the queen, her view screens open wide in dismay. “It wouldn't be right. You're back from an interplanetary expedition. You want to rest and do your laundry. Have you been wearing your bed socks? You know what the doctor said. And there's a dinner party tonight that I want you to attend. I'm going to ask Cecile and her daughter. You used to like little Natasha, do you remember? We'll have cocoa pancakes, I think, and … wait.” Her head is cocked to one side. “Oh, dear, I'm getting a call. I'll be with you in a second, but I have a SUPER-IMPORTANT point to make, so don't go. Hello? Oh, Cecile, we were just talking about you. Isn't that wonderful. Listen, would you?”

The band plays a fanfare. Norbert's antennae droop like spaghetti. I know he wants to explode again. I know he wants to tell his mom that he really is in a hurry; that he doesn't like little Natasha, doesn't want to go to a dinner party, couldn't care less about bed socks. He wants to yell
at her, but yelling is tiring. Anger is a steep hill. How often can you climb it? I know what I'd do if I was Norbert.

“D'you want to just … sneak away?” I whisper.

He nods eagerly and takes a step back. I put my finger to my lips and follow him.

The queen keeps talking. I can't help thinking that her name is not exactly a sound like gentle rain, or children's laughter. It reminds me of something heavy and wet hitting the bottom of the wastebasket. Be-
tun
-ka.

Norbert leads me around the back of the crowd. The queen takes another call. She's waving her wand up and down.

I feel real self-conscious, creeping around. Mostly because I'm the size of a killer whale. If I was Norbert's size, I wouldn't mind.

In about a minute,
*
we're at a swing door cut into the rock about halfway down the long wall of the cavern. Norbert pushes through first. I'm right on his heels.

We find ourselves in a quiet corridor – tall ceiling, smell of disinfectant. No windows. Norbert breathes a sigh of relief.

–
That's better
, he says.
Let's see if we can find Mad Guy's lab. I know it's around here somewhere.

He sets off at a huffling trot. I hurry to keep up.

–
Listen, Dingwall. About my mom. I should apologize. I don't know why, but she sometimes … makes me crazy.
He talks over his shoulder, embarrassed.

“That's okay,” I say. “Mine, too.”

–
Why would I care about a dinner party? Nerissa is a prisoner somewhere.

“We'll find her,” I say. “Don't worry.”

–
Thanks, Dingwall. I really … really …

He stops still and stands there. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides. His view screens are wide and staring. His antennae are vibrating like a tuning fork. Hard to know what to do when a friend is almost crying. I can't put my arm around him. I just can't. But I feel bad. I should do something. I decide to punch him in the shoulder.

He looks startled. Then he nods, and pokes me in the stomach.

So we're good.

That's when I hear the clitter-clatter of little claws. Much crisper sound than the huffling of the jupiterlings in their slippers. I peer down the corridor. Around the corner emerges a white lab rat. I know he's a lab rat because he's wearing a lab coat over a misbuttoned sweater vest, and thick glasses, which have been mended with tape.

–
Butterbean!
calls Norbert.

“I perceive you!” the lab rat calls back. “And I'm approaching your space-time nexus as fast as my organs
and muscles and willpower allow. Welcome, my prince. I tracked your spacecraft on the UALS, and was on my way to the landing chamber to get you.”

He arrives, panting, just as the speech ends. He runs on all fours, like a mouse, then climbs onto his hind legs to talk to us face-to-face. He's about Norbert's height.

“Hail, Prince!” he says.

–
Hey, Butterbean. How's Mad Guy? We were on our way to see him.

“Welcome home, Prince Norbert. We're all extremely concerned about Princess Nerissa, of course. There's been no communication.”

–
Yeah.

Butterbean is staring at me. His eyes glitter like diamonds behind the spectacles. “Is this really … him?” he asks.

–
This is Dingwall
, says Norbert.

“A genuine earthling. This is quite exhilarating. My blood pressure is rising rapidly. And so the despacer actually worked on him? He's awfully large right now.”

–
Like a charm, Butterbean. Ordinarily, he's the size of a building.

Butterbean's eyes widen behind the glasses.

Norbert introduces us. Butterbean is a scientist. He's responsible for something called the atomic despacer, which, apparently, is how I got here.

“Oh, please,” says Butterbean, shaking his head. “It wasn't me. Mad Guy is the real genius. I just do what he tells me.”

He holds out a neat, well-kept paw. I shake it without hesitation. A talking nerdy rodent is not the oddest thing that has happened to me today.

“If you choose to follow me to the laboratory, Mad Guy and I will be able to brief you both on the princess' disappearance and on our latest theories regarding the whereabouts of the Lost Schloss.”

–
Excellent, Butterbean
, says Norbert, putting his hand on the little rat's shoulder. The royal touch. Butterbean turns to trot back the way he came. We follow his clicking claws.