Crilley - Akiko in the Sprubly Islands

For my wife, Miki.
Zutto zutto

Contents

A CKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, many thanks are due to Robb Horan, Larry Salamone, and Joseph Michael Linsner of Sirius Entertainment, whose faith in Akiko and the gang has remained steadfast through many a hair-raising adventure. I must thank not one but two editors: Lawrence David, who, with his usual wisdom and grace, got this book off to the best possible start, and Fiona Simpson, who cheerfully supplied the guidance and encouragement I needed to make it across the finish line. I am very much indebted to Andrew Smith, who was among the very first to envision Akiko as a series of childrens books, and whose support was instrumental in getting the project off the ground. Thanks also to Debora Smith for patiently listening to my requests to put this drawing here, and that drawing... right there! A big bouquet of thank-yous for the following friends of Akiko at Random House Childrens Books: Judith Haut, Daisy Kline, Angela Adams, So Lin Wong, Kerry Moynagh, Barbara Perris, and GabrielX. Ashkenazi. And finally, big kisses for my wife, Miki, followed by little kisses for my son, Matthew, who (when hes old enough to read) will, I hope, find this book to his liking.

I opened my eyes. Id been sleeping so soundly that for the first few seconds I had no idea where I was. Then it slowly came back to me: I was on the planet Smoo with my new friends Spuckler Boach, Gax, Mr. Beeba, and Poog. We were floating peacefully above the clouds on our little flying boat, resting up before the next leg of our journey.

I was a little embarrassed to notice that everyone else was already awake. Mr. Beeba was steering the boat, Poog was floating quietly by himself just behind the mast, and Spuckler was giving Gax a little tune-up. (After all that poor robot had been through lately, Im sure he needed it.)

Hey there, Akiko, said Spuckler, smiling as always. How ya doin? Feels good to get a little shut-eye, dont it?

Yeah, I said, yawning and stretching my arms. How long was I asleep?

Not particularly long, Mr. Beeba said, turning his head to join the conversation. Youve nothing to be ashamed of, dear girl. I would encourage you to get all the rest you can.

Yeah, Kiko, Spuckler agreed, Cause there aint nothin else to do on this boat.

You have entirely misconstrued the meaning of my statement, Spuckler, Mr. Beeba said wearily.

Im right though, Spuckler insisted.

You most certainly are not, Mr. Beeba answered. He was never one to pass by a good argument with Spuckler. And who was I to stop him? Watching the two of them go at it was as good as any television show. Poog was interested too, apparently. He floated over and gave himself a good view of the debate.

Im sure there are any number of interesting activities for an intelligent child like Akiko to do on a boat such as this, Mr. Beeba continued.

Name two, Spuckler grunted, tightening a bolt on Gaxs underside.

Well, Mr. Beeba began, she could practice memorizing the names of all the books Ive written

That dont count, Spuckler interrupted. You said interesting.

She could follow that up, Mr. Beeba continued, ignoring Spuckler for the moment, by memorizing passages from the books themselves.

Well, that just proves my point, said Spuckler victoriously. There aint nothin for Kiko to do on this boat but sleep. Gax clicked and whirred quietly as Spuckler tightened another bolt underneath his helmet.

Hmpf! Mr. Beeba snorted, apparently losing interest in the argument. There was a long pause, during which neither of them said anything. I found myself staring at the clouds and secretly agreeing with Spuckler.

After a long while I saw some orange-winged creatures flying overhead. They were the same creatures Id seen way back when wed just begun our journey.

Hey, look, Mr. Beeba, I said, pointing up at them as they passed over us. Theres some more of those reptile-bird things you were telling me about before.

Yumbas, Akiko. Yumbas, he replied, sounding slightly disappointed that I hadnt remembered the name. An odd species, actually. All Yumbas fly in precisely the same direction by instinct. Northeast, I believe. Or was it southwest? Well, in any case, it is said that the average Yumba literally circles the planet once every fourteen days.

No kidding, I said, shielding my eyes from the sun as I watched the Yumbas fly off into the distance. Where I come from, birds fly in pretty much any direction they want. I thought for a moment about my science teacher, Mrs. Jackson, back at Middleton Elementary. She had this big lesson plan one time about birds and how they fly south in the winter. She actually took us out into the school yard so that we could see real birds flying south. We didnt end up seeing anything, though, and all I remember is how cold it was and how I wanted to get back into the classroom as quickly as possible.

I leaned back on my elbows and looked up at the clouds again, wondering what direction the 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 Id just proposed something altogether impossible. Wrong?

Its 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, Its 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 Im 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.