“Meddlesome goose down kid,” he growled, grudgingly remounting his cycle and resuming the rocking back and forth that unicyclers do. “That’s OUR egg! HAND IT OVER! NOW!”
“Ripley!” Another voice in the distance. A familiar voice.
HES!
It was Hes! Waving just a few feet behind Edgar.
And then.
Ripley had an idea.
She didn’t even have to sing. It was just there, like a file folder in her mind. There was so much more in Ripley’s head for her to use than she’d previously thought possible.
April wasn’t the only scout with plans.
Now Ripley had an idea like a little light bulb, shining and bright.
“THIS,” Ripley said, squeezing Eggie, “IS NOT YOUR EGG.”
Ripley Plan #0001 was about to take effect.
CHAPTER 30
Ripley’s plan was the result of several things that Ripley knew, which is the start of all plans.
Ripley knew that Hes was a very good basketball player.
Ripley knew that Ripley was a very good basketball player.
AND.
Ripley had observed that Eggie could bounce.
Ripley locked eyes with Hes. She carefully placed Eggie by her feet. Then she held her arms up in the air and waggled her fingers. Then she blinked her left eye, and then she stuck her tongue out and pretended to sneeze.
Edgar thought that maybe this little girl with an egg was having a fit.
Hes blinked back at Ripley and touched her nose. Which was the Lumberjane signal for “Yes, I know what a bounce pass is, obviously. Let’s do this.”
Ripley locked eyes with the man on the unicycle. Slowly bending down, she picked up Eggie with both hands.
And then, fast as lightning and with all her might, Ripley tossed Eggie.
Eggie soared over the very surprised unicycler, who would never have thought to THROW an egg.
And then.
Eggie bounced and rebounded, spinning, into Hes’s waiting hands.
“HAHA!” Ripley cheered, bouncing up and over Edgar and after Hes.
GAME ON!
Now it’s Hes with the egg!
Over to Ripley and back to Hes!
Hes dribbles the egg. A slick underhand pass from Hes to Ripley as Ripley clears the raspberry bushes and rounds the corner!
Some aggressive offensive work by Edgar the mad unicycler, but Rocket Ripley manages a solid misdirection no-look pass to Hardcore Hes, who dribbles the egg down the path!
The unicycler getting aggressive but avoided by Hes with a quick chest pass to Ripley followed by another solid bounce pass back to Hes.
The unicycler zags, Hes dribbles, goes behind the back, passes to Ripley!
The unicycler has lost his balance, he’s down, and Ripley is down the path, it’s going to go right down to the buzzer, sports fans!
TWEET!
There, in the path, stood Jeremy, nostrils flaring, and on Jeremy’s back was a very relieved Rosie.
“Rosie!” Ripley shouted. Raising Eggie up over her head, she gave a final toss, into Rosie’s awaiting outstretched arms.
CHAPTER 31
Rosie wasn’t the only one waiting beyond the turn.
April, Jo, Barney, and Wren, closely tailed by the rest of the non-Omaha members of the Order of the Golden Egg, clamored through the bushes.
“YOU THERE!” Egberta screeched, hiking up her gold pants and popping a piece of beef-flavored gum into her mouth for sustenance. “YOU GIVE US OUR EGG RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME DOWN!”
“Yeah,” Edgar huffed, rocking back and forth on his single wheel. “You meddling kids!”
“We’re not meddling kids,” Barney huffed. “We’re LUMBERJANES.”
“And it’s not YOUR Eggie!” Ripley scowled, holding her arms out to guard Jeremy and Eggie. “You STOLE it!”
“We didn’t steal it,” Eugene fumed. “We FOUND it and we took it. So it’s ours.”
April shook her head. “I’m 101 percent sure that’s not how that works.”
“I’m 200 percent sure that’s not how it works,” Barney added.
“This egg is not a possession,” Rosie said. “And as such it cannot belong to you.”
“Oh yeah?” Eugene said. “Then why do you get to keep it? Stupid lady.”
“YEAH!” Egberta screeched, shaking her fist at Rosie. “You’re an egg stealer! STUPID EGG STEALER!”
“You’re egg-nappers!” Ripley charged, sticking out her chin. “And don’t call Rosie stupid.”
“Who are you calling stupid? You don’t even know that much about eggs,” Barney noted, hands on hips.
The members of the Order of the Golden Egg looked at each other. Like they were sending secret Golden Order signals to each other. Egberta blew a large beef-flavored bubble.
Which is kind of a gross thing to see someone do.
“Assume Olympic Jamaican Women’s Bobsled Team defensive position,” April said, out of the corner of her lips.
“I don’t think I know that one,” Wren whispered to Hes.
Rosie, all this time, was preparing to nudge Jeremy into a trot then gallop and get the Mo’ne Davis out of there, when she heard an unexpected but not in any way unwelcome sound.
A flapping sound.
A very loud flapping sound, headed their way.
“Relax, scouts,” Rosie whispered, holding Eggie firmly.
Help was on the way.
“Now that we have a moment,” Rosie said, knowing she did. “And we have just a moment. First, as Ripley pointed out, it’s not nice to call people stupid and shake your fist at people, so don’t do that.”
“That’s true,” Jo said.
“Second,” Rosie said, “this isn’t our egg. We’re not keeping it.”
Rosie leaned her head back and cried out, loud and clear, “CERRARP! CERRRARP CERRARP!”
“What the goose down are you talkin’ about, lady?” Edgar stepped forward. “I think you better be handing over that egg now.”
CEEERRRRRAAAAARP!
There it was, that sound again, of big wings and parental concern.
Rosie smiled. “We’re just holding this egg ’til its dad gets here.”
CEEEERRRRRRAAAAAAARP!
“And”—Rosie pointed up—“I believe that’s him and the rest of his family now.”
CHAPTER 32
Turns out, while the rest of the gorgeous of griffins were staked out at camp, enjoying the musical stylings of Jen, three griffins, including Eggie’s dad, had followed Rosie as she snuck away.
Two of these griffins now swooped down and picked up the wriggling and furious members of the soon-to-be-defunct Order of the Golden Egg in their massive claws, carrying them off toward the horizon, to a place far enough away that they were never heard from again.
Eggie’s father landed, gently this time, next to Jeremy, and, with his wing, tenderly took Eggie from Rosie’s outstretched hands.
A griffin is a pretty amazing thing to behold. Watching a relieved griffin who has just been reunited with his egg is like watching one of the most powerful things you’ve ever seen be, like, otter cute.
“What the Odetta,” Hes gasped. “It’s a GRIFFIN!”
“Holy Amy Heckerling,” Barney gasped, “you’re right!”
The griffin cradled the egg in his wings, pressing his beak against the shell and making little cooing noises.
“It’s not not a bird,” Barney said, nudging Ripley. “So we were half right!”
A griffin is a kind of very big bird. Although they do not enjoy being called big birds, because they are not, because they are also lions.
Hes, in the midst of all the awe and griffin wonder, found a moment to be dazzled over another incredible phenomenon.
“What the Sheryl Denise Swoopes?!” Hes cheered, high-fiving Ripley. “You can play some BALL, girl!”
“You played basketball?” April marveled, chucking Ripley on the shoulder. “That’s so cool!”
&nb
sp; “With Eggie!” Ripley said, pointing at Eggie, now cradled in the griffin’s arms.
“That’s legitimately awesome,” Jo said. “Who knew that griffin eggs could bounce?”
“I observed it,” Ripley explained.
“You’re so cool,” April said, grabbing Ripley in a giant hug. “I’m sorry I ever thought you were just the baby bear.”
“I’m Baby Bear and I’m super cool!” Ripley cheered. “I’m BOTH!”
“You guys,” Hes gushed, “Ripley pretty much saved the day with her awesome last-minute plan, which pretty much saved Eggie!”
“Because Ripley is the best!” April squeezed Ripley harder.
“Indeed. Well done,” Rosie said, pulling gently on Jeremy’s reins. “And now it’s back to camp!”
And with that, Rosie, who had crossed off one of her many to-dos for the day, disappeared on Jeremy.
Ripley turned for a final final goodbye.
Stepping toward the edge of the griffin’s large and imposing paws, she held her hands behind her back and looked up humbly.
“Um, hello,” she said. “I don’t speak griffin, but, I just wanted to say, I hope Eggie is okay. And I hope all the other eggs are okay.”
Cerarp!
The griffin lowered its head, and Eggie, so Ripley could get a closer look.
Crick crick crick!
“Cerarp!” Ripley grinned. “Eggie is hatching!”
April and Hes and Jo and Wren and Barney all leaned in. And so it was this handful of scouts got to see one of the rarest things a person can see.
Rare is not even the word.
Has anyone ever seen anything like this?
If so, it is not in any old books any Lumberjane, including April, had ever read.
The hatching of a baby griffin.
First, one little yellow beak, then a claw, then another claw, then . . . another little yellow beak!
“Hello, Eggie,” Ripley whispered. “It’s nice to finally meet you!”
“Cerarp! Cerarp! Cerarp! Cerarp!”
CHAPTER 33
There have been many great theatrical moments in the history of the Lumberjanes. In addition to Julia Cesar and a particularly stunning reinterpretation of Ibsen’s work, No Longer in a Doll’s House, the rickety Lumberjane stage has seen some fabulous stars ascend.
Many said great things of April and Hes’s production of The Good Egg, which replaced the production of Goldi-Scout and the Three Bears.
The Good Egg is a play about a scout named Bipley, a very brave scout, who finds a golden egg with her friend Parney.
Bipley sings songs, learns how to be more observant, and saves the day.
There is quite a bit of basketball in the play. Which was choreographed by Hes.
Barney played the part of Bipley, and April played the part of Parney.
Jo did the lights, with a complex configuration of different techniques.
And Ripley played the Egg.
Of all the performances presented that day, and all of them were amazing, many scouts thought The Good Egg, while not strictly adhering to the original assignment, was a great story, because it is a story about a hero who does not think she has the stuff to be a hero. It is also the story of an egg who thinks she is an egg but she is that and SO MUCH MORE, and she becomes something more than anyone could have ever guessed. Something amazing.
It was a three-hour play, which Bearwoman, who sat in the shadows with a tub of popcorn and watched, thought was at least twenty minutes too long.
Afterward, on her way back to the woods, Bearwoman stumbled upon Rosie, who was finally enjoying a moment of quiet and a well-deserved cup of nettle tea.
“We still need to talk,” Bearwoman said.
“I know,” Rosie said, with a sip.
“The waters are shifting, calling out,” Bearwoman said. “A scout must answer. Who will be that scout? And will she be ready?”
Rosie looked over and spotted Mal and Molly taking their bows on the stage.
“I hope so,” Rosie said.
“Humph,” Bearwoman said. “If hoping were hay, there’d be no horses.”
“That is a strange saying,” Rosie said.
Finishing her tea, she made her way back to camp, which was full of the sounds of celebrating, happy scouts, strains of guitar strings, the crackles of campfires, and the twinkling of stars.
SOME LUMBERJANES BADGES!
WILD THINGS
Learn more about the wild, wild world of birds and animals! With this badge, scouts will observe and document creatures in their natural habitats in order to understand how they survive and thrive.
LET YOUR TROMBONE SLIDE
Feeling brassy? Jazzy? Ready to play? Grab your horn and join the band!
“HEAR! HEAR!” GIVE A CHEER
Ready? OKAY! Kick up your heels, cartwheel, and do splits with this badge that’s all about making noise for your team of choice. Cheer on your fellow scouts and learn the proper form for a human pyramid. Pom-poms optional.
YODELAHEEEWHOOO WANTS TO KNOW
Tired of shouting from the rooftops? How about a yodel? Learn more about this unique vocal technique practiced worldwide, then find yourself a nice cozy mountaintop and yodel the day away.
WHOOO WHOOOO’S CALLING
Every bird and animal has a distinct voice and song to sing. With this badge, scouts learn to identify and appreciate the calls of the wild.
HATCH YOU LATER
Come out of your shell and egg-spand your horizons with this badge covering egg-erything you egg-er wanted to know about eggs.
AND THE NEST IS HISTORY
Ah, nests! Not just complex woven structures made with natural elements! Whether it’s on the ground or in a tree, scouts will learn how to protect the home sweet homes of the many different species of birds that populate the forest.
GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER
Want to cause a scene? ACT NOW! The play IS the thing with this badge in which scouts learn the value of strong dialogue, sets, and direction.
ACTING OUT!
Ready for your close-up? Prepared to take the stage by storm? Scouts will study a variety of techniques and approaches (Streep, Davis, Oh, and Kaling) and learn to express, emote, and slay for stage and screen.
RIGHT ON TRACK
Know your paw from your hoof? Your moose from your deer? Think you have a talon-t for identifying birds and animals from the prints they leave behind? Find out with this badge!
FLOAT YOUR BOAT
Whether it’s a canoe for two or a hip ship for a party of five, scouts will learn the basics of ship construction with this building badge for sea lovers.
ANTHROPOLO-ME
Study the world’s cultures, and your own, up close and in person with this badge for future scholars of social practices.
GET A MOOSE ON
Grab your saddle and get ready to get a moose on! Also stable maintenance and basic moose care.
BUST A MOOSE
A moose sport that embraces the refined art of dance in which moose and scout glide across the arena in a series of set movements with grace and skill.
MIXED SIGNALS
Get your message out without making a sound. With this badge, scouts learn to send and receive visual signals using hands and flags.
MARIKO TAMAKI
is a writer known for her graphic novel This One Summer, a Caldecott Honor and Printz Honor winner, cocreated with her cousin Jillian Tamaki, among other notable novels. See her work at marikotamaki.blogspot.com.
BROOKLYN ALLEN
is a cocreator and the original illustrator of the Lumberjanes graphic novel series and a graduate of the Savannah College of Art and Design. Brooklyn’s website is brooklynaallen.tumblr.com.
CHAPTER 1
There are a lot of myths surrounding the theater—countless tales of doomed productions miraculously coming together just in time for opening night, of pants split right in the middle of big solos, of romances blossoming backstage on a ten-minute br
eak and lasting for life.
Of course, most of these stories have little resemblance to the events that actually took place—theater kids have a way of embellishing their stories as much as they embellish their lockers with Playbills and show posters—but then, no one becomes a theater kid to look at life the way it actually is.
One theater myth that is particularly pesky is that the kids standing in the spotlight—the Onstagers—have all the fun and all the power, while the kids who control those very spotlights are just working in service of making the Onstagers shine. Which is so far from the truth!
Imagine if one of those Onstagers did something to tick off the wrong Backstager. That spotlight might just happen to malfunction during the Onstager’s big solo and plunge that kid’s shining moment into literal darkness.
Anyone who believes that particular myth has obviously never felt the power of illuminating someone else’s biggest moment with the touch of a button, and they have definitely never felt the joy of getting to wear a radio headset during a closing night performance, barking out cues and commands like a starship captain about to enter hyperdrive.
“Sasha, I HEARD that all the way in the light booth!” Beckett brayed into his headset, trying to sound stern but also trying to keep Diet Coke from spraying from his nose through his laughter. “That” which he heard all the way from the light booth was a big booming belch that erupted from the wings, interrupting a very tender and intimate moment of Lease, the tragic rock opera that was playing its final performance at St. Genesius Preparatory High School.
“How did you know it was me!?” Sasha asked. Ironically, the bellowing burp came from the smallest Backstager of the bunch. Sasha’s mop of blond hair appeared before he did, followed by his round, rosy face, tilting up with a big smile.
“Come on, dude, we all saw you housing that burrito on dinner break,” Beckett said. With his green spiky hair, plugs in his earlobes, and thick black glasses reflecting the constellation of light board controls below him, Beckett looked like a live wire and was fittingly high-strung in most situations. It didn’t help that he was never without a steady drip of caffeine from the cans and cans of Diet Coke he drank daily. When you power the lighting AND sound of a major theatrical production, something has to power you. Tonight, though, with all of the electrics work on the production almost behind him, he was relaxed and enjoying himself.
The Good Egg Page 10