by Greg Trine
It was a six-hour trip back to Earth, mostly because it took so long to find Saturn. Once they did, they found Jupiter, then Mars, and . . .
“That’s Earth there,” Willy said, pointing to the alien computer screen in the cockpit. There was something very wrong about a fourth-grader being in the cockpit of an alien spaceship, but if it was okay with these waffle-loving aliens, it was okay with Willy Maykit.
When they reached Earth, they dropped Cindy off first. It was nighttime when the ship touched down in her backyard.
“Thanks for coming after me,” Willy told her as she stepped off the ship. “I’ll never forget it.”
She smiled. “Of course. See you at school, Willy.” Then she turned to Norp. “You’re the nicest alien I know, Norp. Safe travels.”
“Thanks,” Norp said. “But you’re the alien.”
Max, who had the joke book tucked under his arm, got out too. So did the two birds.
“Caw,” said Phelps as he took to the air, which was probably his way of saying, “Planet Ed is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
The spaceship lifted off the ground and flew across town to Willy’s house. “Wait here,” Willy said to Norp and the two pilots. “I’ll only be a second.” Then he ran up the back porch steps and into the house. “Mom!” he yelled. “I’m home.”
Mrs. Maykit, who was in her room getting ready for bed, came into the kitchen. “Willy!” she screamed, scooping him up in her arms. “I can’t believe it. But how on earth—”
“Got any waffle mix, Mom?” he asked.
“Of course. You must be starving,” Mrs. Maykit said.
“Not for me,” Willy said. He went to the door and, putting two fingers in his mouth, whistled. “Don’t freak when you see my friends, Mom. They gave me a ride home, and I promised to feed them.”
“Waffles?” she asked.
“Waffles,” Willy said. “But seriously, don’t freak.”
Mrs. Maykit did freak, but only a little. For the most part, she was the perfect host. So what if her guests had green skin? So what if they had antennae sticking out of their heads? So what if they ate three times as much as any human could eat? She was just happy to have her son home again.
“Wow,” said one of the pilots, reaching for the syrup. “You were right. This really is the best food in the universe.”
“Told ya,” Willy said.
When the meal was over, Norp walked up to Willy and shook his hand. “You’re the nicest alien I’ve ever met,” he said.
“Thanks,” Willy said. “But you’re the alien.”
They both laughed.
“Great to meet you,” Willy told him.
“Likewise,” Norp said.
A few minutes later, the alien ship lifted off the ground while Willy and his mom waved from the back porch.
“You make a mean waffle, Mom,” Willy said.
“Thanks, Willy.” They went back inside. “And that must have been some adventure you had.”
“Adventure? What adventure?” said a voice.
Standing in the doorway to the living room was Mr. Maykit, clothes in tatters, in dire need of a shave, and with a lifetime’s worth of bug bites. He was smiling.
“Dad!” Willy yelled, running to him.
It was the tearful reunion to beat all tearful reunions. Willy and his parents cried buckets of tears. They cried rivers. They could have gone outside and watered the lawn, but no one cared about watering anything. The Maykits were back together again, and that was all that mattered.
Through the tears and between hugs, Mr. Maykit told the story of how he had been captured by foothunters, how he escaped, and how he found his way out of the jungle by following a river system.
Then he said to Willy, “What about your adventure?” Mr. Maykit was a bigtime scientist and an even bigger-time adventurer. If his son had a story to tell, Mr. Maykit wanted to hear it.
While Mrs. Maykit cooked up another waffle . . . or three, Willy sat at the table with his father and told his own story. “It was a class field trip to Planet Ed. I saw a trail leading into the woods, and I had to see what was beyond the bend, didn’t I?”
“Of course,” said Mr. Maykit, ruffling Willy’s hair. “Absolutely.”
Willy told him everything: about being left behind, about Cindy and Norp, and hailstorms, and monsters, and Max, and jokes, and purple fruit, and Tarzan yells—
Willy looked at his father’s tattered clothes and overgrown beard. “You know something, Dad? You look like Thortock on a bad day.”
“Thortock?”
“He’s an alien version of Tarzan,” Willy told him.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Mrs. Maykit came in from the kitchen and placed a plate of waffles on the table. Then she sat down with her family.
“It’s good to be home,” Mr. Maykit said.
“Yes,” Willy agreed, reaching for his parents’ hands. “I really missed you guys.”
About the Author
GREG TRINE has never traveled outside the solar system, but it’s on his to-do list. In the meantime, he writes books. His other titles for kids include the Adventures of Jo Schmo series and the Melvin Beederman, Superhero series. Greg lives with his family in California. Visit him at www.gregtrine.com.
About the Illustrator
JAMES BURKS spends a lot of time in space dreaming of creatures and galaxies far, far away. While on Earth, he creates books for kids such as his Bird and Squirrel graphic novel series. He lives with his family in California. Visit him at www.jamesburks.com.