You Can't Have My Planet

by James Mihaley

  “Remember what I told you, Bobby?” I said. “How we’re getting kicked off this planet. Well, it’s the truth. And the only way to stop it is if we clean Manhattan in twenty-four hours.”

  “If who cleans Manhattan?” asked Bobby.

  “Me, you, Nikki and Toshi. Toshi’s been brainwashed by the enemy. We’ll deal with him later. First we have to get the briefcase.”

  “First we have to call the National Doofus Society and tell them you made the honor roll.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said. “Take a look at this.” I showed him the lease.

  He examined it, handed it back to me. “Adam and Eve. What a joke.”

  “It’s not a joke, Bobby,” insisted Nikki.

  “Just help us get the briefcase, Bobby,” I said.

  “Tell your alien lawyer to help you,” he said.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s trapped inside it.”

  “Your alien lawyer is trapped inside the briefcase?” he said.

  “Her office is in there,” I explained.

  “I hung out in it, Bobby,” Nikki said. “The couch is so comfy.”

  He scowled at me. “Giles, I could care less if you lost your mind but I have a big problem with you brainwashing Nikki.”

  “Forget it, Nikki,” I said. “I told you he was a waste of time. We don’t want your help, Bobby.”

  “Giles, we can’t do it without him,” Nikki said.

  She was right.

  “Bobby,” I said, “just help us get the briefcase. Buck’s got it. You hate Buck as much as we do. Wouldn’t you just love to nail him?”

  “That does sound rather appealing,” Bobby said.

  “Then you’ll help us get it back?” Nikki said.

  Bobby hesitated.

  “Bobby, if you help me get it back I’ll do anything you ask,” I said.

  “Anything?” he said.

  “Anything.”

  He whipped out a pen and a piece of paper and wrote out a contract. “I want this in writing. I get half your allowance for the next five years.”

  “All right. All right,” I said.

  “Even when I’m at Harvard you’ll mail me half your allowance every week.”

  “OK, OK,” I said. “Now let’s go get the briefcase.”

  “Even after How to Get Your Homework Done is a number-one best-seller and I sell the movie rights to Disney, and I’m a multi, multi—add a few more multis to that—millionaire, you still send me half your piddly allowance. Is it a deal?”

  “It’s a deal,” I said.

  I signed the piece of paper.

  “OK,” Bobby said. “Let’s go get the stupid briefcase.”

  We took the elevator down to the basement. Bobby knocked on the superintendent’s door.

  The super answered on the third knock. He was in his typical miserable mood. “Whadda you want?”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Bobby said. “Buck stole my brother’s briefcase. I’m sure you didn’t raise your son to be a thief.”

  “Buck, get over here,” yelled the super.

  Buck lumbered out of his bedroom.

  “Did you take his briefcase?” asked the super.

  “Here, take the stupid thing,” Buck said. “I can’t get it open. I tried a drill, a baseball bat and it still wouldn’t open.”

  This was a lot easier than I thought it was going to be. Just as Buck was about to hand it to me, his sleazy father grabbed it. “Wait, hold on a second. This isn’t a kid’s briefcase.”

  “It’s mine. Give it to me,” I demanded.

  “If it’s yours then how do you open it?” asked the super slyly.

  “Yeah, Nimmer,” Buck snorted. “Let’s see you open it.”

  This was a big problem.

  “OK,” I said. “I’ll open it. No problem. Just give it to me.” He handed it to me. I tried to open it. It was locked. I was about to take off running but Buck read my mind. He cut me off. I really did have to open it.

  I remembered what Tula said, how the briefcase responded to positive energy. So I tried to think positively. I remembered back when Grandpa was still alive. He and I were taking a stroll through Central Park with Grandma. All three of us were holding hands. Grandpa knew the name of every tree and flower we walked past. He and Grandma had had a flower shop over on Amsterdam Avenue for twenty-six years. Grandma knew all the names of the trees and flowers too but she liked to let Grandpa show off. There we were, the three of us, moving through the golden light of late afternoon. Grandpa was complaining, like he always did, that there weren’t enough trees in Central Park. It needed twice as many trees. Three times as many. Me and Grandma were laughing. He was alive, alive, he was still alive. He and Grandma were hugging and kissing, still in love after fifty years. Still in love.

  The briefcase began to open.

  I felt like I needed to say something to impress Buck, so I hollered, “Abracadabrawithpepperoniandextracheese.”

  The briefcase opened wide. I immediately shut it so they wouldn’t see Tula’s office.

  “Abracadabrawithpepperoniandextracheese?” Buck said. “What kind of password is that?”

  “The right password,” Bobby said, smiling at me. Even he was impressed.

  But I wasn’t finished yet. I was on a roll. “Hey, Buck, I bet I can fit Nikki in my briefcase.”

  “I bet you can’t,” he said.

  “Would you care to put a little money on it?” I asked.

  “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks,” his dad said.

  “OK,” I said. “It’s a bet.”

  The super rubbed his hands greedily. “I’m gonna steal this little rich kid’s money.”

  I opened the briefcase, picked up Nikki and calmly dropped her inside it.

  “Later, dudes,” she said, vanishing from sight.

  I slammed it shut. “OK. Where’s my hundred bucks?”

  They were all flabbergasted, especially Bobby.

  I’ve seen the super ticked off before but never as mad as when he had to fork over the cash. He slapped Buck on the side of the head. “It’s all your fault. This never woulda happened if you hadn’t stolen it in the first place.”

  Buck ran into his bedroom, whimpering. That was more precious to me than the hundred bucks.

  I brought the briefcase back up to the penthouse while Bobby scratched his head. “Giles, how did you do that trick with Nikki? And where is she?”

  I opened the briefcase. “Go ahead. Look inside.”

  Bobby peered inside.

  Nikki waved up at him. “What’s up, dude?” she said, sprawled out on the couch. “Come on down.”

  Bobby backed away. “I’m not going in there.”

  “Come on,” I said. “Don’t be a chicken.”

  “I’m not going in there.”

  He meant it. So Nikki and Tula climbed out into our living room.

  Eyes bulging with fear, Bobby gaped at Tula’s blue face. “You’re a … you’re a…”

  “That’s right,” I said. “She’s a lawyer.”

  “Your brother’s a real comedian,” Tula told Bobby.

  When Bobby realized that Nikki and I weren’t scared of Tula, he calmed down a bit.

  “Aren’t you kind of young to be a lawyer?” he said.

  “Not where I come from,” Tula said.

  “What did you get on your SATs?” my brother asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “The end of the world is at hand and he’s worried about his SATs.”

  “I bet you nailed them, didn’t you?” Bobby said.

  “I did pretty well,” Tula said.

  The doorbell rang. I answered it. It was Toshi.

  “Dude, where have you been? The princess is getting mad.” He saw Tula and sneered. “Well, look who it is, the Kundabon. That’s all she is, Giles. A Kundabon in disguise.”

  Tula aimed her briefcase at him and sprayed yellow gunk on his face. Toshi fell unconscious. We carried him down into her office, laying h
im gently on top of her desk. She clicked a button on the side of her desk. It turned into an operating table. She pressed another button, enabling us to look inside Toshi’s body, as if his skin was made out of glass. We saw his heart, his ribs, his liver.

  Bobby pointed at Toshi’s stomach. “Look. He’s got an intestinal parasite.”

  “Bobby’s right,” Nikki said. “It’s a worm.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s a caterpillar.”

  It spun a cocoon near Toshi’s pancreas. A second later, a butterfly emerged, the darkest, most malevolent butterfly I’ve ever seen. It flew between Toshi’s ribs and landed on his heart.

  “Oh no,” Tula said. “The princess planted a black butterfly inside him. If we don’t get rid of it he’ll be her groupie forever.”

  “Let’s open Toshi’s mouth and spray bug spray,” Nikki said.

  “Your bug spray won’t work on a black butterfly, Nikki,” Tula said.

  “Then how can we kill it?” Bobby asked.

  “A black butterfly cannot be killed. It can only be captured.”

  “How can we capture it?” I said.

  “With a black butterfly net. How else?” Tula said.

  “Where are we going to get a black butterfly net?” Nikki asked.

  “We’re going to make one out of a lock of the princess’s hair,” said Tula.

  “A lock of hair? That’s voodoo, isn’t it?” Bobby said.

  “Bobby, voodoo is far more advanced than nuclear science. The dumbest witch doctor on your planet knows twice as much as Einstein ever did.”

  We climbed out of the briefcase and hurried into Toshi’s apartment. Princess Petulance was gone. So were Cable and Heads-or-Tails. I think they were afraid Tula might have them arrested. Juvenile delinquents are scared of the law.

  Luckily Toshi’s nanny was still out grocery shopping.

  “The princess took a ballet class,” Tula said. “I bet there’s hair all over,” she chuckled. Purple girls shed like Saint Bernards.

  She was right. The floor was strewn with mint-colored hair. Tula dropped a lock of hair into her briefcase. The briefcase made a loud buzzing sound. When the noise stopped Tula opened it. A little net with wings came fluttering out. Tula gently opened Toshi’s mouth. The net flew inside.

  Before you could say “Abracadabrawithpepperoniandextracheese,” the net soared back out of his mouth with the butterfly writhing inside it.

  “Hooray!” Nikki said.

  Tula put the black butterfly in a glass jar, sealed the jar shut and placed it inside her briefcase. “I’ll add it to my butterfly collection.”

  “Why didn’t the princess put one inside me, Tula?” I asked.

  “Black butterflies are hard to come by, Giles. She’s lucky she found one.”

  Toshi groaned. He was waking up slowly. Or at least he seemed to be. However, ten minutes later he still looked like a zombie.

  “Giles, what’s something you and Toshi have fun doing together?” Tula asked.

  “We love doing play-by-play,” I said.

  We did it all the time on the school bus. Pretending we both had microphones, we’d do color commentary of an imaginary basketball game between giraffes and zookeepers.

  “Do some play-by-play right now,” Tula said.

  “What good will that do?” I asked.

  “It’s a kind of magic,” Tula said. “On your planet it’s called friendship.”

  I began doing play-by-play. “The point guard is bringing the ball up for the zookeepers. Charging! Offensive foul on the zookeeper. Johnny Giraffe gets two free throws.”

  Toshi was still a zombie.

  “Come on, Toshi,” Nikki pleaded. “Snap out of it.”

  We heard the click of high heel shoes outside the front door.

  “It’s Toshi’s nanny,” Bobby said. “What are we going to do?”

  “If she sees Toshi like this she’ll freak out,” I said.

  “Keep doing play-by-play, Giles,” Tula said, diving into her briefcase.

  “Don’t leave us,” Nikki whispered urgently.

  The nanny unlocked the front door.

  “Johnny Giraffe is stepping up to the free throw line,” I said. “He’s shooting eighty-six percent from the line this year. Hey, look at those giraffe cheerleaders. Those sure are some skimpy outfits. You can see practically all their spots.”

  “Wow,” Toshi said, sitting up. “Check out that triple reverse dunk by Jerry Giraffe.”

  The nanny entered the apartment, lugging three grocery bags.

  Toshi smiled at her. “I hope you got peanut butter.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  (HEY, READER. OK, I screwed up with the whole ballet thing. Mark my words, it won’t happen again. What was that? You don’t believe me? Thanks for the vote of confidence. Your moral support is greatly appreciated.)

  On Thursday morning, four kids and a lawyer hung out inside the briefcase. Nikki and I munched on traffic jam while Tula filled Bobby and Toshi in on what we had to do to transform New York.

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” Bobby said.

  “We have three days left to prepare,” Tula said. “I want you to think of this as an intergalactic boot camp. You’re training to perform a miracle.”

  “That won’t be easy with Grandma snooping around,” Nikki said.

  “Nikki’s right,” Bobby said. “How can we possibly pull this off without her finding out?”

  “If she finds out, we automatically get evicted,” Toshi said.

  “Your grandmother’s been having trouble sleeping. Isn’t that right, Giles?” Tula asked.

  “Yes,” I said sadly. “Ever since Grandpa died.”

  “She has insomnia,” Bobby said.

  “Sleeping pills don’t even help,” Nikki said.

  Reaching into her pocket, Tula pulled out a golden marble. “Tell her to stare at this. It will put her right to sleep. She won’t wake up until Monday morning when the test is over.”

  “Is it safe?” I asked.

  “Not only is it safe,” Tula said. “It will rejuvenate her. She’ll feel thirty years younger.”

  “We’d better give one to my nanny,” Toshi said. “Otherwise, she’ll be watching my every move.”

  Tula gave a golden marble to Toshi too.

  He and I climbed out of the briefcase. Toshi took the elevator down to his apartment while I went into Grandma’s room.

  She was sitting in a chair, staring at the wall. She yawned. The bags under her eyes were so big you could put groceries in them.

  “Here, Grandma,” I said. “Try this. It’s a hypnotic sleeping ball. I got it in a box of cereal.”

  “Oh, Giles.”

  “Just give it a shot.”

  “At this point I’ll try anything,” she said. It was pretty obvious she didn’t think it would work.

  “Stare at it,” I said.

  A minute later, she was snoring. So was Toshi’s nanny down on the eighteenth floor.

  With the adults out of the way, the entire team gathered in the living room.

  “OK,” Tula said, popping open her briefcase. “Intergalactic boot camp starts right now.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” declared Stanley, the parking meter, rolling down a ramp out of the briefcase. “Your hero has arrived.”

  “Oh no,” I muttered under my breath. I yanked Tula into the dining room. “Tula, why did you bring him?”

  “He might come in handy, Giles,” she said.

  “How could a parking meter possibly come in handy?” I asked.

  Stanley heard that. He was standing right behind me. “Giles,” he said, “are you looking to have a quarter embedded in your forehead?”

  “No, Stanley. I … I was just kidding. I’m happy to have you. Thank God you’re here.” I grabbed my little sister, who was walking by chomping on a brownie. “Hey, Nikki, this is Stanley. He’s a parking meter. Go take him into your bedroom and play the violin for him.”

  “Wha
t kind of music do you like, Stanley?” Nikki asked.

  “I like heavy metal ’cuz that’s what I eat. Dimes, quarters, nickels.”

  “I don’t know any heavy metal but I know a nice sonata I think you’ll love.”

  “Bring it on,” said Stanley.

  They disappeared into her room.

  “OK,” I said. “At least I got rid of him for a little while.”

  “Hey, Giles, come in here!” Bobby yelled excitedly from his bedroom.

  I rushed down the hallway. Bobby’s bedroom had been totally cool-ified.

  “This is the command and control center,” Tula said, strolling behind me. “It will serve as our dispatch center, our coordination office and our surveillance monitoring center all in one.”

  All four walls were giant LCD computer screens. So was the ceiling and the floor. There wasn’t one square inch of that room that wasn’t in high definition. All the streets in Greenwich Village flashed one by one across one of the walls. Images of Central Park whizzed along the floor beneath us.

  “Bobby, you have LCD carpeting,” Toshi said, strolling into the room.

  “And LCD wallpaper,” Bobby added jubilantly.

  “Bobby, you can monitor all of Manhattan simultaneously from this room,” explained Tula. “You can oversee the multiplication of the droids. You can measure their progress collecting recyclables as they move through the city. You will even be able to follow Giles and Toshi in their flyplanes.”

  Bobby’s desk and chair and ultra-elaborate computer console hovered above us in the middle of the room. “There is only one problem, Tula,” he said. “How am I supposed to get up into that chair?”

  “By taking a flight of stairs of course.” She opened her briefcase.

  A set of mahogany stairs with golden wings came fluttering out of the briefcase and soared around the room.

  Landing at Bobby’s feet, the stairs made a deep hooting sound like an owl on steroids. He climbed them to his computer console and plopped down in the white leather chair. He couldn’t stop grinning. “Manhattan,” he said, “prepare to become immaculate.”

  I tried not to get jealous. I knew my gadgets were coming.

  Tula snapped her briefcase shut. “Bobby, your primary task is to familiarize yourself with the command and control center.” She headed out the door. “Giles, you and Toshi come with me.”