The Boy with 17 Senses (13 page)

But soon they were out of reach.

19

FORGIVENESS IS A SUPERPOWER

J
aq sat at home, wondering what to do. He had to save his grandfather, and he knew the only way to do that was to rescue Plenthy and bring him back to Yipsmix. That meant going back to Earth, a prospect that terrified him.

How could he go back to Earth alone? The giants were so big, and the planet was so overwhelming.

As he sat there hunting for some courage, his mother came home.

“Jaq,” she said, “I just got back from town. They won't
release Grandpa.” She dropped her bag and paced. “I told them he's not going anywhere, but they want to keep him in jail until the judges can rule on his case. That could take forever! And what if they find him guilty? What are we going to do?”

“They stole my chicken,” Jaq said. “Those Vilcots. They told the police that I'd taken it from Tormy. And the police believed them.”

“Of course they did. Ripley Vilcot has bribed everyone in town. Grandpa is never going to be free.” Mom shook her head. “I have to get back to work. I'll be home late, to make up for the time I took off this afternoon. Will you be okay?”

Jaq nodded. After a pause, he said, “What if I could get another one? Another glug-filled bird.”

Mom stopped pacing and looked at him. “How?”

“It's a long story,” Jaq said. “But to do it, I need to ask you a question.”

“What?”

“When you're working at the factory, how do you handle all the noise? Doesn't it fill your mouth with flavors and your vision with colors and shapes? Doesn't it make it impossible to fuction?”

She opened her bag. “They give us these,” she said, pulling out a package of earplugs and some thick earmuffs. “And
this,” she said, holding up a nose plug on a rubbery string. “And sometimes I wear these,” she said, putting on a pair of sunglasses. “And this.” She shook out a package of Blandie Biscuits—The Biscuit That Fights Off Flavor. “Eat one of those, and no unpleasant tastes will pop into your mouth unexpectedly.”

“To get another bird, I have to go up by the waterfall,” Jaq said. “It's really hard to walk next to it.”

Mom nodded. “Take them,” she said. “And, Jaq”—she grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eye—“tell me that the waterfall is the only danger. Promise me. I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”

“I promise,” Jaq said. “I'll be fine.”

It was the hardest lie Jaq had ever told.

The Vilcots may think that they've won
.
But I'm going to show them. I'm not done fighting
.

Jaq knew that's what Klingdux the superhero would say in this situation, but Jaq was having trouble finding the same resolve.

Easy for him to say
, Jaq thought.
Klingdux is an indestructible superhero. It's much harder to be brave when you are small and very, very destructible
.

Jaq knew that if he had superstrength or speed or a magical suit, he probably wouldn't be afraid of anything, either. But he didn't, so he was. Still, he had to go back. If there was even the smallest chance that he could save his family by bringing Plenthy back to testify for Grandpa, or by bringing home more glug, he had to try.

He raced past the Vilcots' farm, not wanting to see a single member of that evil family. He slowed to a walk once he'd passed it. That was when he noticed the pack shift on his back. He stopped and opened it up. Inside he saw the earplugs, earmuffs, sunglasses, nose plug, the Blandie Bisquits, the key, the map, and a furry nose.

“I'm hungry,” Bonip said.

“Bonip! What are you doing in there?”

“I was looking for some crispy-stick crumbs. And before I know it, you've dropped these earmuffs on my head and we're bouncing along. I'm still hungry. Did I mention that?”

“Yes, you did,” Jaq said. He dumped his backpack upside down, catching his earmuffs but letting Bonip fall to the ground.

“Hey!”

“Go on.” Jaq pointed. “Go back to your friends. I'd rather be alone than with a traitor like you.”

“Come on, Mr. Seventeen Senses, don't you have a sense of humor?” Bonip asked. When he started laughing, Jaq pulled his leg back to kick the rotten little rodent.

“No, really. I'm truly, truly sorry,” Bonip said, serious now. “I'm sorry I teased you. It's just . . . they make me feel so . . . so . . . like if I don't join them, then I must be the biggest loser, you know? I'm really sorry.”

Jaq scowled at him.

“Let me come. I can help,” Bonip said. “I'll get you past the waterfall.”

Jaq showed Bonip his earmuffs.

“I'll look right when you look left. Okay?”

Jaq sighed. As much as he hated wippers, and especially this little traitorous one, he had to admit that he felt a little less afraid when he had someone with him. “All right, you can come. But you have to promise to listen to me. And if we do get to Earth, you can't have any crunchy sticks until I say so. We have to find Fiona and then find Plenthy. Then we eat. Got it?”

“I promise.”

“Okay, hop in.” Jaq held open the backpack. Bonip jumped in, and Jaq put it back on.

Bonip peeked out the top. “Did I mention I was hungry?”

Among his seventeen senses, Jaq had a terrific sense of direction, and he found his way straight back to the wormhole. He came prepared this time, wearing both earplugs and earmuffs as he approached the waterfall. The muffled roar was no more than a faint echo of color in his vision, and he navigated through it easily.

He approached the swirly gateway and put up his hands, like before. Then he pulled off his earmuffs. He had to make sure Bonip understood the plan.

“Bonip, here we go. Remember, we have to find that nice girl giant. She can tell us what she knows about Plenthy. Then we'll find food.”

“I know, I know. Let's get going.”

Jaq resecured the earmuffs. He put on the nose plug and the sunglasses. He popped a biscuit into his mouth. He nodded at Bonip and stepped through. This time he felt a little more squished, a little more tugged, and his breath was sucked out of him a little faster. Then he was in the soil again, and he took in a big breath of air.

“That was so much worse than the first time,” he said. “Hey, does the wormhole look fainter to you?”

It looked like Bonip agreed—he was nodding and talking, but Jaq couldn't hear him because of the earmuffs.

Jaq stood and regained his sense of balance. With his other senses muted, he was able to concentrate on closing off the connections in his flexible brain. He breathed deeply and removed his protection one by one: first the earmuffs, then the earplugs, then the sunglasses, and, finally, the nose plug. As much as he wanted to keep them on, he knew that he'd need his senses to survive on Earth.

Poor Earthlings. They had to filter out so much unnecessary information every second. If there was one thing Jaq had noticed about this alien world, it was that Earth was filled with unnecessary information, all of it fighting for attention: sounds crashing into brightly colored signs, smells charging through a confusion of tastes, hums and clicks and odors and chatter. It took some time to mentally mute it all, but at last Jaq felt stable and in control.

“Let's go find some food,” Bonip said.

“Bonip, I told you—we have to find Fiona. But I have to hide my stuff first.” Jaq made a pile of his gear and put his empty backpack back on. He planned to fill it with glug. The soil was soft, so he started digging a hole. “Why don't you look out for Fiona while I hide everything?” he said.

“Okay, but hurry.” Bonip hopped over to the edge of the plants. “Oooh, there's some sort of show going on. There's a
small crowd of giants watching a guy on a stage. He's dressed in black and waving a long stick in the air . . .
Snorks!
The stick just turned into a bunch of flowers. Ha!”

Jaq was rethinking his hiding place. He didn't want his mom's stuff to be smothered in dirt. He looked around for a leaf to cover them with, but all the leaves were still clinging tightly to plants. “Any sign of Fiona?” he asked.

“No. I want to watch this guy. Now he's got a long rope . . . He's folding it in half . . . He's cutting the rope . . . What's he going to do now, I wonder?”

“If you're not going to look for Fiona, you could help me rip off this leaf. It might go a little faster. I know you have sharp teeth.”

“Worm cakes! He's made the rope whole again! Like magic.”

There was some unenthusiastic applause. The audience clearly wasn't as impressed with the performance as Bonip was.

A new song drifted out of the loudspeakers flanking the stage.

“This is going to be good, I can tell,” Bonip said. “Okay, now he's bringing out a giant glass cage.”

Something besides the annoying voice of the wipper
caught Jaq's ear. “Be quiet for a second,” he said. “I want to listen to that song.”

“I tell you, that's a tough crowd. They're barely even clapping. Some of those giants are walking away, shaking their heads.”

“Shh!”

“All right, all right.
Sorry
.”

The song was unlike anything Jaq had ever heard, and he stopped pulling at the leaf to listen. It filled his brain with such vivid pictures and sensations. He found that he was holding his breath to the very end, when the music built up to a crescendo and made him cover his ears.

Wow!
he thought when it was over.

The memory of the song echoed in his brain, like a slide show of sensations.

A deep voice boomed through the air. “And now, ladies and gentlemen . . . for my final act, I, Morgo the Magnificent, will perform a trick never before seen by human eyes.” His voice was so loud, it seemed to echo off the walls. “Behold, the Incredible Shrinking Magician!”

Jaq edged next to Bonip and watched the giant approach the tall glass case. The song started again, the same one, and Jaq saw and felt the same sensations as before. It was almost
like he was being lifted up, then the air filled with popping colors, and then, as the music went on, each sensation was replaced by a new one. Normally when he listened to music, he saw random swishes of color, while air seemed to brush against his skin, but this was different. He wanted to hear it again, and again, and again.

The magician had slicked-back black hair, a mask over his eyes, and a cape. He exaggerated every movement with elaborate gestures and meaningful looks at the audience. He stepped into the tank and closed it, running his hands all around the inside to show it was secure.

“He's really hamming it up, I have to say,” Bonip said.

Morgo the Magnificent pulled a cord, and a red curtain covered the tank. Fog billowed out from the bottom and waterfalled off the edge of the stage. The curtain rose back up, revealing an empty tank.

No—it wasn't empty.

“Oh! That's fantastic!” Bonip said. “He's little now. He's doing that wand trick again, with the flowers, but he's smaller.”