The Boy with 17 Senses (22 page)

The rest of the wippers woke up with grumbles and shoves. Wippers are very cranky in the morning.

“Guys?” Jaq said. “I have something for you.” He pulled two brownish cubes out of his backpack. “Morgo called these freeze-dried worms—” he began to explain, but he didn't get the chance to finish because the wippers had charged him to get at the cubes.

“Wippers,” Plenthy said, shaking his head. “Little gluttons.”

“You guys were amazing,” Jaq told the wippers, who were now bouncing up and down with pleasure, stuffing their faces and laughing.

“Ugh, those giants tasted terrible,” one said. “But what fun!”

“Did you hear him scream? That was my bite, I'm sure of it.”

“I bite deeper,” another said. “And my poison's been known to bring down a full-grown gow.”

Plenthy stood up, stretching his arms. “Ah! Freedom!
Fantastic freedom. You have no idea of the tortures that man put me through. The racket in that pet shop was unbearable. I told him I needed to compose music to keep my sanity. I didn't think my message would work, though.”

“It took me a while to figure it out.”

“I have to tell you, young man, I wasn't optimistic when I saw you in the bushes.
Greggin sent a kid?
I thought. But you are a very brave kid.” He patted Jaq on the shoulder.

“Thanks,” Jaq said.

“How is my old friend?” Plenthy asked. “Why wasn't he able to come himself?”

“He hasn't been the same since you left with all his money,” Jaq said. “You . . . you ruined him. You took his money, and his friend's money, and disappeared. Vilcot thought the two of you had swindled him, and he made my grandpa sell his farm to pay him back. Vilcot has been making our lives miserable ever since.”

“Oh no,” Plenthy said.

“And now Grandpa is in jail, and we have no money,” Jaq went on. “But I got a key from someone named Dharvil Meyr.” He fished it out of his backpack and showed the note to Plenthy. “Does this mean you're rich? Does it mean you can you save our farm?”

Plenthy didn't seem to be listening. He was reading the note. “My dream is so close . . . ,” he said.

“What dream?” Jaq asked.

“My dream of everyone being able to afford a glug room. Every house should have one. Why should only rich people enjoy that luxury, hmm? It's a necessity, if you ask me. Everyone needs a place to escape the noise of life. I've spent decades trying to figure out how to make this dream a reality.”

The wippers had finished off the worm cubes and were climbing over Jaq to get at his backpack. He opened it up and put the last cube on the ground.

“After I found the wormhole,” Plenthy went on, “I asked myself—why is glug so cheap on Earth? The answer—because it grows on trees! Money literally grows on trees there. Well, not
on
trees, but
in
them.

“I took your grandfather's money and his friend's money, and I bought a ranch in Coocoovox. I cleared the fields and began the process of trying to grow sapodilla trees on Yipsmix. It was very difficult work, because trees are so much larger on Earth. Oh, it's a long story, and I ache all over.”

“Are you saying that my grandfather can get his money back?” Jaq asked.

“He could, but why would he want to?” Plenthy said. “Your grandfather is now the one-third owner of a glug farm. A very successful glug farm. Your grandfather, that Vilcot fellow, and I were equal owners, but if your grandfather bought out Vilcot, well, then, he's actually twice as rich as me!” Plenthy smiled. “And I am quite rich, my boy. And now I'm free! Oh, glorious day!”

Rich? Grandpa was rich? Jaq fell backward and let the words cover him like a blanket of happiness. They wouldn't have to move. They could save their farm. They could buy food.

But Jaq had been happy before, and he didn't quite trust this happy feeling. He knew from experience that the Vilcots would find a way of snatching that blanket off him and leaving him cold once again.

The exhausted space travelers trudged down the hill and headed for the marketplace. Jaq could barely move his limbs, mostly because they were covered with wippers who preferred clinging to him to walking on their own. He didn't care. He was dirty and dusty, his clothing more torn than usual, but a spark of excitement kept him moving. He'd saved Plenthy . . . Plenthy was rich . . . And now Grandpa was, too.

“I don't get it. How did you do it?” Jaq asked. “How do you grow glug in trees?”

“It's in the sap, my boy. And it wasn't easy, let me tell you. Earthers no longer get their glug from trees; they make it in factories, like us. I couldn't replicate their factories; we don't have the raw materials for that. But I thought I might be able to replicate their tree-sap gum on Yipsmix.

“I had a great number of failures,” Plenthy said. “I had to figure out which type of tree produces gum and then track it down. I can't believe Greggin knew nothing of this. I sent reports to his farm.”

“I told you, he sold his farm, and then Vilcot bought it. Vilcot probably threw out anything from you.”

“Ah, well, after I learned the techniques of bonsai, which is a way to make trees grow smaller through careful pruning of the plant and its roots, I was able to grow a whole orchard of Earth trees on Yipsmix. I've had to reinvest most of the proceeds—hiring people to tend the trees while I was away, that sort of thing. I was about to pay out our company's first dividend to your grandfather and his friend when I was captured by Morgo.”

“Fiona told me that glug that goes through the wormhole turns to dust,” Jaq said.

“That's true.”

“What about the diamonds I gave Fiona? Will they turn to dust?”

“Diamonds are the fifth-strongest mineral in the universe—that we know of,” Plenthy said. “They'll be fine.”

Gift-giving is common throughout worlds, although each world has its own rules of etiquette. There are many occasions when one might want to give a gift: to show that you care about someone, to celebrate a milestone in someone's life, or to thank someone for rescuing you from a life of performing in cheesy magic acts.

On Epsidor Erandi, gift-giving has evolved into a very straightforward activity. Everyone on that planet has collected a large stack of gift cards, and now people just pass them around as occasions arise. There have been no documented cases of a gift card actually being redeemed on Epsidor Erandi.

On Zanflid, there are only three ways to communicate your thanks to another person. The first method is to say the words
Thank you
. If that seems inadequate, the grateful person might choose to elevate his thanks to the second level—he or she will grab the shoulders of the thankee, look
that person straight in the eye, and say, with extra emphasis and sincerity, “Thank you.”

The third level of thanks occurs when a person is completely overcome with gratitude at another person's generosity or thoughtfulness. In this case, a hug is given. But, honestly, this just embarrasses everyone and is often fodder for humiliating stories at family dinners.

On Earth, gift-giving traditions are as varied as they are confusing. And on Yipsmix, there are rules about inappropriate gifts. You would never give someone tap-dancing shoes, for instance, because the sound of metallic clacking tastes like rotten eggs.

Yorlim Plenthy wanted to thank Jaq for rescuing him and saving his life. As soon as they reached the marketplace, Plenthy turned to Jaq. “Let me pop in here,” he said, pointing to the bank. “I'll be right out.”

Jaq nodded. He looked down at his gang of happy wippers. “Guys, if you want to head home, I'll meet you there.”

Hedgemud nodded. “That's a good idea. Wippers aren't real welcome at the marketplace, I've found. We'll head back to your farm, Jaq. And we'll be waiting to hear what happens with your family. We're pulling for you, kid.”

“Thanks.”

“You guys go ahead,” Bonip said. “I'll stay with Jaq.”

The wippers left, bouncing with happy springs down the road. Jaq sat down on a bench. It was a quiet time in the marketplace, too early for most shoppers. A few people sat at outdoor tables, eating breakfast. Others strolled by on soft shoes that didn't clatter in explosions of color. Jaq felt so comfortable in the soft sepia tones of his planet.

“You did good back there,” Bonip said. “It was real brave of you to face those giants like that.”

“Me? You guys did all the work,” Jaq said, and Bonip smiled.

Jaq was just starting to feel a little hungry when Plenthy came out waving a piece of paper. “Your grandfather's first dividend check,” he said. “And it's a doozy! He's going to be so surprised.”

Jaq stood up, smiling. He thought about asking Plenthy if he could spare a few damars for a saltmint drink and a cakie. Cakies are like cookies, only gooier. Rich kids bring them to school on their birthdays, and Jaq loved them.

“What do you say you ride home in style?” Plenthy asked. He nodded toward the hoverbike showroom.

Jaq's eyes went wide. “Really?”

Plenthy put an arm around him. “Pick out any bike you want. It'll be my gift to you, for rescuing me.”

Jaq knew
exactly
which one he wanted. The Zipley Roadster with Hushed Drive and Turbo Boosters.

“What about me?” Bonip asked. “I'm hungry.”

“How can you be hungry?” Jaq said. “You just ate.”

Plenthy laughed. “Wippers, ha! Listen, while I pay for the bike, why don't you two run out and get yourselves some breakfast?” He handed Jaq a huge wad of damars and nodded toward the door.

Jaq bought his favorite drink and a cakie, and one for Bonip, and two more for his mom and grandpa. They sat down on a bench to wait for Plenthy. Jaq sipped his drink, letting Bonip take licks of the whipped cream on top.

“Yum,” Bonip said.

Jaq was so happy. But as soon as he realized that, he knew it was only a matter of time before a Vilcot showed up. It was like they were equipped with happiness detectors: Whenever they sensed a happy Rollop, they'd swoop in to squash him.

Right on schedule, Jaq looked up to see Tormy Vilcot coming right for him.

Bonip ducked behind Jaq's collar.

“Hey, loser,” Tormy said. He held a bag from the candy store and took out a giant piece of string candy, slurping it with a loud smacking noise.

“Tormy, if you ever stop being such a jerk, you might actually like yourself a little bit,” Jaq said.

“Good one,” Bonip whispered in his ear.

“Shut up,” Tormy said. “At least I'm not poor.”

“You're right, I am poor,” Jaq said. “But I wouldn't take a million damars if it meant I had to be you.”

“Yeah? Well, who would give you a million damars anyway? You Rollops can't do anything.”

“Like your homework?” Jaq said. “That was your first one hundred percent, wasn't it? The homework that I did for you.”

“Shut up. I don't need to do good in school. My dad's rich.”

“Right. Well, I'm not doing your homework for you anymore.” It felt so good to say that, to finally stand up to Tormy and watch that arrogant smirk melt off his face. Jaq stood up, smiling. “See you.”

“Not for much longer!” Tormy yelled after him. “Don't forget—you have to move out by nightfall tonight. We're going to own it all now. Everything! And then you'll be left with nothing, which is more than you deserve.”

Jaq ignored him. He couldn't wait to tell his mother and grandfather the good news.

He hadn't taken two steps away from Tormy when a man
came up to him, dragging a floating hoverbike behind him. “Jaq Rollop? Here's your new bike. Your friend told me he would meet you later at the farm. He has other business to attend to.”

“Thanks!” Jaq hopped onto the hoverbike and took a brief moment to savor the look of utter shock on Tormy's face as he whispered, “That's a Zipley Roadster.” Then Jaq was off. He rode past the fountain and saw the same look of shock on Davardi's face. It was fantastic.