“Dr. Dwyer and Dr. Papa seem nice,” said Angel. She peered through the small porthole above her bed. If we punched out the glass, we could probably escape through it. Just a thought. “They’re really sincere and mean everything they say.”
The rumbling of the ship’s engines made the floor vibrate beneath our feet.
“We’re headed for the South Pole!” Gazzy jumped over the low threshold into our room from the boys’ room next door. “And it’s, like, so far south that it’s the bottom of the whole world.”
I tried to keep from groaning out loud. I really, really hate cold weather. I hate bundling up. I’m more of a beach-and-sun kind of girl.
“But you know, if the world is round,” said Nudge, “then there’s no real top or bottom to it. The South Pole could just as easily be at the top of the world. We could be thinking of everything completely upside down.”
“You’re making my head hurt,” Total complained.
Fang and Iggy came in. Iggy was running his fingers gently along every surface, memorizing his surroundings, how many steps to here and there, where furniture was.
“It’s small in here,” he complained. “I feel like we’re inside a submarine. Can’t we sleep in hammocks on the deck?”
“It’s really cold out there,” I reminded him, trying not to sound too bitter.
“Frankly, I’d rather be in Hawaii,” Total griped, and I silently agreed with him. “Can your Voice send us there? We could be lying on a beach on Kauai, with drinks with little umbrellas in them. Instead we’re literally at the end of the world, doing God knows what. And what’s the food gonna be like on this boat?” He shook his head. “I am not into this plan, I can tell you —”
Suddenly he stopped, and his eyes widened. “Well, alo-ha,” he breathed.
Dr. Papa — that name still cracked me up — was standing in our doorway. At his side, a snow-white Malamute was sizing us up with the practiced eye of a guard dog. Total stared at it, speechless.
“I know it’s not the Hilton, but it’s not too bad,” Dr. Papa said with a smile. “We’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible. Now, if you’ve settled in, we can gather in the conference room. You can meet everyone, and we can try to answer your questions.” Dr. Papa scratched the Malamute behind its small triangular ears. “This is Akila, our mascot and official rescue dog.”
“Does she talk?” Angel asked. A perfectly reasonable question.
Dr. Papa looked startled. “Uh, no.” He gave Angel an uncertain glance. Total was still dumbstruck, his mouth hanging open. “Come join us, okay? Go up to the deck, and the conference room is in the forward cabin hatch.” He left, and Akila trotted after him.
“Akila’s pretty,” Angel said. “Like a white teddy bear.”
“Pretty? She’s a goddess!” Total said hoarsely.
“You’re drooling on Angel’s bed,” said the Gasman.
Total swallowed. “Oh, my God, she’s magnificent. Did you see her cheekbones? That fur, brighter than sunlight . . .”
Iggy rolled his eyes.
“Um, Total?” I tried. “Akila’s really pretty and all, but you know, she’s just a regular dog, and . . .”
Total jerked upright, his eyes blazing. “Regular dog! She’s perfection! Don’t you ever call her ‘regular’ again! Is the Venus de Milo just a statue? Is the Mona Lisa just a painting? Is the Louvre just a museum?”
“No, it was neat,” Nudge agreed.
I sighed, deciding to drop this hot potato for the time being. “Okay, everyone, let’s go find out what they want us to do. With any luck, we can quickly save the world and still have time to make the hot-air balloon festival in New Mexico. I’ve always wanted to see that.” Plus, it was warm there.
“Cool,” Fang agreed, and we headed off to discover our mission.
30
THE WENDY K. was not the Love Boat. It had no casino, no swimming pool, no shopping atrium. It had a small gray-painted kitchen / dining hall, a small gray-painted lounge with a couple of ratty built-in couches, and a small white-painted conference room with some chipped Formica tables, a whiteboard, and some bookcases with bars across the front so the books wouldn’t fly off the shelves in rough seas.
“Welcome,” Dr. Dwyer said, indicating some seats. Th
ere were seven adults in the room. Akila was lying on the floor beneath Dr. Papa’s chair. Total had paused before we entered, puffed out his chest, then sauntered in as if he were a Russian wolfhound. Since he’s a small black Scottie, it was an odd effect.
All the grown-ups were staring at us, which we were used to.