Space Taxi--Aliens on Earth Read online

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Wendy Mass and Michael Brawer

  Illustrations by Keith Frawley, based on the art of Elise Gravel

  Author illustration © 2015 by Elise Gravel

  Cover art by Keith Frawley. Cover design by Kristina Iulo.

  Cover copyright © 2017 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected] Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

  Visit us at lb-kids.com

  First Edition: May 2017

  Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Mass, Wendy, 1967– author. | Brawer, Michael, author. | Frawley, Keith, illustrator.

  Title: Aliens on Earth / by Wendy Mass and Michael Brawer ; illustrated by Keith Frawley, based on the art of Elise Gravel.

  Description: First edition. | New York ; Boston : Little, Brown and Company, 2017. | Series: Space taxi ; 6 | Summary: “When the space taxi navigation systems go down, stranding dozens of aliens on Earth, eight-year-old Intergalactic Security Force deputy Archie needs to think quickly to keep them hidden from his unsuspecting neighbors!”—Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016031989| ISBN 9780316308427 (hardback) | ISBN 9780316308465 (trade pbk.) | ISBN 9780316308434 (ebk.)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Interplanetary voyages—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Fathers and sons—Fiction. | Science fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Science Fiction. | JUVENILE FICTION / Science & Technology. | JUVENILE FICTION / Action & Adventure / General. | JUVENILE FICTION / Animals / Cats.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.M42355 Ali 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016031989

  ISBNs: 978-0-316-30842-7 (hardcover), 978-0-316-30846-5 (pbk.), 978-0-316-30843-4 (ebook)

  E3-20170418-JV-PC

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Chapter One:

  The Furry Alien

  Chapter Two:

  Trapped on Earth

  Chapter Three:

  Aliens on Parade

  Chapter Four:

  Gone Missing

  Chapter Five:

  A Clue!

  Chapter Six:

  Cracking the Code

  Chapter Seven:

  Secrets and Sisters

  Chapter Eight:

  B.U.R.P. Underground

  Chapter Nine:

  Hello and Good-bye

  Three Science Facts to Impress Your Friends and Teachers

  About the Authors

  To all the Space Taxi readers/passengers

  who’ve come along for the ride,

  this one’s for you!

  —WM and MB

  For Shay and Josh.

  —KF

  Chapter One:

  The Furry Alien

  One of my favorite parts of being Dad’s space taxi copilot is the moment a new alien climbs into the backseat. Sometimes they jump, hop, slither, or roll in, too! That’s the thing about aliens—you never know who you’re going to get!

  Usually the customer meets us at Barney’s Bagels and Schmear, but today we’re picking up an alien with the strangest name of any I’ve met so far. I couldn’t believe it when Minerva sent Dad the assignment. His name is—wait for it—Toe Fungus.

  Toe. Fungus.

  I am not kidding. That is his real name. We’re taking him back to his home, a small planet in the Sombrero Galaxy.

  A thrill buzzes through me when Dad parks at the pickup location, a large warehouse by the river. This is the first time I’ve been to this part of town. The riverfront is full of old couches with torn cushions, a broken-down bumper car from an amusement park, and rubber tires laid out in a pattern perfect for jumping from one to the next. Dad has to pull me away from those. Mom says the riverfront is “no place for a child,” but I think it’s exactly the place for a child. This place rocks!

  We knock on the dented metal door of the warehouse. While we’re waiting, I say, “I bet this Toe Fungus guy is really hairy and smells like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.” I pause, then add, “And I bet he sings instead of talks.”

  Dad chuckles. “No way. He’s probably two feet tall, with scales instead of skin. And really wonky toes, of course.”

  “Of course,” I reply.

  “But he doesn’t sing,” Dad says, knocking again. “He can only make clicking sounds with his tongue.”

  I grin. This is a fun game. We can call it Guess That Alien! Although I’m pretty sure my guess will be right.

  The door opens an inch. A black-gloved hand shoots out, palm open.

  Dad pulls out his space taxi driver ID card and hands it over. He is used to this. Aliens can’t just go with anyone who rings their bell. What if that person was just selling Girl Scout cookies or stopping to ask directions and then an alien suddenly opened the door? 99.99 percent of people on Earth don’t know there is life on other planets; Dad says that one day humans will be ready for it, but not yet. That’s why alien visitors usually have their business meetings in out-of-the-way places like this.

  The arm disappears from view, and a few seconds later the door swings open. It is very dark inside the warehouse, so we hear the alien before we see him. And he’s singing a rap song!

  “Welcome, driver of the sky, how nice of you to come on by!”

  The alien steps out of the doorway and into the sunlight, a briefcase in his no-longer-gloved hand. The distinct odor of chocolate wafts out with him.

  Dad turns toward me, his hands on his hips. “Archie Morningstar, you cheated!”

  I laugh. “Maybe it was a lucky guess!” But truthfully, Pockets looked up his species for me before Dad and I left the apartment this morning, which is why I knew so much about him. Pockets was going to come with us, but he had some last-minute police business to take care of and closed himself in his office (otherwise known as my closet!) instead. When you’re a highly decorated officer with the Intergalactic Security Force, your work always comes before a routine taxi run.

  Besides singing and smelling like cookies, the alien is in fact covered completely in thick, brown, fur-like hair. Dad was right about the toes, though. Big and green—definitely wonky. And his height—he only comes up to my hip. Basically, he looks like a big stuffed animal.

  After one last race through the obstacle course of tires (which Toe Fungus does with me!) we drive down to the airfield. We are eighth in line for takeoff.

  “Why is the airfield so crowded today?” I ask, unrolling the space map that helps me navigate our trips.

  Dad finishes his pre-flight checklist and says, “Actually, we have Pockets to thank for that. Now that everyone