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Phone-y Friends
Phone-y Friends Read online
Copyright © 2017 by Nancy Krulik and Amanda Burwasser
Illustrations copyright © 2017 Mike Moran
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
First Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are from the authors’ imaginations, and used fictitiously.
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www.realnancykrulik.com
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available on file.
Cover illustration by Mike Moran
Cover design by Sammy Yuen
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-5107-2662-8
Ebook ISBN 978-1-5107-2667-3
Printed in the United States of America
Interior Design by Joshua Barnaby
For Barbara and John, ever supportive friends
—NK
For Penny, Benay, Eileen, Audra, and Leah
—AB
For John C., Arlo Guthrie fan/MOTIVATOR!
—MM
CONTENTS
1. Lead, Schmead
2. Don’t Be a Blockhead
3. Dive Right In
4. Not Having a Ball
5. Sing Your Hard Drive Out
6. A Group of Gadgets
7. I See, You Saw
8. The Dance of the Animals
9. A Logan-sicle
10. A Round of Applause
There’s a Chipmunk in Your Closet!
1.
Lead, Schmead
“Who’s next?” Mr. Fluff shouted from behind his piano bench.
“I am!” Nadine Vardez answered loudly.
Nadine climbed the stairs at the side of the stage and stood in the spotlight. She looked over at our music teacher and took a deep breath. “Ready when you are,” she told him.
Mr. Fluff began playing the piano. Nadine sang along with the music.
As she sang, my stomach got all twisted up in knots.
Like most of the other kids who had gathered in the school auditorium, Nadine was trying out for our school play, Hansel and Gretel.
The rest of us were waiting for our turn to go up there on stage and give it our best.
And Nadine was only two people ahead of me in line.
Which meant that any minute now, it would be my turn to go up there, stand in the middle of the stage, and try out.
Gulp.
I had never been center stage before.
I had never acted before.
And I had definitely never danced in front of anyone before.
But now I was going to have to sing and act and dance in front of Mr. Fluff, Nadine, and a whole of bunch of other kids.
Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart was pounding hard.
I felt a little sick.
My palms were all sweaty.
And if I wasn’t nervous enough, the snobbiest kids in school, the Silverspoon twins, were trying out for the play, too. They weren’t one bit nervous. And they were making sure everyone knew it.
“We’re definitely going to get the parts of Hansel and Gretel,” Sherry bragged. “After all, we’re twins.”
“Our father hired us a singing coach,” Jerry added. “And a tap dancing teacher. We are going to get the lead parts.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I told them. “Nadine is really good. And my audition is going to knock your socks off!”
“I CAN DO IT!”
Just then, my cousin Java sprang out from the crowd of kids. He kicked off his shoes and yanked off his socks. Then he smiled at me. “I knocked my socks off,” he said. “And my shoes, too.”
A bunch of kids laughed and pointed at him.
Oh boy, I thought. Here we go again.
I really wished my cousin would just act like a normal kid.
But how could he? He wasn’t normal.
Or a kid.
He was an android.
My mom is a scientist. She likes to build things. So she built me a robot cousin. His name is Jacob Alexander Victor Applebaum. But I just call him Java.
My mom and I are the only ones who know that Java isn’t a real kid. And we can’t let anyone else know. That’s because he’s part of her secret scientific project: Project Droid.
The whole point of Project Droid is to figure out if an android can fit in with real people. So Java is programmed to do all sorts of real kid things—like go to school and play soccer and try out for the school play.
Only, he doesn’t always do those things the same way a real kid would.
And he doesn’t always understand what real kids are talking about.
Which is why he was now standing in the middle of the auditorium without his socks and shoes.
“Java!” Mr. Fluff shouted from the stage. “It’s your turn. Let’s see how well you can dance.”
My android cousin ran, barefoot, up onto the stage.
“Java, where are your shoes?” Mr. Fluff asked him.
Java didn’t answer. He just stared at our music teacher with the goofy grin he always has on his face.
“That’s how all the kids dance where Java comes from,” I said quickly. I didn’t add that Java really came from my mother’s lab in our house.
Mr. Fluff sat down at the piano. He began to play a silly-sounding song.
Java started to dance a jolly jig.
He kicked his left foot forward. He swung his right foot back.
He turned around in a circle. Then he twirled around again.
And again.
And again.
He was twirling faster.
And faster.
And fas—
THUD.
Java twirled himself right off the stage.
Sherry looked at him and laughed. “Your cousin is a rotten dancer.”
“It’s like he’s got two left feet,” Jerry said. He laughed so hard, he snorted.
Java looked up at the twins and shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said. “This one is a right foot. Logan’s mom made sure I have one of each.”
The twins stared at him. Then they stared at me.
I rolled my eyes. Java sure didn’t make keeping his secret easy.
2.
Don’t Be a Blockhead
“Mom!” I shouted excitedly as I ran into the house after school the next day. “I got one! I got a part in the play!”
Mom came running out of her lab. She lifted her goggles and smiled. “Which part?” she asked.
“I’m Chipmunk Number Three!” I said proudly. “Mr. Fluff told me I was perfect for the part because I can blow up my cheeks really big.”
I took a deep breath and then blew into my cheeks until they looked like two giant balloons.
Mom smiled. “You’re going to be t
he best chipmunk on that stage,” she told me proudly. Then she turned to Java. “What part did you get?” she asked him.
“I did not get a part,” Java replied.
I looked over at Java. I expected him to look sad or upset. But he didn’t. He had the same goofy smile on his face that he always had.
I guess robots don’t get sad.
“Do you want to play now, Logan?” Java asked as he followed me up the stairs and into my room. “We can throw a baseball. Or kick around a soccer ball.”
“I can’t today, Java,” I told him. “I have a line to memorize.”
Java started to walk slowly out of my room.
I felt terrible. Java didn’t have a line to memorize or a song to practice. He didn’t have anything to do.
“Maybe we can play ball together later,” I told him. “Why don’t you do something else for a little while?”
“Like what?” Java asked me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Anything. Maybe take a walk around the block?”
“I CAN DO IT!” Java shouted out loudly.
Before I knew what was happening, Java raced over to my toy chest.
He yanked out my busted tennis racket, two action figures, and an old stuffed bunny that was missing an eye and part of its tail. Finally, he pulled out a wooden, purple block.
“Found it!” he exclaimed as he placed the block on the floor, and walked around it in a circle.
“Okay,” Java said happily. “I walked around the block. Can we play now?”
There was no arguing with my robot cousin.
“Okay, Java,” I said, laughing. “Let’s go play. I guess I can memorize my line later.”
3.
Dive Right In
“Where are we, Hansel?”
Nadine’s voice carried through the whole auditorium at rehearsal after school the next day. She had already memorized all of her lines.
That was a big deal because Nadine was playing Gretel, so she had a lot of lines.
I hadn’t even memorized my one line. Java had kept me too busy playing ball to learn it.
I watched as the Silverspoon twins slithered onto the stage and got ready for the next scene. They were covered in glue, branches, apples, and leaves.
“Why are you two in costume?” Mr. Fluff asked the twins. “This isn’t a dress rehearsal.”
“We’re getting into character,” Jerry said.
“That’s what real actors do,” Sherry added.
“If we are going to play trees,” Jerry explained. “We have to become trees.”
“Yuck! There’s a bug in these leaves!” Sherry complained. “It just crawled up my nose. Aachoo!”
I laughed as the creepy crawly went flying out of one of her nostrils.
“Hey, Logan,” said Leah, a fifth grader who was playing a gopher. “Why is your cousin at rehearsal? I saw the cast list. His name’s not there. He’s not in the play.”
I looked to the back of the auditorium. Sure enough, there was Java, sitting in one of the seats, staring into space.
“He’s waiting to ride the late bus home with me,” I explained.
“Couldn’t he have gone home by himself?” Leah asked.
How was I supposed to answer that? Java didn’t do anything on his own.
“He’s still new to the school,” I finally said. “We go pretty much everywhere together.”
Leah started to say something, but Mr. Fluff interrupted her.
“Okay animals, gather around,” he called out. “It’s time to rehearse the candy house song and dance.”
We animals all scurried onto the stage with our scripts in our hands.
Mr. Fluff played the piano, and we sang.
Gingerbread roof and marshmallow walls.
Caramel rugs, chewy bathroom stalls.
You can eat the sink and lick the ceiling.
A sugary rush is the very best feeling.
As we finished our song and dance, Mr. Fluff clapped excitedly. “Children,” he said, “that went swimmingly!”
Just then, from the back of the auditorium, I heard Java shout, “I CAN DO IT!”
My cousin dropped to his stomach in the middle of the aisle, and began moving his arms and legs like he was doing the front crawl.
I turned to look at Java, and my jaw dropped open with surprise.
I shut it quick, before a bug from Sherry’s costume could fly into my mouth.
“What’s he doing?” Leah asked me.
I didn’t answer. I had no idea.
“I’m going swimmingly,” Java told us proudly. Then he flipped over onto his back. “I can do the backstroke.” He turned onto his side. “And the sidestroke.”
“Your cousin is ruining the whole rehearsal,” Jerry hissed at me.
“Yeah,” Sherry agreed. “You have to get him out of here.”
For once, I agreed with Sherry and Jerry.
I really wished my cousin would just make like a tree and leave.
4.
Not Having a Ball
The evil witch has a wart on her nose.
And a slimy green fungus that grows on her toes …
The next day, my new theater friends and I spent recess together. Instead of playing, like we usually would, we sat around a picnic table practicing the songs from our show.
The witch smells like old socks, and she’s got chicken pox.
Her gray hair looks fried. She’s got a lumpy backside.
As we sang, I looked across the playground. Java was heading my way. For some reason—or no reason—he was flapping his arms up and down.
I was afraid he might suddenly take off like a bird, so I hurried over to stop him. “What are you doing that for?” I asked my cousin.
“Hi, Logan.” Java smiled. “Do you want to play birdman with me?”
Why would I want to do that?
“I can’t play with you right now,” I said. “I’m hanging out with my friends from the play. You need to find your own friends.”
“What friends?” Java asked. “Like Stanley?”
I shook my head. “Stanley is my friend. And right now, he’s hanging out with kids from the photography club.”
“Well, who then?” Java asked.
“I don’t know,” I told him. “Find someone you have stuff in common with.”
As I walked back to the table where the show kids were hanging out, I saw Java looking around the playground. Everyone else seemed to be busy playing with their own groups of friends.
My cousin was left all alone.
He walked over to the empty volleyball court and picked up the ball.
Slap! Java served the ball over the net.
Whoosh! He slid under the net, just in time to slap the ball back over to the other side.
Whoosh!
Slap!
Whoosh!
Java was diving back and forth under the net, hitting the ball at robotic top speed.
Kids came from all over the playground to watch my cousin play volleyball by himself. They thought he looked cool.
But I thought he looked sad. And lonely.
Which was weird. Because Java never looked sad.
And I didn’t think it was possible for a droid to ever feel lonely.
But maybe I was wrong.
5.
Sing Your Hard Drive Out
“Logan, I want you to meet my new friend,” Java said that evening. He and I were hanging out in the living room while mom was in the kitchen making dinner.
I looked around the room. “There’s no one here,” I said.
“Sure there is.” Java picked up my mom’s smartphone and pushed a button. “Hello, Spike,” he said.
“Hello, Java,” the phone said back.
“It is good to hear your voice,” Java replied. He looked at me. “Spike is my new friend.”
I laughed. “Java, that’s a cell phone. It can’t be your friend.”
But Java wasn’t listening to me. He was too busy talking to
Spike.
“I have a new joke for you,” Java told the phone. “Do you know why the robot was angry?”
“No,” the phone said. “Why?”
“Because someone kept pushing his buttons,” Java answered. “Isn’t that a funny joke?”
“It is very funny,” Spike answered.
I couldn’t believe my ears. Java was having a conversation with my mother’s phone.
“Do you know any jokes, Spike?” Java asked.
“Sure,” Spike replied. “What is a robot’s favorite type of music?”
“I know that one,” Java answered. “Heavy metal.”
“Yes,” Spike said. “And here is some music just for you.”
Suddenly, some really loud music started to blast out of my mom’s smartphone. Java began to dance around the room as he listened to the heavy drumbeat.
He swiveled his hips to the left.
He twisted his hips to the right.
Then he banged his head against the wall to the sound of the beat.
When the music stopped, Java smiled at the phone. “That was fun,” he said. “Now here is a music joke for you. What is a smartphone’s favorite kind of music?”
“A sym-phone-y!” Spike replied.
“Yes!” Java started to laugh. Well, a robot kind of laugh, anyway.
I thought I heard my mother’s phone laughing, too.
Which was really strange.
I didn’t know phones could laugh.
But then I didn’t know robots could tell jokes, either!
Oh brother. This was getting to be too much. I flopped down on the couch.
“Are you okay, Logan?” Java asked.
“I’m just tired from rehearsal. Being in a play is hard work. I’m singing and dancing my heart out up there on stage.”
Java dropped the phone. “I CAN DO IT!” he shouted.
He looked down at his chest and started to peel off his shirt. Then he stopped.
“I can’t do it,” he admitted in a small, sad voice. “I don’t have a heart. But I can sing and dance my hard drive out if you want.” He began to unscrew his belly button so he could take out his hard drive.
Uh oh.
“That’s okay, Java,” I said, grabbing his hand to stop him. “It’s probably better if you sing with your hard drive in.”