For Grace, with love
—D. C.
For Owen, and the mysterious things he brings into the house
—S. G.
Introductions
Neighbors.
Search-and-rescue dogs make great neighbors. We mind our own business, we’re dependable, and we come in handy if you ever get lost in the woods. Chickens, on the other hand, are highly questionable. They get up too early, they squawk all day, and they have entirely too much time on their hands, which is never good—for anybody. These four are no exception:
Dirt: Short, yellow, fuzzy
Real Name: Peep
Specialty: Foreign languages, math, colors, computer codes
Sugar: Short, yellow, fuzzy
Real Name: Little Boo
Specialty: Breaking and entering, interrupting
Poppy: Short, yellow, fuzzy
Real Name: Poppy
Specialty: Sugarology (will explain later)
Sweetie: Short, yellow, fuzzy
Real Name: Sweet Coconut Louise
Specialty: None that I can see
“Where did you get all that stuff?” I asked, annoyed at the crowd in and around my water bowl.
“Over there,” said Sugar, pointing her wing in no particular direction.
“Over where, exactly?” I asked.
“Garage sale,” answered Sugar.
“Garbage,” answered Sweetie.
“Squirrels,” answered Poppy.
“No comment,” answered Dirt, avoiding eye contact.
Like I said, way too much time on their hands.
My name is John Joseph Tully—J. J. for short. I was a search-and-rescue dog for seven years, but my days of dangerous missions and daring rescues are behind me. If you like to play with chickens, they’re all yours. And if a couple of kids come by looking for their stuff, point them toward Sugar and tell them the chickens come free with the clothes.
Chapter 1
“A little help here!” Sugar yelled impatiently from the bottom of a hole in the yard. The hole was twice as tall as she was and three times as wide. “Hellooooooo!!” She leaned on her shovel and waited. A squirrel leaned in and dropped an acorn on her head. Sugar threw it back.
“Ouch!” Dirt’s face appeared at the top of the hole. “What are you doing down there, Sugar? And why are you throwing acorns at me?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Sugar answered.
“It looks like you threw an acorn at me and fell into a hole,” Dirt replied, leaning in closer.
“For your information, I didn’t fall into this hole. I dug it myself.”
“Wait a minute. . . . Is that one of Barbara’s spoons??” asked Dirt, leaning in closer still.
“Look for yourself,” Sugar replied, holding the spoon close enough for Dirt to touch—and then nudging her right into the ladle.
“HEY!” said Dirt as Sugar tipped her out at the bottom of the hole. “What did you do that for?”
“I couldn’t get out of the hole on my own, and I am one hundred percent confident that you will get us out of here.”
“That would have been a lot easier to do from up there!” said Dirt, brushing herself off. “Now we have to wait for Poppy or Sweetie to get us out.”
“I’m not going to lie,” said Sugar, “my confidence just dropped to about thirty-seven percent.”
“I have an idea . . . ,” said Dirt.
“Are you thinking that you climb into the spoon and I launch you out of here so you can find a rope long enough to pull me out of the hole?”
“No,” said Dirt. “I’m thinking if we lean the spoon at just the right angle, we might be able climb up the handle—”
“HEY! Poppy!! I found them!” called Sweetie. “They’re digging a hole for a pool! And there’s a slide!!”
Sweetie leaped into the air, and she slid down the handle of the spoon on her behind. “WHEEEEE!”
“It’s not a—!” yelled Sugar.
Sweetie landed with a thud, flipping the spoon right out of the hole.
“—pool,” finished Sugar.
“Wow,” said Sweetie. “I thought that would be more fun. But I’m sure it will be way better when Poppy gets here with the floaties.”
“What?” asked Dirt and Sugar.
“Wheeeeeeee!” Poppy’s fluffy yellow body blocked the sun as he flew into the hole and landed on top of them.
“Worst pool ever,” mumbled Sweetie from the bottom of the pile.
Chapter 2
“For the last time,” Sugar protested as she stood balanced atop Poppy, Dirt, and Sweetie, “this is NOT A POOL!” Sugar then pulled herself up over the edge of the nonpool.
“What is it then?” Dirt asked as Sugar then reached down for Poppy and pulled her out. Poppy held on to Sugar’s legs as she reached down farther into the hole for Dirt. Then Dirt held Poppy who held Sugar who reached farther still for Sweetie.
“It’s a storm shelter,” answered Sugar, lowering her voice, “to keep us safe.”
“Is there a big storm coming?” Poppy snuggled up close to Sweetie.
“There’s always a storm coming, kid,” replied Sugar. “I’ve been watching those Connolly kids next door, and they’ve been moving all kinds of things into their garage. A little bit every day. They know something is coming, and now I know something is coming too.”
“Really??” All the yellow drained from Poppy’s face.
“I’ve already checked the weather report for today, Poppy,” Dirt said reassuringly. “There are no storms in the forecast at all.”
“Maybe not today. Maybe not here,” announced Sugar. “But mark my words, kid, somewhere in the world, a storm is brewing at this very moment.”
“Is that true???” Poppy cried out.
“Sort of,” explained Dirt reluctantly, shooting Sugar a dirty look. “Storms happen when warm, moist air meets up with cool air. And, well, there’s a lot of air warming and cooling around the planet, pretty much all the time. So, yes, there is probably a storm brewing somewhere in the world right now.”
“That is exactly what I just said,” Sugar remarked.
“It really isn’t,” replied Dirt.
“Listen, whether it strikes today or tomorrow or next week doesn’t matter,” said Sugar. “What matters is that we are prepared for it! There is absolutely no way to know when a storm will strike.”
Poppy jumped into Sweetie’s arms.
“Actually, scientists can watch storms as they develop and track them very closely by satellite and radar,” explained Dirt, unfolding Poppy’s legs one at time and coaxing him back to the ground.
“Wow! I want to be a scientist,” said Sweetie. “They know all kinds of things.”
“You’d make an excellent meteorologist, Sweetie,” suggested Dirt.
“What’s a meteorologist?” asked Sweetie.
“A person who studies meteors, kid,” said Sugar. “Pay attention!”
“Actually,” said Dirt, writing the word in her notebook, “meteo is Greek for ‘from the atmosphere’ and ologist is a suffix that means ‘someone who studies something.’ So a meteorologist is a person who studies the weather.”
“Because weather comes from the atmosphere!” said Sweetie.
“Exactly! Lots of the words we use today actually come from Greek or Latin,” continued Dirt.
“Seems like an awful lot of work just to say weatherman,” said Sugar. “Weather meaning ‘weather’ and man meaning ‘man.’ ”
“You mean weatherperson,” added Poppy.
“Actually, Dirt is on to something!” said Sugar, ignoring Poppy’s remark. “Whether it strikes today or tomorrow or next week doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are prepared. And this meteor shelter will keep us prepa
red. There is absolutely no way to predict when a meteor will strike.”
“What’s a meteor?” asked Sugar.
“A meteor is a rock from outer space,” Dirt explained. “It’s very rare for a meteor to crash to Earth. Most of the time it simply burns up long before it reaches the ground.”
“Like I said, space rocks are hard to predict,” said Sugar.
Poppy and Sweetie waited for Dirt to reply.
“Sugar might be right about that,” said Dirt.
“So why don’t we just stay in the shelter all the time so we’ll always be safe?” said Poppy.
“That’s no way to live, kid,” said Sugar.
“Sugar’s right,” said Dirt. “You have to be out in the world, with all its risks and unpredictability, in order to live a full life.”
“NO, I meant in a small hole with too many chickens. THAT is absolutely no way to live,” explained Sugar.
“Now that you mention it, that hole isn’t really big enough for everybody,” remarked Dirt. “J. J. is definitely not going to fit in there.”
“Listen, kid. You can’t have a dog in a meteor shelter,” said Sugar.
“Why not?” asked Poppy.
“Dogs are notorious for making people angry,” Sugar answered.
“Dogs are actually notorious for providing comfort and unconditional love,” said Dirt. “Why wouldn’t you want one in a meteor shelter?
“Flatulence,” declared Sugar.
“What does flatulence mean?” asked Poppy.
“It’s Latin for ‘who cut the cheese,’ ” replied Sugar.
“What about Mom?” asked Sweetie, her voice cracking. “I don’t think she’s going to fit in the shelter either.”
“Moms are notorious for making people angry too,” answered Sugar.
“What??” asked Dirt.
“Why?” gulped Sweetie.
“Same reason,” answered Sugar. “It’s unbearable.”
“I’ve never heard that,” said Dirt, her hands on her hips now.
“Sometimes they’re silent,” explained Sugar.
“That’s not what I meant!” cried Dirt, now standing directly in front of Sugar. “Who exactly is this shelter going to protect?”
“Right now, just us. Although, to be honest, it’s really only comfortable for three, so in case of a meteor, last one there is a rotten egg.”
“Sugar, if you want to build a storm-meteor shelter, that’s . . . fine . . . I guess,” said Dirt. “But it really should be big enough for everybody.”
“Every man, woman, and child for themselves,” said Sugar. “It’s in the United States Constitution.”
Poppy and Sweetie waited for Dirt to reply.
“That is absolutely not in the United States Constitution,” declared Dirt. “But this does seem like the kind of thing we should vote on.”
“Great idea!” said Sweetie.
“That is a terrible idea, Sweetie,” said Sugar. “Where in the world did you get such a terrible idea, Dirt?”
“The United States Constitution,” replied Dirt.
“That is absolutely not in the Constitution,” said Sugar.
Poppy and Sweetie waited for Dirt to reply.
“It absolutely is,” replied Dirt.
“Fine,” sighed Sugar.
“Great,” said Dirt. “We’ll all take some time to think it through, we’ll schedule a debate, and then we’ll vote. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” declared Sweetie.
“Agreed,” said Poppy.
“Agreed,” said Sugar.
Chapter 3
SHING!
FOOSH!
PLOP!
“A little help here!” announced Sugar from the bottom of the hole the next morning. Dirt rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and marched toward the unfinished shelter.
SHING!
FOOSH!
PLOP!
A spoonful of dirt landed at her feet.
SHING!
FOOSH!
“I thought we agreed to vote on this,” Dirt protested from the edge of the hole.
PLOP!
“We did. This morning, at three thirty, in the spare tire under the blue tarp in the Connolly’s garage next door,” said Sugar. “I was the only one there.”
“Three thirty in the morning?!” cried Dirt. “Under a tarp?”
“Voting is not always convenient,” replied Sugar.
“Sugar,” Dirt replied, “if we had known the vote was at three thirty under the tarp in the Connolly’s garage, we would have voted against the shelter—and you know it.”
Poppy and Sweetie arrived sleepy-eyed at the hole.
Sugar leaned her spoon against the side of the hole and walked up the handle. “Fine. Everybody’s here. Let’s vote now.”
“Thank you, Sugar,” said Dirt. “All in favor of a shelter for everybody—”
“Not so fast, kid,” interrupted Sugar. “What’s the password?”
“Password?” asked Dirt.
“The secret password you need to vote,” explained Sugar.
“A secret password to vote? That’s unconstitutional!”
Dirt and Sugar stared at each other from opposite sides of the hole.
“Sorry, kid. Time’s up,” Sugar said finally. “The correct answer was SHELEILA.”
“Sugggarrrrrr!” growled Dirt.
“Seems to me that if you’ve got some special voting rules—like ‘no passwords’—you should have mentioned it yesterday,” said Sugar. “It’s important for voting rules to be very clear. Don’t you agree?”
“Fine,” said Dirt. “Next time no passwords, and we all need to know in advance WHEN the vote is going to take place and WHERE the vote is going to take place.”
“Deal.” Sugar jerked her head toward the hole. Poppy and Sweetie jumped in.
“Oooh!” oozed Sweetie. “Where did you get all these shiny spoons?”
“Over there,” replied Sugar, without pointing her wing in any particular direction.
“Over where?” asked Dirt.
“Garage sale,” replied Sugar.
“Huh?” asked Dirt.
“Garbage,” replied Sugar.
“What?!” cried Dirt.
“Squirrels,” replied Sugar.
SHING! SHING!
FOOSH! FOOSH!
Two spoonfuls of dirt flew out of the hole.
PLOP!
PLOP!
Sugar motioned for Dirt to get to work.
Dirt refused to move.
“Suit yourself,” replied Sugar, “but when a giant space rock is hurtling toward Earth at the speed of light with an impact not seen since the extinction of the dinosaurs and the cavemen, you’re going to wish you were in here!”
“Wait a minute,” said Poppy from the hole. “How is a hole going to keep us safe from a giant space rock hurtling toward Earth at the speed of light?”
“I haven’t worked out all the details yet, kid,” said Sugar. “We might need some kind of door.”
“I don’t understand you, Sugar,” said Dirt.
“That’s because you are not a Sugarologist!” yelled Sweetie from the hole.
SHING!
FOOSH!
PLOP!
“That’s not a word, Sweetie,” remarked Dirt, avoiding another plop launching out of the hole.
“And you, madam, are clearly not a wordologist,” Sugar remarked.
SHING!
FOOSH!
PLOP!
“I CAN’T BE a wordologist!! It’s not a real thing!!” Dirt was exasperated.
“Mom says you can be anything you want to be, Dirt,” said Poppy from the hole. “Don’t you ever forget it!”
SHING!
CLUNK!
“What was that?” asked Dirt.
“I’m not sure,” answered Sweetie from the hole. “Does anybody know a good clunkologist?”
Dirt let out a heavy sigh.
“Probably just a rock,” said Sugar.
SHING!
CLUNK!
“Doesn’t look like a rock,” announced Sweetie.
Dirt left Sugar standing at the edge of the hole and jumped in, where something long, hard, and smooth lay partially uncovered at the bottom. Dirt brushed off the area around it to get a closer look. After a few moments of concentration, Dirt finally spoke.
“This is not a rock,” said Dirt in her most serious voice.
“What is it?” asked Sugar.
“Poppy, Sweetie,” said Dirt, “I think you may have uncovered a bone.”
Chapter 4
“What kind of b-b-b-bone?” asked Poppy, taking a giant backward step away from their discovery.
“Dinosaur,” announced Sugar. “Female. T. rex. leg bone.”
“I think we need more infor—” said Dirt.
“Let’s vote on it,” interrupted Sugar. “Here and now with no passwords. Who says it’s the leg bone of female T. rex?”
“I do,” said Sweetie.
“I do,” said Poppy.
“I do,” said Sugar. “And there you have it.”
“That’s not the kind of thing you vote on, Sugar,” said Dirt.
“Who thinks Dirt is unconstitutional?” asked Sugar, raising her wing.
“I do,” said Sweetie.
“I do,” said Poppy.
“I do,” said Sugar.
Dirt sat on her bottom, crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and took a long, deep breath. “If it is a bone, then we need to treat it very, very carefully.”
“Dirt’s right,” said Sugar. “That T. rex bone has probably been here since the meteor struck a hundred years ago, wiping out the dinosaurs and all the cavemen.”
“Cave people, Sugar,” Sweetie corrected her. “Cave people.”
“Um, Sugar, a moment?” Dirt pulled her sister to the side. “Before you get Poppy and Sweetie too excited, I think a timeline might be helpful here.” Dirt opened her notebook and drew a timeline showing the millions of years between the dinosaur extinction and the existence of cave people.