Holly Farb and the Princess of the Galaxy Read online

  Holly narrowed her eyes.

  Mr. Mendez cleared his throat. “All right,” he said, “back to my tricky questions. Can anyone tell me what the sun is composed of, and how it produces energy?”

  “The sun is mostly hydrogen and helium,” said Chester, before Holly had even put up her hand. “It produces energy by nuclear fusion, which converts hydrogen into helium.”

  “My, very good,” said Mr. Mendez, smiling. He rummaged through his desk again.

  Holly ground her teeth, fuming. This person knew more than her, and worse, he didn’t even raise his hand. He just shouted things out, a clear violation of established etiquette. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was still scanning the room like he was already bored. Holly was tempted to remind him that rules weren’t optional.

  As she watched Chester, a ball of paper thumped her in the back of her head. She turned. Jake Carlson waved and motioned down at the paper. Holly hesitated, knowing nothing good would come from this, but then slowly picked it up and unfolded the crinkled slip of paper. It said:

  Looks like teacher’s pet has been replaced with a new puppie.

  Holly glared so intensely, fire nearly shot out her eyes. “That isn’t even how you spell ‘puppy’!” she shouted, causing everyone to look at her. She balled up her hands and put them in her lap and stared down at them. Her whole face burned.

  “Is everything all right, Ms. Farb?” said Mr. Mendez.

  “Sorry,” muttered Holly. “I didn’t mean . . . I was just . . .”

  Mr. Mendez nodded. “Pay it no mind. Even the best of us forget to use our Indoor Voices. Why, just yesterday I meant to whisper an amusing joke to Principal Cho and instead ended up shrieking into her ear. Um. She did not laugh at my joke, let me tell you.” His face took on a worried expression. “Why don’t you stick around after class and we’ll have a talk.”

  Holly’s shoulders slumped. A crease formed in her shirt and she smoothed it down. Was she in trouble? She knew she was being silly, but it felt weird. She was always used to being the smartest one in the class. That was what she was known for. That was who she was. And now here was this Chester interloper, easily answering questions and looking bored while doing it. Where did that leave her? She sighed, grit her teeth, and stared at the blackboard.

  The day was off to a pretty blargh start, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock.

  2

  SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR PLANET

  Holly sat in Mr. Mendez’s cramped office with her head bowed. A curly curtain of hair flopped across her eyes, and she pulled it behind her ears. The narrow room smelled of coffee and old, musty paper. One wall was covered by books piled so high, it looked like they were holding up the ceiling. It was like being in an ancient library an archaeologist had just discovered after avoiding deadly booby traps.

  Mr. Mendez sat across from her in a ragged chair that had stuffing poking out at the corners. “Now, Ms. Farb,” he said, “what seems to be the problem? It’s not like you to shout in class. Is everything all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

  Mr. Mendez smiled warmly. “You don’t have to apologize. Truly. I’m not mad at you. I was just concerned. You seem . . . a little on edge . . . as of late. Is it because of the election? I hope you know, Ms. Farb, that if teachers weren’t forbidden from participating, I absolutely would have voted for you. Your proposal about the vending machines was exactly the sort of shake-up this corrupt regime needs.”

  Holly tried not to smile too wide. “Thanks.”

  “The election was just a popularity contest—it always is. Just because you lost doesn’t mean you aren’t a qualified candidate, it merely means you aren’t . . .” He hesitated. “I am deeply regretting my choice of phrasing.”

  Holly bowed her head. She really, really didn’t want to talk about what happened during the election. People had told her the important thing with losing was to lose with style, but no one seemed to have any advice for what happened when you lost with no style at all. She buried this thought deep in the back of her mind, something she had gotten good at lately.

  Mr. Mendez cleared his throat and waved his hand. “So what is bothering you if not the election?”

  She frowned, gloomy thoughts tumbling around her brain. She sighed. Maybe she had been a little stressed out lately. The prospect of not getting in to Falstaff had been hovering around her like a bad smell, but she didn’t want to talk about it. It made her feel silly. Mr. Mendez would think she was immature—that she wasn’t a serious individual.

  “I might be going to Falstaff,” she said in a small voice.

  “Ah, that’s a highly regarded learning institution. They have some of the best teachers in the country, and many of the students go on to do great things, and the roofs of all the buildings are copper, which has oxidized and turned green. You must be excited!”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm,” said Mr. Mendez.

  “It feels like I should be more excited.” Holly chewed her lip. “Is that normal?”

  “Why, Ms. Farb, I think it’s perfectly normal to feel unsure about the future. That’s the thing about the future—it’s always unknown, and unknown things are always scary. Have you talked to your parents about how you feel?”

  “I’m really fine,” she added, glancing at her red shoes. “I’ve just been working hard. I have to do well on the entrance test on Friday or I won’t get in. Especially after the election. Winning was supposed to impress them. I’m really fine.”

  Mr. Mendez nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. Just try not to let school get to you too much, Ms. Farb. Make time to do things you enjoy.” His eyes twinkled. “Why, you may be pleased to know that next week we’ll be doing a group project where you can partner up with your friends and do . . . project things. I haven’t worked out the details.”

  “Oh,” said Holly, fidgeting with her sleeve. “That sounds fun,” she added, trying to force a smile. She doubted it would be fun at all. She would be last picked, if she was picked at all.

  “In the meantime . . . if you feel things are getting too stressful,” said Mr. Mendez, handing her the little Earth ball from class, “take out your frustration on this.”

  Holly held the rubber ball in her hand. She gave it a squeeze. It didn’t relieve her stress completely, but a few of the worries tumbling around her head began sliding away. She could practically see strands of stress fall to the floor and disappear.

  “Thanks.” She smiled, slipping the ball in her pocket.

  Mr. Mendez held the door open for her. “Try to cheer up, Ms. Farb. And remember, your loss was the school’s loss. Don’t let it get you down. The only thing it says about you is that you live in an uncaring universe.”

  * * *

  The rest of the morning passed by in a blur. Holly shuffled gloomily to the second floor and weaved through throngs of chattering people, getting bumped around as she went, nearly taking a rogue backpack to the face. Normally, she walked without dragging her heels, but not today. Today was a heel-dragging day. She opened her locker, carefully placed her books inside, and retrieved her lunch. It was nestled neatly in a brown paper bag with her name on it.

  Her cheeks burned. She was angry with herself for getting so upset earlier. No, not angry—she was disappointed in herself. She couldn’t believe she had let something so silly upset her.

  Just then Chester strolled past. He walked over to a drinking fountain and stooped down, sipped from the water, made a disgusted face, and spat it back out. He continued down the hall. Holly narrowed her eyes and watched him flutter by with disdain.

  She dug her fingers into the Earth ball.

  Holly debated where to eat lunch. On the one hand, she could go to the cafeteria. On the other hand, the cafeteria smelled like a deodorant factory and the kids who ate there often threw food at her and called her “Farby.”

  She decided to eat
outside.

  Holly marched back through the hall and downstairs, then outside into the warm sunlight. Her entire body was tense, like a small electrical current was running through it. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about school or the election or Falstaff or the future or anything to do with The Future. If she didn’t get in, that would be bad. If she did get in, maybe she wouldn’t like it, and that would be bad. If—she shook her head, refusing to go through this debate for the hundredth time.

  The yard was scattered with people coming and going from school. Most students either ate inside or left to go eat elsewhere—few, if any, wanted to hang around the dirty yard. That was why Holly knew she could be alone there. She crossed the patchy grass and found a cool, shady spot under a craggy old tree. She kicked a cigarette butt away from the trunk and sat down. Leaning back against the rough bark, she attempted to relax.

  But she wasn’t entirely sure how.

  A spider crawled across the ground toward her and Holly eyed it. The absolute last thing she needed right now was a bug attack. If the spider, or any other insects, scurried near her, she would do the sensible thing and jump ten feet in the air and then run inside. But instead the spider turned and crawled away, disappearing into the grass. Even creepy bugs don’t like me, she thought, sighing.

  More than anything, Holly wanted to be smart. To be respected. To be a Great Person. But she couldn’t even answer some questions in class. It was disheartening, dispiriting, and dis . . . dis . . . disproportionally bad. Her mother had insisted she could win the election, and that people would listen to what she had to say, but that idea had certainly turned out disproportionally bad.

  She actually cared about the school and the people in it, but unfortunately, they didn’t seem to care about her. Maybe I’m not worth caring about, she thought, picking at the loose thread on her sleeve. Maybe the other kids were right.

  One thing was certain: She wouldn’t be running for any more elections anytime soon.

  As she took a nibble of her sandwich, a huge shadow darkened the lawn—and just as quickly vanished. Holly peered up at the sky, frowning.

  “What keeps doing that?” she said to no one in particular.

  A leaf fluttered down from the tree and landed at her feet. She picked it up. The edges were slightly singed, and it smelled of burned paper.

  She stared at the leaf. Before she could speculate on what had burned it, a shuffling noise caught her ear, and three pairs of boots walked into her view. She looked up.

  Standing in front of her were the oddest people Holly had ever seen. They were tall, wide, and bulging in all sorts of strange places. It wasn’t that they were fat, it was like there was too much person crammed into not enough body. Each wore a lopsided top hat and a contorted facial expression, like an angry person hearing a great joke while also being terrified.

  All three of them stared down at her, nodding.

  “Hello, girl,” said one, his voice raspy. “We are bureaucrats with the World Education Organization, and we are here to do a survey of students.”

  Holly blinked.

  One of the other large, bulgy people waved her arm around. “Are you important?”

  Holly opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. The bulgy woman’s words circled Holly’s head. “Well,” she finally said, “I’m . . . yes, I’m a very important person. Many people think that.”

  The huge people whispered among themselves, and Holly felt a surge of pride. So this was what it was like to be a Great Person. Maybe the World Education Organization would be the ones to recognize what a serious individual she was.

  One of the other large, bulgy people leaned forward so far, his bulbous nose was inches from her face. “Are you royalty?”

  “Am I . . . royalty?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “Are you royalty?”

  “Such as a princess,” added another of the people casually. “As an example.”

  “Yes.” The third one licked his scaly lips, and something sinister twinkled in his deep, bottomless eyes. “A princess.”

  Holly’s stomach twisted. Something about these weird lumps of humans filled her with a feeling of uneasiness. They were just . . . wrong. Like someone had made a bunch of people but had never actually seen a person before. “Uh . . .” Her eyes scanned the school, searching for a lie. “I have to get back to class. Sorry.”

  Holly jumped to her feet and rushed toward the school. She glanced over her shoulder at the three huge lumps, who were huddled together like football players and conversing among themselves. The biggest one continued waving one arm, seemingly at random.

  Holly shoved open the doors and, not focusing on where she was going, slammed into Chester, who was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring up at a wall covered with Holly’s election posters.

  “Do you know where the gymnasium is?” he said.

  “There’s . . .” Holly stopped, panting. “Okay, the gym is down that way. Just turn the corner and go straight. I agree the school really needs better signs. But I need your help with something first.”

  Chester tilted his head. “My help?”

  She grabbed him by the shoulders. “There are people outside. Weird people. Like they aren’t quite . . . human. They asked me if I was a princess.” Chester’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into his hair. “I’m not eccentric,” added Holly. “I swear! I never make up stories and I’m extremely reliable and I—”

  “I believe you,” said Chester.

  Holly’s mouth fell open. “You . . . do?” She barely believed herself.

  “Sure. I don’t think you’d make something like that up.” His expression turned serious. “Now, where can we hide?”

  “Okay,” said Holly, thinking about where the best hiding places in the school would be. The back corridor on the third floor was usually deserted, and if they went into the auditorium, there was the little sound booth where the older kids allegedly went to do . . . activities. That would be a good place to—

  The door blew off its hinges and Holly whirled around. The smoldering hunk of metal clattered along the floor and hit the wall. Behind it, the huge, lumpy people stalked down the hallway. When they saw Holly and Chester, they stopped in a single-file line.

  One of them stepped forward, glancing down like an actor hitting their mark. “Our previous statement was a clever lie. We are unaffiliated with the World Education Organization. We are actually members of the Pirates Union. Hand over the Princess of the Galaxy or die.”

  “Pirates Guild,” muttered one of the other pirates.

  The first one shook his head. “Pirates Union sounds classier.”

  The largest of the three stepped forward. “The name has yet to be determined. Now stop your bickering or you’ll be members of the Formerly Alive Union.” She chuckled and puffed out her throat, which was already puffy to begin with, giving her the appearance of a huge toad standing on two legs. “Now, as we were saying. We’re members of an unnamed pirate collective on the hunt for the aforementioned Princess of the Galaxy.” She pointed at Chester. “Are you the Princess of the Galaxy?”

  Chester frowned. “No . . .”

  The head pirate pointed at Holly. “Are you the Princess of the Galaxy?”

  Holly crossed her arms. “I really don’t know what’s going on here, but—”

  “Silence! Our business is with the Princess and only with the Princess. Our sources indicate she is on the planet Earth, specifically at this location. We are currently on the planet Earth, at this location. Help us find her or die.”

  “Well,” said Chester, “since princesses are usually girls, and since only one of us is a girl . . .” He trailed off.

  “Hey!” said Holly. “Don’t even think about it.”

  The pirates huddled together and muttered in a strange language Holly had never heard before. It sounded like an elephant had swallowed a buzz saw. One of them glanced at the wall of election posters and pointed at it. Another grabbed a po
ster from the wall and sniffed it. Finally, the lead pirate turned and looked at Holly. “The human boy is wise beyond their years.” She pointed a meaty finger at Holly.

  “Princess, come with us.”

  Holly froze. Smoke wafted off the crumpled door like steam from a fresh cup of tea. Her eyes drifted from the pirates to Chester and back again. Then, without thinking, she turned and bolted down the hallway.

  Lockers flew past in a blur as she raced down the empty hall. She had never run inside before—it was against so many rules—but that didn’t matter. She turned the corner and found Mr. Mendez ambling toward her.

  “Ms. Farb!” he said. “I’m glad I’ve found you. About our talk earlier—”

  “We need to run,” she said, panting, her legs aching. It felt like her shins were going to crack. “There’s—there’s pi . . . rates—”

  Mr. Mendez bent down and looked her in the eyes. “Pirates? Large, lumpy people, yes? Great galaxies! They’re probably from the Clamaton Nebula,” he added as if this were obvious.

  “But—”

  “Holly, you must calm down. They aren’t after you—they’re after me. But we don’t have much time.” Holly stared at him, her mouth agape. It was the first time he had called her by her first name, and it felt weird. Even though she hated her last name, she would have preferred it in this instance. It would have felt . . . normal.

  “What do we do?” she said quietly.

  “I have a plan. We just need to get back to the teachers’ lounge, where I’ve hidden a transdimensional portal device and some fusion shells, and then all we have to do is—”

  The pirates shuffled into view at the end of the hallway. Tall and lumbering, their shadows stretched all the way down the floor. Holly turned to run but froze. Two more were at the other end of the hall, nodding and waving one arm.

  They were trapped.

  “Darn,” muttered Mr. Mendez. He sighed and raised his hands. “I’m the one you’re after. The girl has nothing to do with anything. Let her go and I’ll come with you.”