Akiko and the Journey to Toog by Mark Crilley

Author:Mark Crilley [Crilley, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-51077-8
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2003-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

Ragstubble invited all of us into his shack. By the expression on his face, I think he wanted Poog to stay outside, but he didn't say so. Then again, Poog didn't look as though he was exactly dying to join the party.

The inside of the shack was a cross between a hardware store and a junkyard. There were engines and tailpipes and buckets full of enormous spark plugs; there were machines that looked like they'd gotten stranded somewhere between being put together and ripped apart. In the middle of it all was a cast-iron stove, its fire blazing inside, with a big black pot on top that—considering the stench it was producing—I sincerely hoped wasn't dinner.

Ragstubble invited us to sit down on various barrels and overturned crates he dragged into a rough circle around the stove. We did as we were told. All of us but Poog, that is. He stayed right where he was near the door, as if he wanted to make sure he'd be the first one out.

“I'm a Tri-Yarm,” said Ragstubble, sitting down and sloshing the contents of the pot with a wooden spoon. “Guess you already knew that, Spuck. But what a lot of people don't know is that we Tri-Yarms originally lived on the planet Toog. Years ago, before …” He shot a cold glance at Poog. “… before the Toogolians drove us out.”

Ragstubble reached into the pot and pulled up something slimy, green, and alive. He popped it in his mouth and chewed. Finally he made a face, spat it out, and tossed it back into the pot.

“A little rare.”

I was trying to remember what Mr. Beeba had said to me back when we were being taken to see the elders. Something about the Tri-Yarms. Something about them killing Poog's great-uncle. I figured this was as good a time as any to get the facts straight, and it seemed to me that Ragstubble knew the facts pretty well.

“Why did the Toogolians make your people leave? They must have had reasons.”

“Reasons,” he repeated. He opened a tin and threw some black powder into the pot. “Sure. Toogolians have reasons. They always have reasons. They attacked us; we defended ourselves. I guess they didn't like that.”

Poog, who had remained angry but silent, could control himself no longer. He opened his mouth and let loose a barrage of warbly syllables, faster and louder than I'd ever heard from him before. And then—this is the really incredible thing—Ragstubble answered him right back in Toogolian, his rough, husky voice blurting the gurgly sounds out confidently, effortlessly. Poog responded, louder than before, and Ragstubble cut him off, jumping to his feet and jabbing a finger in Poog's direction. Poog flew through the air right up to Ragstubble's face, words shooting out of his mouth, his eyes angry, defiant.

“Hey hey hey!” I leaped between the two of them with my arms stretched out. They glared at one another as if I weren't even there. But they became quiet.

“You two need to cool off.

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