Read Online There's a Spaceship in My Tree! by Robert West - Free Book Online Page A

the edge of a small primitive city, reaching toward them. A faint siren sounded in the background. Tendrils wrapped around the ship like a squid about to have lunch and pulled her down.
    â€œWhat’s happening?” cried Scilla.
    â€œWe’re caught in some kind of . . . biological nightmare — hard, crusty limbs, draped with green stuff, coming out of the ground reaching into the sky. . . . Release the orthomoponic plantipus delimiter,” Ghoulie cried.
    â€œThe what?” Scilla asked.
    â€œThe weed killer!” Ghoulie yelled. But once again it was too late.
    There was a PH UD, a CRUNCH, and a rustle-rustle. The ship was stuck — in something the crew would later learn was called a “tree.” All that was left of her eight-layer hull was the frame, swaying in the branches.
    â€œBeamer!” his mother’s voice called from the back door. Beamer, Ghoulie, and Scilla looked at each other in bewilderment. They were their old selves again — shorts, jeans, T-shirts, ponytail, and all. The instrument panels were again broken plywood with painted dials and broom handle levers.
    That night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, Beamer crawled out his window and sat on his roof staring at the tree ship. He couldn’t see much of it in the light of a half moon, but he had a flashlight.
    What was going on? He spotlighted first the ramp, then the door. It hadn’t been your usual “let’s pretend” experience — it had been more like a parallel universe or something . . . where almost everything is the same but some things are different.
    His mom had said it was just his super-charged imagination. Maybe, but he hadn’t had anything so totally off-the-wall, suck-up-your-brain real in a long time. It was like being a character in your own video game — virtual reality way beyond virtual.
    He panned his flashlight across the tree ship’s surface like a searchlight. Maybe it is haunted after all.

12

Meteor
    Weeks passed. Squirt guns and water slides were replaced by footballs and crisp, multicolored leaves piled high for diving into. Beamer spent countless hours in the tree ship with his new friends.
    And his family found a good church to attend, much to the relief of Beamer’s parents, who insisted they all attend not only Sunday morning service, but Sunday evening, as well. When the kids protested, Dr. Mac reminded them that this church was their new “family” now, and it was time to get to know their relatives.
    Secretly, though, Beamer was happy to settle into the well-worn cushions twice each weekend. He missed his old church and all his church friends. Plus, this church had something new to offer: the scent of warming casseroles and baking desserts wafting from the church basement promising a scrumptious potluck dinner after services.
    Besides church, weekends were now filled with Boy Scout activities. That’s how, one Saturday afternoon, Beamer found himself standing before a big rock in the park museum.
    The boys’ rating system for the exhibits had ranged from empty stares to snickering. The biggest hit had been a statue — okay, sculpture — made out of clothespins and hubcaps. It hadn’t been a good day for the arts in America.
    But here they were in front of this big rock. The writing on the plaque said the rock was a meteor. To an old space trader like Beamer, that was news in itself. It didn’t look like much, though — no star-shaped crystal, pulsing with energy. It was just a shiny, dark rock with a chip missing.
    No wonder I’m still in Middleton, thought Beamer, as he remembered his wish that first night in town. Anyone who believes some gnarly old rock can grant wishes needs to have his head examined. Still, it is from another world.
    The plaque read: “Found July 20, 1919, at a site 877 yards west of its present location.”
    West? Beamer thought about it: Let’s see, west is