Armand Baltazar - Diego and the Rangers of the Vastlantic

“Was your old time better than this one?” Diego asked.

“No,” Santiago said. “It was different: in some ways better but in other ways much worse, despite what the Believers say.”

They both fell silent. The din of the outside streets bled in through the walls. Diego gazed at the gravity board, trying to comprehend everything he’d just learned.

A rolling sound reached his ears, and Daphne barked.

“Heads-up!”

Diego turned as Petey Kowalski swept through the door on an old skateboard. He swerved to avoid Daphne, who hopped excitedly on two legs.

“Good girl,” Petey said. He bent down as he passed and tried to rub Daphne’s head, but lost his balance and stumbled off his board. He careened into the table, catching himself against the edge as the skateboard shot across the room and smacked into the far wall.

“Whoa!” Petey said, breathing hard. “Almost lost it.”

“Almost?” Diego said.

“Well, I mean, I was just—Oooh, no way!” Petey spied the gravity board.

“Birthday present,” Diego said.

“And we are going to ride it to school, right? Tell me we are going to ride it right now!” Petey exclaimed.

“The board is only safe for one rider,” Santiago said.

“Dad,” Diego said, “could we bring Mom’s board to school so that Petey and I could both ride during lunch?”

“Hmmm.” Santiago scratched his chin as if deep in thought. “You do deserve some birthday fun. Okay. If you promise to be careful with it, and if you clean up these tools before you leave.”

“Definitely!” Diego said.

“It’s not like you haven’t tried the boards out before.” A smile played at the corners of Santiago’s mouth.

“Um . . . ,” Diego said.

Santiago laughed. “It’s okay, son. You’re old enough now to pilot one yourself anyway.”

“Oh hey,” Petey said, “I ran into your mom on my way down. She’s looking for you, Mr. Ribera.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” Santiago gave Diego a meaningful glance and then patted him on the back and headed for the door. “Have a good day at school. Remember, the power plant. Don’t be late.”

“Right,” Diego said, knowing that glance had been about the Sight. Telling no one included Petey, which would be tough. “And thanks again!”

“Whoa, D, look at this, huh? This board is berries!” Petey ran his fingers over the smooth surface.

“It’s pretty great,” Diego agreed, gathering the tools scattered across the workbench and sliding them into drawers. “It flies real smooth.”

“I thought you just got it?”

“Oh, right,” Diego said. He’d been thinking about his dream. “I mean, I’m sure it’s going to.” He crossed the shop and started hanging tools in their correct places on the far wall.

“What’s this bot doing back here?” Petey’s voice was coming from a different spot. Diego turned to find that he’d climbed up into the cockpit of an eleven-foot-tall robot that Diego had nicknamed Marty. “I haven’t seen him since you built him last summer.”

“Yeah, with Dad’s help. Now be careful; he’s back in the shop for repairs.”

“Okay, sheesh, settle down.” Petey put his boots up on the controls and laced his fingers behind his head. “He’s fine, but not nearly as cool as Redford.”

“Yeah,” Diego said. “Redford came out great.”

“That still blows my mind,” Petey said as Diego coiled a hose from the floor. “You saw that old red tractor and turned it into a giant robot. Someday you’ll be even more talented than your old man.”

“Mmmm,” Diego said. “Actually, Marty could do circles around Redford, but yeah, Redford has the best origin story, for sure.” They’d discovered the tractor out past the perimeter wall, searching for parts in the northern wild lands.

“Yeah!” Petey agreed. “Hiking along, keeping our eyes peeled for Algonquin warriors. And then running into that dimetrodon. I’m still pinching myself to make sure we survived that! It was like being Bartholomew Roosevelt, or a mercenary explorer or something.”

“I know,” Diego said. Actually, it had been terrifying, but if Petey hadn’t walked across that angry giant reptile’s nest, they would’ve never run and hid in the pile of abandoned tractors where Diego had found Redford.

A horn sounded from out on the canal.

“Ah, shoot,” Petey said. “School bus boat!”

“We should go.” Diego yanked up the last of the hose and tossed it over on the bench.

“My mom’s going to kill me if I get another tardy.” Petey scrambled to sit up.

There was a shrill whine and a grinding of gears, and Marty lurched forward from his spot.

“Ahh! Sorry!” Petey cried. “I kicked something!”

“Petey! He hasn’t been properly oiled. . . .” Diego had barely moved when Marty took another lumbering step and then froze up in midstride.

“What did I do?” Petey said, throwing up his hands.

The robot lurched sideways and crashed over onto his back, shaking the whole building.

“I’m stuck!” Petey shouted.

Diego rounded the side of the bot. He reached the cockpit and tried to pull open the hatch, but it was jammed. Smoke poured from the seized-up gears.

“Petey, shut it down!” Diego shouted over the earsplitting hiss.

“What?” Petey shouted back.

Diego prodded at the cockpit, trying to point at the controls inside. “Shut it down! Right there! If those gears stay seized up much longer, they’ll be warped and ruined.” Not to mention cause a dangerous fire.

Petey inspected the controls. He placed his hand over a large yellow button. “This?”

“No, Petey! Not that—”

But Petey slammed his hand down.

“Jeez, Petey,” Diego said, rubbing his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Petey said, shaking his head.

Daphne barked, hopping away and nursing one leg.

Diego scrambled to his feet and hurried back to the robot. He leaned into the cockpit and hit the shut-down button. The leg stopped hissing.

Outside, the bus horn blared again.

“Aw, man,” Petey said. He rushed over to the window and peered out. “There it goes. What are we going to do? Boy, am I gonna get it!”

“Hold on,” Diego said. He glanced to the corner of the shop, where a small vehicle was covered by a tarp, and hurried to it. “How about this?”

He threw the cloth aside, revealing one of Diego’s favorite father-son creations: an orange-and-white 1960 BMW Isetta that had been converted into a submarine. Petey had even managed to build the periscope for it.

“The Goldfish !” Petey shouted. “Your dad won’t mind?”

“Nah,” Diego said. “It’s my birthday. And he definitely wouldn’t want me getting a detention for being late. I need to work with him this afternoon.”

“Great. But we still need to hurry,” Petey said.

“Yup.” Diego darted over to his father’s desk for the keys. “Ah, shoot.” Dad’s stuff was scattered everywhere. He was going to be so annoyed, but Diego did not have time to clean this up, too. He scoured the mess for the keys but couldn’t find them. Dropping to his knees, Diego looked under the desk, then finally spotted them under the propane tank.