“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.
Daphne hopped over beside him and started yipping excitedly.
“Not now, girl,” Diego said, “I’m busy.” He strained to reach the keys, but they were beyond his fingers. Crud, he thought, glancing around. I’ve got to get those keys! He grabbed a pencil off the desk and tried with that, each time to no avail. Have to get them—I just have to.
Daphne’s rapid panting became slow, even breaths, and then she darted forward, flattening herself and scooting under the tank. She slipped back out with the keys in her jaws.
“Whoa, good girl!” Diego said. He bent down and held out his hand. As Daphne dropped the keys onto his palm, Diego saw a strange, silvery glint in her eyes . . . but then Daphne trotted off, tail wagging, like nothing had happened.
“All right, Daphne!” Petey said, standing behind him.
Diego stood. He watched Daphne go, his head tingling, similar to the way it had after building the gravity board.
“What’s up, D?”
Diego shook his head. He figured he was still a little woozy from his experience with the Sight earlier. A ghost of a headache knocked at the back of his skull, and Marty throwing them across the room hadn’t helped. “Nothing,” he said.
“Come on, man,” Petey said. “We need to scramble.”
“Right.”
“Should I get your mom’s gravity board?” Petey asked.
“Nah, I’ll get it,” Diego said. “You’ve caused enough trouble.” He smiled and punched Petey in the arm, then hurried around the shop, putting a few more things away and grabbing the two boards.
Petey and Diego pushed the Goldfish into the freight elevator and rode to the ground floor. Petey sat in the passenger’s seat as Diego ignited the main boiler. The little car chugged to life. Diego hopped inside and jammed the control levers. The car rolled down the street-level dock and into the green water.
Horns sounded in the traffic-clogged canal as Diego veered among the slower paddle wheelers and faster boiler taxis while watching out for the tromping legs of robots. The little craft was barely visible to the larger ships, sitting just above the water as it did.
As the world bustled around them, Petey pulled an old Sony Walkman cassette player from the glove box and plugged in the cable from a simple set of speakers in the back.
“Which one of these do you like?” he said, flipping through a stack of plastic cassette cases. Petey handled these gingerly; in his house, he was used to music being played from delicate wax cylinders.
“That one,” Diego said, glancing over.
“The Replacements,” Petey said. “Which song?”
“‘Can’t Hardly Wait,’” Diego said. “It should be cued up.”
Petey slid in the tape, and the speakers burst to life.
“Your dad’s music is loud!” Petey shouted.
“That’s the best part about it!”
Diego surfaced beyond the public docks in front of their school. The Field Museum of Natural History loomed over its surrounding streets, a great stone building built back in 1893, sturdy enough to survive the Time Collision with only a few busted windows. With so many other structures destroyed, and with unknown seismic activity still lurking, the museum had been chosen to be the first primary and secondary school in the city. It still held most of its vast collection of artifacts and specimens, including skeletons of many giant creatures that had returned in the new world.
“Just in time!” Petey called, leaping out and tying off the ropes. “We should charge fares for getting kids to school in style. Diego and Petey’s Underwater Cab Service!”
Diego smiled. “Too bad there’s no room for more passengers.”
“The girls can sit on our laps!” Petey said. “Speaking of which . . .” He pointed toward a crowd gathered in front of school. “Get a load of this.”
Diego joined Petey at the edge of the crowd. Everyone watched as two girls skated on the stairs, grinding the rails.