Zenon Kar: Spaceball Star Read online

  HAD THE COACH GONE LUNAR?

  “How in the universe did I make the team, Coach?” I asked. I had just played the worst game of spaceball ever!

  “I like your determination, Kar,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone look as bad as you did out there and just keep playing. But you’ll have to work with Grebba Kahn every night after practice. That’s if you want to stay on the team.”

  What a scorch, I muttered to myself.

  Like her friends, Grebba was as big as a Pandorian Lootar and probably as much fun as a Blotozoid Zombie. But now that Pd made the spaceball team, I’d do anything to stay on it!

  Don’t miss these other stellar stories of

  Zenon, Girl of the 21st Century!

  Now available:

  Book #1: Bobo Crazy

  Blasting off to stores in

  November 2001:

  Book #3: The Trouble with Fun

  And coming soon:

  Book #4: Stuck on Earth

  Text copyright © 2001 by Marilyn Sadler

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

  www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Sadler, Marilyn.

  Zenon Kar, spaceball star / by Marilyn Sadler; illustrated by Roger Bollen.

  p. cm. “A stepping stone book.”

  SUMMARY: After sitting on the bench all season, tiny ten-year-old Zenon Kar finally gets her chance to play spaceball when Grebba, the star of Space Station 9’s best team, is unable to complete the championship game against Earth’s finest.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-80025-1

  [1. Ball games—Fiction. 2. Size—Fiction. 3. Contests—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction. 5. Science fiction.] I. Bollen, Roger, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.S1239Zg 2001 [Fic]—d21 00-069681

  RANDOM HOUSE and colophon are registered trademarks and A STEPPING STONE BOOK and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  v3.1

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  1. Spaceball Crazy

  2. Tryout of Control

  3. All Flared-Up

  4. Grebba Kahn

  5. Pandorian Lootar

  6. Space Station Champions

  7. Earth Bound

  8. A Major Zero-Gravity Spin

  9. All the Right Moves

  10. Grebba Can Dance!

  11. Zenon’s Guide to Space Station Slang

  About the Creators

  1

  SPACEBALL CRAZY

  My name is Zenon Kar, and I am spaceball crazy.

  I was five years old when my dad took me to my first spaceball game. I didn’t know anything about spaceball and wasn’t sure if I wanted to go. But my dad promised me a Whambama Shake.

  “Can I have a Whambama Shake now?” I asked as we walked into the stadium.

  Before Dad could say anything, the lights began to dim and a hush fell over the crowd.

  In the center of the floor was a huge glass-domed bubble. It was blazing with pink light.

  “What is spaceball, Dad?” I asked as we settled into our seats.

  “It’s a team game,” whispered my dad. “It’s played by hitting a ball back and forth over a net with the hands.”

  What’s so stellar about that? I thought. But what I saw next was thermo.

  The bubble quickly filled up with two teams of players.

  Their uniforms shimmered in the light.

  Their helmets were gleaming.

  They jetted around the bubble and took their positions above the floor.

  “They’re floating!” I said to my dad in surprise.

  “It’s a zero-gravity bubble,” he explained. “The players move around with jet-packs.”

  The game began, and one of the players blasted a ball over a glowing laser net.

  The ball rocketed back and forth.

  Each time it was hit, it lit up in different colors and sparks flew everywhere. Finally, the ball was knocked out of bounds and a point was scored.

  The crowd roared with excitement.

  Me, I was speechless. To this day, I still get geezle bumps just thinking about it!

  After the game, I made an announcement.

  “Someday I’m going to play spaceball, Dad,” I said.

  When that day finally arrived, I was ten years old. I was in my fifth year of school at Quantum Elementary.

  I thought it was just another Monday, like any other Monday. My best friend, Nebula, and I had just walked through the front doors of our school. We were a few minutes early for class. So we went to the cafeteria to see our friends.

  Tad and Var were sitting at our favorite table.

  It was the one by the window.

  It had the best view of Earth.

  “Someday I’d like to go there,” said Tad, looking out at Earth. “After ten years on this space station, even that place looks good to me.”

  I knew what Tad meant.

  We had lived on the space station all of our lives. Sometimes it felt like the walls were closing in on us.

  “The only thermo thing about Earth is the Astros spaceball team,” I started to tell them.

  But I should have known better.

  My friends thought spaceball was inky. Whenever I talked about it, they got all flared-up.

  “If you’re going to talk about spaceball, I’m going to class,” said Var.

  “Me too,” said Tad.

  Sometimes my friends could really shiver me out. It made no sense to me that they didn’t like spaceball!

  “Cool your boosters,” I said. “I’m not going to talk about spaceball.”

  But it was too late.

  Tad and Var were already out the door.

  “Maybe we should go, too,” said Nebula.

  I picked up my data pad and followed her.

  Neb and I had been friends forever. But she didn’t understand my love for spaceball either.

  Then an amazing thing happened.

  We were on our way out the door when something on the wall caught my eye.

  “Ceedus-Lupeedus!” I shouted.

  You’re probably thinking that I saw something creepy crawling across the walk But I didn’t. We have our own way of talking on Space Station 9. And “Ceedus-Lupeedus” is what we say when we’re surprised.

  What surprised me was this sign:

  “You’re not serious,” said Neb, eyeing me in the inkiest way.

  “Well, yeah,” I said. “I am.”

  Nebula looked like she was going to go into global meltdown right there in the school cafeteria.

  “Zee, this is lunar. You can’t play spaceball! Only girls like Grebba Kahn play spaceball!” she cried.

  Then Nebula turned and looked toward the far end of the cafeteria. I turned to look as well.

  Grebba Kahn was standing with a few of the other Comet spaceball girls—Tooba Fran and Decca Coom.

  They were talking and laughing. Probably about spaceball, I thought.

  I had to admit they were not the most thermo girls in school. In fact, they were as big as Pandorian Lootars and probably about as much fun as Blotozoid Zombies.

  But I wanted to play spaceball, and nothing was going to stop me.

  2

  TRYOUT OF CONTROL

  The next day in school, I couldn’t stop thinking about the spaceball tryouts.

  My teacher, Mr. Peres, had to tell me three times to pay attention.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Peres,” I finally said. “I have something very important on my mind.”

  “Micro-bionics is important, too, Zenon,” he scolded.

  Micro-bionics is the study of small robots. We use them everywhere on the space station.

  Our maid, Woma, is a robot.

  Our mailman, Rogo, is a robot.

  Even my dog, Bobo, is a robot.

  So Mr. Peres did not have to tell me how important micro-bionics was.

  “I know, Mr. Peres,” I said.

  I tried my best to pay attention after that. I even answered one of Mr. Peres’s questions about micro-bionic flystroms. But when the last bell rang, I was happy to blast out of there and over to the tryouts.

  The gym filled up quickly with spaceball players. The regular team was there, as well as all the players who wanted to try out.

  When the coach entered the gym, he wasted no time getting started.

  “As you know, we have the best team on the space station,” he said, pacing back and forth in front of us.

  “But many of our players will be leaving at the end of this year.”

  I looked around the room.

  It was true.

  Jon Mon was in his last year at Quantum.

  Reeta Swon was moving to Earth.

  And Nile Roon was moving to another space station.

  “So today we are going to start building our new team for the future!” he shouted. “Good luck to everyone!”

  Ceedus-Lupeedus, I thought. I could sure use a chill chamber.

  We jumped up from the floor and followed the coach into the locker room. One by one, he handed us our practice equipment. When he came to me, he stopped and looked down.

  “You are the smallest player I have ever had try out,” he said with surprise.

&nbs
p; He studied me for a moment. With a frown, he handed me a jet-pack, a helmet, a jersey, mitts, and shoes.

  I put on my new equipment.

  Slam! I thought as I looked in the locker room mirror. Now I know why the coach was frowning.

  My jet-pack drooped down my back.

  My helmet dropped over my eyes.

  My jersey hung below my knees.

  My mitts dangled from my hands.

  And my shoes were two sizes too big!

  “Are you going to be able to play in that outfit?” asked the coach. He sounded worried.

  I peered up from under my helmet and said, “As long as I keep my head tilted back, my back straight, my mitts up, and my feet forward in my shoes, I’ll be fine, Coach!”

  I adjusted my jet-pack and burst into the zero-gravity bubble.

  The other players hurried to get out of my way. I was fresh on the court and already out of control.

  After that, it only got worse.

  With all of my might, I served my first ball.

  It cleared the net.

  But then so did my mitt.

  When the ball was returned, I swung at it with my other mitt. The force of my swing sent me spinning. I crashed into the side of the bubble.

  “Move up toward the net, Kar!” shouted the coach.

  I looked up just as the ball was floating down toward me. It was the perfect setup for a spike. So I hurried up to the net.

  Then my helmet slipped down over my face. And the ball bounced off my head.

  It must have been funny, because everyone was laughing.

  I thought the tryouts would never end. But finally, they were over.

  There is no way I made the team, I thought. I felt like I had been swallowed up by a black hole.

  Then the most stellar thing happened.

  “I have made my decision,” announced the coach as everyone gathered around him.

  “The following three players have made the team: Simon Gall, Jem Kank, and Pol Sop. In addition, this year, we have one alternate. Her name is Zenon Kar.”

  3

  ALL FLARED-UP

  I stood frozen in place.

  Had the coach gone lunar?

  I had just played the worst game of space-ball ever.

  “How in the universe did I make the team, Coach?” I asked.

  “I like your determination, Kar,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone look as bad as you did out there and just keep playing.”

  “Thanks, Coach … I think,” I said.

  Then the coach fully shivered me out.

  He told me I was going to have to work with Grebba Kahn every night after practice.

  “That’s if you want to stay on the team,” he added.

  What a scorch, I muttered to myself as I looked over at Grebba.

  Like her friends, she was about as big as a Pandorian Lootar and probably as much fun as a Blotozoid Zombie. But now that I’d made the spaceball team, I’d do just about anything to stay on it!

  * * *

  That night, I told my parents I made the team, They went quasar! My dad couldn’t stop talking about the days when he played spaceball.

  He was in the middle of my favorite story—the one about the zero-gravity bubble leak—when my maxi-phone rang.

  It was Nebula.

  “Zee!” she shouted as she came up on my maxi-screen. “I got tickets for the Microbe concert tomorrow night!”

  “Ceedus-Lupeedus!” I cried. “I thought they were sold out!”

  “They were,” said Neb, “but someone answered my post on the data board.”

  Microbe was the most thermo group in the solar system. Getting tickets to their concert was stellar beyond belief!

  Then I had an inky thought.

  “I can’t go to the concert, Neb,” I said. “I made the spaceball team. Tomorrow night is our first practice.”

  Nebula was quiet for a moment.

  Then she said, “I guess I should be happy for you, Zee. But I’m worried you’ll turn into a hulk like Grebba Kahn.”

  Slam, I thought. I couldn’t imagine anything worse—then I thought of Tooba Fran and Decca Coom!

  “Don’t worry, Neb,” I said. “That could never happen to me.”

  The following day, after school, I hurried off to spaceball practice. When I got to the gym, the coach was waiting for me.

  “Here’s your new uniform, Zenon!” he said, handing me my new jet-pack, helmet, jersey, mitts, and shoes.

  I went to the locker room and got dressed.

  Then I stood in front of the mirror.

  The coach had bought one set of smaller equipment, just for me. Everything fit perfectly! Stellar!

  I raced back to the gym floor.

  There’s no place else I’d rather be than here, I thought as I jetted into the zero-gravity bubble.

  One by one, the coach ran us through our drills. When it was my turn, I flew up to the net. I was ready to make my first move as a member of the team.

  Then I heard Tooba Fran say, “Look at her! She’s no bigger than a nano-ninny! She couldn’t hit a spaceball if it were floating in front of her!”

  Tooba got me so flared-up that I missed the ball. The force of my swing sent me spinning in space. Then I spun into the net, setting off the out-of-bounds buzzer.

  “She’s going to bring down this whole team,” said Decca Coom, shaking her head.

  The coach looked at me in disappointment.

  He turned off the buzzer and sent me out of the bubble. I watched the rest of the drills from the sidelines.

  When practice ended, Grebba Kahn was waiting for me. It was time for my first lesson.

  She spent the whole time showing me how to use my jet-pack controls.

  “If you can learn to use your controls correctly,” she said, “you can stop yourself from spinning in space.”

  “Then what will everyone do for a laugh?” I asked in an inky voice.

  I knew I was being scorchy. But I was still flared-up about Tooba and Decca. And from what I could tell, they were Grebba’s friends.

  Before Grebba had a chance to say anything, Nebula came running into the gym with Tad and Var.

  “Zee, you missed the best concert!” she shouted. “Come to the Mars Malt with us, and we’ll tell you all about it!”

  Nebula didn’t have to say another word.

  I was more than happy to blast out of there.

  4

  GREBBA KAHN

  I didn’t stay flared-up for long. Spaceball was too important to me.

  By the time we met for our next practice, I had cooled my boosters. I ran through the drills without too many problems. Then, afterward, I worked with Grebba.

  A few weeks later, it was the night of our first game.

  Woma fixed my favorite meal in celebration—spaghetti and beetballs. It looked delicious. I just wasn’t hungry.

  “I used to get nervous before a game, too,” my dad said. “But you’ll be fine the minute you blast out into that bubble!”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “It really helps to hear that.”

  I was studying one of the beetballs on my plate when my maxi-phone rang.

  “Can I answer that, Mom?” I asked. “It could be something about the game.”

  “Of course, honey,” she said.

  I pushed my chair away from the table and hurried off to answer my phone.

  It was Nebula calling.

  “You know I think you’re lunar for wanting to play spaceball, Zee,” she told me. “But good luck anyway! You’ll be stellar out there!”

  “Thanks, Neb,” I said.

  I was lucky to have a best friend like Nebula. She was always there for me.

  After we said good-bye, I realized how much I had missed her since spaceball practice had started a few weeks earlier.

  My robotic dog, Bobo, had followed me into my room. He floated over and looked up at me.

  “I’ve missed you, too, Bobo,” I said, rubbing his fuzzy yellow head. “But now that I’ve made the team, I’ve got to see it through.”

  After dinner, my parents and I left for the game. Dad helped me carry my equipment. He had the most stellar smile on his face.