Avyan and the Space Dinos

Page 1

I am Avyan. I am three years old. That is old enough to be an astronaut. Mom says I am still too small. But my helmet fits. My rocket ship is made of cardboard boxes and a trash can lid. It is the best rocket ship in the whole world.

I climb inside. I buckle my seatbelt. That is a jump rope tied around my waist.

“Blast off in three,” I say. “Two. One.”

I push the red button. It is a bottle cap. Nothing happens. I push it again.

“Engine trouble,” I say. “Space is hard.”

Then the rocket shakes. The boxes rattle. The trash can lid spins. My tummy feels funny. We are lifting up. We are lifting up for real.

I look out my window. That is a hole I cut with safety scissors. Mom’s garden is getting smaller. The fence is getting smaller. The dog is a tiny dot.

I am flying. I am really flying.

Page 2

The sky turns dark. Not night dark. Space dark. There are stars everywhere. Millions of them. They look like glitter Mom spilled on the floor. I want to touch them.

My rocket lands with a bump. Not a big bump. A soft bump. Like when you jump on your bed and land on the pillow.

I open the door. My feet touch the ground. The ground is purple. Purple like my favorite grape juice. There are blue trees. The leaves are triangles. The air smells like birthday cake.

“Hello?” I say.

Nobody answers.

I take a step. Then another step. The purple ground is squishy. Like walking on a mattress.

Then I hear it.

A growl. A big growl. A hungry growl.

I turn around. There is a dinosaur. A real dinosaur. It is green with orange spots. It has big teeth. It is looking right at me.

I freeze. Mom said don’t talk to strangers. But this is a dinosaur. Is a dinosaur a stranger?

Page 3

The dinosaur takes a step. I take a step back. The dinosaur takes another step. I take another step back.

“Are you going to eat me?” I ask.

My voice sounds small. Like a mouse voice.

The dinosaur tilts its head. It blinks. Its eyes are big and round. Like the marbles I lost under the couch.

“Eat you?” it says. “Why would I eat you? You are too small. You would not even fill one tooth.”

I stop stepping back. The dinosaur talks. Dinosaurs can talk here. That is good. That is very good.

“My name is Avyan,” I say. “I am an astronaut.”

“I am Rex,” says the dinosaur. “I am hungry. But not for you. For pancakes.”

“I like pancakes,” I say.

Rex smiles. His teeth are big. But his smile is nice.

“Do you know where to find pancakes?” he asks.

I think. Mom makes pancakes. But Mom is not here. I am on a purple planet.

“No,” I say. “But I can help you look.”

Page 4

We walk together. Rex is very tall. His head is above the blue trees. I have to run to keep up. My legs are short. Astronaut legs.

“Why are you here?” Rex asks.

“I built a rocket,” I say. “I pushed the button. I flew up.”

“Button?”

“The red one. The bottle cap.”

Rex does not understand. That is okay. Adults never understand bottle caps.

We walk past a river. The water is pink. Bubbles float up. They pop and make music. Little plink sounds. Like someone is playing piano with water drops.

“This is my planet,” Rex says. “It is called Bloop. I am the only one here. It gets lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“Yes. There is no one to play with. No one to share pancakes with. No one to tell jokes to.”

I think about that. I have Mom. I have Dad. I have my stuffed bear. I have the dog. Rex has nobody.

“I will be your friend,” I say.

Rex stops walking. He looks down at me. His big marble eyes get wet.

“Really?” he says.

“Really,” I say. “Astronaut promise.”

Page 5

We find a cave. Inside the cave there is a table. On the table there is a plate. On the plate there is one pancake. It is cold. It is blue. But it is a pancake.

Rex looks sad.

“Only one,” he says. “I wanted two.”

“We can share,” I say.

I break the pancake in half. I give Rex the bigger half. That is what Mom does for me.

Rex takes it. He eats it in one bite.

“Thank you,” he says. “That was the best pancake ever.”

“You are welcome,” I say.

I eat my half. It tastes like blueberries. And something else. Something I cannot name. Maybe it tastes like space.

“Now what?” I ask.

“Now we play,” Rex says.

“What do dinosaurs play?”

Rex thinks. His tail wags. It knocks over a rock.

“Hide and seek,” he says. “But I am too big to hide. I always lose.”

I look at Rex. He is very big. He is very green. He has orange spots. Hiding would be hard.

“I have an idea,” I say. “You count. I hide. Then you find me. That is the game.”

Rex covers his eyes. His hands are big. His claws are sharp. But he is careful.

“One,” he says. “Two. Three.”

I run. I find a bush. The leaves are purple. I hide behind it. My heart is beating fast.

“Four. Five. Six.”

I peek. Rex is still counting. His eyes are covered. He is smiling.

“Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”

He opens his eyes.

“Ready or not,” he says. “Here I come.”

I hold my breath. The game has begun. And I am not ready to go home yet. Not even close.