The Sweet-Ice Disaster

Hiding Zib was not easy. Especially because Zib did not want to be hidden.

"This room… too small… too dark…" Zib inspected the storeroom, with its old pots, Abu's ancient bicycle and a broken charpoy. "On Golmol my room was round. This room… is square. Square rooms scare me."

"Don't be scared," said Danish. "Nobody comes here. Only Ammi, sometimes, for a pickle jar."

"Pickle?" Zib's eyes lit up. "That… is food?"

"Yes, but you're not getting any. First listen — you'll stay here all day. No noise. And if someone comes…" Danish thought, "you become a big toy. Mouth shut, eyes shut."

Zib instantly shut his eyes and went stiff. "Like this?"

"Exactly like this. You were born to hide."

The next morning was the hardest day of Danish's life — a school day. Leaving Zib alone felt impossible, but skipping school was out of the question. Ammi taught at the school herself, and an absence meant a hundred questions.

He devised a plan. He emptied his big school bag, laid books at the bottom, spread a towel over them, and sat Zib inside. He left the zip open a crack for air.

"Remember," he whispered, "completely silent in the bag. If anyone asks why the bag is so heavy, I'll say… too many books."

"Books," Zib repeated. "On Golmol books are round. Your books are square. Square books also scare me."

"Just stay quiet!"

The first period at school went fine. In the second, the teacher asked Danish a question, and the moment he opened his mouth, a muffled voice came from the bag: "Answer… on Golmol the answer to this is round!"

The whole class turned. Danish's face burned red. "That… that was me. Thinking aloud."

The teacher narrowed her eyes but moved on.

After the third period came break. Danish took the bag to the tap to give Zib some water. He opened the bag a little — and Zib's eyes landed on the bar of soap lying by the tap.

His eyes went wide. "Oho! Sweet ice!" And before Danish could stop him, Zib took a huge bite of the soap.

What happened in the next five seconds, Danish would never forget. Zib's mouth filled with bubbles. Shouting "Sweet! Sweet!" he leapt out of the bag, dashed to the tap, and stuck his whole face under it. Water and foam flew everywhere. Two boys doubled over laughing.

"What is this?!" the watchman came running.

Danish quickly wrapped Zib in the towel. "My… my little cousin. From the city. He has… a soap allergy." He glared at Zib. "Right?"

"Right," said Zib, spitting bubbles. "Very big… allergy. Sweet ice… is a lie."

The watchman nodded and walked off. Danish breathed again — but his troubles were far from over.

Back home he settled Zib in the storeroom and sat down to his homework. In the evening Ammi came in, holding an empty jar.

"Danish, the pickle jar is finished. Fetch another from the storeroom."

Danish's heart hammered. "I… I'll get it right now!" He raced in — and found Zib standing before the row of jars, staring at the pickle jar, all four fingers on its lid.

"Stop!" Danish whispered.

"Just… one… taste…" said Zib.

Danish grabbed a jar fast and hurried out. Ammi took the jar, but her eyes were fixed on the storeroom door.

"Danish," she said slowly, "is… someone in the storeroom?"

"No, Ammi! No one!" Danish said — too fast. Ammi's eyebrows rose.

"Hmm." She said. "Then what was that sound? Like someone… spitting bubbles?"

The ground slipped from under Danish's feet. And inside the storeroom, Zib — still battling the taste of soap — blew one more bubble.

"Blup!"

That night, after Ammi fell asleep, Danish slipped into the storeroom. Zib was curled inside an old pot, and his wrist-band was glowing a faint red.

"Why is it glowing red?" Danish asked.

Zib looked at the band and his big eyes went sad. "It… reminds me of home. When I miss it a lot, it gets warm." He wiped a glowing tear — actually glowing. "Your Abu is far away too, no? Do you miss him?"

Danish nodded. Something caught in his throat. "Yes. A lot."

The two sat quietly for a while — one Earth boy and one blue guest, both missing someone far away. Then Zib said suddenly: "Your Ammi is nice. My Ammi-Jaan is nice too. When I go back, I'll tell her that Earth has nice Ammis as well."

Danish smiled. "First we have to fix your ship so you can go back. Tomorrow we'll climb the mango tree and see what it needs."

"And sweet ice?" Zib asked hopefully.

"No eating soap!" said Danish, and both of them laughed.

Outside on the wall, Madam the neighbourhood cat sat watching them — as if she knew everything.

Ammi stepped toward the door.