Mae cheeped in outrage. The representative looked up. “Oh! Penguins!”
“We have two penguins here that need to get to the wild,” Nina said, sticking out her chest a trifle self-importantly. “And we’re Poppers. Distant relations.”
“Penguins!” the representative behind the desk repeated, his face warming at the sight of the two fuzzy little chicks.
“We’re hoping that we can bring these two to Popper Island, to live with the Popper Penguins!” Joel said.
“My understanding is that the only way to communicate with Popper Island is by maritime radio,” Mrs. Popper said. “Could you try to ring them up for us, to ask if they might be able to pick these chicks up the next time they come to town for supplies?”
“I’ll try,” the representative said, cracking his knuckles. “But it won’t go well.”
They all watched as he put on a headset and turned some dials. Even the chicks went silent, watching curiously from Nina’s and Joel’s arms. “Popper Island Station come in, Popper Island Station come in.” He removed the headset and turned back to them. “No answer. In fact, there’s been no answer for months.”
“Doesn’t that count as an emergency?” Mrs. Popper asked, surprised.
“It’s been decades since Mr. Popper brought the original twelve penguins there, of course. The foundation pays a local guy to be the island’s caretaker now. There wasn’t a distress signal. Perhaps the caretaker left the penguins to run themselves for a few weeks. That’s no crisis in my book.”
“It could be a crisis for the penguins!” Nina said hotly. “Mr. Popper would be outraged!”
“Won’t there be an investigation?” Joel tried.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing like that planned,” the representative said.
The kids looked up at their mother. She crossed her arms, kneading the elbows of her well-worn jacket. “Is there any other way to get to Popper Island? Someone needs to figure out if everything is okay. And get these two chicks up there.”
The representative pulled out an atlas, laid it flat on his desk, and beckoned them all to come around. Joel and Nina placed Mae and Ernest on top of the map. The chicks peered in wonder at the greens and blues beneath their feet.
The man with the mustache pointed at a small blip off the east coast of Canada. “That’s Popper Island, see?” As he gestured with his fingers, Mae took a curious nip at his wedding band. The burly representative ignored her as he traced a path along the blue ink of the water. “This is where the fishing routes normally go. As you can see, none of them travel anywhere near.”
The kids’ faces fell.
“We have to find a way to get there,” Mrs. Popper said resolutely.
“Well, yes, madam,” the representative said, smiling for the first time that afternoon. “This is the Popper Foundation, and our purpose is to care for the Popper Penguins. We care a great deal.” He scrawled a name and phone number down on a piece of paper. “Contact Yuka. He grew up near Popper Island and takes trips back up there sometimes to visit his family. He has a sturdy little boat and is an excellent captain. He’ll get your penguins there safely. Of course, the Popper Foundation will fund the expedition, since you’ll also be doing us the favor of reporting back on how the Popper birds are doing.”
“Oork!” said Mae triumphantly, before taking another friendly nip at the representative’s knuckle.
LEAVING HILLPORT
THE SMALL BOAT dipped and rocked where it was tied to the Hillport dock. “Are you sure this is seaworthy? I mean, Arctic seaworthy?” Joel whispered to his mother.
“This looks amazing!” Nina said, bounding aboard. She held Mae out in her palms, turning in a circle. The chick peered up and down. “Oork, oork!” In just the last few weeks, her voice had changed some. Her oorks were getting closer to adult penguin orks.
“It’s going to be totally safe,” Mrs. Popper said as she stepped onto the deck. “Come on, kids, I want to introduce you to Yuka.”
Joel and Nina brought their two chicks to Yuka. He was a young man with an open, friendly face.
“Hi there!” Yuka said. When he reached out his hand for a shake, Joel didn’t know what to do at first and gave him his left hand, until he realized he should switch them, awkwardly juggling Ernest in the process. Nina, of course, figured out handshakes right away.
“Yuka is Inuit,” Mrs. Popper explained. “That means his ancestors lived in the Arctic long before Europeans got there.”
Yuka nodded. “It’s been a few years since I lived up there, though. I came down to Stillwater College to get my doctorate in comparative zoology. I study aquatic bird migrations, actually! That’s why the Popper Foundation knew about me.”
Ernest made an impressed oork. Joel was more suspicious. “So you’re not actually a sailor?”
“I come from a long line of fishermen. This is my family’s boat. It’s a wonderful deep-sea fishing vessel and does fine in rough waters. Don’t worry—I know how to handle the waterways. And I have a seminar paper due in a few weeks, so I’ll make sure this is an efficient trip. You won’t miss any school, and neither will I!”
“It’s not like missing school would be that terrible,” Nina said.
“We’re very grateful, Yuka,” Mrs. Popper said. “Thank you for taking this time.”
“It’s an honor to help these little guys,” Yuka said. He ducked his head to get a better look at the fuzzy gray chicks. “I like those pretty white stripes on your flippers!”
“Oork! Oork!” Ernest turned around so Yuka could see his coloring on all sides. He was turning out to be a vain little penguin.
Yuka tilted his head at Mrs. Popper. “You’ve got everything from the packing list we settled on?”
“Yes! Lots of warm, waterproof layers.”
“And tuna fish!” Nina added.
“That’s good,” Yuka said. “This boat may still smell a little like fish, but it’s been years since it did any fishing. I just use
