Max and the Moonberry Buns

“The buns are right here!” called Max. “No, over here!” called Etta from behind the picnic blanket.

Max looked down. The basket hung from the tip of his long comet tail. It had been there a moment ago, at least. Now it swung behind him like a tiny moonboat.

“I’m bringing the moonberry buns to your picnic,” Max said. “I promised!”

The picnic spot sat in a cozy corner of space, tucked between a purple cloud and a sleepy ring of little planets. A blue blanket lay on a flat, round asteroid. Star-shaped space sprites had arranged cups, napkins, and a very small teapot across it. Etta wore a yellow scarf. Pip had a green cap. Miri and Odo were busy arguing about whether a moonberry was a berry or a moon that had gotten lost.

“Here I come!” Max called.

He gave his tail a happy swish and glided toward the blanket. The basket swung wide. It slipped off and landed on a nearby puff of cloud.

“Found it!” cried Pip. He hopped onto the cloud and scooped up the basket.

“Was that the first round?” asked Miri.

“What first round?” said Max.

“The basket game!” said Etta. “You toss it, we find it!”

“I’m not tossing it,” Max explained. “My tail is doing that all by itself.”

The sprites looked at his tail. It curled around, swished once, and pointed toward the cloud. They cheered as if it had just announced a parade.

Max tried again. He circled the asteroid, keeping his eyes on the basket. His tail swung the other way. The basket bumped onto a little moon, where it rested beside a family of round, sleepy rocks.

“Over here!” called Odo. He carried the basket back with both hands.

Max smiled, but his cheeks felt warm. He wanted the buns on the blanket, not on every moon in the neighborhood. The sprites were having fun, though. They lined up, ready for the next toss.

“Maybe my tail needs a quieter plan,” Max said. He looked at the blanket, then at the basket, and tried to think of one.

Max held still. His tail still swished, but only a little, like a ribbon waving hello. The sprites stood in a row beside the blanket. Etta cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Ready, basket?” she called.

“I’m not ready to play,” Max said. He kept his voice kind, though the basket bumped against his side. “I want to get these buns to the picnic. Could you give me a moment to figure out how?”

The sprites stopped cheering. Pip lowered the basket to the ground.

“Of course,” said Etta. “We can wait.”

Max watched the sprites gather close to his tail. Whenever it swished left, they stepped left. Whenever it swished right, they stepped right. They weren’t trying to make things harder. They thought the tail was leading them in a game.

“Ah!” Max said. “My tail is the game’s leader.”

“Does it know the way to the blanket?” asked Miri.

“It knows the way,” said Max. “It just needs to go straight.”

He curled his tail around the basket handle and checked that it was snug. Then he pointed his nose past the far edge of the blanket. Instead of turning in circles, he began one long, steady glide.

His tail swished once. The sprites started to follow it, then stopped when Etta raised a hand.

“Let Max show us,” she said.

Max glided past the blanket. The basket swung behind him, but he kept his path straight and slow. He eased his tail down until the basket touched the ground beside the blanket.

Plump! It landed without rolling, bouncing, or visiting another moon.

The sprites clapped. Max turned around, and his tail curled neatly beside him.

“You did it!” said Odo.

“We did it,” Max replied. “You gave me room to try.”

Pip opened the basket. The moonberry buns smelled warm and sweet. Miri counted them, then passed one to Etta, one to Odo, and one to Pip. They saved a place on the blanket for Max.

“I was hoping you’d ask,” he said, settling beside them. “I’ve been carrying these buns a long way.”

“And now,” said Etta, “they only have to travel from the basket to our mouths.”

The picnic carried on at an easy pace. The sprites passed around the buns, and Max told them about the little moon where the basket had landed. He described the sleepy rocks sitting beside it like a row of round, quiet uncles.

“Did they ask for a bun?” Pip asked.

“No,” said Max. “They looked too sleepy to chew.”

Odo poured berry tea into the tiny cups. It smelled like warm berries and a hint of cinnamon. Max had to hold his cup with both hands because his comet hands were made for steering through space, not holding teeny cups.

Etta showed him how to tuck his tail around the back of the blanket so it wouldn’t bump the teapot. Max tried it. His tail curled in a tidy loop, with just the tip poking out like a curious question mark.

“That’s a very good picnic tail,” said Miri.

“Thank you,” said Max. “It has been practicing.”

They ate slowly, trading stories between bites. Pip told about a star-shaped pebble that had rolled into his hat and traveled with him all afternoon. Odo admitted he had once mistaken a teacup for a tiny helmet. The sprites laughed, and Max laughed, too, until a crumb landed on the end of his nose.

The basket grew lighter. One bun remained at the bottom. It was round and golden, with two moonberries peeking through the top.

“Last bun,” Etta announced. “Max should have it. He brought the whole basket.”

Max picked it up and took a bite. He paused. Then he looked at the two berries, one on each side of the bite.

“I think this bun has two cheeks,” he said.

“Then one berry goes on each cheek!” said Pip.

Max grinned, and the sprites nodded as if this were the finest picnic rule anyone had ever made. He finished the bun with a berry on either side of his mouth, while everyone giggled at his very serious, very berry-covered face.

After that, they folded the blanket and stacked the cups. Max stretched out beside the sprites, his tail curled safely away from the basket. The little corner of space grew quiet around their picnic, and Max’s last crumbs rested on his nose until Etta brushed them away.