Pip's Big Whoosh

In Snowy Bay, the ice shone like glass. Penguins zipped and slid, bellies whooshing, flippers in the air. They bumped, rolled, and popped up giggling.

Pip was the smallest penguin in his flock. He had bright eyes and a favorite shiny pebble he kept tucked under his wing. He rubbed it when his tummy felt wobbly. Pip loved to watch the older penguins zip down Whoosh Hill, but he was not sure about the Splash Tunnel at the bottom. It was a foamy arch where cold water tickled beaks.

One crisp morning, Captain Flipper clapped his flippers. "Penguins! Today is the Great Belly Slide Parade!" Everyone cheered. "We will slide from the top of Whoosh Hill, through the Splash Tunnel, and land by the snack buckets!"

Momo, the silly penguin, puffed out his chest. "I will do a triple wiggle!" he said, and tried one right then. He wobbled and sat down with a plop. Everyone laughed, even Momo.

"Come practice, Pip," said brave Tika, bumping shoulders with him. They waddled to Baby Bump, a small slope.

"Three... two... one..." Pip whispered. He scooted forward. Whoosh! He glided a little, then—bump!—POOF! He landed in soft snow, wearing a frosty mustache. Pip popped up and grinned. "I meant to do that," he chirped.

They tried again. Tika taught him a breath. "Smell the fish... blow the bubbles..." Pip breathed in deep and blew out. He slid a little farther, faster this time. At the Splash Tunnel, he stopped. Drip, drip went the water. Pip’s tummy wobbled. "Maybe later," he said.

Parade morning arrived bright and shiny. Gulls called. The ice glittered. Penguins lined up at the top of Whoosh Hill. Captain Flipper waved. "Sliders ready!"

"WHOOSH!" Tika went first, a clean streak of black and white. She zipped through the Splash Tunnel with a laugh.

Momo followed. He did a big wiggle and landed backward in a puff. "Ta-da!" he shouted, his feet sticking up like little oars.

Pip waited. His heart thumped. He touched his shiny pebble under his wing. Then he heard a tiny sound.

"Peep?" A little chick named Dot stood near the edge. Dot’s feet were planted like two tiny ice cubes. "I can’t," Dot whispered. "The tunnel will splash my beak."

Pip’s tummy wobbled again, but he forgot about himself. He waddled over. "Want to slide with me?" he asked. His voice was small but steady.

Dot nodded, eyes big and round.

Pip tucked Dot under one flipper and held his pebble with the other. "We will go together," he said. "We count. We breathe. We whoosh."

They took a deep, fish-smelling breath. "Smell the fish... blow the bubbles..." Pip smiled at Dot. "Three, two, one... WHOOSH!"

Down they flew. Wind tickled their feathers. The ice sang a shhhhh song. The Splash Tunnel sprayed. Cold drops danced on their beaks.

Dot squeaked. Pip squeezed Dot’s flipper. "We’ve got this!" he called. Their laughter bounced around the tunnel—"hee-hee-hee"—like happy bubbles.

Out they burst in a silver spray, flippers up, bellies bright. SPLISH! They landed in a soft drift by the snack buckets. Fishy smells swirled.

The crowd cheered. Tika danced. Captain Flipper saluted. Momo arrived late, spinning like a top, and bonked into a snowbank. "I meant to do that!" he said again, with a wink.

Dot bounced. "We did it!"

Pip blinked. His tummy felt light and warm. He touched his shiny pebble. It was still small, but his brave feeling was big.

Tika nudged him. "Another slide?"

Pip looked up at Whoosh Hill. It didn’t seem so tall. He grinned. "Again," he said. "This time, let’s try a tiny wiggle."

They climbed together, flippers linked, whispering the brave words: "Smell the fish... blow the bubbles... whoosh."