“Thanks, Mom,” said Bumblebee. “But I think maybe I ought to also be thinking about creating a lab here at Super Hero High. Batgirl’s been letting me use her Bat-Bunker, and I realize how convenient it is to have one where I live.”
“Oh, okay,” her mother said softly. “Well, that does make sense. But we’re rebuilding your room for when you come home. You will still come home for Sunday suppers, right? And weekends now and then, like before?”
Bumblebee could hear the worry in her mom’s voice. Sometimes Bumblebee was so busy talking about all the amazing, fun, and scary things that happened at school, she forgot that her parents were always thinking about her. Bumblebee made a mental note to call them more often. After all, she was their only child.
“Of course, Mom,” Bumblebee reassured her. “I will always come home, I promise! How else will I get in my Mom and Dad fix?”
Ms. Andrena-Beecher’s laugh sounded like crystal bells ringing. “You have always been good at sweet-talking us, Bumblebee,” she said.
Bumblebee could hear her father in the background, saying, “Is that our daughter? Tell her that I’m still taking photos. Just because my photo studio is gone doesn’t mean I have to stop.”
“Bumblebee,” her mother began, “your father said that he’s still taking photos—”
“I know, Mom,” she said. “I could hear him.”
Bumblebee missed her parents. Sometimes they could drive her crazy, but then, most of her friends said the same thing about their parents. Just then, what sounded like the rat-tat-tat of explosives carried over the phone. Bumblebee startled.
“Whoops! Excuse me, honey,” said her mother. “That’s just me sneezing. Allergies. The pollen is unseasonably strong today!”
Bumblebee let go a sigh of relief. “I’m glad it was just a sneeze,” she said. “For a moment, I thought it was some-thing worse.”
As Bumblebee walked through Centennial Park to meet Beast Boy, the plants looked like they were wilting. She had been doing a lot of walking lately, to conserve her batteries. For the first time, Bumblebee had even asked to sit out and observe during Red Tornado’s Flight Training class.
The sound of sneezes filled the park. Everywhere they went, Bumblebee and Beast Boy observed people sneezing and dabbing their eyes with tissues. As she neared a familiar cluster of evergreen trees, Bumblebee slowed. She loved greeting the honeybees who inhabited several hives nestled in the tall branches. Usually there were bees buzzing around, and Bumblebee would get bee-sized and fly along with them. Though she couldn’t speak their language, they seemed to be fond of her, and she certainly was a fan of theirs.
The hives were unusually quiet. In the distance, Bumblebee could hear sneezes, but what she couldn’t hear was the low, sweet buzz of the bees.
“Hello?” she called up. “It’s me, Bumblebee!”
She always called ahead before visiting. It was never a good idea to disturb a hive. The bees might think you were trying to invade and would attack to defend their queen.
“Hello?” Bumblebee called again.
There was no answer, no group of bees to greet her. Instead, strangely, there was silence.
“Maybe you offended them and they don’t want to see you,” Beast Boy said as he walked up to her. “Or maybe they’re on a field trip. Remember when we all went to the Great Pyramid of Giza yesterday afternoon? Or maybe they’re on vacation.”
Bumblebee shook her head. “That’s not how bees work,” she said.
“Bees work?” asked Beast Boy. “I thought they just buzzed around sniffing the flowers.” He morphed into an energetic hummingbird and flew away but then came back a few minutes later. “Couldn’t find any flowers,” he said, turning back into a teen.
“Bees work really, really hard,” Bumblebee explained. As they headed to the Metropolis Library, Beast Boy kept waving to everyone he knew, or didn’t know but wanted to know—which was everyone.
“Bees fly around from flower to flower,” Bumblebee continued, “sipping the sweet nectar while collecting tiny grains of pollen. When they have as much as they can carry, they head back to their hives, where it’s turned into honey.” She paused, thinking of honey and how she was now down to three jars. And they weren’t even big jars.
“Hives? I got hives once,” Beast Boy said, his eyes lighting up at the memory of it. “Big bumps all over my body. It was awful and awesome at the same time. So I turned into an alligator until they were gone. Wanna see a photo?”
Bumblebee shook her head. “No, thank you. These hives are where bees live. Here they work together, and every bee has a job to do, starting with the queen, who lays the eggs.”
“How many queens are there?” Beast Boy asked. He sneezed so loud that Rainbow the cat jumped out of Scooter’s arms and up a tree.
“Just one per hive,” Bumblebee told him. “Everyone else works for her.” She brushed a light dusting of yellow off her super suit. What is this?