The Weird in the Wilds

by Deb Caletti

  The Astounding Things in a Forest You Didn’t Know You Could Eat

  This beautiful morning has all the excitement of adventure without any of the terror, and so Henry almost skips toward the water. When he glances over his shoulder, though, his cheer vanishes. Henry sees the look of worry and sadness on Jo’s face. All at once, the heaviness of their failed mission returns, and so does the bad feeling that’s been troubling Henry. His stomach begins to ache.

  “Are you all right, Henry?” Pirate Girl asks.

  “It’s the morning of the celebration of love. And Jason Scrum is still a gerenuk,” he says.

  “I know,” she says. Button yips and circles a scowling Mr. Reese as Pirate Girl and Henry pluck several lilly pillies and wombat berries. “It’s awful, everything we’ve been through for nothing. Is that all, though, Henry? You seem sadder than even all of that. Sadder than even that huge amount of sad.”

  Henry peeks at Pirate Girl. He feels embarrassed and even ashamed to admit what happened back when he passed through the lodge doors, when he gave the most magical and precious words to Vlad Luxor. He doesn’t even want to confess something so horrible. But Pirate Girl is waiting patiently for him to answer.

  “I said something bad to Vlad Luxor,” he whispers as he kneels by the river.

  “I’m glad. You should have said lots of bad things to him. But I’m relieved he didn’t turn you into a bushy-tailed rodent.”

  “No, I mean a good something bad. Something . . .”

  “What, Henry? It’s okay. You can tell me.”

  He can barely speak. “I told him the most perfect, magical three words. So that I could pass by safely.” Henry’s face turns a deep red. He hopes they’ll still be friends after a confession like that. But Pirate Girl’s eyes are only full of sorrow, and she seems to know what three words he means without him having to explain.

  “Oh, Henry,” she says.

  “I should never have done it.” He blinks back tears.

  “No way,” she says. “No way, Henry! You did what you had to do. We should never feel bad for what we do to survive a bully.”

  He stares down at his hands.

  “I once told Ginger Norton that she was pretty so she’d stop being mean to me. Before I sent her down that icy hill on a cardboard sled.”

  “You did?” Henry can hardly believe it. Pirate Girl always has a way of understanding him like no one else seems to.

  “Yeah. Gross. But it’s all brave, Henry.”

  A weight lifts inside of him, like the anchor of his own personal ship. He even smiles.

  “Come on,” she says.

  Mr. Reese’s apron pockets are stuffed full of tree buds and pinecone bits and even a mushroom or two, and Button enjoys a delectable squash and several asparagus tips, and Pirate Girl and Henry and the other children have a wonderful breakfast of wild fruit, and it’s all juicier and more filling and delicious than many breakfasts that Henry and Button have had at home. The caribou forest rangers manage to find their favorite reindeer moss and lichens, and Jason Scrum chomps with his usual bad manners on a strawberry guava. And, thank heavens, Jenny does not emerge again to devour Mr. Reese. The children eat quickly, though. The minutes are ticking by, and there is still the slightest but narrowing hope that they’ll arrive in time for the celebration of love to go on after all. Scrumptious juice is trickling down their faces, and Apollo wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and Jo is tying her shoes, eager to leave, when suddenly Eddie freezes, his large nose in the air.

  “What is it?” Brenda asks.

  “Smell,” Eddie says.

  And with that, Brenda makes an alarmed snort, and Eddie paws the ground, and a terrible scent fills the air, a new stink beyond the more familiar one of the gerenuk.

  “Pee-yew!” Pirate Girl says, and plugs her nose.

  “Our apologies,” Brenda says. “But this is what happens when caribou warn each other.”

  “Warn?”

  “A predator is coming. We smell him,” Eddie says. “We can smell him for miles.”

  “Hurry, children,” Brenda says.

  CHAPTER 32

  A Difficult Parting

  They quickly tidy their camp, like any good Ranger Scout or wilderness visitor, and then they yank Jason Scrum from his reverie of leaves. The children and Button and Mr. Reese climb on the backs of Brenda and Eddie.

  “How about we take the shortcut?” Eddie asks Brenda. Henry can feel the hot puff of his breath. “You know, the one that passes the little waterfall, and then the big one, and then the one that’s especially high?”

  “Don’t go chasing waterfalls, Eddie. Stick to the river we’re used to. It’s a little farther and will take more time, but I’m sure whoever we smelled back there will take the shortcut.”

  “Farther and more time?” Jo says sadly. When Henry looks over at her, he sees that her eyes have filled with tears.

  “Farther and more time?” Jason Scrum whines from the back. “I miss my mommy.”

  “I’m sorry, Jo,” Apollo says.

  “Me too,” Pirate Girl says.

  “Me too,” Henry says. His heart is breaking.

  “It will also take them quite a distance from the main entrance of the Wilds in Hollow Valley, where they said they left their bikes,” Eddie says.

  “Ugh,” Pirate Girl says. “It gets worse and worse.”

  “Safety first,” Brenda says, and that’s when they hear it: something awful. Something terrifying—a pig-like grunting, and then a horrible, cackling cry.

  “I know you’re in here somewhere, you little brats!” Needleman’s voice winds and lifts through the tree branches of the Wilds.

  “Oh no! Needleman! I thought he would never come to this place!” Apollo says.

  “He must want to find you very, very badly.” Eddie shakes his caribou head with the deepest concern.

  “I promise you, you have not seen the last of me!” Needleman shouts.

  “Go!” Brenda commands, and the caribou charge and rumble forward.

  Henry leans on Eddie’s neck. It’s a dewy fall morning, and the large orange sun has only just risen in the sky, and the air chills Henry’s cheeks, the only part of him not covered in the heavy velvet of that costume he still wears. As the caribou bolt through the forest of rainbow eucalyptus, there’s the delicious minty-sneezy-green smell of the leaves, and even at their rapid pace, Henry spots a carnivorous caterpillar eating a moth whole. A huge dragonfly speeds by their noses in a blur. Jo sees an unnerving spider, whose back seems to be decorated with delighted eyes and a smiling mouth. Apollo makes frightening eye contact with a feral pig.

  Frightening Eye Contact with a Feral Pig

  They ride for a long while, and morning turns to midday. They emerge into a field of curly, swirly, and coiled corkscrew grass, where they rest oh so quickly to drink from the curved green bowls of the wine-cup plant before riding on. They travel through a narrow valley-like corridor, and a secret wooded tunnel. And then finally, finally, as the clock ticks toward late afternoon, Henry sees something—an opening. A curve of light, a clearing. The caribou slow until they stop, and so does the gerenuk. Through that clearing, Henry sees the broad sky, and it’s as if the sun has filled the space with warmth and with the golden light of fall.

  “We are so sorry, children,” Eddie says. “We know this journey has taken much longer than you’d wished.”

  “It’s okay.” Jo’s voice wobbles.

  “And we’re so sorry, too, that we have to leave you here, in this inconvenient spot, but this has been the safest exit from the Wilds,” Brenda says. “The very farthest corner of Huge Meadow is always the safest and most hidden place.”

  “The farthest corner of Huge Meadow? We’ll never get home,” Jason Scrum whines.

  “Wait. What did you say?” Jo asks.
>
  “That we’re sorry. Leaving you here, so far from your bikes,” Brenda says. “Since we’re at—”

  “The farthest corner of Huge Meadow?!” Jo and Henry and Pirate Girl and Apollo all cry at the same time.

  “Is that where we are? Really? It’s so hard to tell,” Apollo says.

  “Yes, we had to go a great distance across the very hidden outer edges of the Wilds that zig and zag under the valley and up again, but I can assure you, we’re some distance from where you left your—”

  “That’s wonderful!” Jo exclaims. She slides off Brenda and flings her arms around the caribou’s thick neck. “That’s absolutely wonderful! Thank you.”

  Eddie kneels, and Henry and Pirate Girl hop off. Even though Jason Scrum is still a gerenuk, Henry is filled with joy and excitement and relief. “This is where the celebration of love is supposed to take place,” he explains to the caribou, “if it’s still going to happen.”

  “Enough about the blasted celebration of love!” Mr. Reese complains, throwing his creepy squirrel hands in the air. “Certain children need to sort out their priorities! Like keeping safe from madmen! Like turning squirrels back into the fine gentlemen they truly are!”

  “The exit of the Wilds. It’s through there?” Jo asks, pointing to the curve of light.

  “Right through there,” Brenda says. “This is where we say goodbye.”

  “But . . . can’t you come with us?” Henry says. He somehow hadn’t realized the caribou would stay behind, and Henry suddenly can’t bear the thought that all of them won’t continue on together.

  “Oh, that would be quite nice if we could,” Brenda says politely. “But we love the Wilds. It’s our home, and it’s still our job to watch over it every way we can.”

  “So . . . this is where you leave us?” Pirate Girl says.

  “It is.” Eddie nods his large square nose.

  “Thank you,” Henry says. It’s one of those times that those words aren’t big enough. He puts his arms first around Eddie and then Brenda, and he sets his cheek against each of them, and then all the children are hugging the caribou while being careful of their great antlers.

  Finally, the caribou turn and head back into the tangled, magical Wilds. And that’s the last you’ll hear about Brenda and Eddie. Nothing more than you’ve been told already. The children can barely see them now. But still, here they are, waving Brenda and Eddie goodbye.

  CHAPTER 33

  An Electric Event

  In spite of the weight of their failure—coming home with the same gerenuk they left with—stepping from the Wilds is a big moment for all of them, the children and Button, and their hearts feel like five enormous balloons, ready to lift.

  Five Enormous Balloons, Ready to Lift

  Pirate Girl, still in her jeweled cape, tilts her head toward the sky and the circle of sun, heading toward the horizon. “It’s nearly the golden hour of twilight,” she says.

  Jo, in her brocade gown, stands at the edge of the curve of light, not going forward yet, as if she’s terribly worried about what she might find. “She’s canceled it, I’m sure. This morning when I wasn’t there. She would have given up by then.”

  “We’ll find her, Jo,” Pirate Girl says. “We’ll tell her you’re here. Maybe it’s not too late.”

  So they emerge from the confusing and magical and frightening place that is the Wilds and step into the farthest corner of Huge Meadow. The perfect yellow light of this fading fall day turns everything such a beautiful shade of goldenness that it’s almost hard to see, especially after the darkness of the Wilds. But when Henry’s eyes adjust, he gasps.

  “Oh!” Jo cries, and Button, in her green velvet collar, jumps around their knees, and Henry’s chest fills with the kind of large feeling that makes it hard to speak. Because stretched out before them now, in the farthest, most safe and secret corner of Huge Meadow, is every possible part of a celebration, just waiting like a held breath—white tents, and flower garlands, and a fine cake of seven layers, and even a burbling fountain spilling Fizzé Joyeux. Henry sees a gathering of musicians, their instruments paused expectantly in their laps, and he sees the good people of the Timeless Province—the Dante family, with Rocco and Coco and Otto wearing their best and finest clothes, and Ms. Esmé Silvooplay, and Sir Loinshank Jr. and Sir Loinshank Sr. both, and Rinaldo Francois, from La GreenWee, and Ms. Toomey, from Socket-Toomey Hardware, and so many more. He sees Jo’s little sisters, Luna and Lola, with wreaths of flowers in their hair. And of course, he sees Jo’s mother, Isabelle Idár, and Miss Becky in beautiful dresses, a trail of flowers woven into Miss Becky’s long braid. But the good people wander about with their worried heads bent down solemnly, and the musicians’ instruments are still and silent, and Jo’s mother and Miss Becky sit close together, grasping hands in sorrow and anxiety.

  “Go, Jo. Go!” Henry says, and she does. Jo begins to run, lifting the skirts of her brocade dress, her embroidered hat flying from her head. Pirate Girl cheers, and Apollo, in his green satin knee-pants and white shirt with puffed sleeves, hops up and down with joy.

  “Mom! Mom!” Jo shouts, and what an incredible sight—Isabelle Idár’s head turns at her daughter’s voice, and so does Miss Becky’s, and Jo’s little sisters run to her and grab her around the waist. Isabelle Idár runs, too, and she’s a swirl of white flying toward Jo, nearly lifting her off her feet as she smothers her with kisses. Henry is filled with such gladness that there are no words for it.

  “Thank goodness! Thank goodness you’re all right!” Isabelle Idár cries.

  “I made it, Mom. I’m here! The celebration!”

  “I kept believing,” Jo’s mother says, making Henry’s throat tighten with emotion. “That you were all right. I kept hoping for this very moment, where my girl would run across this meadow.”

  Now, Mr. and Mrs. Dante, dressed in stylish attire and elaborate hats, rush over, and Henry is scooped up into a bundle of hugs and great relief and questions about where they have been and what has happened, though there is no time to answer all of this quite yet. Next, Ms. Fortune, who must have had some sort of unlucky calamity, hobbles over on a pair of crutches, her gown charming but quite long, and her hat lovely but somewhat dangerous.

  Somewhat Dangerous

  “We’re so sorry, Ms. Fortune,” Apollo says. “About . . .” He hooks his thumb over to Jason Scrum, already munching on the last leaves on the Huge Meadow trees.

  “Never mind, we’ll deal with him later,” Ms. Fortune says. “It’s almost . . .” She looks at her wristwatch, which has apparently stopped. “Well, I have no idea.”

  “Almost the golden hour of twilight!” Pirate Girl exclaims. “It’s time! It’s time for the celebration of love to begin!”

  And this is exactly what happens. The musicians begin to play a song that you feel even more than you hear. First, there are the long, pounding chords of an ancient organ, and then the ba-bamp rhythm of a drum and a bass, and then Isabelle Idár and Miss Becky join hands.

  “Dearly beloved!” Isabelle Idár calls to the crowd. “We are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.”

  “Together,” Miss Becky says.

  “Forever,” Isabelle Idar says. “And that’s a mighty long time.”

  Jo and Luna and Lola stand with them, too: a family. Henry’s eyes overflow with tears. Apollo and Henry and Pirate Girl hold hands tightly, their hearts full, so full of the goodness of love, and those three most magic words, I love you, given rightly and joyously.

  At this most beautiful of moments, when everyone gulps back tears and feels the purity and everlasting shine of connection, you may be hoping that the bully, Jason Scrum, will be transformed by what he’s witnessing. But no. Sadly, he just keeps on being who he is, a selfish creature in his own world, munching whatever greenery he can find, oblivious to the important thing happening
right in front of him.

  But this doesn’t matter a bit. Jo’s mother and Miss Becky raise their joined hands, and everyone cheers. Their eyes glint and glimmer with happiness, and they gather Jo and her sisters in their arms, and it’s almost more than Henry can bear, because his chest is so full of joy. Apollo’s eyes are wet behind his glasses, and Pirate Girl’s cheeks are flushed, and Henry lifts Button into his arms to squeeze her with gratitude, and even Mr. Reese is snuffling, overcome, wiping his little squirrel eyes with the corner of his apron.

  “It’s . . .” Henry can’t talk. His chest is full of emotion.

  “Beautiful,” Pirate Girl manages to say, squeezing Henry’s hand.

  Now, on that particular evening in fall, the season that is all about change, as the golden hour of twilight begins to darken, a magnificent party begins. The musicians pick up their instruments again—a bass, an electric guitar, drums, and horns, and out come the booming, shouting rhythms of celebration. Glasses are overflowing with Fizzé Joyeux. Rocco and Coco stick their thumbs in the second layer of the seven-layer cake and lick off the icing. Music works its own peculiar and particular magic. People begin to dance. Jo’s mother and Miss Becky, of course, but also Mr. Dante and Coco, and Mrs. Dante and Rocco, and Jo and her little sisters, and Apollo and Pirate Girl and Henry and Button in a circle, as baby Otto toddles around, dancing solo. Dr. Frederick Valhalla, optometrist and man-about-town, gives Miss Red from the bookstore a spin, and Sir Loinshank Sr. dips Ms. Fortune rather precariously, and Henry has to fling off his coat because it can get quite hot to whirl and shimmy in velvet. Mr. Reese has much better rhythm than you’d ever imagine. Ms. Esmé Silvooplay cuts loose with an unusual interpretive dance.

  An Unusual Interpretive Dance

  And the beat goes on.