The Weird in the Wilds

by Deb Caletti

  “But I don’t feel like I actually did anything, not like a real spell breaker. More like it just happened,” Apollo says.

  “Didn’t do anything? You, Apollo Dante, from your long line of great thinkers and philosophers, gatherers of knowledge for greater understanding—you brought your own specific weirdness to that perilous journey through the Wilds. What would have happened to all of you without the information you gained by always having your nose in a book, as the bully said? And you used your fine spectacles to spot shelter and danger, and to signal for help. Spell breaker,” Grandfather says.

  Apollo beams. “I guess I did.”

  Now Grandfather turns to Pirate Girl. “And you, Carson Curie Shackleton, otherwise known as Pirate Girl, descendant of fearless explorers and scientists, brave wayfarers who keep going forward when others stop . . . Why, I shudder to think what might have happened without your specific weirdness. Your unusual spirit and courage, and the contents of your pockets, and the pocketknife you carry everywhere, noted specifically by the bully . . . For starters, you’d all still be tied up in rope, and so would Jason Scrum himself. Spell breaker,” he says.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Pirate Girl says, and smiles.

  “And Josephine Idár. From a long line of people who have fought for justice and looked after the less fortunate—under extremely stressful personal circumstances, your weirdness gave you the strength and determination of a leader in battle. You thought of others before yourself when your troop needed rest. And your fine and accurate mathematical calculations allowed Henry to ace the landing out the window. He could have broken his neck, so thank you. Spell breaker,” Grandfather Every says to Jo.

  “And let’s not forget the celebration of love,” The Beautiful Librarian says. “Love made fun of, ugh, by a bully! The celebration helped break the spell, and it brought joy to many people in the province. For the first time since you-know-who started going on and on about others—there was a feeling of togetherness. It was also a wild party they’ll remember for years! We would have been there ourselves, but the lighthouse weather system had wrongly predicted a storm, and Big had just made me an irresistible Aphrodite Ambrosia.” The Beautiful Librarian, keeper of the knowledge, winks at Grandfather Every, keeper of the light, and he winks back.

  “The day of the party was the happiest one of my life so far,” Jo says.

  “And you, Henry,” Grandfather says, taking his hand. “You, who must listen and watch so closely out of fear, you, who are sometimes too afraid to go to sleep—you were extraordinarily brave, even when you were terrified. You reached your hand out to Apollo up on that ledge. You dodged Needleman’s knife as adeptly as a ball at recess. You, with your beautiful weirdness, you fit through that window perfectly, and made the narrowest and most courageous rescue, all by yourself. Spell breaker.”

  Henry feels so proud, he could cry. His throat tightens. His eyes begin to water.

  “But more than that, Henry . . . more than that—you, who so often feel sad, and bad, and alone . . . you still took love and beauty and music into your heart, and you danced.”

  CHAPTER 37

  The Spinning Circle

  Ihate to tell them the bad news after this glorious feast,” The Beautiful Librarian says. She has a smudge of Vanilla Madam-Missure cake on her nose.

  “Ah, I know,” Captain Every agrees. “Why, oh, why is cruelty so timeless?”

  “I have no idea,” she says as Button snags a fallen piece of Shimmer Torte from the rug and wolfs it down in one bite.

  “What bad news?” Pirate Girl is the only one brave enough to ask.

  “Vlad Luxor,” Captain Every says, in quite a loud and strong voice, not only because he’s the senior-most spell breaker, but because the lighthouse is a place of safety, with a revolving beam that never dims in any darkness or storm. “The wall, the wall, the wall!”

  “But there is no wall,” Henry says.

  “It was only a piece of string,” Apollo says.

  “He couldn’t seem to build one even with all the magic and power in the world,” Pirate Girl says.

  “Oh, but, children, I’m afraid you’re wrong,” Grandfather says. “He has certainly built a wall. One that’s much more dangerous than any actual structure of bricks or stone. A wall between people! A wall between inners and outers, and it’s getting higher and more treacherous every day. The evil is getting worse and uglier by the second, and spreading like a rash. You must stop him.”

  “I don’t know how we could ever stop him,” Henry says. “I could barely even look at him.”

  “I was shaking in my boots whenever he was near us,” Pirate Girl says, although Henry couldn’t tell.

  “I had a hard time dealing with a gerenuk bully, let alone one as bad as he is,” Jo says.

  “Same here,” Apollo says.

  “Shaking in your boots will be the least of it,” The Beautiful Librarian adds. “When you’re finally ready.”

  “Finally ready?” Henry says, and shivers. This whole conversation is quite nerve-racking. Apollo’s eyes are wide behind his glasses. Pirate Girl leans forward.

  “You have more to learn, of course, before taking on something that large,” The Beautiful Librarian says.

  “More to learn?” Pirate Girl asks. “But how?”

  Grandfather Every laughs. “How? Spell breaking, of course! I told you, did I not, that one needs the whole experience, good and bad, before you understand the whys? Well, here is your why,” Grandfather says, sticking his fork straight into a cake and taking a bite. “That stinky, troublesome bully—did you think he was the important part of this adventure? A spell is as much for the spell breaker as a spell breaker is for the spell. And you, my weird, beautiful darlings, had some very important things to learn, especially in this time of outers and others.”

  “What do you mean?” Pirate Girl asks.

  “He means that if you’re going to fight an evil bully who wants to divide us all with walls, there are vital truths to understand, about other people and about yourselves and your own powers and strengths,” The Beautiful Librarian says.

  “What truths?” Apollo asks.

  “One.” Captain Every holds up a single, sure finger. “That there are evil individuals like Vlad Luxor and Needleman, and even like your parents, Henry. But there are also just shadows.”

  “Jenny.” Pirate Girl smiles.

  The Varied Beauty of Life on This Planet

  “And, two,” The Beautiful Librarian continues, “that weird is the most natural and necessary and valuable thing on earth, thankfully present in every plant, animal, and human. A gift. A force. Otherness is essential to the varied beauty of life on this planet.”

  “The monkey pitcher.” Jo giggles.

  “The glowworms,” Henry remembers.

  “Caribou knees, and painted trees,” Apollo says, making a poem and not even realizing it.

  “Me,” Pirate Girl says.

  “All of us,” Henry says, and the others nod.

  “Big, look! They understand! This is some of the most excellent and successful spell breaking I have ever seen.” The Beautiful Librarian clasps her hands in joy.

  “Oh, it is.” Captain Every beams. “The bully may still stink like an old egg, but the children have definitely been changed!”

  “Did you learn something with each spell, Captain Every?” Apollo asks. “Did you learn something after Ms. Sumac, even though the spell wasn’t broken?”

  “Oh, the spell was most certainly broken! Her new uniqueness was extraordinary! Before that, she was just a regular old bully. And I most definitely learned something about myself, as well. I always thought I had two left feet, but it turns out I can shake my groove thing rather adeptly.”

  “Shake your groove thing, Captain Every?” Jo asks.

  “An old-fashioned w
ay of saying he’s quite a good dancer,” The Beautiful Librarian says.

  “Which reminds me, my darling, of all the other things that are timeless besides cruelty. Things that bring us together, not apart. An important and ever-present one, rare in that everyone on earth shares this in common, no matter what particular sort it is.”

  “Hmm,” The Beautiful Librarian says. “I believe you’re referring to that thing that sneaks into our smallest moments and fills them with meaning. That lets us all be weird and free and ourselves. The heartbeat, bass beat, ba-bump of all our lives.”

  “I am indeed. Shall we put on a record?”

  “A record, Captain Every?” Pirate Girl asks.

  “A large round disc that plays music,” The Beautiful Librarian explains. “That’s a wonderful idea, Big.”

  A Large Round Disc That Plays Music

  Grandfather Every hops up and sets one of those large discs onto a spinning circle, and he turns the volume up, and the room fills with a thundering thumping beat. “Come here, my darling,” he shouts over the music, reaching out to take The Beautiful Librarian’s hand. “Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive!” he sings. He sings so loud, Henry can see his tonsils.

  And now Henry hops up, too, and so do Apollo and Jo and Pirate Girl, and they all start dancing together, and this causes Button to get so excited she starts barking and running in circles, and the room is practically shaking with sound, the walls pulsing, full of noisy life. They are wiggling their shoulders, and sloshing their hips around like ships at sea. Henry feels so, so happy. He can’t think about anything other than what’s happening at this very minute. His grandfather lifts him right up off his feet, and his legs dangle down.

  “I love you, Grandfather!” he shouts into the music.

  “I love you, Henry. I love you, my boy!” Grandfather shouts in return, and then has to set him down, because he may have twinged his back.

  The music goes on.

  If you were there in that room, you would be stomping and spinning and feeling ah, ah, ah, ah alive. Around you, the walls would be shaking and the floor thumping. You would wipe the sweat from your forehead. You would reach for another slice of Shimmer Torte and another glass of Boublé Milk Magnifico so that you could keep dancing.

  But you are here instead, wherever that is. Wondering about all the things that will happen next, and all the things that haven’t yet been answered, because of course the story continues, even if this page ends. What terrifying but glorious adventure will the children have next? What about Mr. Reese? Will he always be a caring but bad-tempered rodent in a dress? Does Needleman finally catch them, as he surely might? How will the children ever defeat Vlad Luxor, especially when his evil keeps getting worse and worse? What awful thing is going to happen to Apollo? And is that all we’ll hear about Brenda and Eddie? Nothing more than we’ve been told already?

  Well, these are just a few of the things we don’t yet know. There is so much more, every year and second and moment of the future. And what is happening in that house by the sea—maybe it’s in the future, too, or maybe in the past, or maybe tomorrow or yesterday, who can say.

  Do this, though. Do this most important thing: Zoom in to that lit window, zoom in to that room, until right this minute you can feel the beat of the music in your heart. And then: Zoom out. Watch the golden glow of that place get farther and farther away, until you can’t even see it anymore, until the glow is only a memory. Let that be in your heart, too.

  Acknowledgments

  Big, giant love and boundless thanks to Jen Klonsky and Michael Bourret. I am so lucky, lucky, lucky to have these two in my corner as my editor, as my agent, and as my friends. Gratitude again to our incredible design team: Theresa Evangelista, Tony Sahara, Patrick Faricy (oh, that amazing cover art!), and Adam Nickel (our mapmaker!). To the entire team—thank you: Laurel Robinson, Jacqueline Hornberger, Cindy Howle, Caitlin Tutterow, Vanessa DeJesus, Carmela Iaria, Trevor Ingerson, Venessa Carson, Summer Ogata, and our whole sales crew.

  A shout-out of love to John Cardinali and Rock Hushka, two of my favorite people in the world. Forever appreciation to Paul and Jan Caletti, Evie Caletti, and Sue Rath, too. Sam and Nick—I am grateful for you, Erin, Pat, Myla, and Max every single day. Vast and infinite love to you guys. And, John Yurich—you’re the partner and friend I always wished and wished for. Beloved is the one, right word.

  About the Author

  Deb Caletti lives in a far north corner of the world. She is frightened of squirrels, owns a splendid pocketknife, and writes on an Underwood Standard Typewriter, 14 inch.

  Underwood Standard Typewriter, 14 Inch

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