She made her way to the small alcove and the table that was the scene of my tablet’s destruction a week ago, pointed at her sketch of me sleeping and smiled. Her fingers traced over the wood and then the strange onyx stone that had come back from my travels. She turned it in her palm and said, “It’s so cold. What is it?”
It made me anxious seeing her holding it, so I stepped forward and held my hand out. She dropped it into my palm and its smooth, rounded shape slapped against my skin.
“Oh, I found it – don’t know what it is.”
“Hey, what happened to your hands? They’re all scraped up.”
I let my hand fall to my side. “Oh, it’s nothing. I fell.”
Pepper eyed me and punched my shoulder lightly. “I’m just giving you a hard time. So, how about we talk to Holly about getting this room updated to the twenty-first century?”
I slipped my special treasure into my pocket and wondered how I’d be able to keep my secret from her.
Chapter 9 - Pepper’s Discovery
The rest of the week went by, and Pepper came over every day after school. If I had any hesitation about her being my friend, there was no way out now. She had a way of declaring herself, and since I’m not the kind of person to make waves, it seemed a perfect match. It was sort of nice to be around someone who didn’t care about my social shortcomings – who was actually an equal in that department, and someone who liked me for me. She was as present as an elephant with ankle weights, and I liked that about her. Pepper was my friend, and that was okay by me.
Somehow my room became a top priority to both Aunt Holly and Pepper. Green paint was bought and while I was at school through the week, Aunt Holly worked diligently on removing the ugly wallpaper. Come Saturday, all my belongings (a very sad pile) were stacked in the center of the space and covered with a sheet. Rollers, paint and overly excited women with bandanas protecting their heads surrounded me.
“Okay, Nim, you want the honor of making the first mark?” Aunt Holly asked.
“Sure.” I coated my roller in paint and pressed it to the wall.
“Whoop!” Pepper shouted and started humming a song while she painted.
“I hope you’ll feel more at home now. I can’t believe I never thought of suggesting we change some things to make you more comfortable. Guess it’s been too long since I’ve had to think about anyone else. I just want you happy.” Aunt Holly gave me a quick squeeze, nearly covering my ear in paint with her brush.
“No worries, Aunt Holly. I didn’t even think of it. It’s all Pepper’s fault,” I said with a smile.
My arms were so sore by the time we finished, I thought they would actually fall off. I wasn’t the only one who was tired; Aunt Holly and Pepper fell onto the couch in the living room, splatters of forest green on their faces.
“Omigosh. Whose bright idea was that?” Pepper whimpered.
“Okay, I think you guys earned pizza dinner. You want to pop a movie in or something while we wait?”
“You know, I still haven’t been given the full tour. Nim, show me the secret passageways.” It took Pepper a minute to rise to her feet, but once she was up, she was already headed through the doorway.
I used my last bit of strength to push myself after her. On the ground level, she discovered Aunt Holly’s bedroom, the hot water closet, and laundry room. Nothing interesting there, so she bolted upstairs, leaving me to wonder where her burst of energy had come from. Pepper skipped my bedroom, Aunt Holly’s art studio and the bathroom, which she was already familiar with. This left two doors, and I didn’t want her to go into either of them.
“What’s in here?” she asked, her hand resting on the doorknob to my grandparents’ room.
“That was my grandparents’ room. We don’t go in there.”
She wrinkled her nose as though she were imagining the ghosts of my grandparents just behind the wall. Instead, she turned around, walked straight to the attic door and pulled it open. Before I could stop her, she went up the steps.
“Wait, Pepper…”
She switched on the desk lamp as I emerged into the darkened room. I hadn’t come back here all week – I’d been avoiding it. Out of sight, out of mind. I wasn’t planning on using the pen again. Either I was crazy, or it was magical and I wasn’t prepared to deal with either reality.
Pepper sat down at the desk and leaned forward. “Was all of this your grandpa’s stuff? It’s pretty sweet. Bookshelves everywhere.”
“Yeah, he liked books as much as me, if not more. Say, how about we go start a movie like Aunt Holly suggested –“
“Hold on a sec. Look at all of these cool little drawers, I wonder what’s in them...” She started opening them one by one. “I wonder what this is from.”
Pepper lifted up what appeared to be a translucent feather, but as she turned it under the light, it glowed blue. My curiosity piqued, and I joined her at the desk. I thought about the relic I had brought back from my story and realized Grandpa could have found special items to bring back as well. It was his pen, after all. He had to have known about its powers.
Pepper nudged me and asked, “What’s up? You have your thinking cap on.”
“Oh, nothing.” I took the feather from her and put it back in its resting place. “It’s Grandpa’s stuff. Leave it. C’mon, let’s go downstairs.”
I walked over to the top of the attic stairs and went down a step, hoping Pepper would get the hint. But instead, she did something else.
“Ooh, Latin.” With her hand resting on my story, and before I could stop her, she lifted up the golden pen and read its inscription. Bright light etched a line through the air – a perfect rectangle surrounded Pepper. A burst of wind blew her hair into a flurry around her head and in an instant, the light and Pepper were gone.
Chapter 10 - Guilt Trip
“Pepper!”
I ran to the desk, but it was pointless. She was gone.
Now what?
The pen lay innocently on the story I had written only a week ago. My sad and depressing kingdom without hope or life was written on those pages and I could only assume this was the very place my friend had just disappeared. So much for keeping my secret.
I picked up the cool, metallic cylinder and twisted the pen between my fingertips. The Latin phrase goaded me, taunted me to speak its magical words again. I had to, of course. I couldn’t leave my friend in that terrible place, frightened and alone.
I let out a shuddering breath before saying the words. Nothing. No rush of light or wind, simply nothing.
How could that be? I didn’t stumble or slur. I was fairly confident I hadn’t butchered the phrase. What if only one gateway could be opened at a time into a story? My throat tightened as that thought sank in.
I didn’t doubt Pepper could talk her way out of a situation, but would it matter? If she went exploring like I had, it would only mean trouble. Somehow I had made it back out of the world I created, and with my terrible luck that was a miracle.
The room was quiet, reminding me just how alone I was. I pulled out the chair and sat down. Time to think this out. What exactly had Pepper done? She was sitting in this very spot when she was transported away. Most importantly, she had been holding the pen when she spoke those magical words. I doubted the chair made any difference. So what other variable had I not thought of?
Last weekend when I discovered the pen’s power, I had done the very same thing as Pepper, I was sure of it.
With my hand laid on the pages of the story, I read the inscription on the pen aloud: “Ars imitatur vita.”
Blinding light surrounded me and in an instant, the shadowy attic disappeared. This time I was prepared for it and kept my eyes open. Everything happened quickly; I rushed through a tunnel that was so bright, the sun would have paled in comparison. While I was pulled forward, a dark point far in the distance grew in size. Then everything went black. Spots filled my vision and I blinked, unable to see. Vertigo hit and I remained still until the queasiness passe
d.
After a deep breath, I straightened and scanned the landscape. My eyes began to adjust to the low light and I recognized the basin. Black, wiry branches reached into the sky and I could smell the tree’s burnt husk. There was no sign of the sun, only gray clouds.
Where was Pepper? What if she hadn’t gone into the story and went somewhere else? I got queasy again, but it wasn’t from the trip here.
I scrambled forward and passed by the tree, my eyes focused on the trail leading out of the basin.
“Nim?”
A girl’s silhouette came into focus against the dreary backdrop. “Pepper,” I said, entirely relieved.
She rushed toward me, her eyes wide with wonder. “Do you believe this? This is amazing!”
I stood speechless and shrugged.
“Nim – what happened?” Pepper grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. Her excited blue eyes were focused on me. There was no way around it now. I had to tell her. I didn’t think she would buy that we were having a shared dream.
“Well…I think my grandpa’s pen is magical.”
“You knew about this?”
I nodded in response.
“You did? When did you find out?”
“Last weekend.”
Pepper folded her arms across her chest and said, “And were you planning on telling me?”
“No, not really. I wasn’t going to tell anyone, because I wasn’t planning on using it again.”
She shivered in the cold breeze and I remembered having to tolerate a full day of wandering in this depressing place. I didn’t want to stay here any longer. We could talk about all this back in the attic. It’d be a lot warmer there, and we wouldn’t run the risk of getting captured by Slag’s men.
“C’mon, let’s go back and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“How do we go back?” Pepper tilted her head and frowned.
I pointed to the ribbon of glowing light we had come through. “After you.”
She walked toward it and gave me a backwards glance. In one step, she was gone, disappearing into the portal. I waited a moment before following her.
When I arrived back in the attic, Pepper was waiting for me. She plopped down into Grandpa’s old overstuffed reading chair and said, “Spill.”
I moved the desk chair so I was facing her and combed my fingers through my hair as I thought about where to start. “Okay, so I’ve told you I love writing. Grandpa did, too. When my tablet died right after I got here and I didn’t have anything to write my stories on, Aunt Holly told me to poke around up here and use anything of Grandpa’s I wanted. The gold pen was laying right there, and I just started writing. After I was done with my short story, I noticed the engraved words on the pen and like you, I said them out loud.”
As I was talking, I realized something. “I think you have to be touching the pages of the story you want to be transported into while you hold the pen and say the words. And like you saw, to come back home, you have to walk through that glowing doorway.”
“Wait, we just went into your story?”
“Uh-huh.”
Pepper sat there waiting for me to say more, and when I didn’t, she said in exasperation, “So, what happened when you went in?”
“Maybe you should read my story first before I tell you.” I reached behind me on the desk, grabbed the pages and handed them to her.
It took her fifteen minutes to finish, and when she was done, she tidied the paper carefully. “You’re a good writer. It’s sort of a sad story though, isn’t it?”
“Happy isn’t my thing. Not lately.”
She nodded sympathetically and urged me to continue. “So what happened?”
I sat back in my chair and got comfortable. I tried to give her the short version, but she kept interrupting with questions, slowing me down.
“All of that happened, for real?”
“Seriously, and you know, the weird thing was there was a lot in the world I didn’t write about. So much I didn’t know. It’s like the world took on a life of its own.”
“Wish I’d been with you – it sounds so exciting!”
“Exciting? Until I got back and figured out it wasn’t a dream, I thought it was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had!”
“Psh, whatever. You’re just a drama queen. So, how’s the story end? You didn’t really end it – it just leaves you hanging. Does the Prince overcome his stony heart and save the princess?”
Did she just call me a drama queen? I shook my head and answered, “Sure, whatever you’d like to think.”
“No, seriously. Now that you’ve gone into your story, don’t you care what happens to these people? Malick, Red, Prince Braylon and Princess Amerovia?”
“It’s just a story. We all have stories, and they don’t all end well. My mom died, so did your sister. Life’s unfair and uncaring. Why should I care?”
Pepper’s brow wrinkled and her jaw dropped. She sat there gaping at me for a minute before she jumped to her feet and stomped toward me. “Nimrod, I can’t believe you feel that way! Sure, life’s unfair, but the minute you stop caring about anything, what’s any of it worth? What do you think your mom would think of you turning into a bitter, teenaged recluse? What’s the point of being alive if you don’t enjoy yourself while you’re here? You know what that inscription means on the pen?”
I shrugged and she continued, “It says art imitates life. Art is beautiful, and full of all the same emotions we feel in our lives. But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Nim. I haven’t even met the people you did in the story, but I care. I want the good guys to win. If you don’t want to go back, that’s fine, but you should at least finish the story properly. Give them hope.”
Pepper breezed past me and down the attic stairs, leaving me feeling like my mother had just lectured me. She thought I was crazy, but for entirely different reasons than I had originally considered.
Who was she, anyway, to dictate how to end my own story? She didn’t know what she was talking about. I was the one who needed to be satisfied with how it ended, not her or anyone else and certainly not my characters. Pepper could just stay mad at me – I never asked her to be my friend to begin with, anyway. I was meant to be alone.
I sat at the desk and stared at the pages of my book. I reread it, and recalled the solemn place that had taken on a life of its own. Unfortunately, I never got to see Amerovia’s beautiful face, but that was fine by me. I had left with my life, and that seemed good enough. Why tempt fate?
I switched off the table lamp and left the attic without a backwards glance. When I reached the end of the hallway, I paused on the top step, listening for murmurs. Aunt Holly’s voice filtered up to my ears and I grasped the banister while I tried to figure out what to do. From the sound of it, Pepper hadn’t left yet, unfortunately. I hadn’t known her long enough to predict her behavior. I didn’t think she’d tell anyone about the pen. At least, I hoped she wouldn’t.
I considered my options: either hang out in my freshly painted room and wait for her to take a hint and leave, or go downstairs and brave the storm. Although it was a daring choice, I groaned and moved like a slug all the way to the kitchen doorway. From there I could see both of them chatting happily on the sofa in the den.
“There he is. Hey, Nim, Pepper tells me you wanted to watch a feel-good movie. Something with a happy ending – I’ve got just the one. We’ve got it all cued up and ready to go. I’ve even popped some popcorn. C’mon over.” Aunt Holly patted the couch cushion between her and Pepper.
I had the sensation of coasting downhill without brakes. Was it too late to change my mind and wallow in my room with the paint fumes?
Pepper smirked at me and said, “He’s too embarrassed to admit he likes this stuff – you know how boys are.”
My feet didn’t want to move, but I dragged myself to the sofa. A puff of dust rose around me and I sneezed. This was turning into the best day ever (if you can’t tell, I’m being sarcastic). I was coerced into p
ainting my room (okay, maybe it was a good idea), then Pepper nosed her way into my private stuff, exposing my secret, then she yelled at me and now I was being exposed to a stream of chick-flicks as punishment. What next? Hair highlights?
When we finished the movie we went up to my room to check and see if the paint had dried. It didn’t feel like I was living in a nineteen-fifties diorama anymore, which was definitely an improvement. I don’t know anything about style, but I know when something looks good.
With Aunt Holly’s help, Pepper pushed the headboard of my bed against the wall while I put the desk back into place.
“Looks like a guy’s room now.” Aunt Holly gave me a squeeze and kissed my forehead.
It was the cherry on the cake; being smothered with affection in front of my friend. To be honest, it wasn’t too bad, though. Aunt Holly wasn’t Mom, but she’d do, I guess.
“Thanks, Aunt Holly.”
“Now that your room’s set, I’m going to work out dinner. Pepper, you staying?”
Pepper looked at me and nodded. “Doubt I’ll be missed.”
“Just the same, you should give your parents a call and let them know.” Aunt Holly patted the door frame before walking out of the room.
Pepper pulled her phone out of her pocket and muttered, “What? I thought it was fully charged. You have a charger I can use?”
“Sure, right over there.” I waved to my desk absently.
She plugged in her phone and stared out the window. “Glad you like your room – looks good.” She turned around, bit the edge of her lip and continued, “I didn’t mean to get so mad at you earlier. It’s just – when you’ve gone through what we have, it’s nice to think there’s a way out of it, ya know? Like there’s hope.”
“Yeah.” I paused. “Hey, Pepper? You wouldn’t ever tell anyone about Grandpa’s pen, right?”
“We’re friends. I’d never betray you.”
“Cool,” I said with a sigh.
An Unfortunate Beginning Page 7