Kingdom Keepers III Dinsey in Shadow

by Ridley Pearson

  “Wel ? What are you waiting for?”

  The girls took off upstairs. Suzie Gorman and Patricia Nibs had been spying on them from the stairwel . The girls took off as Amanda and Jess approached. Upon their arrival at Nash House, Amanda and Jess had been hazed and harassed by the other girls. But then, one day, after Amanda had peed into a toilet with plastic wrap over the bowl, al the furniture in one of the rooms had instantly rearranged itself— with no one in the room. From that moment forward, the tricks had stopped and Amanda and Jess were kept at a respectful distance, never included in anything to do with the other girls, but never tortured or threatened either. It was a workable, serviceable arrangement.

  In their room now, open to the hal way—there were no doors on any of the bedrooms, only half-hinges left where the doors had been removed—the girls sat down on Amanda’s lower bunk and pul ed out their notebooks. There were no desks or bookshelves in the room. Al available space was given to the three beds—a bunk bed and a twin-size rol er bed—and a single, four-drawer dresser that the girls shared for their few clothes.

  Amanda started in on her math assignment. But she looked over at Jess and saw that instead of her homework Jess had her diary open in her lap and the wrinkled, mascara-stained receipt unfolded next to it.

  “What’s up?” Amanda said.

  “It’s just…it was like a dream. You know? One of my dreams.”

  “Outside The Land?”

  “Yes. But I didn’t get it al . Nowhere near al of it. And I thought…” She sketched into the diary a clearer image of what she’d begun on the receipt. It looked to Amanda like a piece of a wal , but with horses drawn on it. And then, the same letters as before: MKPFP IFP

  It was almost like a torn piece of a photograph; part of the picture was there, part missing.

  The horses looked as if they’d been stabbed from the top with what appeared to be lances.

  “Do you remember it?” Amanda asked.

  “Not al of it, no. But what I do remember is pretty clear. Like the rest of them.”

  “And you think it’s important?”

  “It has never happened to me like that: during the day, in the middle of everything. It’s always at night when I’m dreaming. It’s always when I wake up and I can’t get it out of my head. But today, in the park…it just hit me al of a sudden. Like you’d put a bag over my head or something. Like I’d walked into a movie theater. Yeah, more like that. Only now I can’t remember exactly what I saw.

  Al I know is that it scared me, whatever it was. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want to see it. Most of the time, you know, it doesn’t feel like that. I don’t real y care one way or the other—it’s just sort of there, like that glow in your eyes after a camera’s flash. Like that.”

  “So you think it means something?”

  “It must,” Jess said, nodding. “I mean it seems like they al mean something. And this one…

  this one was different.”

  An hour later they’d made it through their homework, microwaved their dinners, and hurried to get in line for the bathroom so they could take showers before bedtime. Another hour later they were both in their beds reading prior to lights-out at ten o’clock.

  Amanda leaned out of her upper bunk to speak to Jess. “I wish we could have talked to him,”

  she said.

  “Shh!” hissed Jeannie Pucket from the rol away. Jeannie made a point of being obnoxious whenever possible. She was Mrs. Nash’s favorite and, as a result, got al sorts of privileges the others girls did not. Amanda suspected she was also a spy for Mrs. Nash, so she didn’t mention Finn by name.

  “He figured it out,” Jess said. “He’s smart that way.”

  “But stil .”

  “I’l see him tomorrow at school. You’l see. I’m sure he’s worried about us, but he won’t be mad.”

  Mrs. Nash didn’t al ow the girls to take phone cal s. Finn had no way to reach them, even if he wanted to.

  “Be quiet,” Jeannie said. “It’s disrespectful. I’m trying to read.”

  Amanda groaned and lay back in her bed. Not long after that, the lights were turned off and Mrs. Nash patrol ed outside the rooms, prepared to punish anyone who spoke after curfew.

  Amanda fel into a troubled but deep sleep, drawn down by what had been an exhausting afternoon.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, the bunk shook and Amanda felt herself torn from a strange dream that involved Finn in a boat in the middle of white water. She sat up to see an indistinct shadow cast onto the wal , only to realize that the glow casting the shadow was coming from a portable reading light in Jess’s lower bunk. Amanda hung her head over the edge.

  Jess was sketching in her diary again.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda said in a thin whisper to avoid waking the spy.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I had a dream.”

  “That’s the idea,” Amanda said. “That usual y happens when we sleep. I was just in one myself.”

  “One of my dreams,” Jess said. “The same dream I had at the park today.”

  “The same one?” Amanda tried to view Jess’s dream diary upside down, but final y slithered off the top bunk and pushed Jess over and climbed into bed with her.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Amanda said.

  “I think it is,” Jess said.

  “And what’s that behind him?”

  “I don’t know, but it was exactly the same as I saw this afternoon, only this time I got the whole thing.”

  The image she’d sketched was striking. Amanda felt tempted to point out how much of what she had drawn borrowed from this very room, for it appeared to be an older man sitting on the edge of a bunk bed with a string of gibberish written on the wal behind him.

  “So you dreamt this twice, exactly the same?” This fit a pattern for Jess, and they both knew it: her dreams that repeated eventual y came true in the future; this had happened too many times for them to believe it had anything to do with coincidence. It was a gift—Jess’s gift—nothing less.

  “And that’s who I think it is,” Amanda continued.

  “Wayne,” Jess said. “Has to be.”

  “He knows about your…ability. About your dreams,” Amanda said. “You suppose he’s trying to communicate with you?”

  “Who knows?”

  Jess was stil drawing. She was adding a horse to the background behind Wayne. “We’ve got to show this to Finn,” Amanda said. Jess continued to shade the sketch by adding dark circles under Wayne’s eyes. He looked haggard and much older than Amanda remembered. “He’s in trouble,” Jess whispered. “I think we al are,” said Amanda.

  7

  IF FINN HAD RIDDEN HIS BIKE straight home, none of it ever would have happened. So in a way, Amanda was to blame, because she was the reason he walked his bike rather than riding.

  He’d just been climbing onto his bike when she’d come running up to him, red-faced and out of breath.

  “Oh, good. I thought I’d missed you.”

  “I’m right here.”

  “I have something I have to show you.”

  “Ah…okay.” He climbed off the bike.

  She reached into her backpack, slipped her hand inside, and then happened to look over her shoulder.

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  Lousy Luowski was coming toward them, flanked by Mike Horton and Eric Kreuter. Smarter than Luowski by a long shot, both Mike and Eric wished they were as tough. They worked hard to act and look the part. Finn thought of them as pilot fish, the fish that swim with sharks and feed off the scraps that spil out of the scavengers’ mouths while they feed.

  Amanda was holding a smal book—no, Finn realized—a journal or diary in her hand.

  “You and me…we’re going to fight,” Lousy said.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Finn said.

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  “That’s original,�
� said Finn.

  When Lousy Luowski stood next to you, it was like putting your face into a laundry bin in the gym locker room. He had a string of zits stretching away from his nose, several with hairs, like tiny antennas, sticking out of them.

  Finn worked hard not to show his fear. His only advantage at the moment was that the bicycle remained between him and Luowski—a smal advantage at that.

  “Hey, Greg, can’t I talk to a friend if I want to?” said Amanda.

  “Him and me, we’ve got some business to settle,” said Luowski.

  “Spoken like a true diplomat,” said Finn.

  Amanda shot Finn a look, chastising him for provoking Luowski.

  “Why don’t we take it off school grounds?” Luowski said.

  “Because,” Finn answered, “if we take it off school grounds then you wil feel free to beat me to a pulp, and something tel s me I wouldn’t like that.”

  “You got that right.”

  “So I think I’l stay put,” Finn said.

  “You can run, but you can’t—”

  “Don’t even go there,” said Finn. “Mike,” he said to Horton, “you’ve got to get this guy a better speechwriter.”

  Mike Horton bit back a smile, then lost it completely as Luowski looked his way.

  “You gotta go home sometime,” said Luowski.

  It was true. And it would be easy for Luowski to wait for him in any number of places along his route. He might be able to lock up the bike and cal his mom to come pick him up, but he’d never live that down. He saw his dilemma for what it was, even if Amanda didn’t: a confrontation with Luowski now seemed inevitable.

  “So,” Luowski said, “whadda we got here?” He snatched the diary from Amanda’s hand and waved it over his head tauntingly.

  Finn lurched forward, but Luowski fended him off with a straight arm. It was like hitting a steel post.

  “That’s private property,” Finn said. He’d seen Jess’s diary before and understood its significance as a portal into the future. If Amanda had brought him the diary, then it had to contain something significant.

  “As if I care,” Luowski said.

  “You’d better care,” Finn said. He’d made promises to people—Wayne, chief among them—

  as wel as to himself, never to cross over outside the parks, never to reveal his abilities to people who wouldn’t understand. Wayne believed that to do so would jeopardize the future of the DHI program inside the parks, and therefore the existence of the Kingdom Keepers. But at the same time Finn’s friendship with Amanda and Jess demanded that he act. Luowski had no right to steal Jess’s diary, no right to enter its pages without her approval—a permission she would never give.

  Finn felt bound to do something more than just stand there watching this moron misbehave.

  Rather than anger, Finn sought the inner quiet that freed him. He divorced himself from the moment, no longer ful y present. His vision blurred. His skin tingled. He felt a lightness in his being.

  Freedom. He began to cross over.

  It wouldn’t last long. He had to take advantage of the moment—become part human, part DHI.

  He charged Luowski, ducking under the boy’s surprised reaction, a hastily lifted arm.

  Finn snatched the diary from Luowski’s grasp and threw it at Amanda, knowing that as he transitioned ful y, his DHI might no longer be able to hold on to anything material.

  “Go!” Finn shouted, wondering if he was the only one to hear the electronic buzz in his voice.

  The diary flew in slow motion, its pages fluttering like a bird’s wings. Amanda caught it and stuffed it into her purse. She turned and ran.

  Luowski pul ed back his right arm, loading it with purpose. He planted his feet and delivered the swing from low to high—a punch designed to deliver the most impact while, at the same time, snapping his opponent’s head back. It was a roundhouse punch, meant to clock Finn unconscious.

  A second before, Finn felt his entire body tingle like a limb that’s fal en asleep. He’d done this enough times to understand that now he’d ful y crossed over. So he stood there, chin out, awaiting the ful brunt of Luowski’s fist.

  The blow failed to land. Luowski’s knuckles went right through the space that should have been Finn’s face. Luowski fel forward and, off balance, onto the ground. As Finn ducked back, the fear of the moment overcame his ability to cross over and he transitioned. Mike Horton would swear he’d never seen someone move so fast, convinced that Finn must have somehow ducked the punch. Eric Kreuter would claim that Luowski hit Finn squarely in the jaw, but that nothing happened. For this, Luowski later punched Kreuter in the jaw, knocking him down and asking him if he stil thought nothing had happened.

  Finn mounted the BMX and was speeding away before Luowski had regained his balance.

  “Get onto the seat!” he cal ed to Amanda, who had turned to witness everything.

  He slowed. She swung a leg over and slid onto the seat, reaching out to Finn’s waist as he stood, driving the pedals faster and faster. The bike wobbled and then sped away, Luowski cursing and shouting that he would do things to Finn that, technical y speaking, were impossible.

  “You’re insane,” Amanda said, her legs dangling on either side, her hands gripping him al the harder.

  But the way she said it he could tel she didn’t mean it. She meant it as a good thing. A good insane.

  Finn pedaled al the harder.

  8

  FINN STUDIED THE PAGE in Jess’s diary while the buzz of conversation swirled around him and Amanda. The Frozen Marble enjoyed a rush of middle school students each afternoon, loading up on chocolate, doing homework, teasing, conversing, and general y annoying one another. Their table was near the back, but Finn kept one eye on the front door in case Luowski happened inside.

  Finn had put a shout-out—a text—to the other Kingdom Keepers to join them if possible.

  They attended schools spread throughout Orlando, so Finn doubted that Philby would make it—he had the farthest to travel—though he thought Charlene and Maybeck might show up. To his surprise Philby was the first to arrive. He wore a bal cap pul ed down tightly to hide his face, as did Finn. The celebrity thing had gone from exciting to annoying; neither of the boys wanted to endure a half hour of signing autographs or answering stupid questions.

  “Hey,” Philby said, pul ing over a chair and sitting down.

  “Hey, yourself,” said Amanda.

  Finn picked up a spark between the two and wondered if he was imagining things.

  “You made it here quickly,” Finn said, suddenly questioning Philby’s motivation.

  “Caught the right bus. What’s up?”

  Finn slid Jess’s diary over to Philby. At the same moment Jess entered the shop. Finn was going to ask Amanda how Jess could possibly know they were there, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer—the “sisters” had an eerie connection and seemed to possess powers that had yet to be ful y explained. But as it turned out, he was being overly dramatic.

  “We can’t stay long,” Jess said. Thanks to Mrs. Nash, she and Amanda attended different schools. They met here each afternoon before heading home. She sat down and pul ed her backpack into her lap. “Mrs. Nash grounded us, in case you didn’t hear.”

  Amanda said, “We’ve got to stay at least a few minutes. Finn wants to talk to everyone.”

  “About?” Jess looked over at Finn. She had an intensity about her that other girls didn’t have, a way of looking through you as if reading your thoughts. He was partly afraid of her, partly intrigued. Always curious. Her looks changed with her moods—today she was bright and cheerful, but that wasn’t always the case. Her skin shimmered, catching the light in an unusual way and making it appear translucent.

  “You,” Finn answered. “This,” he said, indicating the diary. “Your encounter with security.”

  Mention of that caused Philby’s head to snap to attention. Philby’s expertise was in al things technical—he was a computer nerd, elect
ronics wizard, and al -around techno-geek. He also loved anything to do with security because security represented his chief nemesis.

  As Amanda was about to explain their escapade in Epcot, Maybeck, Charlene, and Wil a al arrived together. Maybeck ordered a double scoop of vanil a mixed with peaches and almond crunch. That forced everyone else to order something. A few minutes later, the group sat in a circle around the two café tables wolfing down their orders.

  Amanda spoke between mouthfuls, detailing the events of their ordeal, Jess’s spacing out and the first sketch she’d made. Jess then explained her “nightmare” and the sketch that they al studied individual y.

  “It’s Wayne,” Amanda said.

  “Has to be,” Philby agreed.

  “What do we do about it?” asked the ever practical Maybeck.

  “We help him,” said Charlene. Al eyes fel on her. “What?” she inquired.

  Wil a said, “I mean I get that you’re a ral y girl—the cheerleading and al that. Right? But since when are you so eager to dive into action?”

  “I’ve changed,” Charlene said.

  “I’d say so,” said Wil a.

  “The stilts. Everything we did at Animal Kingdom. I can do stuff that you guys can’t.

  Gymnastics, for instance.”

  “No one’s questioning your contributions,” Wil a said.

  “But I was,” she said. “Look. I know that Disney hired me because of the way I look. Okay?

  Miss Middle School USA. I get it. I fit whatever they were looking for in a DHI the same way Maybeck does, and all of us real y. But once this whole other thing got going, I had no idea what I was doing with al of you. You’re smart,” she said, looking at Finn, “or creative”—Maybeck—“or able to figure stuff out”—Philby—“or daring”—Wil a—“and where was I supposed to fit into that?

  But AK changed al that. I’m a jock. I can fold myself in half, or do the limbo, or walk on stilts, or climb a climbing wal . Maybe I can’t climb as good as Philby, but I can stil climb. I think I needed that. I needed to figure it out, whatever i t is. And for me i t is athletics. So now I’m…different, I guess. I’m kinda charged up about doing whatever it is we’re doing, and right now I think what we’re doing is trying to rescue Wayne. Right? I’m al over that.”