by Amy C. Blake
“To make sure we’re in our rooms?” Levi couldn’t keep the tremble from his voice.
“To make sure everyone is accounted for.” The director’s gaze fell heavy on him. “If anyone is not safe in his bed, we must assume something has happened to him. We must search for him.”
Like they’d had to do for him more than once already. “Yes, sir.”
“I won’t ask how often these midnight trips to the roof have occurred,” Mr. Dominic said sternly. “But I will demand that they not occur again.”
“They won’t, sir.” Trevor’s face was white.
Levi nodded, but the thought of having to stay in bed with his nightmares nearly overwhelmed him. He stared down at his white-knuckled hands clenched in his lap. “It’s just that sometimes I have these dreams, and I need to get away.” Several moments of silence met his words. Finally, he couldn’t stand it and peeked up at the director, careful to avoid Trevor’s eyes.
“Sometimes,” Mr. Dominic said softly, “our thoughts and memories can crush us beneath their weight.”
Levi felt a sudden stinging behind his eyes. He nodded.
The director’s lips curved slightly. “I’d imagine a boys’ bathroom isn’t conducive to clearing your thoughts of such evils.”
Trevor snorted as Levi let out a relieved chuckle. He shook his head.
“All right then. I’ll grant you permission to visit the chapel when such dreams attack. Then, if you aren’t in your room, I’ll know to look for you there.”
The chapel? Why hadn’t he thought of that? Talking to God would be a lot better way to handle things than punching Trevor. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but . . .” The steely tone returned. “Don’t ever disobey my rules again.”
Trevor made a loud gulping sound. Levi nodded hard.
“Now for your punishment.”
26
Torture
After another play practice/torture session in the great hall the next afternoon, Levi scooted toward the hall, ready to escape the humiliation. He could still hear Hunter and company making skirt jokes from over by the foosball table. But Morgan caught up with him before he could reach the door and instantly began chattering, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t in the mood to chat. He looked behind him, hoping to foist her off on Lizzie, who’d been cast as Freyja.
Lizzie only smirked at him, tossed her mane of pink-ribboned hair, and paraded through the open French door on the opposite side of the room. Shoulders slumped, he turned away. Since Sara and Monica had refused to be in the play after last summer, there wasn’t anybody else to pass Morgan off on. He trudged into the hall with her practically skipping along at his side.
“It’s so exciting. Lizzie’s so beautiful, she’ll make the perfect Freyja, don’t you think?”
He sighed. “She was great as Helen of Troy last year.”
“I can imagine. I’m just so glad you talked to them about letting me be their roommate.” Morgan’s small hand clasped his. “They’re so sweet.”
“Yeah.” He tried to pull his fingers free without being obvious.
As they neared the kitchen doorway, a loud thumping noise erupted from within.
Morgan’s grip on his hand tightened. “What’s that?”
Levi shushed her and peeked around the doorframe. Mr. and Mrs. Forest hovered by the closed cellar door, him with a butcher knife, her with an iron skillet.
When Morgan gasped, he squeezed her hand to silence her.
“Do you think it’s that nasty Dvergar again?” Mrs. Forest’s skillet trembled.
“Hard to say. It rained awful hard this morning—here and down under. Could be a sailor.” Her husband inched closer to the cellar. A violent barrage rattled the wood. He jumped, dropping the knife millimeters from his wife’s foot.
“Eek! You put that thing away.” She flew—literally—to the far side of the work island. Levi yanked Morgan back, hoping she hadn’t noticed that Mrs. Forest’s feet hadn’t touched the floor as she fled.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” the pixie cook was saying as Levi pulled Morgan down the hall, his finger to his lips. He finally stopped beside a tapestry of the Greek god Hades tossing a screaming, writhing soul into Tartarus.
Morgan stared at Levi, her freckles standing out on her pale face. “What was that all about?”
He shook his head and pried her fingers from his hand. Red half-moons stood out where her nails had dug in.
She planted her small fists on her hips. “You disappeared somewhere a few weeks ago.” A shrewd look entered her eyes. “You went down in the cellar, didn’t you?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “What’s down there? Some sailor? Or a . . . what did she call it?”
His gaze flicked to the tortured soul in Hades’s grasp. He could totally relate. “Dvergar.” He bit his lip. Why had he told her the name?
“Dvergar? What’s that?” Her eyes glittered with an intense curiosity that made his stomach perform an elaborate tap dance.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“Whatever.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not a baby, you know.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and bent to meet her eyes. “I mean it, Morgan. Leave. It. Alone.”
“I said okay.” Bottom lip poked out, she stomped up the stairs without him.
He heaved a sigh. At least she hadn’t noticed the flying cook.
“She’s always listenin’ to our private conversations,” Lizzie whined two days later. She crossed her arms over her chest, bottom lip poked out, looking just like her new roommate had when she’d stormed away from Levi after the kitchen incident. “We had to sneak out just to come up here without her tagging along like some stray dog we shouldn’t have fed.” Lizzie flopped down on the stone tower rooftop then grimaced as though she regretted the flop, melodrama or not.
Levi rubbed a hand across his mouth to smother a snigger. Tommy, Trevor, and Steve didn’t even try to hide their cackles.
“It is not at all amusing to us.” Monica pursed her lips. “Imagine, if you will, the difficulty of accomplishing one’s tasks when one’s roommate talks without ceasing.” Her eyes sparked like coals about to burst into flame.
Uh-oh. Monica’s snobby tone only came out when she was nervous . . . or furious. And her flaring nostrils told him she wasn’t feeling at all nervous.
“Okay, I’m sorry.” He sat cross-legged on the floor beside Sara, hoping she’d be more sympathetic. “I felt bad for her. She’s lonely and homesick and her roommates were being hateful to her.” He met each girl’s eyes in turn. “All because her momma made some stupid decisions and left her with relatives.”
“Her momma left her?” Lizzie’s rigid shoulders dropped a notch. “Really?”
He nodded, knowing Lizzie’s dad had abandoned her and her mom when she was little. “Yeah, and when her roommates found out, they acted like it was Morgan’s fault somehow.”
Lizzie thumped a fist into her palm. “It’s not her fault what her momma did.”
“She didn’t tell us any of this.” Monica settled next to Trevor, who raised both eyebrows at Levi.
“No, she didn’t,” Sara said softly.
“She was probably scared you’d be mean, too.” Levi clucked his tongue. “But I knew you’d be nice to her.” He studied their three flushed faces, not even a little sorry for the guilt trip he was laying on them. “That’s why I suggested she room with you.”
“Oh, all right, I’m sorry.” Lizzie let out a windy sigh. “I’m being petty again.”
“Me, too.” Sara met Levi’s gaze. “We’ll be nicer to Morgan.”
Monica shrugged. “She’s probably trying too hard to fit in. Once she realizes we’re not here to judge her, she’ll relax and be herself.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Levi tossed Trevor a victorious glance.
Trevor grinned and shot him a thumbs-up behind the girls’ backs. “She’ll probably end up your very best frien
d.”
Lizzie whacked him on the arm. “Shut up, Trevor.”
He gave her a wide-eyed look of injured innocence. “What?”
“Should I go find her and bring her up here?” Sara asked Levi.
He peered around the tower rooftop, the place they liked to hang out, just them. Thankfully, Mr. Dominic hadn’t said they weren’t allowed up here at all, only not after room check.
But to include Morgan in their circle . . .
He felt the weight of six pairs of eyes on him. They were clearly leaving the decision to him. He didn’t want that responsibility. Sure, Ashley wasn’t in their group anymore, which should mean there was room for Morgan. But she was different. He gave his head a tiny shake. He didn’t want anyone else in their group. They were comfortable. They fit together.
“You can’t leave her out because she’s a little annoying or awkward.” Steve stood, his cheeks as red as Lizzie’s nail polish. “Otherwise, you’d have to kick me out too.”
“We’re not gonna kick you out, you goober.” Trevor slugged Steve lightly on his oversized gut. “Sit back down.”
Steve shot him a dirty look. “I’m serious. If you’re going to leave Morgan out because she’s a pesky little kid, then a fat kid like me doesn’t belong either.”
Sara stood and touched his arm. “We aren’t trying to leave people out, Steve. Certainly not because of how they look. It’s just . . .” She turned to Monica and mouthed the word help.
Monica sighed. “It changes the dynamics. To add anybody to a group makes it different.” She shrugged. “And it has nothing to do with appearance. I mean, look at me.” She held out her black hand to Steve.
“That’s right.” Tommy stuck out his yellow-brown hand beside hers.
“Yeah, and me.” Levi smacked himself on the scrawny chest. “Do you know, the old ladies at my church are forever telling me they wish they had my hair?” He yanked at one of his curls. “Why anybody would want an orange afro like Bozo the clown, I’ll never get.”
Guffawing, Trevor smacked Levi’s tennis shoe. “Yeah, and as for awkward and annoying . . .” He grinned at Steve. “Levi’s got us all beat.”
“Hey, look who’s talking, you big gorilla.” Levi reached around Sara and popped Trevor on the back of the head. But then he laughed, and everyone else joined in, Steve included.
Hours later, as they descended the tower steps for supper, Levi realized they’d never decided how much to let Morgan into their group. If they included her fully, they’d have to tell her all about Terracaelum and Deceptor and everything. Otherwise, they couldn’t talk about anything ever. Besides, Mr. Dominic had told them not to tell the new kids about Terracaelum. They couldn’t disobey the director again, or he and Trevor would get kicked out.
Despite his logic, an uneasy guilt nibbled at his insides.
The next afternoon, Levi stuffed soiled tablecloths and smelly sheets into the washing machine. Only two industrial-size washers and dryers for all these people. He’d be doing laundry until he was Mr. Dominic’s age. Grumbling under his breath, he slopped in some detergent, slammed the door, and spun the dial. Then he turned, jerked open the dryer door, and tugged a wad of hot towels into a basket.
He lugged the basket to the folding table and peered out the open window as he folded. The humid air from outside did little to cool the sweltering laundry room. Steam seeped from the kitchen where a couple of the Forests’ grand-nieces and nephews were finishing the lunch dishes.
He blew upward to dislodge a sweat droplet from his left eyebrow. It fell, straight into his eye. “Grrr.” Why couldn’t he have gotten Trevor’s job? Levi could see him out there, trimming the undergrowth in the woods nearest the castle. Surely it was cooler in the shade than in this sauna.
When Mr. Dominic had meted out punishment for their midnight fight on the tower roof, he’d been thankful for the grace. Now he didn’t think grace had anything to do with it. If he’d been sent home, at least he could sit in an air-conditioned house. He’d probably melt into a puddle of stinky goo in this stifling torture chamber by the time he finished out his sentence. Every Thursday afternoon until the end of summer. Four more Thursdays.
After another hour of careful folding—he’d learned the hard way to be careful when Mrs. Forest made him redo two baskets of sheets that weren’t up to her standards—Levi knew he’d die of dehydration if he didn’t stop for a drink. He slinked to the door leading to the kitchen and peeked around the corner. Surely Mrs. Forest wouldn’t begrudge him a cup of cold water, but who knew? She could be downright nasty. Not that he could blame her, working in these horrible rooms all the time.
Levi sighed when he saw the empty kitchen. He crept to the cabinets in search of a cup. When he found one, he opened the huge refrigerator and rummaged for something to drink. Ahh, lemonade. After another quick peek around the room, he pulled out the massive glass jug and carried it carefully to the work island. He poured the beverage and watched sweat bead on the glass. Eager for that first swig, he rushed the heavy pitcher back to the refrigerator.
Before he reached it, a loud banging came from the back corner. He startled so violently he lost his grip on the slick handle. Though he scrambled to regain his hold, Levi could only watch it fall to the stone floor.
He stood slack-jawed, covered from head-to-toe in lemonade, staring at the sticky liquid coating every surface of the kitchen. Shattered glass sparkled on the floor. Fury filled him so the lemonade practically sizzled on his skin. Heedless of the broken glass, he stomped to the still-rattling cellar door. “Regin!”
The clatter ceased.
“You idiot, quit banging on the door all the time!”
The clanking started in again, even louder than before. Eyes bulging until a twitch started in his right lid, Levi grabbed the handle. He’d show that stupid dwarf.
But a high-pitched squeal from across the kitchen froze Levi in his tracks.
27
Spilled Lemonade
Slowly, with a dread so great he thought the blood must have congealed in his veins, Levi turned. Mrs. Forest stood purple-faced and sputtering, gaping from the mess to the now-still door, and then to him. He yanked his hand from the knob and backed up a few paces.
“You . . . you . . .” Veins bulged in the little woman’s neck.
For a wild moment, he considered plucking open the cellar door and leaping down. Surely another trip through the underworld was better than this nightmare. Any moment now, she’d regain her powers of speech and then—
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Forest’s soft whisper scared him more than the shriek he’d expected.
His mouth opened and closed several times before he could speak. “I . . . I’m sorry. I just got so thirsty.” A traitorous burst of saliva coated his tongue. “It’s hot.” He swept a hand toward the laundry room. “It was an accident. I was putting away the lemonade when Regin started . . .” He gestured to the silent door. “He startled me, and I dropped it.” His gaze lowered to the mess on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up right now.”
Levi turned to look for a mop, shoulders tense, waiting for Mrs. Forest to snag his earlobe and drag him to Mr. Dominic’s office again. He’d be sent home for sure this time. No more mercy.
As he pulled a bucket from its hook and trudged to the sink, thinking of how he’d have to tell his friends goodbye and of how he’d never see Terracaelum again, the complete silence caught his attention. He peered around. Mrs. Forest had disappeared. Was she fetching Mr. Dominic?
Or could she possibly be letting him off?
“Please, God . . .” As the bucket filled with soapy water, he swept the broken glass into a pile.
Forty-five minutes later, he left the spotless kitchen and returned to the laundry room. He sighed at the silent washer and dryer and the piles of reeking towels waiting for his attention. It was going to be a long evening. He moved toward the dryer, the heat an almost visible presence, and his parched throat reminded him he
’d never gotten that drink.
But at least it didn’t look like he’d get kicked out of camp.
“How is it your mom and dad always know when to open the door for us?” Levi murmured to Sara as they climbed the path to the castle, their friends trailing them. They’d passed an uneventful week and had just spent the night camping on the south side of the island. No one had been allowed to camp near the mountains since the dragon and mormo incidents. “I mean, they don’t have time to hang out on the doorstep all day.”
Sara shrugged. “They keep a pretty tight schedule with the staff. Plus, they have people watching to tell them when we’re coming.” She nodded toward the castle that appeared as she spoke. Atop the southwest tower, Albert waved at them.
Levi waved back and started across the drawbridge, his thoughts on that day in June when he’d willed the castle to appear and it hadn’t. “Can the watchmen see Castle Island when the castle’s not visible?” He glanced at Sara out of the corner of his eye. He hadn’t mentioned that incident to anyone, not even Sara or Trevor.
“There are spy windows in a few places, so they can see even when the castle’s not seen, but they don’t usually man them when no one’s expected.”
Levi smiled at Mrs. Dominic and waited until they’d passed out of her hearing before he asked Sara his next question. “What if you got locked out and your folks were . . . not available . . . not around . . . to let you in? Shouldn’t there be a key or something?”
“Oh, there is. We keep one just in case—” She halted, face flaming and eyes wide, and gripped his upper arms with both hands. “Don’t you dare say a word about that, Levi Prince.” As the other campers neared, she lowered her voice still more. “It’s treason for me to even mention it.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to anybody. Promise.”
Her breath left her in a hiss. “Thanks.”