“Stannie, is that you?” came a low female voice from some other part of the house.
“Yeah, Ma,” Spitbubble said. He strode through the front hallway and down a few steps into the den, which was filled with more matching furniture and a fake green Persian rug with an intricately hideous pattern on its surface. He sat down on a sunken violet couch and took out a large wad of cash from the pocket that had once housed the heavy, gold coin. The cash was a lot less shiny, but a lot more attractive to Spitbubble’s eye.
At that moment a tall, dark-haired woman walked into the den. She was wearing a beige short-sleeved blouse and a shapeless brown skirt: teacher clothes, Spitbubble thought, even though it was still summer vacation and she wouldn’t be back in the classroom for a few weeks yet.
“How was your day, Stannie?” she asked her son.
“Good, Ma,” he said as he counted out the money one more time to make sure that Barnes hadn’t shortchanged him.
The woman walked over and squinted at what he was doing. “Another good garage sale find?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
The woman chuckled as she patted Spitbubble on the head. “Oh, Stan. You have such a head for business. Lord knows how you spot these things. Who are all these stupid people selling their valuables in garage sales left and right?!”
“Well, you know what they say, Ma. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure,” Spitbubble answered.
The woman giggled and beamed at her son. “They sure do. You’re going to save yourself so much money for college, Stannie.”
“Mmmm.” Spitbubble smiled back, all the while staring at the purple bags under his mother’s eyes and inwardly swearing that he’d never fall to the same fate as her, looking old and tired while trying to earn an honest living. An honest living was for chumps and lame-os; Barnes knew that and so did he. Instead, Spitbubble was going to make enough money to be able to skip college and do whatever he wanted. He was determined to make adulthood fun.
All he had to do was get Brains to rig up the lair for heat and electricity, and then those hot springs would create the perfect natural spa for people like his mother. Tired, stressed-out adults who would pay a lot of money for a little bit of relaxation. A close-by getaway for when you don’t have time to get away. Or something like that. He’d have to work on the slogan. Oh, and getting those kids out of the forest by the time he was ready to open the spa. Though it shouldn’t be too hard to anonymously tip off the cops about a bunch of orphaned and runaway kids hiding out in the forest.
“What do you want for dinner? Is meatloaf okay?” his mother asked, bringing him back—for the moment—to his present-day situation.
“Yum,” Stan Barbroff said.
17
TWO MORAMS ARE BETTER THAN ONE
Sweet, thought Lint to himself as he threw his lint ball on the floor and watched it bounce high. This was his sixty-fourth lint creation and the best of them all. Building the lint around a rubber ball had been a stroke of genius and, most importantly, he had come up with the idea completely on his own. Lint wasn’t stupid, but he knew enough to know that the rest of the kids thought he was pretty stupid. His father and his six brothers and sisters wouldn’t argue against it either—that is, if they were to ever bother thinking about him at all. He had now slept in the cavern, away from home, for over a whole week straight and no one had come looking for him. For the tiniest, most fleeting second, he allowed himself to wonder, if his mother had been around, whether she would have realized he was missing. But then he bounced the lint ball particularly high and let his pride in his own handiwork drive that thought right out.
Something silver came whirring at Lint’s ball just then and knocked it out of its perfect bounce trail. Lint looked up to see two more silver things flying toward him. He ducked just in time.
“Whoops,” No-Bone yelled from the top of the staircase.
Lint grunted and looked down to see what had nearly blinded him. It was three chocolate protein bars. His favorite kind, actually. He forgot about the near blindness and picked them up.
“Those are for the Morams,” No-Bone yelled back.
“Why?”
“Because Brains said we can’t let them starve, man. Just give it to them, okay?”
Lint stared down at the protein bars, eyebrows furrowed. They were his contribution to the group’s food supply.
“We’re leaving for a little while,” No-Bone continued. “Need privacy to talk through some things. Brains said be careful with the prisoners.”
Lint smirked as he pointed behind him. “Them? What’re they gonna do, tremble to death?” He chuckled at his own cleverness.
“Yeah, yeah. Just watch ’em, okay?” No-Bone disappeared from the top of the stairs, and Lint could hear him and the others leaving the cavern.
He stared down at the three bars. He immediately pocketed one, and was about to turn around to give his prisoners the other two. But then he came to his senses. Honestly, the two of them probably couldn’t even finish one whole bar between them, let alone two. No point in wasting perfectly good food that had personally cost him a decent amount of effort.
He tore one open and took an enormous bite that nearly finished off the entire thing. With the foil-wrapped stub in his hand, he turned around to give Mold-and-rot and her brother the other bar that he had so generously spared for them.
Except that when he turned around, there was no Mold-and-rot and her brother—there was just the girl, asleep in an exhausted pile in the middle of the room, her head resting on the two backpacks that were against a small ledge in one of the walls.
“What the …,” Lint started. Where was the boy?
“Hey! Hey!” he started to shout, waving the sticky chocolate stub around frantically.
Goldenrod stirred and suddenly woke with a start.
“Where is he?” Lint shouted.
Goldenrod got up, looking momentarily confused at the sight of Lint.
“Where’s the shrimp?” Lint was now flailing his arms around so much that the remaining bit of protein bar finally flew out of his hand. He didn’t even notice.
Suddenly seeming to remember, Goldenrod gave a sharp intake of breath. “Birch …” She started to look around frantically. “Where’s Birch? What did you do to my brother?” She stared accusingly at Lint.
“I didn’t do anything …”
“Then where is he? Did he escape?”
“Escape?” Lint’s face fell. He stood there quite motionless for a second, watching the wasted chocolate piece melting on the cavern floor. “Escape?” he said again, before suddenly snapping out of it and springing to action. “Oh my God. I have to tell the others. They’ll kill me. You stay here!” He pointed menacingly at Goldenrod.
And with that, Lint had turned around and was climbing the steps two by two.
As soon as Lint had his back to them, Birch finally allowed himself to breathe. He was pretty small, but even he had to suck in his tiny stomach to be able to crouch behind the ledge and be completely invisible, with the extra help of both his and Goldenrod’s backpacks.
Just that one breath was all he let himself have before bursting out from behind the ledge. He tried very hard to hoist Goldenrod’s now extremely heavy backpack, but his little shoulders couldn’t handle it. Goldenrod immediately ran over to help him—it took all her strength to lift it as well.
They had no time to waste. Birch put his now lightened backpack over one shoulder, and the two of them bounded out of their prison and up the stairs in a flash.
They saw Lint heading toward the exit and they leaped after him.
The Morams moved so lightly that, even with the one heavy backpack and the speed they were going, Lint didn’t hear them until they were almost right behind him, just as he was getting ready to yell out for help. He immediately turned around and was promptly hit in the gut with what looked, and probably felt, like a giant green bowling ball.
Goldenrod had used all of her strength to swing the
backpack into Lint, and the effect was exactly as intended. He was completely winded and fell clear off his feet.
But that wasn’t all. Per their plan, Birch already had the roll of duct tape ready to go. He pulled off a long piece and quickly wrapped it around Lint’s wrists. Then he moved on to his ankles.
Lint was still wheezing and out of breath, but his voice was coming back to him. “Hey …,” he started to roar, followed by a very muffled “phmmmmmmmm.”
Birch looked up from taping Lint’s ankles to see that Goldenrod had stuffed her yellow baby sock into Lint’s orange-stained mouth. The looks of pure revolt on both Lint’s and Goldenrod’s faces were almost identical.
Birch knew she had a thing for that sock, but this was no time to get sentimental. He grabbed Goldenrod’s hand, and together they bolted right past the silent and horizontal Lint. Not even daring to look back, they tore away from the cavern.
18
THE LOST DISCOVERY
Goldenrod and Birch ran pell-mell away from the cavern. They were heading due west—back through the only route Goldenrod was sure would lead them out, because she had mapped it.
The thought of her map caused a small ache in her side that had nothing to do with how fast she was running. In order to get her backpack as heavy as it had been, they had filled it with all of the biggest objects they had—which, aside from a few rocks they found on the cavern floor, also included Goldenrod’s notebooks and sketches that she had worked on all summer. She doubted very highly that someone like Lint would ever appreciate all the work that had gone into making them … and now Charla would never get to see them either.
All they had taken with them was Goldenrod’s compass, the roll of duct tape, the garden shears, and one specimen jar. As Goldenrod caught a glimpse of bright blue from the corner of her eye, she remembered why she had thought to stuff those last two items into Birch’s backpack.
“Wait!” she called out.
Birch looked back at her in alarm but didn’t stop running.
“I have to … cut three of those roses,” Goldenrod panted, pointing at the blue rosebush.
“What?! Why?” Birch looked at her, his big blue eyes widening.
“Because,” Goldenrod paused, “they’re undiscovered flora.”
Now Birch was looking at her as if she had not only completely lost her mind, but that it was dancing a jig on top of her head. “We have to get out of here,” he said slightly maniacally.
“I know. We will,” Goldenrod said as she unzipped Birch’s backpack and took out the jar and shears. “This will only take a minute. Just stay right here.” Goldenrod motioned to the tree line they were standing in before quickly making her way back across the clearing to the rosebush.
She could almost feel Birch’s exasperated stare at her back. Maybe someday she could explain it to him, but now was not the time. For now, she had to do what she had promised—to the old lady, to Meriwether, and, most importantly, to herself when this summer had started.
She kneeled down in front of the rosebush. The old lady had been right about one thing: it smelled of stars and warmth and beach breezes; it smelled just like a summer night. Goldenrod almost felt a little dizzy with its unworldly scent.
She had to focus, though. She reached her hand to get a good hold on one of the stems. Almost as soon as she did, she pulled it back with a yelp. A small but growing drop of blood had appeared on her finger. Goldenrod looked closer at where she had touched the stem and could now make out the tiny, almost imperceptible, but razor-sharp thorns that seemed to cover just about the entire thing. Gently, she reached for the petals of the flower instead, trying to get a grip on them so she could cut the plant. Before she had a chance to snip, though, the most extraordinary thing happened.
One second, her finger was sore and bleeding somewhat heavily. And the next, she could see the blood draw its way back in and the wound close up. Goldenrod stared in utter astonishment. Her finger didn’t have a scratch on it.
What it did have though, a second later, was a large green glob that had arced its way through the sky and landed right on top of her finger. Goldenrod looked up just in time to see Snotshot running toward her from only about ten feet away.
“Run!” she yelled to Birch, as she grabbed her jar and shears and started to sprint after him through the trees.
They had a decent head start, but Snotshot was still hard on their heels. Birds flew with startled cries, and leaves and twigs snapped away in their paths as they tried to make their escape.
When Goldenrod allowed herself one peek behind to see just how far away their pursuer was, she was startled to instead be staring at a see-through maroon coat.
“Meriwether!” she yelled, still continuing to run. Meriwether didn’t seem to have a problem gliding beside and matching her speed, though he looked just as dignified and unruffled as ever.
Out of the corner of her eye, Goldenrod could see that Snotshot was gaining on them. “Why don’t you do something?” she said in exasperation to the ghost.
“Like what?” Meriwether asked.
“I don’t know. You’re a ghost! Go scare her,” Goldenrod said.
“Oh,” Meriwether said. “That is a good idea. Unfortunately, I’m not that kind of ghost. You’re the only one who can see me.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’re the only one on the quest to find my lost discovery,” Meriwether said.
“Seriously?” The breaking twig sounds from behind Goldenrod seemed to be getting closer and closer. “But you’ve discovered loads of other things,” she said. “What could possibly be so special about this one anyway?”
“It saved my life,” he said simply. Goldenrod could see him motion to his leg, the one with the limp. “And I have no doubt that it can save countless others too.”
Of course! The limp must have come from that time when Meriwether had been mistakenly shot by one of his own crew members. And hadn’t Goldenrod just seen with her own eyes what the rose could do with an injury?
Goldenrod had become so absorbed in these thoughts that she hadn’t noticed Birch slowing down considerably. Even though he had started out pretty far ahead, he was right beside her when he looked at her fearfully and asked, “Who are you talking to, Gol—” His question ended in a scream as he was jerked back.
Goldenrod looked over her shoulder to see that Snotshot was holding on to his backpack and, a moment later, his arm.
Goldenrod stopped running immediately. “Let him go!” she yelled.
“Yeah, right,” Snotshot said, not sounding nearly as out of breath as Goldenrod felt. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that big moron let you guys escape.”
Birch had started to whimper, and Goldenrod stared at him helplessly.
“So what’s the deal, girlie?” Snotshot asked. “Are you going to come quietly or are you going to just let me take your brother back with me?”
19
PLAN B
“Don’t leave me alone with them!” Birch yelled.
Of course, she couldn’t do that. But she couldn’t very well just merrily let both of them get kidnapped again either. What kind of Legendary Adventurer would go along with that?
“What do you want?” she finally asked Snotshot. There was really nothing else to do but be straightforward at this point.
“You’re not very bright, are you? Didn’t I just say you have to come back to the cave with me?” Snotshot asked slowly, as if speaking to a particularly stupid puppy.
So never mind. Being straightforward didn’t seem to be the correct option with someone like Snotshot. Goldenrod was going to have to answer her own question. Think, she willed herself and then asked, What does Spitbubble’s crew actually want? “Money!” she suddenly blurted out. “You want money, don’t you?” she said as she thought about what she knew of Toe Jam’s coin.
“Sure. Do you have some? I’ve got no problem unloading it off of you as soon as we get you locked away, safe and sound,” Snot
shot said.
“No. I know a way you can make some money.”
“By holding you for ransom?” Snotshot retorted.
Goldenrod hesitated one moment longer. She didn’t particularly like what she was about to do, but she couldn’t see any other way out of this mess. “There’s this plant,” she finally said. “It’s undiscovered flora …,” she trailed off.
“What are you talking about?” Snotshot asked.
“What are you doing?” a voice asked from beside her. She turned around to see that Meriwether was still standing there. She had almost forgotten about him.
“You want your plant to get discovered, don’t you?” she asked wearily.
“Not by them!” he said emphatically. His face had finally slipped from its quiet, dignified mask and was looking rather panicked.
“Well, I need to rescue my little brother!” Goldenrod said, irritated. “And unless you have a better idea, this is the only way I can think of.” Honestly, between not being able to scare anybody off and not being terribly useful helping them out from the clutches of Spitbubble’s crew, the ghost was starting to get on Goldenrod’s nerves—even if he was the spirit of her all-time hero.
Meriwether was silent and Goldenrod turned back around in time to see Snotshot ask Birch incredulously, “Is she talking to herself?”
Birch gave a shrug but looked considerably more nervous than before.
“Look.” Goldenrod decided to start over again. “It’s an undiscovered flower, and it’s very rare. It has special properties.” She glanced down at her finger, the one that she had cut on the thorn. “Healing properties, I think.”
She heard a very small pop beside her and knew that Meriwether had vanished. She was a little sorry to have offended him, and she was very sorry not to be able to complete her mission and claim the discovery for herself, but what choice did she have? At the end of the day, Birch just mattered more.
The Mapmaker and the Ghost Page 8