Tell him we were helping you with homework, I think at Lovey.
“I just had a homework question, Mr. Stedman,” Lovey said through the blood. “I tripped and fell.”
“You should get her some ice, Mr. Stedman,” I said innocently.
He looked at me like a little kid tricked into getting a shot at the doctor’s office. “Come on, Lovey. You two go home.”
I grabbed Jinx and pulled her away, managing to hold my laughter until we got around the corner.
Jinx punched me in the shoulder. “Xander! What’s wrong with you?”
“What?” I rubbed the spot where she hit me. “I saved you. You should be thanking me.”
“You could’ve just stopped the book bag,” Jinx pointed out. “And I was going to duck. I’m faster than she is.”
“She deserved what she got.” Resentment billowed in me like fire in a clogged up chimney. “Lovey’s lucky I didn’t do worse to her!”
“You shouldn’t use your powers like that.” Jinx sped up, walked ahead. “It’s not good.”
Seriously? Who was Jinx to tell me what was good or not? She was the daughter of an evil oni.
Sheesh. Some people never appreciated anything.
So that’s all the sorry school stuff that’s happened since we got back from our adventure. Now that we’re on summer vacation, I’ve managed to forget about Lovey and her nose. I’ve been too distracted by Dad’s boot camp.
This morning, Shea, Dad, Jinx, and I arrive at the head of the hiking trail at ten-fifteen on the dot. The sky’s cloaked in what we call “June Gloom,” a thick cloud cover that will burn off by noon. There are only a couple of other cars parked nearby.
Peyton is already there, waiting for us, sitting on a boulder near the log fence that marks the trail entrance. His blond hair is sticking straight up in its usual hairstyle. He has one ankle crossed over his knee and a sketchbook balanced on top of it. A woodpecker is perched on the railing, staring at him with a beady black eye, and Peyton stares back at the bird, his pencil moving rapidly over the paper. I grin, thinking that they look like cousins.
Peyton had been changed by our adventure on oni island, too. The magnificent wings he’d grown had disappeared when we returned home, but he remained bigger and stronger, both inside and out. Not only had his mom had to buy all new clothes for him (“Who gains ten pounds of muscle in two days?” she had moaned), but also Peyton had, no joke, told his dad that he was DONE with all the sports his dad wanted him to do.
So what did Peyton want to do instead?
Take art classes. Like me. Which I’d never known. But I guess, no matter how well you think you know someone, there are always things about people that will surprise you.
Peyton’s super-strict sports-oriented dad, Mr. Phasis, had made him a deal. Peyton could take art as long as he also enrolled in a military-type boot camp for teens this summer.
And it turns out that Peyton’s been harboring a secret talent.
He’s way better at art than I am.
“Hey, Peyton,” I call, but my mother puts out her hand to stop me.
“Shhh,” she whispers. “Let him finish sketching the bird.”
I dodge her hand to get to Peyton. I don’t even know why she came along on this hike. I mean, she should find her own hobbies. This training is for me and my friends, not for her.
The woodpecker squawks and flies away. Peyton looks up at me. “Dude, could you be a little quieter next time?”
“What are you now, the bird whisperer?” I examine his sketchbook.
It looks like that Audubon guy drew it. Except better. The lines reverberate with life, as if the pencil has actual blood coursing through the lead.
But he drew it with teeth. As if it was a tiny dinosaur, not a bird.
I blink.
No. My mistake. There are no teeth.
I inhale, sharp and quick. Don’t tell me that’s going to start happening again, even if I’m not the one drawing….
“You okay?” Peyton eyes me with concern. “You have that look.”
“What look?” I step back, pretending everything’s okay.
“The look like you ate a bad burrito and there’s no bathroom nearby.” Peyton shuts his sketchbook. “You know, your Momotaro look.”
Great. And here I thought I looked like a superhero. “I’m just not sleeping well,” I say, and this isn’t a lie. Maybe my lack of sleep is making me hallucinate.
Dad and Jinx catch up to us. Inu barks a greeting to Peyton and jumps into his lap. “What a fine day for a long hike!” Dad says in his most cheerful tone. “Nice cloud cover. Fresh air.”
Jinx, standing behind him, smells the air showily. “I love this weather.”
“Me too. It reminds me of Ireland,” Shea says. “Not as cold, though.” She laughs.
Inu barks twice, wagging his tail and pulling on the leash.
I slouch. Why is everybody acting so cheerful, like they’re about to break into song? Are we living in a musical? “Let’s get this over with already.”
Peyton sticks his book into his big waterproof backpack. “What are you so cranky about?”
“The question is, what is there to be so happy about?” I march off. I know they’re all looking at one another, either shrugging or shaking their heads. That Xander. So moody.
Maybe I won’t talk to anybody all day. We’ll all be better off.
We start hiking. Our packs are crammed with plenty of supplies to act as weights—the highlight being a gallon jug of water. Did you know that a gallon of liquid weighs eight pounds? Yeah, neither did I. That’s a fact I could’ve lived my whole life without knowing.
Dad makes us move at a pace reserved for those crazy speed walkers we see sometimes, with their arms pumping up and down. Peyton and I walk in front, me taking two steps for every one of Peyton’s. It’s hard going—the trail’s covered with loose rocks, and I’ve tripped a few times already. But there’s no way I’m going to let Peyton get ahead of me.
Maybe…
I have a thought, and I glance back at Dad to make sure he won’t notice. He’s pointing out birds to my mother. She pulls his face down and kisses him. Gross. But, yay, they’re distracted.
Soon my shoes are sending out little invisible jet puffs, propelling me up the mountain just a teeny bit faster than I could normally go. I grin.
Being Momotaro is good.
Dad stops and yells, “Wait!”
I let my feet drop to the earth, my heart pounding. Uh-oh. I’ve been found out. “What’s the problem?” I ask, as if I really don’t know.
Dad points down at the trail, gesturing at the loose dirt and stones littering the path. “What do these rocks mean?”
We stand there and look. Nobody responds.
Dad bends and picks up one of the stones. It’s round and smooth, blue-gray. “Round rocks means you’re in a riverbed. A flash flood bed,” Dad says. “The rocks are smooth and round because of the churning water. They’re loose because they’ve been carried down and around. So, if you’re on a trail like this and it starts raining hard, get out.”
I stifle a yawn. It’s June. There’s no way on earth it’s going to rain that hard here anytime soon. We get most of our rain in the winter. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Good lecture, Dad.” I give him the thumbs-up.
Dad tosses the rock down and exchanges a look with my mother. The Xander’s-got-an-attitude look. Oh well. I’m almost thirteen. It’s basically the law that I have an attitude.
The trail up the mountain goes through oak and cottonwood trees with washed-out green leaves. The treetops have grown together, branches intertwined, and soon we’re plunged into darkness. It reminds me of the dream I had. I stop for a moment, a chill going through me.
The wraith’s face. Or lack of a face.
“Who’s read The Art of War?” Dad calls from behind us. “Favorite quote?”
Peyton raises his hand. “Being unconquerable lies with yourself; being conquerable lies with your enemy.�
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“Did you actually read it, or just memorize random quotes?” I say rather irritably, mostly because I’m panting.
He jostles me. “Dude, chill out.”
Dad ignores this. “Now let’s discuss what that means,” he says. “Jinx?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Jinx doesn’t sound the slightest bit out of breath. “You have to control what’s within yourself so you don’t lose.”
“I think it means you can do anything if you put your mind to it,” my mother says, panting like me. She’s not used to doing all this stuff. “It’s a good study motto for me.”
“Oh! What are you studying?” Peyton asks.
“I have to take the veterinary boards here to transfer my license,” my mother says.
Good. That should keep her busy. The last thing I want is my mother always breathing down my neck.
But I feel a little pang in my stomach. Just a little one.
Eh. I’m probably just hungry.
“Did you bring any Twinkies?” I ask Peyton under my breath. “Or anything good?”
“My dad helped me pack, so no,” Peyton says. “He thinks this hike is the greatest thing ever. If he knew we were reading all these books, he’d be showing up every day, too.”
I glance over my shoulder at my mother. My father has his arm wrapped around her waist, helping to propel her up the steep grade. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s smiling at him. “It’s a bit crowded as it is,” I say. “But maybe Shea will keep Dad distracted and we’ll actually get a break.”
“Speaking of breaks,” Jinx pipes up, “did you know that Lovey’s nose is broken and she has to go to a plastic surgeon?”
A spasm of guilt closes my throat, and I feel my shoulders stiffen. “That’s too bad,” I say in a neutral tone. Shut up, Jinx!
“Really?” Peyton adjusts the backpack on his shoulders. “What happened? Did someone finally get tired of her being so mean?”
Jinx and I go quiet. Jinx side-eyes me, and I feel my face go hot.
Peyton glances down at me quickly, his eyes widening as he grasps the nuance of everything. “Really?” he whispers.
“Xander.” My mother suddenly materializes next to me, like smoke after a fire. All of us kids freeze. Shea puts her face about a centimeter away from mine, and I can smell her bacon-tinged breath. “What did you do?”
Mom’s Spidey-senses sure are in full working order for somebody who wasn’t here for most of her parenting life.
“Why do you automatically assume I did something bad?” My voice breaks on bad. I shoot a murderous look at Jinx. “This girl Lovey hit herself in the face with her own backpack, okay?”
Jinx stares at her feet, her eyebrows raised. She whistles.
I’ll get even with her later.
“I know a guilty stance when I see one,” my mother says evenly. “You cannot hide anything from your own mother, so best not to try.”
Is she joking right now? I glance at my father, but his face is set in a mask of sternness.
“Tell me,” Shea says softly.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I snap. I step away from the group. “Lovey was going to beat up Jinx, okay? She tried to hit her in the back of the head with her heavy backpack. It would have knocked Jinx out.” My eyes well up at the injustice of it. “So I just made her hit herself, is all. The laws of motion. An object continues to move at a constant velocity unless acted upon by an external force. Well, that external force was her own head instead of Jinx’s.” I giggle to show that it’s funny, but my parents look about as amused as gargoyles perched on a church.
“You could have just stopped the backpack,” Jinx says quietly. Her cheeks are deep red. “I was handling it.”
“Not well, obviously. And I couldn’t stop it. I could only reverse it.” I scuff at the orange-brown dirt with the toe of my hiking boot. “Why are you so hell-bent on getting me into trouble?”
“Because!” Jinx almost hisses. “Because you enjoyed it. You laughed afterward, Xander. And it reminded me…” She gulps.
“Of what?” I demand.
She chokes out the next words as if they taste like throw-up. “Of my father.”
She might as well have broken my nose. I remind her of her awful, murderous oni father? I feel all the blood drain out of my face like water leaving a bathtub. “Take that back.”
Jinx shakes her head, her amber eyes bright as gemstones. “No. It’s true.”
I take in a ragged breath, then another. I’m suffocating, a bug caught in a jar. It’s bad enough that Jinx called me out in front of everybody. But now Peyton stares at me with a profoundly shocked expression. My father’s is all caved-in disappointment. Even Inu looks serious, his mouth shut, staring with doggy disapproval as if I stole his last piece of bacon.
My mother glares at me. She grabs my arm and pulls me roughly to her, so I stumble on the loose rocks. Her hair seems to electrify, the curls rising of their own volition to stand above her scalp. “These powers are not to be toyed with!” she says. “Don’t you know what danger you’re playing at, boyo?”
“Ouch!” I protest, though it doesn’t really hurt. I look to Dad for help, but his arms are crossed. So this is what it’s like to have two parents. Two people in coalition against you, a tag team of disciplinary action. “I was helping Jinx.”
“But you were drawn to hurt Lovey, weren’t you?” Shea asks. “You liked it. Do you not see the problem in that?”
Now Dad adds his two cents. “You cannot go around hurting people because it feels good. Nor should you use the magic unless absolutely necessary! Xander, I told you already. That’s like you driving a car without a license. You need practice and supervision.”
Another lecture. This is so unfair. “If Lovey hadn’t tried to hit Jinx, I wouldn’t have done anything to her!” I yank my arm away and point at Jinx. “Traitor! I’ll never help you again as long as I live.”
Jinx kicks a rock away. “Whatever.”
“Whatever yourself.”
She sticks her tongue out.
And Peyton doesn’t defend me. His head is bowed, his hand stroking Inu’s back. My best friend can’t even look at me.
“You’d think I killed someone!” I explode. Fine. I don’t want to be here. They can’t keep me prisoner. I turn to leave, and Shea tries to grab me again. Without even trying hard, I cause the dirt and rocks underneath her to roll like a conveyor belt. My mother’s feet fly up, and she lands on her back with an oof.
Ha is my first thought.
Then, before another awful thought can wedge its way into my head, I run.
I run fast, no jet pack needed, off the trail to a place where Peyton and I sometimes go. Mostly during the winter, when a waterfall cascades down a jagged shelf of rocks. Next to the waterfall is an outcropping of boulders where we can sit and look out onto a small valley.
It’s our secret spot. Nobody ever comes here, because it’s in an area marked STAY OUT: REFORESTATION.
Breathing hard, I get to the boulder pile and sit down. The waterfall’s barely a trickle right now, a slow drip into a slimy green pond. I blink, feeling like there’s sand in my eyes, and take a drink from my water jug.
I replay the scene in my head. Shea falling, my father trying to catch her, and Inu leaping for her. Peyton’s horrified face. Jinx jumping into the air.
My mother is all right. I know she is.
I hold my stomach. Mingled with the guilt churning in my belly is something else. And it isn’t gas.
It’s glee.
When I made those rocks move and she fell, my first instinct was not to help my own mother. It was to laugh with joy. Because my powers had worked.
Oh my gosh.
These Momotaro powers are turning me into a supervillain. Next thing you know, my silver hair will fall out and people will start calling me Lex.
I hang my head. Maybe that’s why I’ve been having bad dreams. I actually AM a horrible person.
I close my hand
around the baku charm my grandmother gave me, its weight cold and comforting against the base of my neck. Can I use it to make my bad thoughts go away, too? Can he eat those?
I wish I didn’t have these stupid Momotaro powers at all. Not if they’re going to make me feel this way. Why did I have to be born into this family? All I ever wanted was a normal life.
I lean back against the stones, putting my left hand behind me for balance. Baku, come eat my dream, I think.
Suddenly there’s a sharp pinch on my wrist, then a burning pain.
I scream, shake my arm, and look down.
A red scorpion stares up at me from below, waving its lobster-like claws around, its stinger retracting. Oh crud. What kind is it? I peer closely at it, holding my injured wrist to my mouth instinctively. I think baby scorpions are the deadliest.
Instead of the usual alien-like face, I see a flat nose, rolling round eyes, and a smirking mouth. Human. Or humanoid.
An oni!
Quickly, with my right hand, I pick up a rock and hurl it at the scorpion as it tries to scuttle into a crack between the boulders. I got it, I think. I hope. I get up to see. I blink rapidly. I must have imagined that weird face. I have to find it, show it to Dad, so we can figure out how poisonous it is. Was it a desert scorpion, or a sawfinger? But this one was red…. My thoughts are jumbling….
And then the world turns black, as though someone slapped a hood over my face.
When I open my eyes, my grandfather is sitting on the boulder next to me. His gnarled hands hold a knife and a piece of wood. Small chips whirl down as he whittles, humming tunelessly.
“Ojīchan?” I touch his arm, clad in a rough blue-gray cotton kimono. Man, my dreams sure are detailed. My grandfather died a long time ago, and I never met him. Not in real life, anyway.
“Musashi-chan.” My grandfather calls me by my middle name. He puts down his carving. “You’ve been having trouble with your Momotaro powers.”
I don’t want to admit the mean and selfish things I’ve been doing. But Ojīchan looks at me with so much understanding that it’s obvious he already knows. “Did you ever feel like that, too?” I ask. “Like you’re out of control or something?”
Xander and the Dream Thief Page 4