Later? “But you can’t practice medicine until you pass.” I try to hand her a book. “And I know you already paid for the exam.”
Mom takes the book, then slides it under the couch. “There. Now it won’t bother anybody.”
I shake my head. What a completely weirdo thing to do. Like something a little kid would pull. “Whatever, Mom.” I figure she’s still not quite healthy. She can take it next month, or next year for all I care.
My father rips open a cellophane package of Twinkies. “I believe Little Zazzy Zoo Zoo’s got the right combination of energy and talent. In her tap dance, she was like a young Gene Kelly.”
“Don’t you mean Shirley Temple?” Mom throws some M&M’S into her mouth. “Gene Kelly was a man.”
“No. I mean the athletic grace of Gene Kelly, actually.” Dad gobbles a Twinkie, its filling oozing out between his lips. He saves a small piece and tosses it to the dog. Inu makes a halfhearted attempt to catch it, but it bounces off his face, leaving a trail of yellow sponge cake crumbs. He licks the remains off the floor.
I blink. Wait a second here. Dad with Twinkies? All of them watching trashy TV? My mouth drops open. “What happened to the robot movie?”
“Oh, it was too hard to get it to load.” Mom shrugs. “So we just watched regular TV.”
Dad points at the remote. “Too many buttons.”
This is just about the lamest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Even including Mr. Stedman’s class.
“But…” I grab the control, hit INPUT, select the Netflix box, then pull up the robot movie.
“Nooooo. Go back. Takes too long.” Peyton hangs his head backward. “Uhhhhh. Pass me another Twinkie, somebody.”
Dad throws one at him. Peyton doesn’t even raise his hand high enough to catch it. It hits him in the chest.
I turn off the TV and whirl to face them. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ALL OF YOU?”
I look at Jinx, who has joined Peyton on the couch, her shoes kicked off. She shrugs and holds up a package of Twinkies. “Come on, Xander. You know you want one.”
I waver for a second. But only for a second. Then I, too, take a seat.
My grandmother used to tell me that if I sat on the couch too long, I’d turn into Daruma, this wise man from Japanese folktales who has no arms or legs. You might have seen the dolls—they look like red balls with an angry face. You’re supposed to make a wish and color in one of his eyes. When your wish is granted, you color in the other eye. But that’s where Daruma comes from, some person who lost his limbs because he sat in the forest for too long, thinking his thoughts or looking at birds or whatever.
Well, everyone’s acting like Daruma today.
A half hour of Little Zazzy Zoo Zoo is all I can take. “Let’s do something else!” I suggest and reach for the remote, but Dad sticks it under a couch cushion.
“Uh-uh.” Dad waves me away. “This good part. Leave ’lone.”
What, he’s a caveman now, too?
Jinx and I exchange a glance, the old our-parents-are-completely-cuckoo glance that I had missed out on when I was an only child. Jinx plucks my mother’s laptop off the coffee table. “I’ve been researching monkeys and birds, you guys. Did you know that some birds actually have a good sense of smell? They can follow scents left on the wind.”
I read the digital article over Jinx’s shoulder. “I thought they only had good eyesight.” I glance at Peyton, waiting for a comment.
Nothing.
“What about monkeys?” I ask Jinx.
“Let me find out.” Her fingers fly over the keyboard. “The New York Times says here that monkeys actually have a great sense of smell, because they don’t see as many colors as humans. So they need that to compensate.”
I glance at her curiously. “You see colors, though, right?”
She gives me a half grin. “You’re always saying I must be color-blind, based on how I dress.”
“Peyton.” I reach over and nudge his leg. “Did you hear that? Jinx is color-blind.”
Peyton laughs, displaying a mouthful of half-chewed Twinkie. “Little Zazzy Zoo Zoo. That’s funny.”
I glance at the clock. Almost lunchtime. “Peyton, you’d better get going. You have art class today,” I remind him, as though I’m his father. “You don’t want to be late, or your dad will be mad.”
He waves at me. “ ’S fine.”
I pick up his arm and pull him. “It is not fine. Get out of here.”
He resists me, but finally I tug hard enough and, with a groan, he launches himself up. “Okay. Later.” Peyton slouches out the front door, leaving behind his sleeping bag and yesterday’s clothes.
I blow out hard and shake my head at Jinx. What’s wrong with them? I mouth.
She shrugs, then picks up another package of Twinkies from the coffee table with her toes. “I don’t know. It’s like an idiot virus has infected your house.”
“It’s your house, too,” I remind her, but she just wrinkles her nose. Huh. Maybe Jinx doesn’t want to live here after all.
I push that thought from my mind. Instead, I, too, try to pick up Twinkies in my special way—with my Momotaro powers. Yes, Dad’s sitting right here, but I figure one of two things will happen: (a) he won’t notice, or (b) he’ll finally snap out of this weirdo mood.
I stare at the Twinkies, letting my mind slip into the state I need to be in, halfway between sleep and consciousness.
But the Twinkies just sit there. The wrapper doesn’t even crinkle.
Finally, I just lean forward and grab the package before Jinx can touch this one with her gross toes. No sense in missing out.
My parents don’t budge from the couch all afternoon. As they binge-watch every Little Zazzy Zoo Zoo episode ever made, Jinx and I go out and practice more archery. We bake cookies. We look up more facts about birds and monkeys. We read one of the samurai books and have an argument over Musashi Miyamoto, who used two swords versus one (Jinx is for two swords, I am against—mostly because it’d be a pain to carry around two swords, and also because they’re harder to handle than you’d think).
At last, around six, I turn off the TV and stand in front of my parents. The living room stinks like old cheese, farts, and morning breath. “Anybody going to do anything about dinner?”
Dad blinks at me with bloodshot eyes. “I don’t know. If anybody is you, then yes.”
Mom laughs, showing a mouthful of Twinkie crumbs. “Good one, Akira.”
“I give up.” I go back into the kitchen.
Jinx gets out a box of mac and cheese and shakes it at me.
I nod and fill up a pot of water, set it on the stove. “Obāchan hates this stuff, though. We’ll have to make her some rice.”
“Where is Obāchan, anyway?” Jinx asks.
Uh-oh. Jinx and I stare at each other, our expressions growing more horrified as the realization dawns on us. No one ever checked on my grandmother!
I run to her bedroom and knock. No answer. I push open the door, sending a bag of yarn flying. Obāchan’s room is full of stuff we might need later, according to her, but it’s neatly organized for the most part. She wants to be ready for the end of the world. After what happened to us two months ago, I can’t say I blame her.
My grandmother is asleep in her bed, pale and drawn. Alarmed, I rush over to her side and shake her gently. “Obāchan?”
She licks her cracked lips, her eyelids fluttering. “Xander. Water.”
I go fill up her empty glass and bring it back. “Are you ill?”
Obāchan shakes her head slightly. “Just…oh-so-tired.”
A sick feeling comes up out of my stomach. “Obāchan, something weird is happening to everybody.” I tell her about my parents and Peyton.
She barely opens one eye. “Yes. I am so ancient, maybe my dreams were the only thing keeping me alive.” She laughs hoarsely.
“What do you mean?” The sick feeling gets stronger. I know what she’s going to tell me.
Her dry, leathery hand cl
asps mine. “You used the baku too much, didn’t you?” Her tone is gentle, as if I’d spilled a glass of water instead of, you know, completely ruining everyone’s lives.
I swallow. Yes. No. “I…I don’t think so.”
“The baku has taken our dreams, Xander. The good dreams as well as the bad.” She pats my hand. “Well, what’s done is done.”
I swallow. Taken our dreams? But we’re awake. “I didn’t know she’d take our, like, goals.”
“Aren’t goals dreams?” she asks in a soft voice.
I’ve really messed up this time. I hang my head. “I’m sorry, Obāchan.”
“No need. You have turned out to be so much worthier than we ever thought.” Obāchan pats at my shoulder. “I am, and always will be, proud of you.”
Fear clogs my throat like a ball of grease in a pipe. “Why are you talking like that?” I ask sharply. “You’re not going to die.”
“Because I love you, Xander.” Obāchan smiles at me. “Have you tried using your powers?”
My heart stops, thinking about how I tried to move the Twinkies, with no luck. “Oh no.”
“Your subconscious fuels your Momotaro powers, Xander. It is where your imagination comes from. Without your dreams, the powers do not work. Lucky for you, you have more dreams to spare than most, so you aren’t sick like the rest of us.” Her breathing gets deeper as she begins drifting off. “You will have to find the baku. Get our dreams back.”
“Where? How? Don’t fall asleep!” Panicked, I shake her gently. This is bad. Very bad.
She breathes out a sigh. “Try asking the waterfall for answers.”
“The waterfall? What waterfall?” I think. “You mean that trickle on the mountain?”
She barely nods. “Meditate under it.”
“Under it?” I repeat dumbly.
“Under it,” she says firmly, and then abruptly falls asleep, her face flattening out until it seems to be on the same plane as the pillow. I watch her for a minute to make sure she’s still breathing.
I need to figure this out quickly.
Under the little waterfall. Okay, then. That’s what we’ll do.
Before dawn, Jinx and I get up and fill backpacks for us and Peyton with enough survival gear to make my grandmother proud. It’s all the stuff my dad has been making us carry during his training sessions: a heat-saving waterproof blanket, tablets for purifying water, a nylon rope and hooks in case we need to climb rocks, packable down jackets in case it gets cold, some snacks, water, and canned drinks.
Most special of all are my octopus netsuke and monkey netsuke, which helped us on our last adventure. They are carved wooden figures with boxes dangling from them. The octopus’s box holds salt, which can melt oni, at least temporarily. The monkey’s box holds magic rice. I open the rice box and throw a grain into my mouth. It blooms into onigiri, a rice cake stuffed with various foods. This one has scrambled egg. “These still work,” I tell Jinx.
Jinx is wearing the gold cuff bracelet that I found at the kappa’s lair and gave to her. The last time I saw it, she’d thrown it across a room. That was right before she betrayed us all to her father, Gozu. I guess she didn’t leave the bracelet behind after all. I frown at it. “You sure you want to take that? What if it gets lost?”
“I’m hoping it’s good for something.” Jinx tightens it around her wrist. “After all, nobody gave me wings or even a sword.”
Good point.
My parents are still on the couch, fast asleep. Nobody gets up, not even Inu. I wish we could take him, but in his current condition, he’s better off here. I scrawl my parents a note of explanation. By that I mean I tell them we’ll be back soon, not getting into lots of detail. At the end, I add DON’T FORGET OBĀCHAN! Just in case, I leave saltines and Gatorade on her nightstand. She doesn’t stir, but her chest still rises and falls. Even if we took her to the hospital, it would be no good. There’s nothing I can do except go get her dreams back.
Jinx and I sneak over to Peyton’s house, going the back way, up the steep hill instead of using the driveway. Luckily, they don’t have a dog to alert anybody.
We creep around the side of the house to the front. A big camouflage-pattern duffel bag sits on the porch. PEYTON PHASIS the tag says.
I swallow audibly. Peyton can’t go to boot camp now. Not if he’s going to act as lazy as he did yesterday. I hope I can convince him to get out of bed and join us.
“What?” Jinx whispers, too loud.
I put my finger to my lips. Mr. Phasis has pretty good hearing, and he’s also the type of person who will go crazy first, ask questions second. I don’t particularly feel like getting mistaken for a burglar so early in the morning. Or ever.
We climb up the trellis to get to Peyton’s second-floor bedroom window and peer in through the curtains. He’s lying on top of his bed, wearing the same clothes he left my house in. Weird.
I tap on the window. Rat, tat, tat-a-tat. Our special knock.
Peyton keeps sleeping.
I try again.
Nothing.
Jinx shoulders me aside. “Allow me.” She removes the window screen, then slides the glass open. “Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,” she whispers. Then she offers me her hand as a foothold. I put my sneaker on her palm, and she lifts me as though I’m a feather, almost launching me through the window. Luckily, his desk is right there, and I land on a pile of papers.
I climb down softly. “Peyton?” I go over to him and shake him. A cold fear penetrates me as I remember my grandmother. “Peyton?”
Eventually, he blinks, and I sag with relief. “It’s not time for breakfast,” he says. “But if it is, I’ll take waffles.”
“Peyton.” I grab him by the T-shirt and haul him to a sitting pose. His hair stands in an impressive plume, fanning over the crown of his head. “You have to wake up. We have a mission to do.”
He nods, rubbing his face. “Can’t. Got kiddie boot camp.” Peyton’s eyes are oddly emotionless, as if he doesn’t really care about this new development.
But I know he does. I swallow. The baku thing must still be affecting him, like it’s affecting my parents.
“Peyton.” I grab his hoodie, throw it at him. “Come with us. We’ve got to get you out of here.”
Peyton lies back again. “What’s the point?”
“You can’t go to a military camp when you’re like this,” I say in a loud whisper. “You’ll die. Like, literally. I think your heart might stop.”
Peyton closes his eyes. “So what?”
“So don’t you care?”
“Unngh.” He rolls over.
Then Jinx is at my side, pulling at him, too. “You’re coming with us, mister. No more monkeying around.” She shoots a murderous glance at me. “And don’t you make a joke!”
I grin. “Why should I? You already made it.”
A knock at the door. Shoot. Peyton’s dad heard us. Jinx and I immediately drop and roll under the bed from opposite sides, our shoulders colliding. Please don’t give us away, I pray silently to Peyton. If my powers were working, I could make him do the right thing. But then, if my powers were working, we wouldn’t be in this situation.
“Yeah?” Peyton grunts.
Mr. Phasis opens the door. “We’re leaving in an hour. Get up.”
“I’m sick,” Peyton says, and he sounds convincing. Weak and hoarse. Jinx and I, shoulder to shoulder, hold our breath.
“The only thing you’re sick with is a lack of motivation,” Mr. Phasis says in his crisp voice. “Now go take a shower.” He shuts the door again.
Jinx and I crawl out from under the bed. Because it’s Peyton’s room and his dad makes him clean it every night, we’re not covered in dust the way we’d be if we’d been under my bed.
“You heard him,” I whisper to Peyton. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Finally, Peyton manages a nod, his eyes still closed. I help Jinx push Peyton up, and he more or less cooperates in walking across the room. I go out the window fi
rst, somehow Jinx manages to shove Peyton through, and we practically drop him to the ground.
We don’t use the road to get to the trail. Instead, we cut through people’s yards and pastures, ducking under a couple of barbed-wire fences, and avoiding a cow that eyes us suspiciously. The dim light of the approaching dawn provides just enough illumination to prevent us from breaking our ankles on rocks or gopher holes.
Peyton moves much more slowly than usual. It’s like he’s getting over the flu, shuffling along, his hands lifelessly stuck in his pockets.
Jinx chews a wad of gum, blowing pink bubbles bigger than her head and popping them quickly.
“Catch any gnats with that?” I ask. I expect Peyton to laugh, but he doesn’t respond.
“Yeah.” She blows another bubble. “Extra protein.”
I shift my backpack’s weight. I might be carrying even more than Dad had us train with. And then there’s my sword, too. If Mr. Phasis knew what we were doing, I bet he wouldn’t have made Peyton go to that camp at all.
I squint against the bright morning sun. I forgot sunglasses and a hat. Oh well. Most of the time, the tall evergreens provide plenty of shade. “I wonder how long I have to meditate?”
Jinx gives me a side eye. “You never read what your dad gave us, did you?”
No point in lying. “Nope.”
“Xander.” Jinx sighs as dramatically as an actor onstage. “The book says that the warrior has to meditate for two weeks under the waterfall to achieve enlightenment.”
I stop in my tracks. “You’re joking. I don’t have two weeks!”
Jinx shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“But what will happen when I meditate?”
Jinx shrugs again, her shoulders popping. “How would I know? You get enlightened, right?” She grins at me. “Whatever that means. Guess you’re about to get pretty wise.”
I kick a big rock off the path. “Dang it! I don’t need enlightenment; I need results.”
She blows another bubble. “Well, I’ll do it, too, and maybe something will happen twice as fast.”
I make a dismissive sound. “You’re not the Momotaro. Who cares if you meditate?”
Xander and the Dream Thief Page 7