by Lee Bacon
It’s a slow process. Little by little. Bit by bit. But gradually…
Legendtopia.
Is.
Changing.
I clench my hands into fists, hardly able to fathom what I’m witnessing.
A new pillar grows up from the floor like a tree. Stone turrets branch from the sides of the castle, stretching far into the sky.
The Sorceress pauses. She glances around the room. I duck, but it isn’t me that she notices. It’s an entirely different audience. All the objects she enchanted—they’ve come to watch her work. The dragon, the fairies. Even the oven has clattered into the Great Hall.
“It’s time to make you some friends!” the Sorceress announces.
At the edge of the room is the stuffed ogre I saw earlier. In my world, ogres are hulking creatures. Dull-witted, frightening, stinky. This ogre only looks stinky. Loose bits of cotton poke through torn stitching. It’s wearing a shirt that reads I HAD A LEGENDARY TIME AT LEGENDTOPIA. There’s nothing intimidating about any of this.
Until the Sorceress works her magic.
A blast of light from her pale fingers, and the ogre begins to grow. Its small black eyes flick from side to side. Its jaws open. Inside are thick teeth that definitely aren’t made of cotton. With a thudding footstep, the ogre steps out of its case.
I read the Sorceress’s lips as she speaks to her minion. “Welcome to Legendtopia,” she says.
“THANK YOU, MISSUS SORCERESS,” it responds in a loud, grunting voice that shakes the windowpane.
I watch in fearful awe as she tours her castle, adding more minions along the way. Suits of armor. A cheese-stained unicorn. A half-dozen ogres.
Her very own army.
I stagger away from the window. I can’t allow the Sorceress to wreak havoc on Urth. I must stop her. But how? If I tell the truth, everyone will think I’ve lost my mind.
Well, almost everyone.
There is still one person I can talk to. I just need to find her.
I climb out of the bushes and sneak around the other side of Legendtopia. There I meet a road. Checking carefully to make sure there aren’t any horseless carriages around, I stagger to the other side. Another square, filled with unmoving steel carriages. Surrounded by more peculiar buildings.
In front of me, a woman is loading brown paper satchels from a wheeled cart into the back of her steel carriage. And in one hand, she’s gripping a Self-Own.
As I approach the woman, I remind myself that I’m in a different world now. Act natural, I think. Like any other twelve-year-old boy.
“Pardon me, madam,” I begin. “May I seek counsel with your Self-Own?”
The woman stares at me for a long moment. “Uh…okay. Here you go.”
She hands me the Self-Own. The device is lighter than I expected. Its surface is smooth and shiny. Tentatively, I lift it to my ear, as I’ve seen others do.
Then I hesitate.
What am I supposed to say? As far as I can tell, the Self-Own does whatever people ask it to do. It answers questions, gives advice, offers help. All the tasks of a servant. A small, shiny servant. And fortunately for me, I have lots of experience ordering servants around.
“Fetch me a carriage,” I say to the Self-Own in a commanding voice. “Or a horse will do. But not an invisible one. And I am growing rather hungry. Bring me a meal of roasted pheasant.”
With the Self-Own pressed against my ear, I wait for the apparatus to whisper its response. Nothing happens. I wait a moment longer. Still nothing.
Meanwhile, the woman is staring at me with her mouth hanging open.
Perhaps the Self-Own needs punishment. Doing my best to mimic the others I’ve observed, I bang my thumbs against the device.
“Do not ignore me, insolent devil! I demand that you—”
The woman snatches the Self-Own out of my hand. “Uh…maybe I can help. My name’s Debra. What’s yours?”
“My name is Frederick Alexander Siegfried Maria Thorston the Fourteenth, Prince of Heldstone.” I bow.
The woman glances across the street at Legendtopia. “I’m guessing you just came from that castle restaurant?”
“Precisely.”
“Well, you definitely won’t be going back to work today. Not after the fire. How’re you getting home? Should I call your parents—”
“No!” My response comes too quickly, and too loudly. I adjust my tone. “I mean, my mother and father aren’t available. Not at the moment. But perhaps I could ride with you?”
“Uh…” Debra casts an uncertain glance at her Self-Own. “You sure there isn’t anyone else I can call?”
“Positive.”
Debra hesitates a moment longer. “Fine. Where do you need to go?”
I remember something Mrs. Olyphant said earlier. Shady Pines Middle School. That’s where Kara Estrada must be.
I adjust my ash-covered waistcoat. “Take me to Shady Pines Middle School.”
After an hour in the Dungeon, the September sunshine hits me like a spotlight. I shield my face. My eyes are still adjusting to the brightness when a dark blob appears in front of me. I blink twice and realize the blob is Prince Fred.
“Greetings, Kara Estrada!”
I rub my eyes. This has to be some kind of post-detention hallucination. But when I look again, Prince Fred’s still there.
“How’d you get here?” I ask.
“A kindly woman gave me a ride in her carriage,” the prince explains. “Did you know that carriages here aren’t pulled by invisible horses? They’re propelled by something called crasopline.”
“You mean gasoline?”
“That’s the word! Gasoline! It’s quite a marvelous technology, don’t you agree?”
I shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it before.”
“Your world is full of fantastical wonders. Such as the boxes that hang above streets with shifting colors of illumination inside them. Depending upon the color, drivers know whether to stop or go—”
“Traffic lights?”
“Yes, exactly! They’re spectacular! But sadly, I didn’t come here to discuss gasoline and traffic lights. I bring with me disturbing news.”
“What?”
A grim look passes over Prince Fred’s face. “Legendtopia has been overtaken by the Sorceress. And she has made some…changes.”
“What kind of changes?”
The prince takes a deep breath. Then he begins describing how the Sorceress worked her dark magic on Legendtopia, turning it into her own personal fortress and transforming lifeless objects into her minions.
“But why Legendtopia?” I ask. “It’s just a restaurant. What does she want with it?”
“Legendtopia is only the beginning.” Prince Fred shudders. “I fear the Sorceress has much more planned for your world.”
“Like what?”
Before he can explain anything else, Trevor Fitzgerald interrupts our conversation. I haven’t spoken to him since he was teasing Marcy at Legendtopia.
“Hey, Kara.” His attention turns to the prince. “Who’s your friend?”
“None of your business,” I snap.
Trevor gawks at Prince Fred like he’s…well, from another world. He lets out a mocking chuckle. “Nice clothes.”
I guess they don’t have sarcasm where Fred comes from, because he takes the insult as a compliment. Bowing, he says, “Many thanks!”
“Go bother someone else, Trevor,” I say.
He saunters away, snickering to himself. I turn my focus back to Prince Fred.
“We need to get you some normal clothes,” I say.
An offended look crosses his face. “What do you mean? My clothes are the finest in the kingdom.”
“Maybe in your kingdom. But here, nobody wears stuff like that. If you’re gonna hang out in my world, then you can’t draw so much attention to yourself.”
He gives this some thought. “Where do you suggest I obtain this new clothing?”
I hesitate. And even before I
speak, I know it’s a bad idea.
“Come on,” I say finally. “Let’s go to my house.”
The walk home from school normally takes ten minutes. With Prince Fred, it’s closer to an hour.
I swear, the guy can’t go more than five feet without stopping to gush over another “amazing” new thing he’s just noticed. A glob of chewed gum on the sidewalk, a bicycle chained to a fence, a stop sign. According to Prince Fred, they’re “stupendous,” “magnificent,” “wonderful” (in that order).
You should see what a big deal he makes when he sees a fire hydrant. He circles the thing from a safe distance.
“Fascinating,” he whispers. “So this contraption creates fire?”
I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t create fire. It shoots water out of that big nozzle.”
“Then why don’t they call it a water hydrant?”
“I don’t know.”
A minivan drives past. Kids in the back turn in their seats to stare at Prince Fred as they go by. A few seconds later, a teenager on a bike rides past. Pointing at Prince Fred, he calls out, “Lookin’ good, dork!”
“Many thanks!” the prince calls back.
The teenager rides on, laughing so hard he nearly runs into a telephone pole.
“What is a dork?” Prince Fred asks.
I grit my teeth. “Let’s just go.”
Soon we reach the entrance to Pevensie Park. I always cut through the park on my way home. It’s no big deal, really. Just a dirt path through some tall trees. Of course, the prince doesn’t see it that way.
“Do you have fairies in this forest?” he asks.
“No.”
“Ogres?”
“Nope.”
“Unicorns?”
I stop walking and turn to Prince Fred. “None of those things exists in this world.”
The prince’s forehead wrinkles. “But of course they do. I saw all of them in Legendtopia.”
“Those are fake.”
“I know, but…why would anyone create fake creatures when the real ones don’t exist?”
“I guess they like to pretend. And by the way, this isn’t some kind of forest. It’s just a little park. Nothing special.”
But the prince isn’t paying attention to me. He’s focused on a frog that just hopped onto the path.
Fred moves slowly toward the frog. “Greetings, forest creature. Tell me, how do you like the Kingdom of Shady Pines?”
The frog sits there, because that’s what frogs do. Prince Fred waits politely, like he’s actually expecting a response.
Finally, I speak up. “You know it can’t understand you, right? It’s a frog. Frogs don’t talk.”
The prince looks from the frog to me. “They don’t?”
I shake my head.
“So then, which creatures do speak?” he asks.
“None of them. Animals don’t talk here. Well, except maybe parrots. But they don’t really count.”
Prince Fred lets out a disbelieving laugh. “What a strange world you inhabit.”
“I could say the same for you,” I mutter.
I lead the prince into a clearing, past a playground and back onto the path. On the other side of the park is my street. I try to hurry Fred along, but he’s way too interested in all the “marvelous sights” (in other words, mailboxes and recycling bins).
When we finally reach my house, I take us through the door that leads into the laundry room. While Prince Fred examines the washing machine, I nudge the dining room door open and peer inside. The coast is clear. Which is a good thing, since I’m really not in the mood to explain to anyone in my family what I’m doing hanging out with a prince from another world.
We’re halfway across the dining room when I hear footsteps. I freeze. Prince Fred opens his mouth to speak, but I shush him.
“You need to hide!” I whisper.
The prince gives me a confused look. “Hide? Why do I need to—”
“Just do it! Quick!”
The footsteps are getting closer. I jump forward, swing open the door to the pantry, and shove Prince Fred inside. The moment I slam the door shut, my mom enters the dining room. She must’ve just returned from a shift at the hospital. She’s still wearing her blue nurse’s uniform and name badge.
“Hi, Kara. I didn’t hear you—” Mom goes silent when she notices my clothes. My shirt’s torn and charred from the fire. Ashes stain my jeans. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Really.”
Mom shakes her head. She’s obviously waiting for further explanation. I know I’ll have to tell her about the trouble I got in at school eventually. But that conversation will have to wait until I’m not hiding a prince in the pantry.
Fortunately, right at that moment, a distraction comes along. Unfortunately, the distraction is my little brother, Neal.
“Hey, booger brains!” he squeals at me.
“Shut up, slug face!” I say.
“Kids!” Mom warns. “Language.”
“I’m hungry!” Neal skips a circle around our mom, waving his arms. “Can I have a snack?”
Neal’s nine years old. He’s also the most annoying person on earth. Imagine a tornado with a chili-bowl haircut.
“Snack! Snack! Snack!” he chants. “I want a snack!”
“All right, all right.” Mom rolls her eyes. “There are crackers in the pantry.”
Neal makes a move for the pantry, but I quickly step in his way. “You know what—I’ll get those for you.”
Mom narrows her eyes at me. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” My voice squeaks. “Can’t I do something nice for my little bro?”
“That would be the first time in the history of the world,” Neal points out. He wriggles to get past me.
“I do nice stuff for you all the time!” I say as I shove Neal.
“Ow!” he squeals. “Kara pushed me!”
Mom crosses her arms. “Kara, is there something you want to tell me?”
“No, I just—”
Neal bolts past before I can stop him. The door to the pantry swings open and I hear my brother gasp.
“Mooo-oooom!” he screams. “Kara’s hiding a pirate in the pantry!”
I’ll admit that my clothing is a little ragged. My hair’s out of place and my face is stained with ashes. I’m not my usual well-groomed self.
But a pirate? How rude!
The little boy who intruded on my hiding spot turns out to be Kara’s brother. Like his sister, the boy has dark hair and brown eyes.
And standing behind him is a pretty woman with olive-colored skin. Kara’s mother.
Because all three appear too bewildered at my presence to speak a word, I figure I might as well introduce myself.
“Greetings!” I bow to Kara’s mother and give a curt nod to her brother. “I apologize for my unannounced visit. My name is—”
“Fred!” Kara interrupts. “His name’s Fred.”
I’m not particularly fond of this new name, but I’m in Kara’s home. And her world. She knows more about the customs of this place. And so I grit my teeth and fake a smile.
“That is correct,” I say. “My name is Fred.”
Kara’s mother reaches out to shake my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fred. I’m Mrs. Estrada. And this is Kneel.”
In my world, kneel is a thing people do when I walk by. Apparently, here it’s a name.
“Where are you from?” Kneel asks.
“I come from a faraway—”
“England!” Kara blurts out. “He’s an exchange student. From England.”
Mrs. Estrada gives me a closer look. “So that explains the accent.”
Kneel tugs at my waistcoat. “Does everyone dress so weird in England?”
I turn a confused glance in Kara’s direction. We didn’t discuss any of this. I don’t even know what England is.
Kara gives me a tiny shrug, as if to say, What choice do we have? Then she turns back to her mom. “Fred ju
st arrived in Shady Pines. On a student exchange program. He was supposed to be staying with this other family. But the kid…uh—got sick.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Mrs. Estrada replies. “What kind of illness?”
Kara hesitates. I can see her brain spinning. And so I offer a reply—at the same moment that she does.
“Measles,” I say.
“Pinkeye,” she says.
Mrs. Estrada’s forehead wrinkles. “The kid came down with measles…and pinkeye…at the same time?”
Kara and I both nod.
“Sounds itchy,” observes Kneel.
“So—uh…obviously Fred can’t stay with this other kid,” Kara continues. “At least, not right now. But since he’s already here, he needs to live somewhere. So today at school, I sort of…volunteered our house. Just temporarily, of course.”
Mrs. Estrada folds her arms. Her eyes flick back and forth between Kara and me. A nervous buzz rattles the inside of my skull. What if Kara’s mother sees through our deception? What if she kicks me out? Where will I go?
But then a smile creeps across Mrs. Estrada’s face. “Of course you can stay here, Fred.”
I exhale a grateful breath. But the wave of relief is instantly washed away by what Mrs. Estrada says next.
“You can sleep in Kneel’s room.”
“Yay!” Kara’s little brother gives my coat several more sharp yanks. “Me and the pirate are gonna be roomies!”
Now I really feel sorry for Prince Fred. He’s gotten himself stuck in another world, chased by an evil witch, and nearly burned to a crisp by a giant dragon. But that’s nothing compared to what he’s about to face:
Sharing a room with my little brother.
“Here it is!” Neal pushes open the door to his bedroom.
Prince Fred stumbles to a halt. He scans the piles of dirty laundry on the bed, the crayon markings on the wall, the game controllers spilled across the floor.
“What happened to your bedchamber?” he says to Neal. “Did your servants forget to clean it?”
“Servants? We don’t have any servants.”
“I can tell.” Prince Fred sniffs and makes a face. “And where shall I be residing?”