“Promotion?”
“Why do you keep repeating what I’m saying?” Filomena demands.
“I’m just trying to understand what you’re talking about,” the boy says, crossing his arms.
“That makes two of us. I mean, doesn’t it even bother you that we could be ogre toast right now if I didn’t know the spell? By the way, that really happened, right? I’m not dreaming? This is real?”
“Of course it happened,” he says, as if she’s not making any sense.
“But it can’t have! Ogres aren’t real.”
“Of course they are.”
“In books, yeah,” she responds. “But fiction and reality differ.”
“Fiction?” he repeats.
“Stop doing that!” she says, getting fed up. “You’re acting like you have no idea what I’m talking about!”
“You’re absolutely right. I don’t. Beg your pardon for not introducing myself sooner. I’m Jack the Giant Stalker. Jack Stalker for short,” he says, taking a bow.
She laughs in response. “Oh, the same name as the dashing hero of the series. Classic. Nice try.” She snatches her book back. “And you’ve never read the books. Right,” she says under her breath.
“Dashing?” he says under his, with a quirk of a smile.
“Huh?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
She is about to walk away, but he stops her once more. “Wait,” he tries, reaching for the book again. “May I?”
With a disgruntled huff, she hands it over to him. “If you stop being weird, yeah.”
“What did you call this again?” he asks, studying the book.
“A fantasy book,” she says.
He laughs now, but it’s disbelieving. A shake of his head, and then, “These books aren’t fantasy. The world of Never After is real. As real as those scorch marks over there.”
Filomena looks to where he’s pointing, at the blackened ruins in the middle of an otherwise perfectly ordinary sidewalk. She literally cannot believe her eyes. “But everyone knows they’re just stories!” she wails.
“Just stories?” he says, thumbing through the pages. He doesn’t look up at her as he continues to scan the book. “This looks like a history of the fairy tribes. If you’ve read this, then you know about the war we’ve been fighting for years against the ogre queen of Orgdale and her legions of villains and henchmen. How they’ve relentlessly attacked us, from poisoning princesses to cursing mermaids. And how her army of ogres has been invading our lands as well.”
He says it so casually, so nonchalantly, and with such conviction that she wonders if he’s insane. But that doesn’t stop her from responding. If it’s a test of some sort, she’s not going to waver.
“Of course I know about the war between the fairies and the ogres,” Filomena says. “That’s the whole point of the book series. To see if good wins over evil in the end.”
“But it’s not just a book,” Jack insists. “It’s real.”
Okay, so first he’s never heard of the Never After books and now he’s telling her they’re real? This is getting annoying. She grabs for the book again and takes it from him. “Just quit it. It isn’t funny anymore.”
“I’m not trying to be humorous,” he replies seriously.
“Just go away, please. The thunder and cackling were impressive, really great trick. And your cosplay is excellent. Obviously you’re actually way too into the books, and it’s kind of creepy.” She finishes stuffing the book into her backpack, where it’s safe and sound, and zips the pack closed.
“Please, hold on,” the boy says, looking at her intently. “One moment.”
She snaps her head toward him, giving him an irritated scowl. “Leave me alone! I’m going home now. Don’t follow me again or I’ll call the police. I have a whistle!”
She shifts the backpack so it’s comfortably resting on her shoulders. She gives him one last hard stare so he knows she means business.
“I wasn’t following you!” he says.
“Yes you were!”
“Okay, I was! But I saw you had the Golden Oak on your pack, and so I thought maybe you were going back to the Heart Tree, and I was lost, and I figured I could just follow you there.”
“Heart Tree? You mean the portal that connects all the lands of Never After to each other?” she asks, eyes narrowed.
“Well, yes. So you do know where it is!”
“Um, no, because it doesn’t exist! It’s just in the books! And this is merchandise,” she says, pointing to the sigil on her bag. “Stuff they sell to fans once they’ve read the books but still have money to burn!”
“The books?” asks Jack.
“The books!” It takes everything Filomena has in her not to stamp her feet.
“Let’s please not have this argument about what’s real and what’s not again,” he begs.
“We’re not going to. But stop following me.”
“Fine.” He rolls his eyes.
“Fine.” She rolls hers.
She eyes him suspiciously and turns away, holding tight to her backpack straps as she starts running again. Only this time, she’s not running for her life but running away from the cloaked boy who just helped save her from the latest disaster of the day.
Once again she watches her sneakers pad the pavement. Only now, she’s counting down the moments until she’s back on the street—the same place she just desperately fled from.
She almost laughs at the irony, and she probably would if she weren’t so out of breath. Usually she tries to avoid the whole miserable species, but right now she’s never wished harder in her whole life than to be surrounded by people.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FRIEND
Jack watches the girl walk (well, run) away. Frowning, he considers her obsession with the vine on his arm, wishing he could let it spring out and wrap her up and bring her back to him. But judging by her tone, she probably wouldn’t like that at all.
If only she would help him. He has to get back home; who knows what’s happening there. He stumbled into this world by accident, and now he has to stumble out of it somehow. Why did the portal take him here, of all places? He’s heard that the land of mortals is strange and dangerous, but he didn’t count on the natives being so unfriendly.
Zera warned him once that they don’t believe in Never After over here, but he didn’t realize it was true. Then again, how did that girl know a fairy spell? And what was that book she was carrying?
“Hey!” Jack calls out again. He realizes he doesn’t even know her name. Although she knows his. And what did she call him? The dashing hero of the series. Yeah, he’ll take it.
He waits for a moment, hoping she’ll turn and come back. But she’s long gone. Her long legs have taken her away.
He shakes his head and starts making his way to the end of the alley, considering his next move.
A sudden rustle in the bushes startles him, followed by the pop of a head out of the center. “Great job, chap. Seems like you really won her over.”
Jack clutches his chest and tries not to scream. “You scared the living beast out of me, Alistair! Little warning next time?”
The short, ruddy-cheeked boy finishes climbing out of the bushes with an innocent yet amused smile. He plucks some green leaves and twigs from his rough-spun tunic and close-cropped dark hair. “Sorry. Didn’t want her to see me. She seemed spooked enough. Well, can’t blame her. Ogre’s Wrath and all. I nearly tinkled me trousers meself. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” He shudders, then kicks his boots against the building to get the last of the dirt from himself.
Jack offers a sympathetic smile and pats his friend on the shoulder as he finishes dusting himself off. “It’s hard to get used to.”
Alistair removes one of his boots and inspects the bottom of it. Then he makes a face like he’s going to hurl, and brings the boot closer to Jack. “What do you think this is? I can’t get it off. It’s pink and … stretchy and it’s gotten things
stuck in it.”
Jack pushes the boot away and says, “That’s quite all right. Keep your sticky things to yourself, please.”
Alistair shrugs and puts his boot back on, then stomps a few times for good measure, trying to get the pink goo off.
Jack watches his pal and smirks, trying to stifle the impending laugh bubbling up in his throat.
Alistair is one of Jack’s greatest friends, despite how different they are. Alistair is a head shorter than Jack, with a sweet, open face, and loyal to no end. His good nature tends to get him into troubling situations, but his sense of humor and positive attitude tend to lead him out of them.
“What’s cosplay?” Jack asks Alistair as they continue walking together.
“Beats me,” says Alistair. “What did you want with her, anyway?”
“She carried the mark of the Golden Oak. I thought she could help us find our way back to the tree. Plus, she had a spellbook and knew how to deflect an Ogre’s Wrath.”
“But she told you to go away.”
“I noticed,” says Jack.
“What do we do now?”
Jack sighs. “Let’s get something to eat. We’ll try to find the Heart Tree again tomorrow. We need to let Zera know I got you out of Parsa in the nick of time.”
“I can’t believe they raided that entire kingdom for one lamp,” says Alistair.
“Well, they didn’t get it this time, and they never will,” Jack says. “Not if we can help it.”
“Queen Olga knows we’re here for sure, though, sending her wrath through the portal and all. She’s never going to give up on that lamp,” says Alistair.
“If she returns, we’ll be ready for her,” says Jack. “But she’ll never get it. The only way to the lamp is through us.”
Alistair shudders, then quickly changes the subject. “Anyway, I read this guidebook Master Carl once wrote about the mortal world. I think we need to hunt something called cheeseburgers. That doesn’t seem too hard. I don’t think they can run very fast.”
“Cheeseburgers?” Jack repeats.
“The guidebook mentioned how they can hide in a system in your body for years, especially if you get them from a palace called the Golden Arches. But the guide also says they are not rare. In fact, they are very common here.”
Jack nods, taking this information in.
Alistair continues. “According to my map, there’s a place called Inside-And-Out Burger not too far from here. However, it does not mention how we get inside.” He gasps, accidentally crinkling the map. “Oh heavens, what if we go in and can’t get out? You know I’ve never been good at riddles!”
“Let me see that,” Jack says, taking the map from Alistair’s hands. “If mortals can do it, surely it can’t be that hard.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE FAMILY
After what feels like a lifetime, Filomena sees her house come into view. Home is a sleek, three-story white-and-gray contemporary-style house with a two-car garage. The driveway wraps around in a circle, and she always walks the full length at least once before going inside, for luck.
It’s a pretty neighborhood of tidy sidewalks and green lawns. She wishes her parents would let her walk her puppy, Adelina Jefferson-Cho, on her own, but instead they hire people to do the dog-walking for them. No one in her house enjoys being outside very much.
As she approaches the front door, snagging her house key from the key ring in her side back pocket, she looks around to make sure the boy who dared call himself Jack Stalker—her literal stalker now—isn’t still following her. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a movement in the trees by the park across the street, but she dismisses it. Probably just a squirrel.
Breathing easier when she sees she’s alone, she unlocks the multiple locks and walks inside, entering the code on the pad by the front door so the system knows the house is safe and she’s not a stranger breaking and entering.
Adelina runs up to her, circling Filomena’s feet, always the first to greet her. Filomena picks the puppy up in her arms and kisses her until Adelina is crying and trying to get down. Filomena supposes there is such a thing as too much love, and she should know.
She plops the dog down, then looks up at the security camera closest to the door and stretches her mouth wide with her fingers, giving it a silly face.
She wasn’t kidding when she said her parents were paranoid. They have not one but five dead bolts on the front and back doors, as well as various alarms and security cameras everywhere. Some are hidden throughout the house, in every crevice, every nook, every spot a criminal may not think to look. According to Filomena’s parents, they can never be too careful.
It wasn’t until Filomena was old enough to go to an assortment of birthday parties thrown for an assortment of spoiled or indifferent kids that she noticed not everyone lives like her family does. One lock on the door and a security system, sure, but no one ever uses it. People leave their gates unlocked, their windows open. After all, everyone in her small town does like to proclaim that “nothing ever happens in North Pasadena.”
Well, that is definitely not true. Not after today, anyway.
Filomena is still not convinced it wasn’t a huge marketing launch, although she can’t deny the blackened ruin of a sidewalk. But it’s absurd! Things from books stay in books. There has to be a logical explanation for what happened, and she’s sure if she doesn’t dwell on it, it will soon come to mind. And if not, she will just stop thinking about it.
She debates whether she should tell her parents about what happened today. If she does, they will never let her go anywhere by herself ever again. They’ll probably also think that her brain’s been curdled by reading too many Never After books.
Except since both her parents are writers, they don’t find her fascination with the series strange at all. In fact, they encourage it. They love that she reads. It keeps her safe in the house 99 percent of the time.
The sound of hurried footsteps on the attic stairs notifies Filomena that her mother is home. Bettina Jefferson tramples down, harried, hair in a messy bun, talking about deadlines. Filomena’s mother is always talking about deadlines. Deadlines and kidnapping are her favorite topics of conversation.
Her cell phone is pressed to her ear, and with the other hand Mum pushes away the stray strands of hair that have escaped the bun and covered her forehead. “Of course I’ll have the first draft to you by Friday! Whyever would I not?” She bites her lip and rolls her eyes. “Darling, of course I know how important this is.” An impatient nod that the person on the other end of the phone can’t hear or see. “I understand the concept of publishing, yeah? When have I ever not delivered? Right, except for that time … and that time … right, and that. Well, they can try to take back the advance, except I’ve already spent it all, yeah?”
As soon as she catches sight of Filomena, her eyes widen and she waves. Filomena smiles in response and mouths, Hi, Mum.
Her mother is still saying, “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” as she mouths to Filomena in between, Where’s the book?
Filomena holds out her empty hands and shakes her head.
“Bobby darling, Filly’s here, so I’ve got to run. Don’t stress. I’ve just got to get to the wedding chapters and I’ll send it to you in a wink. Cheers.” She clicks the button to end the call, and Filomena follows her into the kitchen, where Mum tosses her cell phone onto the counter. “I should’ve put the blasted thing on silent so my agent can’t harass me anymore.”
Filomena laughs and sits on the closest stool at the island, its surface a granite slab in cream and gray, like the other countertops. The kitchen is open and bright, with streams of sunlight peeking in through the blinds.
A freshly delivered paper bag on the counter by the fridge holds tonight’s dinner. Her stomach starts to grumble at the sight of it, the aroma reminding her how hungry she is.
Her mom always orders delivery or takeout. She calls it takeaway, one of her Briticisms. Filomena’s family never goes out to e
at—strangers, hello—and her mom can’t cook a single thing to save her life.
Filomena occasionally feels guilty about making fun of the bullies at school and dubbing them the Fettucine Alfredos for ordering in lunch, when her own parents order in so much.
“What’s for dinner?” Filomena asks.
“I’ve got a lovely chicken parm from that new restaurant that just opened. Smells divine, doesn’t it? I’m starved. I’ve been writing all day, trying to finish this book.” Her mom reaches into the cabinets to grab plates. “I’m so behind. As usual. The pages from yesterday were trash. I put them in the bin.”
“You’ll get it done, Mum. You always do.”
“Thanks, darling,” her mom says, setting the plates at the table and giving Filomena a quick kiss on the cheek. She hugs her daughter tightly. “So how’d it go at the bookshop? I was worried sick about you. I’ve been watching the thingy that tracks your movements all day, just in case something happened.”
Filomena briefly wonders how accurate the device is, whether her mom saw her stray from the path and rush into the alley, and if she should tell her mother what happened: the thunderbolts, the sound of maniacal laughter, the strange boy … But her mother writes contemporary romance fiction, not middle-grade fantasy. Unless the boy turned out to be a secret billionaire who would whisk Filomena away to an exotic island, Mum wouldn’t get it. Filomena isn’t allowed to read her mother’s books yet, which is why she’s very knowledgeable about them. Especially because her classmates bully her by nastily demanding to know whether she’s read certain pages. Page 157 of Mum’s latest book is exceptionally saucy.
So Filomena shrugs and says, “Everything went fine. I’m fine, Mum. See? No kidnapping today. I’m still here, in the flesh.”
Her dad comes up from the basement and enters the kitchen, giving Filomena a kiss on the forehead. Filomena beams. She’s her dad’s favorite kid. Of course, she’s his only kid—that’s why she’s the favorite.
The Thirteenth Fairy Page 3