by Bach, Shelby
The words “firstborn child” sent a jolt through me, because having kids wasn’t something I thought about much, being eleven and all.
“But I’m not a miller’s daughter,” I said uncertainly.
“And you can’t have her firstborn child,” Miriam added. “She already knows your name.”
Sarah Thumb covered her mouth with her tiny hands, but we could still hear her laughing.
Rumpelstiltskin took off his spectacles and rubbed them with a long-suffering sigh. “Honestly, you have a troubled youth, and no one ever lets you forget it.”
“You tried to steal a baby,” Miriam reminded him.
“I wasn’t going to steal it. I’m not a fairy. We had a bargain, the queen and I,” he said, shaking his head.
“You weren’t going to eat it, were you?” Philip said worriedly.
Rumpelstiltskin looked appalled. “Certainly not. I was lonely. That’s all. I would’ve given him back after he grew up. I thought a human boy would make a good pet.”
Philip’s eyes widened. Miriam and I stepped in front of him protectively.
“No, no, no,” Rumpelstiltskin said, “I’m quite reformed, thank you. Come along, children.”
Sarah Thumb waved us forward, still laughing, and we followed the short man to the only piece of furniture in the room, a large bronze table with a small staircase on the side. Rumpelstiltskin ran up these steps and meticulously opened the book he was carrying.
We gathered around warily.
“This is the current collection. As soon as your Tale starts, this volume lists it in the front of the book, as you see here.” He flipped straight to the end of the table of contents and showed us the only Tale listed on that page:
46. George and the Dragon..........349
“The Tales in this volume are still ongoing, so the book continues to write and revise the stories within,” the librarian said. “Note the page numbers.”
He paused for a moment so we could see the number change from 349 to 376 to 360. Then he stuck a bookmark between the pages. He flipped through the rest of the book so quickly that the text blurred to gray and the illustrations slid by with a splash of color. The page he stopped on had a dragon every bit as realistic as Lena’s, right down to the yellow eyes and the long gray teeth.
Underneath the illustration, the Tale started.
Rumpelstiltskin read aloud, “‘George and the Dragon: Once upon a time, a dragon set up residence in Yellowstone. He was still too young to terrorize villagers, as he wanted to, so he made do by eating pet dogs and blowing fire at unsuspecting campers.’ You’ll find the whole adventure here,” he added, turning pages much more slowly.
On the next page, an illustration showed Miriam trapped in the hot pink tent as the dragon blew fire over her head, and two pages after that, there was one of Chase and me trapped at the back of the dragon’s lair. (To be honest, he did look more scared than I did.)
“As the Tale progresses, the happenings are chronicled here,” the librarian explained. “It will continue to change a great deal in the coming weeks, but it will settle soon enough. Meanwhile, this volume will continue adding Tales as they occur—fairly straightforward, but difficult to grasp if it is not right in front of you. Any questions?”
What I really wanted to ask him was why he and Snow White had locked themselves in the library to talk about me the day before, but I didn’t want Miriam to think I was full of myself. Besides, he probably wouldn’t answer honestly with three other people and one opinionated swallow around.
“Can we read it?” I asked. “George’s Tale, I mean?”
“Yeah, I want to see that dragon again,” said Philip.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Flipping to the Tale’s beginning, Rumpelstiltskin told Sarah Thumb, “The children always want to read the Tales they take part in. Self-centered little creatures.”
We ignored this insult and eagerly gathered around the first page.
“The beginning’s changed!” Miriam said.
“And the illustration,” said Philip, disappointed, pointing at the new picture—an elegant woman with silvery-blond hair and a glittering crown, staring out a window. Her back was to us, her face hidden.
“I did mention that it would happen,” said Rumpelstiltskin. He and Sarah Thumb exchanged amused, tolerant smiles, as if they had gone through this routine many times before. “Even now, the book may be writing a new passage about the afternoon when George’s lady love read of his actions and swooned again over his valor—”
“I am not swooning,” Miriam said, annoyed.
“‘The queen grew restless in her glass prison,’” I read aloud, wanting to back Miriam up before Philip teased her again. “‘She had waited patiently for many years, and she grew tired of pretending that she was not dangerous. She sent one of her dragons to a park much favored by the human world—’”
Rumpelstiltskin slammed the book shut so quickly he almost smashed my fingers.
He and Sarah Thumb stared at each other.
“We must tell the Director,” he said, horrified.
“She’s with the mermaids.”
“We must call her back.”
“Is it that important?” Sarah Thumb asked.
“My dear Sarah, this is Solange we’re talking about. She—”
“Hush!” the little woman said fiercely, with a pointed glance in our direction.
We knew a secret when we heard one. “So, who’s Queen Solange?” Miriam asked brightly.
“Is she part of EAS too?” Philip said.
“Will we meet her?” I added.
“No, child,” Rumpelstiltskin said distractedly. “Hope you never meet her.”
“Now look what you’ve done,” Sarah said, hands on her hips. “It’ll be all over EAS before the sun sets. Ignore him,” she added, turning to us. “He always overreacts.”
Rumpelstiltskin didn’t seem like the kind of guy who overreacted. He looked insulted at the thought.
“If—” Miriam started, but a deep ringing gong interrupted her, like the kind you hear in old churches.
“Oh, good. Saved by the bell.” Sarah climbed back into Mr. Swallow’s saddle.
Rumpelstiltskin opened the volume again. In the table of contents, a new entry had appeared under George’s Tale:
47. Ìhe White Snatze........372
“This is unprecedented,” he murmured to himself. “Three Tales in two days. Interesting times, indeed.”
“Who had the third Tale?” I asked.
The librarian only ran his fingers down the cover’s edge, avoiding my eyes.
“Rumpel’s already told you more than you need to know,” Sarah Thumb said as Mr. Swallow started winging down the hall. “Come on, kiddies. Tour’s over now. A new Tale has started.”
n the courtyard, Sarah Thumb and Mr. Swallow sailed over the crowd around the Tree of Hope, telling us to keep up. “You’ve never seen this. Let’s get you some front row seats,” she added. The other students moved aside so that we could get to the trunk.
A boy stood next to the podium—the same boy who had stationed himself beside the cupcake platter at the Table of Never Ending Refills. He fidgeted uncomfortably, but that might have only been because the same woman who had taken away that platter was glowering at him.
“That’s Gretel,” Miriam whispered. “I met her earlier.”
Mr. Swallow landed on the podium and chattered angrily as Sarah Thumb slid off his back.
“The bird says that you don’t have time to deal with a Tale right now. You have to tell the Director,” the boy said. “What do you have to tell the Director?”
“Well, he’s got animal speech all right,” Sarah Thumb said to Gretel. “How did he find the snake? I thought we kept it locked up in a silver Tupperware or something.”
Gretel narrowed her eyes, her mouth in a very thin line. “Evan followed me back to the kitchens and went through the fridge.”
“I was hungry,” Evan said. “I thought it was
sausage.”
Mr. Swallow eyed Evan’s biggish belly with one beady eye and chirped something else.
“I am not overfed,” Evan said outraged. “Mom says I’m a growing boy, and I need to keep up my strength.”
While Miriam, Philip, and I tried not to laugh, Gretel gave him a stern look that clearly said she’d heard that before. “You better get started,” she told Sarah.
The little woman nodded and climbed to the top of the podium. “Evan Garrison,” Sarah Thumb said in a formal voice, nothing like how she talked during the orientation. The crowd grew quiet, expectant. “Congratulations. Your Tale has begun. Since it is a questing Tale, you may choose two Companions for your journey. Do you accept this privilege?”
Sarah Thumb had never explained what a questing Tale was or even mentioned them.
Evan just nodded. He looked like he couldn’t speak.
“Which Companions do you name?” Sarah Thumb asked in the same serious tone.
Evan swallowed and surveyed the crowd. Everyone held their breath, hoping it would be them. The air seemed to buzz with anticipation, and even though I knew that there was no way he would ever pick me, my stomach churned with butterflies.
Plenty of kids also looked a little jealous, but I wasn’t. Well, not yet. As much as I wanted to go on an adventure, it would probably be a good idea to study the Tales before living one. I mean, I didn’t even know what a White Snake was.
“Come on, Evan,” Sarah said in her normal voice. “I do have things to do, you know.”
“Russell Hale and Mary Garrison,” Evan said quickly. Two figures made their way forward—a very small boy wearing a school uniform and an older girl who had the same freckles and red curls that Evan did, probably his sister.
When they reached the front, Sarah Thumb asked them, loud enough for the whole crowd to hear, “Russell Hale and Mary Garrison, do you consent to undertake this journey with Evan? To advise and protect him to the best of your ability?”
“We do,” they chorused.
“Very well. We wish you the best of luck in this Tale.” Mr. Swallow fluttered to the top of the podium, and Sarah Thumb clambered back into the saddle. “Please follow me to the library. Rumpelstiltskin has some research to share with you.”
She and Mr. Swallow flew off, and the three followed her solemnly. Evan waited about two seconds before biting his fingernails.
I wondered if everyone looked that nervous when their Tale started, or if it was just Evan. He had seemed a lot more excited about the mini-cupcakes earlier.
Once the violet door with gold lettering closed behind them, everyone started talking.
“Who would’ve thought that Evan would be the first in our year to have his Tale?” one of the seventh graders said.
“Except for Bryan and Darcy, of course,” said one of his friends, and both the girl with the eyeliner and the fawn with the spiked collar looked up.
“Yeah, but who would want ‘Brother and Sister’?” said the first seventh grader. He didn’t seem to notice when Bryan and Darcy glared at him—probably because an angry fawn isn’t all that scary.
“I wonder what Evan’s Tale is.”
“It can’t be a very good one. This is Evan we’re talking about.”
Over at Lena and Kelly’s table, the sixth graders were talking about the same thing.
“What does Evan have in his family tree?” Adelaide said scornfully. “Just the Enchanted Pig and the Three Snake Leaves?”
“He probably doesn’t have one of the better-known Tales, then,” Lena said. “It’s a questing Tale, though—” I must have looked confused, because seeing me, she started to explain, “Like begets like. Your Tale is similar to ones your family has.”
“But what’s a questing Tale?” I asked.
“The Tales where you travel. Usually to retrieve an object or to pass some test,” Lena said. “They’re longer and more difficult, so you’re allowed to pick two Companions to help you.”
“But only for the questing Tales. ’Cause it’d be dumb to recruit help if you were a Cinderella and all you had to do was go to some dance,” Chase added.
I definitely wanted a questing Tale.
The cat in Kelly’s lap looked up, flicking her tail. “You were in Rumpel’s library, weren’t you? Do you know what his Tale is?”
All the heads at the table turned to me. I knew peer pressure when I saw it. I hesitated, wondering if I was going to get detention or something my second day.
“You might as well tell us,” Kelly said. “I’ll find out from Mom at dinner.”
“It’ll be all over EAS tomorrow,” Lena said eagerly.
If Lena was okay with it, there was no chance it could get me in trouble.
“It’s the White Snake,” I said.
Obviously, everybody but me knew what that meant.
“Oh,” Adelaide said, scornful again.
Chase grinned with relief. “Is that all?”
“I thought for a second he had gotten Aladdin or something,” said one of the triplets.
“The White Snake is a pretty good Tale.” But Kelly sounded a little unsure.
Adelaide smiled in her not-nice way. “You’re right. He could’ve been a Town Musician of Bremen. That wouldn’t have been embarrassing at all.”
Chase and the triplets laughed, and Adelaide smiled wider.
I made a mental note to search online for “The Town Musicians of Bremen” and figure out what was so funny. “What’s wrong with The White Snake?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Lena said slowly, “but—”
“Have you heard of it?” Chase asked me.
“No,” I said defensively, sure that he was going to make fun of me.
“Then it can’t be the most impressive Tale in the world, can it?” Chase said.
“Somebody eats a little bit of a white snake when he’s not supposed to,” Lena explained, “and then he can understand animals. He helps some of them out, and in return, they help him with some impossible tasks. Then he wins the princess or riches, depending.”
“Oh,” I said, wondering what a seventh grader would do with a princess. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It’s boring. It’s too easy. He’s going to let some ants do all the work,” Chase said. “When my Tale starts, you’ll know it. It’s going to be the best one in decades.”
“Me too.” Adelaide shook her long blond hair back. “Snow White hasn’t happened for a while, and we haven’t had a new Sleeping Beauty in over a century.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “Sarah Thumb said that we don’t find out what our Tale is until it starts.”
“Don’t let them confuse you, Rory,” Lena said. “They’re just guessing. Wishful thinking.”
“Chase and I have a better chance of getting a good Tale than you do, Lena,” Adelaide said scowling. “What do you have in your family tree? You’re descended from Madame Benne. Big whoop.”
“Madame Benne was a great sorceress, an inventor—” Lena started, insulted. She pronounced “Benne” with a long “e.”
“And who’s ever heard of her? How about you, Rory?”
I hadn’t heard of her, but I glared at Adelaide rather than say so.
“That’s not fair, Adelaide. Everyone used to know about her. When she was alive,” said the shortest triplet, the one with darker hair. “She died a long time ago, that’s all.”
“Besides, Lena’s brother had his Tale just yesterday,” Kelly said loyally.
“Yeah, but let’s be honest,” said Chase. “‘George and the Dragon’ is about a saint. It’s not even a real fairy tale.”
Lena jutted out her chin stubbornly, but she didn’t say anything, which meant that she probably couldn’t think of a comeback. So, I told Chase, “Yeah, but you still wish you got to slay the dragon.”
“I don’t need to slay any dragons,” Chase said, and I knew I’d struck a nerve. “I already told you. I’m going to have the best Tale this place h
as seen for centuries. Maybe even two awesome Tales. I could be one of the Brave Little Tailors or the Boy Who Went Out to Learn What Fear Was—”
“You definitely aren’t the second one,” I said. “It looked like you had fear all figured out when the dragon cornered us.”
From the way Chase’s face turned red, I was one more insult away from turning the playground into a battlefield again, or whatever. I hoped none of the other sixth graders knew any reporters.
But Lena, who had looked like she was about to cry a few seconds before, tried not to giggle. I guessed it was worth it.
“Well, Chase may be climbing beanstalks and killing giants like his father soon,” Adelaide said. “We haven’t had a new Jack in years.”
“That’s right,” Chase said, calming down a little. “Do you even know anything about the Tales in your family?”
I had no idea, and I was beginning to worry that I was supposed to figure that out by myself. The phone calls would be so awkward: Hey, Aunt Lucy. Was Uncle Billy a frog before you kissed him?
Adelaide stared down her nose at me, which took skill, because I was a couple inches taller than she was. “Are your parents even Characters?”
I glanced at the other sixth graders, bracing myself for those faraway glazed expression that people get when they think about those famous people, Maggie Wright and Eric Landon.
But nobody had that look—not even one. They were all interested more in the argument than what I would say about my parents.
They didn’t know.
Well, except for maybe Lena. She glanced at me uncertainly, but she wasn’t the type to make a big deal over celebrities.
My mouth fell open.
Of course, Chase and Adelaide thought I was speechless for a completely different reason. They both looked smug.
“So, keep in mind who you’re talking to,” Chase said. “My dad’s Jack, and Adelaide’s mom was a Cinderella.”
I looked at Kelly, surprised. She and Adelaide didn’t act anything like sisters.
“Not that Cinderella,” Adelaide said with a sniff, and both Kelly and Puss-in-Dress glared at her.