by Laurence Yep
“Sir Isaac,” I said. “He’s getting even because he thinks I played a trick on him.”
“Oog,” Mabli said.
I told the others about finding his shoes and then realized something that put me in a great mood. “But now he’s pranked me, and we’re even.”
“You really think a pile of junk and a lost lunch are enough revenge?” Liri asked.
I glanced inside my locker. The red nylon bag with the stars had been smashed flat. Whatever treats Vasilisa had packed for me were now paste.
I thought of the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen this morning. “I wish I had something to eat.”
This time, I thought I heard a small whooshing sound like a small jet dashing by.
“Don’t worry. I’ll share with you,” Mabli said.
Liri and I dumped the joke stuff into a trashcan, and Mabli opened her locker. “Hey, my lunch is gone.”
“So’s mine,” Nanette said angrily.
Lunches were missing from five other lockers.
Liri scratched her cheek, and ripples spread across her transparent skin. “Is this another one of Sir Isaac’s pranks?”
“But I didn’t do anything to him,” Nanette complained.
“He wouldn’t pick on you for no reason. It’s got to be somebody else.” With a sinking feeling, I realized that maybe the junk in my locker hadn’t been his work either—which meant our duel was still going on.
Nanette set her fists on her hips. “Who else did you make mad?”
“Nobody,” I said, but then I thought about Rowan. He was just strange enough even if I didn’t know how he might have done it.
Nanette jabbed a finger. “Ha, I can see it in your face. There is somebody.”
“No,” I insisted. “Come on. We can buy cafeteria lunches.”
The auditorium in the basement also served as a cafeteria, and the lunch counter had pretty good food. But when we got there, we found a large group just standing around to the side of the tables.
“There’s a name on this bag,” Sir Isaac said from the center of the group. He must be the lunchtime proctor today. “Mabli?” His hand held a paper bag above the heads. “Where are you, Mabli?”
“How did my lunch get here?” Mabli asked.
The group parted, and I followed Mabli to the center where Sir Isaac stood. He motioned to the pile of bags and boxes.
Nanette snatched up a bento box. “That’s mine.”
“Someone has strange appetites.” Sir Isaac nudged the bale of hay with a buckled shoe. Resting on top of the bale was a can of chicken soup, a piggy bank, and a parking meter with a stack of quarters.
I appealed to Sir Isaac. “This is what happened in my room last night. A pile of junk just appeared. And when I opened my locker just now, I had more trash inside. And now this.” I motioned to the can of soup and lunches. “We can eat those, but the hay and parking meter are just more weird garbage.”
Sir Isaac rested his hand against his chin. “It’s refuse only if it has no purpose. Do these items have anything in common?” He spun around with a quick, abrupt motion like rubber bands snapping. “A horse would eat hay.” He picked up a quarter and put it into the parking meter, which whirred and showed six minutes of time. “And a coin feeds the parking meter or a piggy bank.” He pirouetted like a mad top. His eyes were shining as he dared me. “And so what do we conclude, Burton?”
“They’re all things to feed someone or something.” I scratched my head. “You know, before I came down here, I wished I had something to eat.” Silently, I ran through the items that had been in my locker. “And all the junk—”
“Ah, careful.” Sir Isaac wagged his finger at me. “Remember, it is only garbage if there is no rhyme or reason to it.”
I corrected myself. “I was so worried about your revenge that I wished for something to protect me. And suddenly my locker was filled with stuff I could use for that.”
“And what about last night?” Sir Isaac prompted. “Did anything else have something in common with my shoes?”
I thought aloud. “Pogo stick. Ladder.” Even the music had been about stairs. “I was having trouble reaching the top of a cabinet yesterday. So I wished for something that would make me taller—like your shoes would do.”
There were giggles and smiles around us that everyone instantly tried to hide from Sir Isaac. Everyone understood what the shoes did for him, but no one wanted to get on his bad side.
“Sorry,” I said quickly.
“You should be,” Sir Isaac said. “Why can’t fashion elevate the body as well as the soul?”
I had something more to worry about besides his upcoming prank. “Someone must be granting my wishes.”
“But who?” Zaina asked. As a djinn, she knew something about fulfilling wishes, though none of her family had that kind of power.
“I wish—” I caught myself before I said that I wished I knew. That might result in a pile of books and computers and—well, your guess was as good as mine.
Instead, I just shook my head. “That’s the billion-dollar question.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A well-made wish consists of 10 percent knowing what you want and 90 percent knowing how to wish for it.
MISS DRAKE
Knowing that our friends, the creatures in the neighborhood, kept an eye on Winnie, I’d stopped escorting her to and from school. But last evening, when she had shown me the debris in her room, I felt as if someone had drawn an icicle down my spine.
Perhaps it was no accident that Winnie had lost her badge after all. Some villain might be targeting her. So I resumed sneaking from the house and flying above her in miniature form as she walked to school.
When I saw Rowan, I assumed he had come to the same conclusion based on what had happened at the Exposition and was guarding Winnie—perhaps at Lady Louhi’s behest. (I was still wondering if she was truly his aunt or if it had just been a convenient ruse for him to accompany her on the trip.)
When I returned home, I thought I would have to help Small Doll carry the heavier items to the garbage cans, but she already had Winnie’s floor cleared and the rug smelled faintly of soap and antiseptic spray.
So instead, I put on my human disguise and broke my fast on the upstairs patio outside of Liza’s bedroom. There, with one of Vasilisa’s delicious tarts in my belly and the scent of Dragon Well tea refreshing my brain, I could consider the strange events of the past few days.
Spread below me were the drab modern buildings that had replaced the delicate Persian carpet of the Exposition. A long strip of lawn, now called the Marina Green, had replaced the North Gardens, where Winnie and I had watched the fireless fireworks paint the night sky with light.
When you have lived as long as I have, you become resigned to the fact that nothing stays the same. And yet, though people and places change, general patterns persist through time, whether it is in cities, families, or events. And there is one design above all others that I can recognize: the web of treachery and deceit.
I worked out the distances in my mind, and it was possible for one of the club members to slip away from the hall, stage the purse snatching, and then return to the others. As Sir Isaac had said, the travelers had lost track of one another.
So perhaps Sir Isaac was half right. What if one of the club members had taken off his or her badge and used magic to become invisible—not to steal the jewel, but to remove Winnie’s charm and drop it on the ground and then strand her back in the past by blaming her for purse stealing. Some heartless, ruthless villain was striking at me by targeting my pet.
The delicate teacup broke in my hand. I scolded myself for losing my temper. Now was a time when I needed to be as cold and calculating as our enemy.
Think!
It was bad: He or she could strike at us at will. The pile of garbage had been more than a prank. It had been a message that our adversary could enter and leave our house despite my state-of-the-art human sensors and magic wards.
> But how had our opponent known where to find us at the fair?
Faced with these riddles, I turned to the most devious mind I knew, Reynard. I told him about our trip to the Exposition, omitting the fact that we had seen him as a fashion accessory. When he heard that someone had tried to harm Winnie, he immediately volunteered his services.
Will drop everything 2 find threat.
He automatically assumed one suspect:
Who else was there besides Silana?
Ever since I had saved her niece from disgrace at the Academy’s Halloween festival, Silana had limited herself to verbal barbs and the occasional slander about me. It was possible, though, that she had decided to escalate our feud again.
Otherwise, as far as I knew, none of the other club members held a grudge against me, and I wrote that to Reynard. The wily fox texted:
Sum1 could b acting as agent 4 real enemy. Need list of every1 there.
It’s true that over the centuries I have stepped on a few paws, feet, and tentacles, so it was possible that a cowardly foe had hired a club member to do the dirty work.
Closing my eyes, I tried to picture the near catastrophe at the fair in detail until that moment when a fairgoer had spotted the purse near Winnie and shouted, “Purse snatcher!”
Wait. She had said something before that. What was it?
First, she had yelled “T’ief.” Just as someone else with an accent had pronounced “thief.”
Check Lady Luminita.
I thanked Reynard for his help because I knew he would make Winnie’s safety a top priority. Next, after obtaining the list of guests and servants from Willamar, I forwarded it to Reynard and asked him to look for someone powerful and with a cruel streak.
Then I went about the house renewing my wards and magical traps and adding more. By then, it was late afternoon, and it was time to follow Winnie from school. But before I was about to leave, Reynard texted me:
Lady Luminita likes roulette. The roulette wheel does not like her. She owes big bucks in Monte Carlo.
It was possible our hidden foe had hired the lady to carry out his revenge. But which of my many enemies was staying in the shadows like a coward?
I left to escort Winnie, and I began to review the list of my enemies continent by continent and had worked my way through part of Africa when I reached the Spriggs Academy. There I saw Rowan, his eyes now a grayish blue to match his school blazer, standing as erect as a sentry near the entrance and ignoring the curious stares from Mortimer the gargoyle on the gate.
When the bell rang inside, Winnie’s schoolmates rushed out, and in a few minutes, so did she. Saskia, Zaina, and Liri were with her, but the minute Zaina saw Rowan, she whispered to the others.
Winnie gave him a look so chilly that it should have frozen the boy into a block of ice. “Your aunt wants to see you.”
“She already texted me,” Rowan said. “I’ll try not to make you uncomfortable from now on.” I could see he wasn’t helping the situation, just antagonizing her more in front of her chums.
“Winnie,” Saskia said, “aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”
“This is Rowan, Lady Louhi’s nephew.” Winnie waved a hand at him curtly. “But he’s not a friend. He’s…um…a fellow pedestrian.”
Liri waggled her fingers in a shooing motion. “Well, don’t let us get in your way.”
“I thought we were going to do homework together at my house?” an exasperated Winnie asked. “Vasilisa could make us snacks.”
“Tempting, but we each just changed our minds.” Zaina grinned.
“Amazing coincidence, isn’t it?” Liri said.
“And convenient for you,” Saskia added.
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Winnie declared. “Just stop it.”
But the three of them simply waved good-bye.
Rowan cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t mind something to eat.”
“There’s a diner five blocks away,” Winnie spoke curtly. Obviously she was not in a mood to play host.
While I flew high and unnoticed above them, I wondered if Rowan was truly infatuated with Winnie or if he was being conscientious about staying with her to protect her.
Winnie stomped along, and Rowan asked, “When I was trying to reach Willamar’s lot, it was Miss Drake who helped me with a spell, wasn’t it?” Winnie’s silence was enough confirmation, and Rowan sighed. “Just when I thought I’d settled the debt, she’s started a new one.”
Winnie, though, ignored all his other attempts to start a conversation, unwilling even to exchange an opinion about the weather. I could see my pet was in uncharted waters with confusing emotions. The clever girl liked to control things, and Rowan was neither in her plans nor quite controllable.
He stopped obediently at the driveway, a forlorn figure as Winnie trudged on.
Our gardener, Paradise, was doing something botanical to a rosebush. She was a dryad whose skin was the dark, ruddy hue of her redwood trees. “Afternoon, Miss Winnie.” She looked down the driveway toward Rowan. “Sir.”
“Don’t pay him any attention,” Winnie ordered.
Then she gritted her teeth when Rowan called up to her. “Winnie, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Spinning around, she shook her head at him. “I wish I had something to make you go away. Oh, no.” She clapped her hands over her mouth in horror.
I thought I saw something tan streak across our property.
The next moment, a pile of trash appeared on the driveway. When Paradise picked up a handful of brochures, she said, “This first one is a set of plans for how to build a hang glider.” Her large hands fanned the other brochures like cards. “And these are schedules for trains, planes, buses, and ships.”
“Not again,” a frustrated Winnie said.
Beneath the brochures was a pair of rusty roller blades, a red stick labeled CATTLE PROD, a jet pack, a baby carriage, and finally a very bewildered bald human wearing a dark green uniform and cap.
“Hey, Bill.” Paradise helped him to his feet and then explained to Winnie, “Bill works as a chauffeur for an elf family four blocks away.”
“Hi, Paradise.” Bill nodded politely to Winnie. “Miss.” He scratched his head as he looked around. “What did you do with my limo?”
“Nothing,” Paradise said. “You’re at the Burtons’.”
Bill glanced at the street signs on the corner. “Well, so I am. If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get home.”
“What happened?” Rowan demanded.
Bill shrugged as he started down the sidewalk. “Beats me. My boss had just called to be picked up. One moment, I’m getting in the limo, and the next, I’m standing here.”
“Do you remember anything else?” Rowan asked.
“Nope.” Bill added, “I’ve had some funny things happen to me since I got this job, but nothing like this whooshing through the air.” He rubbed his stomach. “It’s hard on the tum-tum.”
There was a sudden breeze followed by a loud crash. Now a large black car was parked on the driveway. I thought I saw the tan blur again.
Bill fished his keys from his pocket. “And there’s the car. Now that’s service.” Touching his fingers to his cap, he said, “Excuse me, Miss Burton.” Then, getting into the limousine, he waved a cheerful good-bye to Paradise and backed down the driveway.
Paradise scratched her head and toed the jet pack. “What should we do with all of this, Miss Winnie?”
Winnie started for the house. “Throw away the schedules, but put the other stuff into the shed until I can figure a way to return it all.”
“You said ‘not again’?” Rowan pointed at the trash. “You mean this happened before?”
“Are you asking as Lady Louhi’s nephew,” Winnie asked over her shoulder, “or as…?” The word Shielder floated invisibly between them.
“Or as,” Rowan confirmed. When Winnie remained silent, he added, “Better talk before you have no choice.”
I could have tol
d the young fool that Winnie did not respond well to threats. True to form, she turned away from him once more. “I’ll think about it.”
“But it’s for your own good,” Rowan warned.
Jingling her keys, Winnie said, “Paradise, keep the cattle prod handy.”
—
I hurried to reach the secret entrance in the park, seething over how our opponent was toying with us. Winnie had wished for something to make Rowan go away, and the villain had sent an eccentric collection of ways to do that.
But this was even worse news. Our nemesis could hear us wherever we were.
So, when Winnie and I met in my apartment, she told me what had happened at school and Sir Isaac’s conclusions. Apparently the gargoyle guardians hadn’t been able to stop our adversary any more than the school’s wards, which were even stronger than mine.
Picking up my tablet, I tapped a claw on the reinforced glass and then held it up for her to read:
We’ll have to return the stolen items to the owners somehow and compensate them for the inconvenience. But we have bigger problem.
When I finished writing my suspicions, Winnie took the tablet and typed:
Creepy! So someone listens 2 everything we say?
I wrote back:
I’ll ask Small Doll 2 check nooks & crannies 4 electronic bugs. I’ll hunt 4 magical ones.
Winnie used my tablet to promise me:
In meantime, will b careful what I wish.
I tapped:
Good rule even when enemy isn’t eavesdropping.
—
I ran through what I had just seen on the driveway, seeking some detail that would help us. That was when I recalled that curious blur. It had also preceded the purse snatching at the Exposition. Could our opponent be using some imp to achieve his or her revenge? Our foe might have hidden it in their costume when we traveled through time and then released it to follow us.