The Book of Story Beginnings

by Kladstrup, Kristin

  “Home!” said her father. “I promised your mother we would hurry back. You were absolutely right about time, Lucy. We’ve been missing almost six weeks. We’ve been on the news, in the papers . . .”

  “How will we get home?” said Lucy.

  Home, thought Oscar, and he didn’t even hear the answer to her question. He could hear a baby crying. For a moment, he thought of Morris, howling in the middle of the night. But it was only Phoebe.

  “What is it, darling?” said the Queen.

  “If you please, Your Majesty. The baby’s just tired is all,” said Millie.

  “The kid needs a nap, that’s what,” said Captain Mack. “Though how she’ll ever get one here I don’t know, what with all the squawkin’ and screechin’.”

  The Queen looked concerned. “You think my birds will keep her awake?”

  “Oh, I reckon she’ll get used to the noise eventually. Just let her cry awhile. She’ll go to sleep soon enough,” said Captain Mack.

  The Queen looked shocked by this suggestion. “I don’t want her to cry!” she said.

  “No child ever died of cryin’. It’ll toughen ’er up — you’ll see!”

  “Indeed, I will not see!” said the Queen, looking indignant. “The birds will simply have to go. Bertram! I want to let my birds out. You’ve got to do something about the cats.”

  “What’s that?” said the King, straining to hear over Phoebe’s cries.

  “The cats! You’ll have to change them back into people. Then I can let the birds out of their cages, and it will be quiet, and this poor, exhausted child can go to sleep.”

  “I can’t change them back. I told you — I’ve lost all my powers.”

  “What are we to do?” said the Queen.

  I know what to do, thought Oscar. And perhaps because it had been a long time since he had known exactly what to do, he felt a little cheered. “Sir,” he said to Lucy’s father, “do you suppose you could undo the King’s spell?”

  “Me?” Lucy’s father raised his eyebrows.

  “You’re a magician, Dad,” said Lucy.

  “Maybe the King could tell you what to do,” said Oscar.

  “Let’s ask him,” said Lucy.

  The King was agreeable to Oscar’s suggestion, and a short time later, they found themselves in the throne room. The vast army of cats, still somewhat battle-fatigued, were scattered about in various states of repose.

  The King was giving instructions to Lucy’s father. “What you need, sir, is an undoing spell. Which is to say that you must do everything backward. First off, consider your magic wand.” The King held up the small branch that Lucy’s father had brought back from The Brick. “For an ordinary spell, you’ve got to hold it in the proper direction, with the end that was originally farther from the root of the tree pointing away from you. For an undoing spell, you simply turn the wand around, like so. Next, you must ask for exactly what you don’t want, all the while acting as if you don’t care about the outcome. (That’s because in ordinary spell-making, you do care.)” The King handed the wand to Lucy’s father. “The spell should rhyme, of course,” he added.

  “Right.” Lucy’s father paused to think. “I’ve got it, I think. Now watch out, everyone. If I’m not mistaken, it’s going to get a lot more crowded in here.” He raised the wand, yawned deliberately, then spoke in a lackadaisical voice:

  “Keep your tails, keep your paws;

  Keep your whiskers; keep your claws;

  Stay as you are, cats everywhere.

  If you’d rather be human — I don’t care.”

  Instantly, the room swelled with the sound of hundreds of people gasping out loud. From all sides there were cries of “What?” and “Where am I?” and “What’s going on?” There were men, women, and children everywhere, turning in confusion and bumping into one another.

  “Why, it’s the King’s palace!” said a man standing near Oscar.

  “And there’s the King and Queen,” said a woman standing next to the man.

  “Say! Look at the baby,” said the woman.

  Now the King was climbing up on his throne. He stood on the seat. “My people!” he shouted above the hubbub. At the sound of his voice, everyone in the room fell into obedient silence. (Just like fairy-tale subjects would do, thought Oscar.) “We welcome you to our palace on this great and glorious day,” said the King. “On this most remarkable day, which we hereby decree shall henceforth be considered the birthday of our adopted child”— at this, the Queen climbed up on her throne, next to the King. He took Phoebe from her arms and hoisted her into the air —“we present our new Royal Ward, Princess Phoebe!”

  The crowd cheered. “You’ve done it, Dad!” Lucy exclaimed. She looked at Oscar. “It feels just like reading the end of a book, doesn’t it?” she said.

  More like writing it, thought Oscar. It was funny. He wasn’t exactly sure he liked the ending of his story, even though he had played a hand in making it happen. It seemed like a silly sort of ending. He had the same urge to revise that he had sometimes when he wrote in his journal. Only in this case, he didn’t know what he would have written instead.

  “Now we can go home,” said Lucy. “Can we use the traveling talisman, Dad?”

  “Not exactly,” said her father. “But I think I have an idea. I’ll need a quiet sort of place.”

  “What about the ravens’ courtyard?”

  Oscar followed Lucy and her father out of the crowded throne room. Did they expect him to come home with them?

  “I’m going to try to make a traveling circle,” said Lucy’s father as they entered the courtyard.

  “What’s that?” said Lucy.

  A voice from behind them cut short the answer to her question. “Sir! Oh, sir!” Whirling around, Oscar saw that it was Tom.

  “Where did he come from?” said Lucy. “I thought the King banished him.”

  Tom hurried forward and dropped to his knees before Lucy’s father. “Please, sir! Don’t leave me like this!” he cried.

  “I don’t understand,” said Lucy’s father.

  “Please, sir! I’m nobody as a boy. Change me back into a cat!”

  “No!” said Oscar. “You want to be a cat so you can be the King’s familiar! You want to be in charge again. You liked having all that power.” It seemed to Oscar that Tom was to blame for everything. If it hadn’t been for Tom, the King and Queen wouldn’t have quarreled. The King wouldn’t have changed everyone into cats. He wouldn’t have changed me into a cat, thought Oscar.

  “No, sir!” said Tom, and when Oscar glared at him, he added, “I ain’t saying it wasn’t great while it lasted. I — I was important. I won’t deny likin’ it — bein’ the King’s cat, that is.”

  He turned his attention to Lucy’s father again. “But I think, sir, that I’d be all right if I was just about anybody’s cat. I was talkin’ to that red-headed girl with the baby.”

  “Millie?” said Lucy.

  “That’s her. She was talkin’ about ships. She don’t like ’em much. Says there’s all sorts of rats and mice that you can’t do much about. But I could — don’t you see? I could do somethin’ about the rats and mice.”

  “You’d like to become a ship’s cat, is that it?” said Lucy’s father.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How do we know you won’t go back to the King?” said Oscar.

  “I won’t!” Tom looked hurt.

  “Oh, Oscar,” said Lucy. “He says he won’t.”

  “I don’t trust him. He’s nothing but a scoundrel.”

  “I ain’t a scoundrel!” Tom protested.

  “Are we really supposed to believe that you won’t attack the Queen’s birds again?” Oscar was startled by how sharp his own voice sounded — like a father admonishing a child. Then he had the absurd thought that in a way, Tom was his child. After all, if it hadn’t been for his story beginning, Tom wouldn’t even exist.

  “I’ll be honest with you, sir. I’ll try my best to keep away from
the Queen’s birds. But a cat’s a cat, and I can’t say for sure what I’ll do,” said Tom, and Oscar had a queer feeling all of a sudden. He felt as if he were talking to a real person — a boy whom fate had dealt a hard blow, a boy whose only real fault was wanting more than his story seemed willing to give.

  There was a long silence before Oscar realized that everyone — Tom included — was waiting for him to make a decision. “I suppose it is up to the birds to keep out of harm’s way,” he said, and any reluctance he had about saying it vanished when he saw the look of gratitude on Tom’s face.

  Then Lucy’s father raised his tree-branch wand.

  “This boy here

  wants pointed ears

  and whiskers and a tail

  A ship’s cat’s what he’d like to be —

  familiar to no one

  and completely free.

  Make it so — and let him sail!”

  There was a sleek black shape on the ground. It flicked its tail and veered away from a snapping raven. Tom bounded across the courtyard and disappeared into the palace.

  “I suppose he couldn’t help it,” said Oscar, watching him go. “He had to do what he did.”

  “What do you mean?” said Lucy.

  “Because he was a character in a story. Stories use people,” said Oscar.

  Lucy was quiet. Oscar knew her well enough now to see that she was thinking. Right before she had something important to say, she always closed her mouth, holding her breath for a moment before she spoke. “I think it’s the other way around,” she said. “People use stories. After all, people have to have some sort of say in things. The King banished Tom, but Tom chose a different ending.”

  Oscar hadn’t thought of it that way before. “Do you think he’ll really become a ship’s cat?” he wondered.

  “If I were one of those rats, I’d watch out!” said Lucy’s father with a smile. Then he took his wand and drew it across the grass of the courtyard. Ravens scattered in all directions as he moved in a circle, chanting:

  “Outside the circle, here we stand.

  Inside the circle are other lands —

  Other lands where we would go;

  Take us there, when we say so.”

  A pale green circle, wide as a wagon wheel, glimmered on the dark ground. There was nothing of particular interest inside the circle, only grass.

  “Is that it? How does it work?” asked Lucy.

  “As far as I know, just like the traveling talisman. You jump in and tell it where you want to go. The only difference is that more than one person can use it. The circle stays behind after you jump. I’ll close it up after you two and use the traveling talisman myself. Now, who wants to go first?”

  “I’ll go,” Lucy volunteered. “What do I say when I step in? Home?”

  “I can’t say home.” The words blurted out of Oscar before he could stop them.

  Lucy looked at him.

  He shrugged. “I can’t go home,” he said, trying to use an ordinary sort of voice.

  He must have failed, because he could see that Lucy understood at last. “Oh, Oscar!” she said, her face crumpling with concern. She turned to her father and pointed to the traveling circle. “Dad, can this thing take Oscar back home?”

  Oscar’s breath caught in his throat. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He remembered a book of Ma’s he had read once — all about a time machine that could take people from one time to another.

  Lucy’s father looked pensive. “I’m not exactly sure. I suppose it’s possible,” he said.

  “It has to be possible,” said Lucy, as if by speaking with such certainty she could make it so.

  But it might not be possible, thought Oscar. In fact, Lucy’s father was looking at him the way Pa did sometimes, when he was sizing you up to decide whether you were old enough to be told the truth about something.

  “Can it take him home?” said Lucy.

  Her father hesitated. “The truth is, I don’t know,” he said. “Everything I know about traveling talismans and traveling circles comes from reading Aunt Lavonne’s notes. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot to say about time travel. I’d be afraid to have you just jump into that circle without knowing more about what to expect, Oscar.”

  “I see.” Oscar’s heart was pounding. He concentrated on the dull rhythm, thinking of soldiers marching across hard ground.

  “On the other hand, there may be more to learn from that book Lavonne found,” Lucy’s father said. “We might find the answer we need there.”

  “I know we will!” said Lucy.

  “Would you mind coming home with us while I do a little research, Oscar?” her father asked.

  “I don’t mind.” Oscar forced himself to smile. It wasn’t even that hard, he discovered, not with Lucy looking so enthusiastic. Maybe he could go home after all.

  “Wonderful!” said Lucy’s father. “Now, Lucy, jump. Right into the circle. And I’d suggest something a little more precise than the word home. You don’t want to find yourself tumbling down the roof of The Brick!”

  Lucy came down with a thud on her chosen destination, the front lawn of The Brick. She lay on her back, smiling up at the sight of a pale blue sky brushed with pink clouds. She could hear birds singing, hundreds of them. But only ordinary sorts of birds, she thought. They were singing because it was morning. The birds at home always sang in the morning.

  She had barely stood up when she saw Oscar drop out of nowhere, making a belly-flop landing on the grass. She nearly laughed. “Is that what I looked like when I used the traveling talisman?” she said.

  “Is this what it felt like?” Oscar groaned.

  “Lucy? Is that you?”

  Turning around, Lucy saw her mother running toward them. She caught Lucy up in a hug. “I thought you’d never come! And you, Oscar! Or should I say Earl Norby!” She laughed and hugged him as well. “Where’s your father, Lucy?”

  “He’ll be here. He’s closing up the traveling circle.”

  “Traveling what?”

  Lucy was in the middle of explaining about the traveling circle when her father came crashing down near one of the cement urns. “Shel!” cried her mother as she ran over to help him up.

  “What an awful way to travel!” said her father.

  “Whatever took you so long? Byron and Helen called a half hour ago to find out if you were back yet.”

  “Do they know where we’ve been?” asked Lucy.

  “No. I told them last night that I had talked to your father on the phone,” said her mother. “They wanted to know where you had been, Shel, and I said Texas.”

  “Texas!”

  “It was the first thing that jumped into my mind. Helen called Ray Jensen, and now everyone wants to know what you were doing in Texas. I invented something as best I could, but you’re going to have to help me patch up the story, Shel.”

  “We could tell the truth,” said Lucy’s father.

  “As if anyone would believe it! Now come inside, everyone!” Lucy’s mother put one arm around Lucy and one around Oscar. “I’ll make us some breakfast. And I want to hear all about your adventures!”

  As they sat around the table in the kitchen, Lucy kept quiet mostly, listening to Oscar. His face came alive as he talked to her mother. “And then, while we were surrounded by thousands of cats, I decided it would be a good idea to change Lucy into a pigeon!” he said. Her mother laughed. Oscar laughed as well, and Lucy suddenly had a picture in her mind of Oscar telling his own mother about their adventures. Ma would laugh and laugh.

  I’ll miss him, thought Lucy, and for a moment, her happiness was muddied by sadness. When her father sent Oscar back in time, she would have to say goodbye. She had the absurd thought of sending letters back and forth in time. Her letters to Oscar would get to him before she was even born. And as for Oscar’s letters to her — well, he would probably be dead by the time she read them. It was unsettling to think about time in that way.

  She looked at her fath
er. He was just sitting there, drinking coffee with too much sugar the way he always did. He looked perfectly ordinary, perfectly at home, as if he’d never been away at all. As if he hadn’t just been wielding a magic wand. It was then that Lucy noticed something missing. “Dad!” she exclaimed, interrupting Oscar in the middle of a sentence. “Where’s your mouse?”

  Her father set his coffee down. “Good question, Lucy. It has a very interesting answer.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Well, I had just closed up the traveling circle behind Oscar, when all of a sudden, the mouse leaped off my shoulder and went streaking across the courtyard. Of course, I went after him. But would you believe it? Somebody else went after him as well.”

  “Who?” said Lucy.

  “A certain black cat.”

  “Tom!” said Oscar. “Did he catch him?”

  “He’s fast, that Tom. But not fast enough. The mouse made it to the wall of the palace. Just in time, he darted into a hole between the stones.”

  “What did Tom do?”

  “Sort of sauntered off, as if he didn’t much care.”

  “I bet he did care!” said Oscar. “Of all the sneaky things to do!”

  “What about the mouse?” asked Lucy.

  “I couldn’t coax him out. So I left him there.”

  “Can you perform magic without him?”

  “Another good question, Lucy. I’m afraid the answer is no. I tried before I came home. I felt rather silly, actually, pointing that wand, trying to turn one of those ravens into a rat. Luckily, I still had the traveling talisman. And luckily, it still worked.”

  “But what about Oscar going home? How can you send him back to 1914?” said Lucy.

  “There’s still the traveling talisman,” Oscar said quickly. “Maybe I can use that to go back in time.”

  They both looked at Lucy’s father.

  “We can give it a try,” he said. “That book of Lavonne’s might tell us how to go about it.”

  Lucy was glad to see Oscar look relieved. But somehow she couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. She thought about her story beginning: Once upon a time, there was a girl whose father was a magician. She had wanted her father to turn lead into gold! What other marvelous things might he have done? “It’s too bad about your familiar, Dad,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like to be a magician?”