Gertie Milk and the Keeper of Lost Things
Page 18
“Those are Thrax’s words, Gareth, not yours.”
“So we’re not following through with the plan?”
“You’d better get going before the villagers put you back in the snake pit.”
Then Gertie had the most brilliant idea. “Join us! Come with us back to Skuldark.”
Kolt looked concerned. “Um, what are you saying, Gertie? He’s a Loser!”
“A dollop.”
“But he can change!” Gertie insisted. “Like me. I was a Loser, and I changed.”
“Seems like a very bad idea,” Kolt said. “But then again, everyone deserves a second chance I suppose. . . .”
“Please, Kolt!”
“Well . . .” he said, rubbing his chin in deep thought. “He could become Cave Sprite Manager, or a Fern Valley Ranger. I’m sure the B.D.B.U. would see the sense in it.”
But Gertie’s brother had backed away toward where his ship was hovering. “I can’t,” he said. “There’s no way.”
“Why not?” Gertie demanded, anger and hurt tearing through her. “Why?”
“Because Cava Calla Thrax saved us, and I can’t betray him—even for you.”
“Yes you can!” Gertie cried. “He was willing to let you get blown up with the B.D.B.U.”
“But don’t you see? If I double-cross him, we lose any chance to rescue our parents.”
“Our parents?” Gertie said, flushing with panic and moving toward her brother and Doll Head. “You know where they are?”
“Thrax does! And if you destroy that book and come with me, we may be reunited with them! Will you come?”
Robot Rabbit Boy tried to run toward Gertie and pull her back, but Kolt stopped him. It had to be her choice.
No matter how much she wanted a family, she knew that her role as a Keeper of Lost Things was more important than the happiness of a few people, even if they were the people she loved. “Not like this . . .” she told herself. “We’ll be together one day, Gareth. . . . But not like this.”
When her brother saw that she had made up her mind, he was furious. “I’ll never forgive you for betraying us! If Thrax lets our family die, it will be your fault!”
As though responding to his angry cry, Doll Head turned to face the three Keepers. At the sight of their hovering ship, and her brother’s bitter face, Gertie felt one last burst of strength.
“There’s no greater betrayal,” she called out, “than when you betray yourself!”
Two neon light-nets dropped from Doll Head. One of them scooped up Gertie’s brother, while the other just flapped about.
“Guess that was meant for me,” she said to Kolt, who was now at her side with Robot Rabbit Boy.
Once Gareth Milk had been dragged up in the light beams and was onboard, Doll Head powered its engines, ready to depart, and the great flying head whizzed off into the sky.
“A dollop of eggcup!” snapped Robot Rabbit Boy, twitching his nose as though he were about to sneeze.
“No!” Gertie cried. “Let them go. He might be a Loser, but he’s still my brother.”
Kolt put his hand on her shoulder. “Well said, Gertie. Spoken like a true Keeper of Lost Things. Your parents would be proud of you.”
With the disappearance of the flying head, the villagers began to cheer. Soon they would light fires and sing songs to celebrate their victory over fear and ignorance.
It would take time for Gertie to come to terms with everything she had found out.
“Why did you trust me, Kolt?” she asked, after they had eaten with the villagers, and were getting ready to go. “You must have suspected that Johnny the Guard Worm attacked me for a reason, and wondered why my name had been sewn onto the outside of my gown.”
“It’s true I had my fears.”
“So then why were you so nice to me?”
“Because the only real weapon against a Loser, Gertie, or any person who lies and steals and hates and bullies, is genuine compassion. If I had treated you with suspicion and cruelty, it would only have made you worse. And besides, I thought you were excellent company. I just hoped I was wrong, and that you were a genuine Keeper who liked peach cake and moonberry juice—which it turns out you are, and do!”
“But why didn’t you stand in my way before? I could have gone with him, back to Thrax to save our parents.”
“You were chosen to be a Keeper for a reason. The B.D.B.U. does not make mistakes.”
“You mean, it chooses very carefully whom to kidnap?”
Kolt chuckled, “I suppose that’s true, but human civilization depends on it.”
« • • • »
Before going home, Gertie and Kolt took the body of the brave Slug Lamp that Li Er had wrapped in silk. They would bury him under his favorite bush outside the cottage and place a giant golden moonberry to mark the spot. All the other Slug Lamps could look at it and remember him—that is, if Slug Lamps have memories.
“And after a cup of tea by the fire,” Kolt said, “we should find a way to secure the door to the B.D.B.U. so this doesn’t happen again. Thrax has become more powerful and more ruthless than I ever imagined.”
Gertie agreed. “If he was willing to sacrifice my brother to destroy the B.D.B.U., then what else would he do?”
“We are entering dark times, I’m afraid, Gertie.”
“Which is exactly why we’re going to need help.”
“Help? From whom?”
“All the Keepers we’re going to rescue!”
“Keepers, rescue?”
“Lavender, eggcup?”
“Forget the Age of Disappearance, Kolt. This will be the Age of Gathering!”
“What do you mean?”
“A gathering of Keepers. I’ll tell you more when we’re back on Skuldark, but I already have a plan.”
“Is it dangerous? Will I need my bowler hat?”
“I’m afraid it might be, and yes you will.”
Kolt grinned. “Then count me in.”
“Lavender!”
After saying goodbye to Er Dan, and his humble but brilliant son, the future Lao-tzu, they hugged Xiao Jian, and climbed onto the table with the B.D.B.U.
Just as they were linking up for the journey back to Skuldark, Gertie felt a sudden flash of hope and asked Kolt if they could go outside once more—in case her brother had changed his mind and was coming back.
But as the three friends huddled together in the darkness, all they could see was the brilliant light from stars, a glittering vastness where hope and fear would be forever bound.
Acknowledgments
The author would like to acknowledge the hard work, guidance, and friendship of Carrie Kania at Conville & Walsh Literary Agency; Katharine McAnarney and Lindsay Boggs, publicists at Penguin Young Readers; Kim Ryan, director, subsidiary rights at Penguin Young Readers; Alex Sanchez, editorial assistant at Razorbill; and Ben Schrank, president and publisher of Razorbill, and also my wonderful editor. The author would also like to recognize Tiffany Liao, who spent months camping on Skuldark, surviving on moonberries and peach cake, in order to make the story what it is today.
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