Having a Ball!

by Misty Simon

  I wondered if it was just me asking about the book that froze people or if it was anyone and any question. I figured I probably shouldn’t ask Toby to try it out since he wasn’t too happy with what I had done before with the multiple questions for Arrol.

  Arrol seemed to hesitate, but he didn’t freeze. “I can’t tell it to you.”

  “Well, damn,” Toby said. “We need the info. How are we going to get it?”

  “Do you know Morse Code?” Arrol asked.

  I scoffed. Toby shrugged his shoulders, looking apologetic.

  “How about writing it down on a piece of paper?” Toby offered.

  Arrol shook his head. “That would technically still be telling you.”

  They both turned to look at me. I guess it was my turn to contribute now. “Don’t look at me. All I can think of is that Beetlejuice movie where he does charades.”

  “Brilliant!” Toby kissed me for a long time.

  Arrol grumbled through the whole thing. “I would have thought of that eventually.”

  Toby and I came up for air. “I’m sure you would have,” I said, trying to reassure him and uncurl my toes at the same time. “Doesn’t matter who thought of it. At least we have a solution.”

  And wasn’t that awfully nice of me to be so magnanimous, since it was my idea? I thought so too.

  “So can we do it like a game of Pictionary with drawing, or do we have to do regular charades?”

  “I can’t draw worth crap,” Arrol said, finally scrambling up onto the couch between Toby and me again. He plunked the book on his lap and started flipping through the thick pages.

  “Pictionary is out, then. Can you do charades?” I looked over his shoulder to watch the pages blur by. He obviously knew what he was looking for.

  “I can act things out, but I highly doubt you’ll get it.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith. I was quite the charade-ster when I was younger. Try me,” I said.

  “First things first.” He stopped on a page halfway through the book. He pointed to a misshapen, green, slimy, really tall thing. Well, really tall compared to the tree it was standing next to in the drawing. Who knew what the picture’s proportions were? “Is this what the Katie Cora lady turned into this afternoon before blowing away in a puff of smoke?”

  I squinted at it and thought about artistic license. My he/she/it had a bigger, more bulbous nose and his eyes had been closer together, but everything else was very close. “Yes.”

  “Then at least we know what we’re up against, now.” He moved his hand so I could see the title of the page. “We, woman and gentleman, are dealing with a troll.”

  “What?” I gulped and grabbed Toby’s hand. “Is that what you smelled earlier?”

  “Yes. They’re nasty, vicious, controlling, and hideous. Fortunately, they normally travel alone, unlike selkies and banshees.”

  “Troll? Fortunately?” Suddenly I felt very faint.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Once I got my breath back, I sat up and addressed Arrol as seriously as possible. Toby had shoved my face between my knees, though I would have preferred to have another CPR kiss instead. “What do we do to stop this thing? He wants to take over my life unless I get him the object we can’t talk about.” Well, that was convoluted.

  Arrol flipped the book closed and tapped his fingers on the cover. “I only know some of the things to ward against them, but if he’s really determined he can pretty much tear down anything I know.” He shook his head. “I wish my old master were here.”

  “Well, that’s a pipe dream, since you’ve been in the wall for a hundred years, so we need to figure out how we do this ourselves.” If only I could have another bright idea. That would have been fantastic right now. Unfortunately, I don’t work that way. I might have tapped myself out earlier.

  “Let’s concentrate on what we can do,” Toby said, running his hand down the back of my hair. “I was a pretty good charade player when I was younger, too. We’ll get it.” He patted Arrol on the shoulder. “Are you ready, my gnome friend?”

  “Why don’t you go stand on the coffee table so we can see you better?” I started stacking magazines and books on the floor to clear the surface off.

  Toby grabbed Arrol under his armpits and moved him to the glass-topped table.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” I sat back into the curve of Toby’s arm and waited for Arrol to show me his stuff. I almost sprang off the couch when he hit two fingers on his wrist and then grabbed the place where normal men would have their doodads.

  “Arrol!”

  “Don’t start with me.” He growled, then sighed in what was probably high frustration for him. He tapped two fingers on his arm again.

  “Two words.” Toby leaned forward, taking me with him.

  One finger tap on the wrist.

  “First syllable.” Yay, me.

  And then he grabbed his package again. I wasn’t touching that one at all. Literally or verbally. So I looked at Toby and waited for him to come up with something brilliant.

  Toby shrugged, and Arrol grabbed himself again thrusting his hips out.

  “That’s disgusting and completely unworthy of you,” I said, shielding my eyes. “We do not want to see you grab your crotch, okay?”

  The glass table rattled. I glanced over at Toby, who had a smile on his face. He glanced back at me. “First syllable, ‘crotch.’ Let’s move on.”

  I couldn’t help a little chortle of triumph. I rocked! I dropped my hand from my eyes and prayed the password didn’t involve any other body parts or functions.

  Arrol tapped for the second syllable, then hooked his arm in the air and pinched two fingers of his opposite hand. He lifted his arm, made a funky motion, and then pretended to drink with his pinky finger up in the air. Huh?

  I racked my brain and came up with nothing. Toby appeared to be just as perplexed. Glad I wasn’t alone.

  Arrol continued to do the motion, and it reminded me of my grandmother, she of the maiden name that became my first name. She used to have scones every afternoon and turned it into a party with little finger sandwiches and sometimes cupcakes. But always with… “Tea!”

  Arrol nodded vigorously until I thought his head was going to fall off. He opened his arms wide and pushed them back together. There was something I was missing.

  “Crotch tea?” I said. “That sounds horrendous. Who makes tea from a crotch?”

  Toby laughed and ran his hand over his face. “How about ‘crotchety’?”

  “Good one!”

  Arrol poked himself in the nose.

  “Okay, so ‘crotchety.’ Crotchety what?” I leaned forward with my arms crossed over my knees, feeling like I was solving for the million-dollar prize. Excitement coursed through me, and it felt much better than the fear of earlier.

  Arrol tapped his wrist with two fingers.

  “Second word.” Woo-hoo. Last one.

  He made the universal image of an hourglass in the air.

  “Not getting you, man.” Toby looked as perplexed as I felt.

  Arrol did the hourglass thing again, then strutted across the glass table in a swinging walk with his hands on his swaying hips.

  Um. “Walk?”

  “Prostitute?” Toby said.

  I smacked his arm. “I highly doubt the password is ‘crotchety prostitute.’ That’s ridiculous.”

  Throwing his hands in the air, Arrol glared at us. He tried again with the hourglass thing. His brows drew down and he made the motion faster.

  “I’m not getting it, Arrol. Lady? Girl?” I thought of the troll channeling his inner gangster. “Dame? Moll?”

  Arrol chuffed a breath out and stood motionless for a moment, probably thinking Toby and I were a bunch of idiots. The happy glow from figuring out “crotchety” was fading fast.

  Arrol pointed his finger at me.

  I was stumped.

  “Crotchety Danner?” Toby piped up and got a sock in the arm for his trouble. “Ow, I was just going w
ith what worked last time.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to seem so eager to say it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Can I please continue?” Arrol said with his hand on his hip and his other hand still pointing at me.

  And the thought popped in like the proverbial light bulb with a short. “Women,” I said decisively. “Crotchety Women.”

  Toby gave me a funny look and I shrugged my shoulders. But Arrol took a flying leap off the coffee table and landed on my lap. He was actually laughing. Really laughing.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you!”

  “Um, sure.” I looked over his little head as he hugged me as far as his little arms would allow. Toby smiled, then formed a kiss with his lips and blew it to me.

  Arrol pulled away. “And that’s about enough of that.” He straightened his striped shirt and wiped invisible lint from his black cords. “Now we need to find the book and try to figure out what spell the troll wants for turning himself into a human. I can think of a couple, but I need to get my hands on the book to verify exactly which one he is looking for.” He tapped a little finger to his chin. “I really wish my master were here; then we would know exactly where the book is.”

  “But he’s not, and we need to figure this out in three days’ time. I do not want some troll going around living my life and feeling my breasts up all the time.”

  “Yeah, that’s for me to do.”

  I smacked Toby in the arm for his comment, although it did send a nice little tingle arrowing straight into my lap.

  “It’s imperative that we find the book before the third day, woman. It cannot be left to fall into the troll’s hands, regardless of what it would mean to you. It is a dangerous book, full of secrets.”

  “What’s it called?” I asked not sure if Arrol would freeze again, but I found myself willing to endure the scolding afterward to see if the password actually worked.

  “The password works, you nimrod.”

  “Hey!”

  “But I can’t tell you the name of the book. No one can say the name of the book and be safe right now. There is power in a name.”

  “That’s sounds awfully voodoo-y of you.”

  Arrol didn’t even crack a smile over my comment. “It’s not a joking matter, woman. This is way too important to mess around. The troll will be able to detect any mention of the book’s name and will be here faster than you can blink. That smoke thing works in reverse, too.”

  While I pondered that horrible revelation, Toby put his arm around me. “It’s going to be okay, Danner. We’ll figure this whole thing out. I’m not exactly willing to date a troll, even if it does have your body.”

  Okay, dating was not going to happen right now. I won’t say that the kissing wasn’t absolutely fantastic, and the fondling was nothing to sneeze at, either. But that was fun. Dating was almost like a real commitment. And honestly, sometimes I was just too afraid that I was selfish like my parents. What if I got involved and then couldn’t give a hundred percent of myself? What if I was predisposed to be a single woman forever, living in my fantasies?

  What if I stopped all this internalizing and got back to what was happening at this moment? Yeah, I thought that was a better idea too.

  “So what do we do?” I asked, letting Toby’s arm rest on my shoulders but not snuggling into it like I had originally intended. I didn’t want to lead him on, you understand.

  “No, I’m still back at the part where you’re dating,” Arrol said, smoothing his hands over the shirt I’d picked up at Baby Gap that said SuperHuman across his chest. The ensemble went well with the tool belt he wouldn’t remove. “What about me, yo? What about my needs? I am a person too, and as such I need an understanding companion who is willing to go through life’s trials with me.”

  “Oprah?” I raised my eyebrow.

  “Judge Judy.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you read something once in a while?”

  “Why don’t you just get me some fairies and I’ll leave you alone?”

  “Not having this conversation again.” I turned to Toby. “Any ideas about what we can do to find this book and this one’s master?”

  Toby shook his head and stroked his hand up under my new short hair. My neck tingled, and against my better judgment I leaned into his touch. Just a little.

  And then Arrol surprised the heck out of me by mumbling something.

  “I didn’t catch that,” I said.

  “I’m not sure I want to find my master.” His chin shot up and his eyes challenged me.

  “Um…” Well, damn. On one hand that was really touching, and yet, on the other hand, I was concerned that I would have Arrol for the rest of my life. I mean, how long did gnomes live, anyway? And how could I avoid permanent attachments and relationships with a gnome hanging around? Sure, it wasn’t a man/woman thing, but it would be forever, and he’d be in my home.

  Okay, I couldn’t think about this right now or I’d totally panic.

  “I need to be able to direct Toby in his restoration of the house,” Arrol said. “I was here when it was originally built, after all, and my input would be invaluable.”

  Forever. The word kept echoing in my head, but Toby jumped in before the moment stretched out too long.

  “I’d love your help in getting this house back together, Arrol.” He removed his arm from around my shoulders and went to crouch next to the gnome.

  I was all but forgotten during the following talk of wainscoting and color palettes and trim.

  I guess it could have been worse.

  ****

  After they finally remembered that I did indeed exist, we got down to business. They put away the levels and the tape measures and the paint samples and stopped talking shop. Finally. Or did I already say that?

  “So are you going to help me with the ball now?”

  Arrol looked up from his leftover pizza and gave me the squinty eye. “I told you I would, didn’t I?” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Can I please just finish eating before we get into asking the ball stuff? I’m hungry, you know. A growing boy, as it were.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have a feeling you are as big as you’re going to get. How old are you, again? And how old can you get?” That was a smooth way to insert the question that had been burning in my brain. How long would I really have to keep Arrol? As much as he was growing on me (like fungus) I didn’t want the answer to be “forever.”

  “I am three hundred and twenty-five years old.” He stood regally, all twelve inches of him pulled up proud, little chest puffed out.

  I shuddered in horror, again, to hear the number repeated. Please tell me he was over halfway through his life.

  “We are notoriously long-lived.”

  “Um, wow.” Yeah, not exactly brilliant. But his words didn’t give me much comfort. “How long-lived are we talking?” I saw Toby eyeing me, and I gave him a smile. He probably hadn’t picked up on the seriousness (or the longevity) of what we were talking here. If I couldn’t even agree to date the guy I had fantasized about for the last year, how was I supposed to chain myself to a rude, foot-high guy forever?

  “I should hit four hundred with no problem.”

  He smiled; I gulped.

  “So, the ball.” Yes, I was avoiding the other topic. I was not ready to deal that just yet, at all. If ever. This might be an “avoid forever” kind of thing. I wasn’t sure yet.

  “Yes.” He straightened the sleeves of his shirt. “I am ready to take on the ball now to fulfill my promise for these great…I mean, adequate clothes. Lead the way, woman.”

  And I did, straight onto the back balcony. I remembered Arrol saying that the moon helped things along. And for what I needed answered, I had a feeling I would need all the help I could get.

  I laughed, and Toby caught my eye. “What ball? What are you guys talking about?”

  Oh, shit.

  In the dim light of the backyard, I sought out Arrol’s gaze and help with a pointed loo
k. I tried to send him a mental message. It wasn’t until I hit a wall and was sent reeling that I remembered I wasn’t supposed to try to link to him.

  “Ow!” I grabbed my head and dug my fingers into my temples. Christ, I felt like my head was about to explode, and my eyeballs with it.

  Toby was right there, his arm around me. I couldn’t see anything through the haze descending on my brain. It was like a black curtain shrouding me. I pulled away from Toby and snapped the link I’d tried to make. Within seconds my head fell better and I wasn’t as afraid I would throw up on my shoes.

  I wouldn’t be trying that again.

  I glared at Arrol. His mouth still pulled up in a smile, but I couldn’t read his eyes. His expression was blank.

  “That hurt, you little fu—”

  Arrol cut me off with a wave of his hand. “I told you not to try that.”

  I still couldn’t tell if he was even marginally sorry that he had just nearly made me faint and puke in front of Toby. I was silent, but still stared at him, my mind churning with anger and disgust. How dare he hurt me like that when I fed him pizza, brought him all the beer he wanted, and shopped in the children’s department for his little fat ass.

  “Let’s move on.” Arrol stalked back and forth over the planks of my balcony. “The ball…”

  I straightened up and turned to Toby. I gave my back to Arrol and hoped he knew his unlimited access to my pizza was at an end. He would be lucky if I didn’t leave him outside again, this time on purpose, and let the birds crap all over him. “I bought this ball at a thrift store, and for some reason it’s able to talk to me.”

  Toby looked perplexed (a very good look for him that made me want to smooth the creases between his eyebrows). “Don’t all the fortune-teller balls have those cubes that roll and talk to the person asking the questions?”

  “Yes.” I drew the word out and hoped that since he had accepted Arrol, a savvy ball wasn’t going to tilt him right over the edge. “I had a ball like that when I was young. It was very normal and did what it was supposed to do, though it didn’t always give me the right information.”

  “Well, that’s because it’s not a real divination tool like a pendulum.”