“Good-bye, Mom,” said Elspeth. “Good-bye, Dad.”
She sat down on the stone and swung around until her feet dangled into the blackness. She looked at Jack and Jill one more time for reassurance, then she took in a deep breath and pushed herself over the edge.
Falling into a crevasse one hundred feet deep had done nothing to prepare Elspeth for the experience of purposely jumping into a dark, narrow hole in the ground. In the movies, people always scream when they fall, but as much as she wanted to she couldn’t make a single sound.
As she continued to fall, she began to fear that she’d taken her breath too soon. She quickly exhaled, and just as she was about to fill her lungs anew, she hit the water. If there was anything more disconcerting than being at the bottom of a dark, narrow hole, it was being at the bottom of a dark, narrow hole while, at the same time, being underwater.
Already desperate for air, she used her arms and legs to propel herself downward, frantically looking for the bottom while brushing her palms across the sides searching for the passageway on the northern side. But which way was north, she wondered? In fact, the longer she remained without air, the less certain she became of which way was up.
And then she saw it—a dim, wavy light just a few feet away. She continued to push herself downward, but with every foot of progress the light seemed to move away faster than she could swim toward it.
Finally, it was in within her reach. But just as she stretched out her hand to take hold of the passageway and pull herself through, she blacked out.
One, two,
Buckle my shoe;
Three, four,
Prepare for war;
Five, six,
Pick up sticks;
Seven, eight,
Crash the gate;
Nine, ten,
Home again.
Chapter 30
Elspeth greedily filled her lungs with oxygen while sitting up so quickly that if her mother had not been as agile, she would have broken the poor woman’s nose.
“Elspeth!” gasped Mrs. Pule. “You’re back!”
Elspeth wiped the water from her eyes and looked frantically about the apartment. It was all here, just as she’d left it so long ago: the furniture, the commemorative spoons, her parents. She lunged forward and hugged first her mother, then her father.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out.
“It’s okay,” her mother comforted her.
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry. For everything. I don’t want an alpaca, and I don’t want a llama. I don’t want anything from you. You’ve given me so much already. And I’m sorry I worried you. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”
Mr. Pule checked his watch, and Elspeth noticed he was holding a washcloth stained with blood. “Yes,” he said. “You’ve been out for nearly ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” said Elspeth.
“You should lie back and take it easy,” said Mrs. Pule. “The paramedics are on their way.”
“What?” said Elspeth. “No, call them off. I’m fine, really. There’s nothing at all wrong with me.”
Delores Pule looked at her husband, and he answered her look with a shrug. Against her better judgment but not wanting to upset her daughter, Delores picked up the phone, dialed 9-1-1 and cancelled the paramedics.
“Are you sure about this?” her father asked. “That’s quite a cut on your head.”
Elspeth brought her hand to her forehead and felt the gash, the blood now dry and tacky.
“You hit the coffee table pretty hard,” her mother said.
“What?” said Elspeth. “No, no. I got this in the battle . . . fighting the evil King Krool and restoring William the Umpteenth to the throne.”
“Call them back,” said Mr. Pule.
Mrs. Pule picked up the phone once more and began to dial, but Elspeth grabbed her wrist and pulled the phone from her hand. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I had to defeat Krool in order to get home. I came back through the well. See? I’m all wet. How do you explain that?”
Mr. Pule presented a drinking glass, half-full of water. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I threw water in your face trying to bring you around. I saw it in a movie once.”
It was then that Elspeth realized that it was not her uniform that was soaked but her aquamarine T-shirt. She ran her fingers across the denim of her jeans. “My uniform,” she said. “What happened to my uniform?”
“Your uniform?” said Mr. Pule. “You won’t get your uniform until you’re officially accepted at Waldorf. You’re going to be quite a sight at the interview with that lump on your head.”
“No,” said Elspeth. “I’m not going to Waldorf.”
“But dear,” said Mrs. Pule. “I’m afraid it’s our last option.”
“I’m going back to my old school. Tomorrow.”
“But they said you could only return if you . . .”
“Yes,” said Elspeth. “I’m going to apologize. To Mrs. Weed and to the class.”
Mr. Pule snatched the phone from Elspeth’s hand. “I’m calling them back,” he said. While he summoned the paramedics once more, Elspeth did nothing to stop him. She just sat and stared at the wall. The absence of her uniform certainly seemed to suggest that none of it had actually happened. It had all been a horrible, wonderful dream or the result of having cracked her head on the coffee table. And then something occurred to her.
She looked to her left, then right. She spun around and checked behind her. She lifted her bum and made sure she wasn’t sitting on anything.
“What is it, dear?” asked Mr. Pule. “What are you looking for?”
“Where’s Farrah?” asked Elspeth.
“Farrah?”
“Dolly Dew Eyes,” said Elspeth. “My doll. I was holding her when I . . .”
Mr. Pule looked around but saw nothing. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Perhaps she slid under the couch.” He crawled on his hands and knees toward the couch and peered beneath it. “Nope. Nothing here.”
“Don’t worry,” said Mrs. Pule. “If we can’t find her, we’ll get you a new one.”
“I don’t want a new one,” said Elspeth.
“Then we’ll find the old one,” said Mr. Pule.
“I don’t want to find the old one,” said Elspeth. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“I’m confused,” said Mrs. Pule.
“So am I,” said Elspeth, and then, quite abruptly, and without knowing exactly why, she began to sob.
Mrs. Pule placed her arms around Elspeth’s shoulders, and, as the sirens grew louder and nearer, she rocked her daughter as she hadn’t done since she was a toddler.
*
The next morning, Elspeth sat with her father at the breakfast table and watched as her mother hurried about the kitchen, scrambling eggs and buttering toast. It struck her how little resemblance there was between herself and these two people, and she abruptly blurted out, “Was I adopted?”
Mrs. Pule dropped the buttery knife to the floor, and Mr. Pule burned his tongue when he inhaled a mouthful of hot coffee.
“What did you say?” asked Mrs. Pule.
“Was I adopted?” Elspeth repeated.
Slowly, Mrs. Pule left the stove, pulled out the chair next to Elspeth, and sat down. She took the girl’s hand in hers. “We were going to tell you,” she said, “when you turned twelve. I suppose we should have done it sooner, but we never wanted you to feel as if you were unwanted by anyone. You must know that we love you every bit as much as if you were born to us.”
“I know,” said Elspeth. “Where did you find me?”
Mrs. Pule chuckled, imagining a basket on the front doorstep. “Where did we find you? Through the adoption agency, of course.”
“Oh,” said Elspeth.
“A very lovely woman named Mrs. Hubbard,” said Mr. Pule.
Elspeth sat up straight. “Hubbard?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pule. “She’s since passed away, I believe.”
In her mind, Elspeth added this to the list of strange coincidences, but her thoughts were soon interrupted by a horrible shrill noise. The smoke alarm had detected the smell of burning scrambled eggs. Mrs. Pule rushed to the stove and removed the pan from the burner then went about opening windows and fanning away the smoke with a dishtowel.
“I have to go,” said Elspeth over the loud squealing.
“What’s that?” yelled her mother.
“I HAVE TO GO!” she shouted just as the alarm abruptly shut off. “I have to go. I don’t want to be late.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Pule. “We’ll talk more when you get home. I mean when we get home.” Mrs. Pule explained that she and Mr. Pule would be out until around four due to a very important medical appointment.
“Is everything okay?” asked Elspeth.
“Oh yes,” said Mrs. Pule. Despite the paramedics finding nothing wrong with her, Mr. and Mrs. Pule were so concerned with their daughter’s strange behavior after hitting her head on the coffee table that they’d called and pleaded for a last-minute emergency meeting with Dr. Fell.
“Everything’s fine,” said Mr. Pule. He handed Elspeth a key. “You’ll have to let yourself in. You’re practically twelve, so it should be okay.”
Elspeth took the key, and as she shoved it into the pocket of her jeans, her face froze. She felt something, and, pulling that something out, she realized it was a small twig—the twig of a willow tree. “Manuel,” she whispered. “I forgot to plant it.”
“What’s that, dear?” asked Mrs. Pule, still whipping that dishtowel through the air.
“Nothing,” said Elspeth. She spun the tiny branch between her thumb and forefinger.
“You’d better get going,” her father said. “You don’t want to miss the bus.”
“Yes,” said Elspeth, failing to move toward the door. Then, looking up, she said, “When you get back from your appointment I may not be here.”
“Oh?” said Mrs. Pule with surprise.
“Yes. I think I’d like to visit some friends after school.”
“Friends?” said Mr. Pule, with even more surprise.
“Are these people we know?” asked Mrs. Pule.
“No,” said Elspeth. “But you should.”
Her parents conferred briefly and agreed that it would be okay for Elspeth to visit with friends after school providing she was home by dinnertime. Elspeth promised she would be, then thanked them with a hug and hurried off to catch the bus.
On the way, she accidentally kicked a rock, and it said nothing. She picked up a stick and said hello, but it only resulted in silence and strange looks from people walking by. The world around her, the Deadlands as Dumpty had called it, seemed so dull and void of life and, at the same time, busy and loud.
At school, she wasn’t the least bit bothered by the stares and the whispers as she walked by with her bandaged head held high. In addition, she found the apology to be much easier than she had thought it would be. Even speaking before the class was a piece of cake. It was the rest of the day that was terribly difficult, and she spent most of it staring at the clock, silently and ineffectively urging it forward.
When the dismissal bell finally came, Elspeth raced to the bus stop and climbed aboard the bus. She’d gotten there so quickly that she had to wait forever for the bus to fill up. Soon, impatience took over. Finding herself completely unable to sit still, she abruptly stood up and began pushing her way upstream, past those boarding the bus. “Excuse me,” she said. “Sorry. Pardon me.”
She finally reached the front, then bounded down the stairs and took off running for home.
It was four miles at least, but her lungs did not ache and her legs did not tire. When her building came into view she ran even faster, then sprinted up the stairs, the key already in hand. She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. She tore off her knapsack and her jacket and tossed them onto the couch.
She slid the coffee table to one side and stood in the middle of the living room. Then, with the twig of the willow held tightly between her fingers, she took in a shallow breath and held it.
ALSO BY GERRY SWALLOW
(AKA DR. CUTHBERT SOUP)
A Whole Nother Story
Another Whole Nother Story
No Other Story
Text copyright © 2016 by Gerry Swallow
Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Valerio Fabbretti
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First published in the United States of America in January 2016
by Bloomsbury Children’s Books
E-book edition published in January 2016
www.bloomsbury.com
Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018 Bloomsbury books may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at [email protected]
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Swallow, Gerry, author. | Fabbretti, Valerio, illustrator.
Title: Blue in the face : a story of risk, rhyme, and rebellion / by Gerry Swallow ; illustrated by Valerio Fabbretti.
Description: New York : Bloomsbury Children’s Books, 2016. | Summary: When ill-mannered, eleven-year-old Elspeth Pule awakens in a strange forest where nursery rhyme characters dwell, she must both learn compassion and teach the merits of a good temper tantrum in order to return home.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015021235
ISBN 978-1-61963-487-9 (hardcover) • ISBN 978-1-61963-488-6 (e-book)
Subjects: | CYAC: Behavior—Fiction. | Characters in literature—Fiction. |Fantasy. | Humorous stories. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION/Fantasy & Magic.| JUVENILE FICTION/Humorous Stories. | JUVENILE FICTION/Nursery Rhymes.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.S925 Blu 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015021235
Book design by Yelena Safronova
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