Simon Thorn and the Viper's Pit

by Aimee Carter

  Inside the reptile dormitory was an oasis—for the reptiles that didn’t thrive in the desert, Simon figured. An older crocodile gave him an odd look as he passed, and he stepped around a patch of swamp. But Winter wasn’t in her room, and she wasn’t in the common area, either.

  By the time he exited the reptile section, pit practice was about to end, and he had no choice but to brush the sand from his clothes and head toward his first class of the day: History of the Animalgam World. It was much more interesting than the wars and revolutions he’d studied in a normal middle school, and it was also Winter’s favorite subject.

  But when he reached the classroom, her desk was empty. He sat between Jam and Ariana, trying to ignore the back of Nolan’s head three rows ahead of him. “Did you go to the infirmary?” he said to Jam, who was wearing a fresh shirt and a spare pair of glasses.

  “All bandaged up,” said Jam. “The nurse said I shouldn’t go in the water for a few days. The general won’t be pleased.”

  But Jam would love an excuse to have the extra reading time rather than doing endless underwater drills. Simon flashed him a smile, and Jam returned it.

  As class began, their teacher, Mr. Barnes, a tall man with a scraggly goatee and hollow cheeks, cleared his throat. Simon sat up a bit straighter, pen poised to take notes for Winter. If nothing else, that would give him an excuse to look for her later.

  “Throughout history, what it means to be an Animalgam has changed,” said Mr. Barnes, pacing slowly in front of the class with his hands clasped behind his back. “We have adapted to modern technology and shrinking natural habitats. We have learned how to live seamlessly as human or animal, and despite the many wars we have had to overcome, our kind continues to thrive. Though the rules governing our people have changed over the centuries, there are three core foundations shared by all kingdoms that have not. Who can tell me the three laws of the Animalgam world?”

  Jam’s hand shot up, but Mr. Barnes’s gaze landed on Ariana instead. She twirled her pen around and leaned back in her seat, propping her combat boots up on the edge of the chair in front of her.

  “First rule: respect nature and the natural order of the world. Second rule: never hunt other Animalgams. And the third and most important rule: never, ever reveal the Animalgam world to a human.”

  “Very good, Miss Webster,” said Mr. Barnes. “Can you tell the class why secrecy is so important to our kind?”

  “Experiments,” said Nolan before Ariana could get a word out. “Even back in the Dark Ages, if an Animalgam was discovered by humans, they were usually tortured to death or burned at the stake as witches.”

  “Life would be infinitely easier if I could cast a spell on you and make you disappear,” muttered Ariana, still twirling her pen. If Nolan heard her, he didn’t let on.

  “And that is why secrecy, above all else, is valued by our kind,” said Mr. Barnes. “Those who have made the mistake of shifting in front of others or confessing their secrets to non-Animalgam friends and loved ones always pay a dear price. Many of your families no doubt instilled this in you as young children, long before you were able to shift, and it is a law we uphold to this day.”

  “But what about the first time we shift?” said Simon. Nearly every head in the classroom turned to look at him, but he held Mr. Barnes’s stare and balled his hands into fists, imagining how it would feel if claws instead of nails were digging into his palms. “Most people can’t control that, right?”

  “Though there are rare instances of Animalgam children being raised among humans—such as, ah, yourself, for instance, Mr. Thorn—you will find nearly all Animalgams choose to rear their young among their own kind,” said Mr. Barnes. “Each kingdom has habitats and communities spread across the country, and they cater to the specific needs of their population.”

  “What if they don’t know which kingdom their kids will belong to?” said Simon. Several students shifted uncomfortably and glanced at one another.

  “You mean—Hybreds, yes,” said Mr. Barnes, clearing his throat. “Being raised in an environment unnatural to their eventual Animalgam form, which of course will not be discovered until after they shift for the first time, can lead to . . . confusing results. That is why relationships between members of two different kingdoms are so highly discouraged,” he added. “It has even reached a point where some communities ban Hybreds altogether, as their presence can often lead to exclusion and other negative behaviors.”

  “But that isn’t the Hybreds’ fault,” said Simon. “They shouldn’t be punished for it.”

  “I agree,” said Mr. Barnes, peering down his nose at Simon with something akin to pity in his eyes. “But I fear there are few solutions present that would satisfy all. Until then, it is a deep shame, but Hybreds often remain on the fringes of society long after they have shifted, particularly if they were raised in the wrong parent’s kingdom.”

  Silence permeated the room, and once it became clear Mr. Barnes was waiting for Simon to react, he nodded stiffly. While Mr. Barnes quickly changed the subject, Simon turned his attention to his notebook, keenly aware of the stares burning holes into his head.

  He ignored them. At least now he understood why Winter was so ashamed to admit she was a snake raised in the bird kingdom, and he spent the rest of his morning classes trying to come up with a way—any way—to help her. He would stand up for her as many times as it took for Nolan and the mammals to get the picture, and he would be there for her as much as she would let him. More than anything at that moment, he wanted to talk to her—he wanted to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone. But after spending his whole life being bullied by kids bigger and stronger than him, Simon knew how useless it was to be told it gets better. Of course it would get better eventually, once school was over, but it wasn’t better now, and that was all he wanted. It was probably all Winter wanted, too.

  “Where do you think she went?” said Simon as he, Jam, and Ariana made their way to their zoology class. “I’ve checked everywhere for her.”

  “Sometimes she sneaks outside,” said Ariana, who was carrying Jam’s backpack for him despite his protests. “There’s a tunnel in the reptile section, too.”

  Jam blinked, his eyes wide behind his glasses. They were thicker than the other pair and made him look more owlish than usual. “How do you know that?” he said.

  “Someone has to keep an eye on her,” said Ariana. “It’s not like she goes to Sky Tower or anything. She just hangs around in the zoo.”

  “I’ll check during lunch,” said Simon. It was a risky move, leaving the Den again after Malcolm had caught him that morning, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Winter being alone right now. Earning a detention or two would be worth making sure she was okay.

  As soon as zoology class let out and lunch began, he said a quick good-bye to Jam and Ariana and headed back to the Alpha section. Once he dropped off his backpack, he ducked into Nolan’s room, stopping when he saw the heavy bookcase that now covered the entrance to the tunnel.

  “It’s completely blocked,” said Felix, scrambling up Simon’s leg and into his cupped hand. “I already checked. Besides, don’t you think you’ve been in enough trouble today?”

  He didn’t know the half of it, but Simon quickly told the little mouse everything that had happened at breakfast. “I think Winter’s out there,” he said at last. “I have to go through the other tunnel, but the pack’s going to come back any minute. Can you be my lookout?”

  Felix’s whiskers twitched. “If the Alpha finds out, he’ll roast me with garlic for an afternoon snack.”

  “Malcolm won’t find out, and if he does, I’ll protect you. Please, Felix—I won’t ask anything from you again for the rest of the year.”

  “We both know that’s a lie.” He sighed heavily. “Fine. But if you get caught, I’m out of there, got it?”

  “Thanks, Felix,” said Simon, and he slipped the mouse into the pocket of his black uniform, ignoring his mutterings.

  At t
he far edge of the atrium, beyond the green grass and tall trees, stood a door that led into the Alpha’s office. Simon had only been inside a few times before, and never for pleasant reasons. Originally it had belonged to Celeste Thorn, before Malcolm had banished her and taken the title of Alpha. Now it technically belonged to Malcolm, but Simon had only ever seen his uncle use the one above the pit.

  Simon scooped Felix out of his pocket and set him down. “Squeak if anyone comes,” he said, and he opened the door. The hinges creaked, and Simon winced, but there was no going back now.

  It was an ordinary office, with a large mahogany desk and a cold, empty fireplace. Three portraits hung from the walls, and though Simon couldn’t make out the details in the darkness, he knew exactly what they looked like. One was of Celeste herself, and the other two were of the sons she had lost: Darryl and Simon’s father, Luke, whom she’d adopted and raised as her own. Part of Simon was tempted to turn on the lights and stare at his father’s face. It had been months since he’d seen the portrait, and he worried he’d forgotten what his father had looked like. But he didn’t have much time before lunch would be over, and right now, he had to focus on Winter.

  He tugged on the edge of Celeste’s portrait. The frame clicked open, revealing the entrance to another tunnel, and Simon climbed in. He hadn’t taken this one before, but Winter had, and she’d insisted the tunnel let out somewhere inside the zoo above. Simon only hoped she was right.

  Despite his close call with Malcolm—and Ariana—that morning, he closed his eyes and urged his body to shrink into a mouse once more. He couldn’t see the tunnel in the darkness, but he could sense it growing bigger until he was Felix’s size. Blinking, he twitched the end of his tail, making sure he had his balance before scurrying up to the surface as fast as he could.

  A few minutes later, he reached the exit, which was choked with foliage and clearly hadn’t been used recently. That was no surprise—only those with access to the Alpha section would be able to get to the portrait, and the pack members wouldn’t bother, not when they could go into the zoo anytime they wanted. Simon shifted back into a human and, pushing the leaves aside, he crawled out onto the cold ground and squinted in the sudden onslaught of sunlight.

  Winter had been right. The tunnel let out at the very back of the Central Park Zoo, near a pond filled with turtles. Relieved, Simon stood and brushed the dirt off his knees. A few feet away, a little girl no older than four stared at him with wide eyes. Simon pressed his finger to his lips and hurried past her.

  The zoo wasn’t very crowded, not in the middle of a November weekday, but Simon searched every winding path and building and still couldn’t spot Winter. Deflated, he stopped near a vendor selling stuffed animals. Maybe she wasn’t there after all, but where else could she possibly be? Had she finally run away? He glanced at the city skyline, where he could see Sky Tower a few blocks from the park. If he flew, he might have time to make it there and back before the end of lunch.

  Simon was about to search for a dark corner to shift when he spotted a familiar statue out of the corner of his eye. The stone wolf didn’t appear to be anything special, and most visitors passed it without a second look, but Simon knew better. It marked his uncle’s grave, a headstone that blended in with the rest of the statues in the courtyard. A second wolf figure beside it marked his father’s, but it was Darryl’s grave that Simon approached. He couldn’t leave without visiting, not when he was this close.

  “Hi,” he whispered, rubbing the wolf’s muzzle and brushing his fingertips against the scar that ran down the wolf’s left cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. Malcolm’s keeping his promise to you, and it’s getting harder to sneak out—”

  He stopped. At the base of the statue, half-obscured by a loose stone, he spotted something colorful that looked almost like trash. Kneeling, he moved the stone, and a piece of stiff paper poked out of the hidden compartment.

  It was a postcard.

  With his heart in his throat, Simon picked up the colorful picture of the Arizona desert and flipped it over. There, written in his mother’s familiar handwriting, were four simple words.

  Wish you were here.

  Birds of Paradise

  Simon’s hands shook as he read the words on the postcard over and over again, searching for a clue that this wasn’t some big joke. His mother was with Orion. There was no way she could have come back to New York to hide this for him.

  A sparrow landed on his shoulder and trilled. “Simon Thorn has found it!” she declared, puffing up with pride.

  “This?” he said, holding up the postcard. “You left this for me?”

  “A bird from the sandy place did,” she said, and she pecked at his ear. “Food?”

  Hope surged through him, and he dug in his pockets and handed the sparrow half a cracker he’d meant to give Felix. She flew off, and Simon stumbled toward the center of the zoo, his mind reeling.

  His mother was in Arizona. That was where Orion had taken her to search for the pieces of the Predator. He looked at the card again. There was a rattlesnake in the picture—they must have been hunting for the reptiles’ part of the weapon, he reasoned, running his fingers over her looping handwriting. He doubted any of the other kingdoms would have tried to hide their piece in the desert.

  Simon swallowed hard. He had to find a way to get to Arizona. Maybe he had enough allowance money saved up over the years to buy a plane ticket, or maybe he could borrow—Simon didn’t want to think of it as stealing—from Malcolm. Either way, his mother needed his help, and he wasn’t going to let her down again. He had no idea how long it had taken for her postcard to reach him, and there was a chance they’d already found the piece and moved on to the next. But this was the only lead Simon had, and he had to follow it. As soon as possible.

  He didn’t realize he’d run across Winter until he nearly tripped over the flock of pigeons at her feet. She sat rigidly on a bench across from the seal exhibit with a bucket of stale popcorn on her lap, and she stared at the pigeons in front of her as they pecked at the kernels scattered across the cobblestones. Without even glancing his way, she said in a biting voice, “It’s about time. You’ve passed me twice.”

  “I was—distracted.” Simon tucked the postcard in his pocket and sat beside her without asking. She didn’t move away. “I thought you hated pigeons.”

  “They’re the only birds that’ll come anywhere near me now,” she muttered. “Why are you here?”

  He hesitated. “I’m sorry about what Garrett and Nolan did.”

  “Don’t be. I’m surprised it took them this long.” She tossed another handful of popcorn on the ground, and a half dozen more pigeons joined them. Her light green eyes were rimmed with red. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

  Simon nudged a pebble with the toe of his sneaker. “Sometimes I don’t want to be here, either.”

  She scoffed. “Darryl and your mom didn’t want to leave you. They didn’t decide to forget about you just because you shift into a snake instead of a bird. At least they still love you. At least you still have family.”

  “Loved,” he said, all his excitement from receiving the postcard evaporating. “Darryl loved me. And now he’s dead.” He didn’t have to point out that if it hadn’t been for Winter, his uncle would probably still be alive. That cold, hard fact had wedged its way between them the day Darryl had died, and though they’d both done their best to move past it, neither of them had forgotten. Simon wasn’t sure he ever could, just like he was sure Winter would never forget that Simon was the reason Orion knew she was really a snake.

  A pigeon waddled over to his feet, already nearly twice the size of a normal bird. “Food?”

  Simon grabbed a few kernels from the bucket and tossed them over to the pigeon. “I’m trying to help you,” he said to Winter.

  “How? By putting my life back together for me?”

  “By—I don’t know. Being your friend.”

  “Look where that’s g
otten you so far,” she spat. “Just leave me alone, Simon. I don’t know why you’re trying so hard.”

  “Because someone should. Bad things happen every day, and sometimes—sometimes it feels like the end of the world. But they always get better eventually.”

  Winter gave him a withering look. “Do you really believe that?”

  He ran his fingers across the glossy postcard in his pocket. “Yes,” he said firmly, even though ten minutes ago, he hadn’t been so sure. “The only way any of this will get better is if we keep going. Maybe—maybe it’ll be a while before I find my mom. Maybe we won’t be able to stop Orion from getting all the pieces of the Predator. But no matter what happens, you have me, and I have you. Right?”

  For a long moment, she said nothing, but finally she rubbed her cheek and reluctantly nodded. Though she didn’t look at him, she mumbled, “Thanks for standing up for me. You didn’t get in trouble, did you?”

  “Malcolm has other reasons to be mad at me,” said Simon. “Garrett’s a jerk. We’ll get back at him somehow.”

  “That’ll just make him come after us even harder.”

  “We’ll be ready for him.”

  The pigeons cooed for more food, and Winter tossed them another handful of popcorn. At last Simon pulled the postcard from his pocket, and without letting go, he showed it to Winter. “I found this at my uncle’s grave. It’s from my mom,” he said. “She used to send postcards when it was just me and Darryl.”