by Will Taylor
Hey, knowing them, they probably had something exactly like that planned for our first day in the new house.
The new house. It still didn’t feel real, even with all the packing I’d done before camp and the SOLD sign swinging by the curb as I drove away. But it was, and when camp ended, and I went back home . . . new family, new house, new bedroom, new view, new kitchen, new address, new yard, new route to school. New everything.
Only that thought wasn’t making me as nervous as it had before. Maybe because I’d gotten some moving practice under my belt these last few days. I’d seen more bedrooms and hallways and living rooms and lounges than I bet most people saw in a year. Palace after palace after palace, some of the fanciest homes in the world. And my new place was going to be better than all of them.
Because my dad would be there, and my brothers and Samson, and Tamal, and Maggie coming over every day because there was no way she wouldn’t. And sure it was cheesy, but so long as they were around, I could deal with anything. The location of home didn’t really matter; only the people in it.
Although a big aquarium wall like in the Island Underneath would be nice.
And an elevator.
And a private beach.
And a throne room.
Over at the table, Tamal said something and held up his ice-cream-free hand, and my dad did the same. They clinked wedding rings.
“Aww,” Ben and I said together. Sprinkles, who had given up the fight and was lolling in Ben’s lap, wagged his tail.
My dad finished his cone and got to his feet. Tamal did the same, putting his arm around my dad’s waist. My dad’s arm went around Tamal’s shoulders, and he kissed him on the cheek, and they headed off again into the crowd.
We waited a full minute before we climbed out from under our table.
“That was kind of fun,” said Ben, stooping to keep one hand looped through Sprinkles’ collar. “So were you still gonna go try and salvage whatever disaster is happening in le Petit Salon? ’Cause I know it’s all your fault, and that’s why you want to fix it, but I wouldn’t mind helping, if you want. I mean, that could be fun, too.”
I stretched my arms over my head, taking in all the sounds and smells and lights of the city, and the world beyond all my pillow fort mess-ups and palace catastrophes, which by the look of things was going along just fine. I dropped my arms and smiled.
“It sure could,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Thirty-Nine
Abby
Ben and I could hear the ominous clamor of voices as soon as we got past the tapestry. The pillow leading to le Petit Salon was lying open, and the noise echoed down the Hall of Records.
Sprinkles sniffed the air, his tail wagging, and shot off past the columns. “Hey, wait!” called Ben, but Sprinkles slipped through the link and vanished.
“No, no, no!” Ben said. “A surprise dog visit is the last thing they’ll need in there. I mean, they’re already in big trouble, right? If they could have gotten themselves out by now, they would have.”
I nodded. Ben had said only Samson and Maggie and Joe had definitely been caught inside le Petit Salon when the door opened, and by the sound of things, they’d gotten a whole lot of company. This was bad.
We reached the link, and I crawled through first, pausing under the sofa. The voices overhead were talking excitedly, and I could see feet moving around the room, and Sprinkles’s dancing paws, and the door leading to the hallway, which was . . . closed. Huh.
Deciding this was just one of those all-or-nothing moments, I took a deep breath, pushed out into the room, jumped to my feet . . .
. . . and got three seconds to register the sea of familiar faces around me before someone shrieked like a third grader presented with pie, and suddenly everything was arms and elbows and bushy hair as Maggie, my own dear Maggie, was hug-tackling me.
We danced in a circle for a long time. We stepped back.
Maggie looked great. She had glitter paint on her pajama pants, dust bunnies in her hair, dark circles under her eyes, and holes in her Camp Cantaloupe T-shirt. I glanced down at myself and my sweaty, wrinkled silk dress, my fancy ring of keys, and my old-timey slippers, almost disintegrating after their trip through Mexico City. Ha! I felt like we’d been separated for a hundred years, and we totally looked like it, too. We made such a good pair.
The rest of the group crowded around, resolving itself into Maggie’s mom, Joe, Carolina, Bobby, Miesha—who was wearing some sort of homemade space helmet and holding a very happy Sprinkles over one shoulder—and my own perfect, wonderful Samson, watching regally from the sofa.
Maggie and I were both talking at once as Ben crawled in behind me.
“How are you even—”
“—will not believe—”
“—fell through that door—”
“—earth are you wearing?”
“—never find my way back to—”
“—so many people saw—”
“—think we might be on the TV!”
We stopped, grinning, and Maggie pulled me into another hug.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she said. “I’ve been worrying nonstop about you this whole time. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to rescue you.”
“Aw, Abby didn’t need any rescuing,” said Joe. “She did awesome!” We high-fived.
“What happened with that navy ship and Florence?” I asked him, as Maggie’s mom grabbed me for a hug, too. “Is the island safe? Are Antonia and Helene mad at me for ruining their loops to all those palaces?”
Joe waved his hands. “It’s all okay. Helene repaired the dolphin remotely in the nick of time. And the palace situation might be a little sticky, but I think those two can fix anything they put their minds to.”
“When you say ‘repaired the dolphin’ . . .” began Bobby, but Ben, who’d been staring around red-faced with shock, interrupted.
“Will someone please tell me what has been going on here?” he said, his voice all squeaky. “That door was open when I left. And a wall of grown-ups was staring in. How in the world did you get them to go away?”
The others all exchanged grins.
“The super-quick version,” said Miesha, her voice slightly muffled through her space helmet, “is that I found a piece of paper in the NAFAFA Archives, and now Maggie is the Queen of France.”
“I thought we decided on president,” said Maggie. “And anyway, it’s really Samson who’s in charge of France, since he was first in the room. But the Head Historian lady said she thinks that law doesn’t apply to cats, so it passed to me as the first human.”
“How does your cat keep being elected leader of things?” Carolina asked me.
“Fine, so Maggie Hetzger was declared President of France,” said Ben loudly. “Of course she was. Then what happened?”
“Well, after she addressed the nation—” Murray began.
“Addressed the nation?” I said.
“The TV cameras were right there,” said Maggie. “It would have been rude not to.” Her mom smiled proudly and patted her on the back.
“After that, Maggie Hetzger ordered all the police and reporters and historians and everyone to leave the room,” said Carolina. “And as head of state, she gets to do that, so then we had the place to ourselves.”
“It was ah-may-zing!” said Bobby.
Ben was staring at Maggie, clearly very impressed. “And all those police and historians and reporters and everyone just went home?” he said.
“Oh, no,” said Miesha. “They’re still out there.” She waved a hand at the door. “We were debating what to do next when you and Abby arrived.”
“And Sprinkles,” said Ben.
“And Sprinkles,” agreed Miesha. “And speaking of, it’s so good to have you back, buddy.” She squeezed him, and Sprinkles licked her space helmet. “But we’ve got some big decisions to make here, and it would be easier without you around. Any volunteers to take my baby back to the Hub?”
“Sure, I will,” said B
obby from the sofa. Samson was sprawled comfortably across his lap. “Should I bring this handsome lion with me, too? Seems like he and Sprinkles have gotten used to each other, and I know Kelly will be excited to see him!”
“Is that okay, Abby Hernandez?” said Miesha. “Can Bobby take your cat back to Kelly?”
I agreed, and after a round of hugs and air kisses for everyone, Bobby headed off to the Hub with Samson purring around his shoulders and Sprinkles on a leash made from Ben’s old shoelace.
“So what now?” I asked, as the energy in the room became more businesslike. “What are these big decisions you were talking about?”
“We’re trying to decide our next move,” said Maggie. “I ordered all the grown-ups to stay out, but we all think that’ll only hold them for a while.”
Carolina nodded. “Even with direct orders from President Maggie, the temptation to look in here is probably going to be too much. Especially if that Head Historian lady walks by it every single time she leads a tour.”
“I just wish we had a way to lock it again,” said Miesha. “But we don’t even know how it got unlocked to start with.”
“Actually, that was me,” I said, raising a hand. “I had the key with me and wanted to take a look out in the hall, but then I got distracted. Sorry.”
There was a pause, then an explosion of shouting.
“You seriously found the real key to that door, Abby Hernandez?” Miesha said over the others. “Do you have it with you right now?”
“Nope, I do,” said Ben, and he pulled the Iron Key out of his pocket.
Everyone goggled, their heads turning.
“Helene gave that key to you, Abby,” said Joe. “Why does this kid have it?”
“Because we did a swap,” I said, and I pulled out the Oak Key.
Everyone swiveled back to me. This was getting fun.
“You got it!” Joe yelped. He leaned in for another high five. “Go, Abby! Mission accomplished!”
“So does this mean Ben can lock the door again?” Murray said as the two keys got passed around and examined. “We can keep the grown-ups out! Le Petit Salon is saved!”
“Speaking as the only grown-up here not wearing a Three Musketeers costume,” said Ms. Hetzger, “I’m afraid not. Even with the door locked, kids, I don’t think you’ll be able to keep everyone out of here forever. This place is only going to get more famous, judging by the amount of press we saw out there, and historians from all over the world are going to demand a look. Maggie’s orders might stand for a little while, but if people aren’t getting the access they want, it’s only a matter of time before they take it for themselves.”
The excitement over the keys popped like a soap bubble. Ms. Hetzger was right. The historians would never let le Petit Salon stay shut forever. The room had been opened, and the mystery was known. There was no going back.
“Well, I think what we need, then,” said Ben into the worried silence, “is a whole new le Petit Salon.” Everyone looked at him in shock. “Think about it. We don’t have to meet here. We can set up another global meeting place like this anywhere, so long as the Continental Councils all have links to it. We can bypass the First Sofa completely. Only this time, we should make the secret base somewhere really out of the way, somewhere absolutely no one can find us. Somewhere safe.”
Joe and I looked up at the same moment, smiling in unison.
“We might know the perfect place,” I said. “How do you all feel about islands?”
It took a lot of explaining, and some complicated finger drawing in the dust, but eventually Joe and I got everyone up to speed on the basics of the island and how its looped furniture system worked.
Miesha and Carolina insisted we all swing by right then, bringing a piece of the sofa seat cushion so we could build a fort linked back to le Petit Salon for easy back-and-forth access before making our proposals to Antonia and the crew.
“Well, if everyone’s going off to this magical island,” said Ms. Hetzger, “I should get back to what’s left of my medical conference.”
“Sorry you got caught up in all this again, Mom,” Maggie said.
Ms. Hetzger smiled. “Honestly, Maggie, I’m proud. All parents have to deal with some trouble from their kids, and I’m just happy you’ve made all these nice friends to help get you through your adventures. And hey, at least the trouble you get into is interesting!”
“Do you want my help getting past all the media and officials and stuff out in the hall?” Carolina asked.
Ms. Hetzger shook her head. “I’m sure you’d be amazing,” she said. “But no, thank you. I am a doctor. I can handle a crowd of curious grown-ups.”
She turned and hugged Joe, then me, and finally Maggie, whispering something in her ear. When they broke apart, Maggie was beaming, and her eyes looked a little bright.
“See you at the end of camp,” Maggie said as her mom waved goodbye to everyone else and headed for the door.
“And no sooner!” I added.
Ms. Hetzger laughed. “Oh, Abby. I hope that turns out to be true.” She opened the door just wide enough to slip through, walked out into a massive wall of sound, and pulled it shut behind her.
“I think you’re up, Ben,” said Carolina.
We all watched as Ben crossed slowly to the door. He took a deep breath, held it, fit the Iron Key into the lock, paused for a long count of ten, and turned it. The lock clicked shut. Ben pushed on the handle. It held, and he let out his breath in a sigh of complete contentment.
Miesha led a slightly sarcastic but friendly round of applause. Ben gave a bow. Given his years-long obsession with that door, getting to lock it himself must have been like solving a really hard riddle, or scratching an itch you could never quite reach.
“Ready to go through the secret panel to the island, then, folks?” Joe asked, clapping his hands. Everyone nodded.
I couldn’t wait to show everyone the island, especially Mags, and present the finally finished ring of keys to Helene. But as I ducked my head awkwardly to crawl under the sofa, I realized I was almost as excited about getting to change back into my regular clothes.
The dress had been okay, and the shoes had just about made it, but if I ever got a chance to head off on a day of adventuring again, I was definitely going to choose a more sensible hat.
Forty
Abby
It was evening on the island when we arrived, and Ariadne was waiting for us.
“Hi again, buddy!” I said, bending down to pat her floofy feather head as Maggie, Joe, Ben, Miesha, Carolina, and finally Murray appeared one by one on the stump behind me.
“That was so cool!” said Murray, turning circles on the spot. “It’s like I just grew here!”
“Who’s this?” Maggie asked me as Joe greeted the chicken, too.
“This is Ariadne. Ariadne, meet my best friend, Maggie.”
“Ariadne? Like the lady with the string from the old Greek legends?” Maggie said. I stared at her. She shrugged. “I’ll tell you the story back at camp. Anyway, Abs”—she stretched out her arms—“this place is amazing!”
It was a perfectly beautiful evening. The rain was gone, leaving everything smelling lush and green, and a golden sky arced over the sea. Miesha had dumped her space helmet in the grass, and the members of the Council of NAFAFA were running around the grove of Flappy Trees and sprinting down to the Beachy Beach like a pack of third graders, whooping.
“Hey, you four,” I called. “Come on, we’ve got work to do here.”
“Please, young people,” Maggie added. “Remember your better selves!”
I snorted.
The plan had been for Joe and me to lead the others to the Palace, where hopefully we’d either find Antonia or be able to call the elevator to the Island Underneath. But there was no need, as a shout rang out from the directon of the Little Lagoon, and Helene and her mother came striding over the Island toward us. The Council members ran back to the grove.
“What in the n
ame of Captain Emily’s cutlass,” said Antonia, her blue silk scarf rippling in the wind as she came to a halt, staring around at all of us, “is going on here?”
I remembered what Helene had said in the command center about me and Joe counting as an invasion. Having this pack of kids in silver sunglasses and Maggie in her pajama pants appearing on the island must have been off the charts.
“And you, Abigail,” Helene said, rounding on me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“First that I’m so, so sorry,” I said, handing over the ring of keys. Helene seized them, clutching them to her chest. Then, figuring there was no point in wasting time, I dug into my pocket and pulled out the Oak Key, its silver leaves and sun gleaming in my fingers as I held it out. “And second, I hope this makes up for it.”
Helene and Antonia’s reaction was everything I could have hoped for.
When the yelling and dancing were over, and I’d been hugged at least a dozen times by each of them, I made the formal introductions between the leaders of the island and the Council of NAFAFA. Names were swapped, titles were exchanged, and hands were shaken. Ariadne made a point of introducing herself to everyone, too, and received so many pats on the head she began to look like she was wearing Kelly’s space helmet.
“So,” said Antonia, finally, “I assume there is some reason beyond the return of the Oak Key for Abby bringing you all here?”
“There is,” Miesha said. “But it’s going to take some explaining.”
“Really long explaining,” said Carolina.
“Well begin, then,” said Helene.
I raised a hand, glancing over at Maggie. “Well, the thing is, some of us really, really should be getting back to camp,” I said. “So maybe we should build the fort back to le Petit Salon first so we can head home before all the talking starts.” The Council was here to ask permission to start a new global pillow fort Hub somewhere on the island, and much as I hated to miss out, Maggie and I didn’t strictly need to be here for that.
