by Elena Paige
He glanced at the clock beside his bed. Nine o’clock, it flashed. What was that flat circular thing next to his clock? He had never seen it before. Round and disc-shaped, it looked like a golden Frisbee. Picking it up, he felt the shiny material between his fingertips and wondered where it had come from. Just as he was about to put it down on his bed, it came to life, popping open.
It was a hat! A golden top hat, like the people in the line were wearing. Had the panther left this for him? Without thinking twice, he placed the golden hat on his head. He felt it tighten around his scalp as though alive. He pulled it off, shocked by the suction noise it made. He placed it back on his head cautiously, and once again, it tightened to fit his head with precision.
Should he really do as the panther had instructed and join the line across the street? What other choice did he have? But what would he do once he was inside Mrs. Inkwell’s house with all those strangers? How would that help him find Grandpa?
His mind was swimming with so many questions and no real answers. He didn’t know what to do. On the other hand, this was pretty exciting for a boy whose grandfather didn’t even let him have a television. Or go to school!
Toby decided he would join the line after all and see where it led him. He looked back out the window. The little girl was still in the line, looking up at him. She jumped up and down full of sheer joy, pulling her own golden hat from her head and waving it at him.
Toby wondered why some people wore golden hats and some purple ones. He waved back at her, deciding he may as well go down and meet her. Maybe she could help him find Grandpa.
He ran downstairs, determined now to do as the panther had instructed and join the line.
As he passed the kitchen, he spotted the chalkboard. There was a message scribbled on it as though written in haste. It simply said, “Toby, find Thatch and Wesa.”
Had Grandpa written these names down before he had been taken? Toby repeated the names in his head over and over again so as not to forget them. If Grandpa had left him a message, then it must be important. It was the only clue he had.
“I can do this,” he said, willing himself to get to it.
He threw on his sneakers and opened the red front door. The autumn sun felt cleansing on his face. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, summoning his courage. Slamming the door behind him, he jumped suddenly, and fell backward, landing on the porch chair.
“Good morning, Tobias.”
“Mrs. Inkwell. What are you doing here?”
The stench of too much perfume filled his nose as she stepped toward him. Struggling for words, he hesitated and cleared his throat instead.
The small, plump woman, dressed in clothes he was sure were from the 1960s, leaned forward and grabbed both his arms. She lifted him from the chair as though he weighed only as much as a feather. Face to face with her, he could see every wrinkle on the old woman’s face.
He squirmed and scrunched his nose. The smell was unbearable this close up. Coughing, it took all of his strength to blurt out, “Is everything all right? ”
“Yes, of course. Can’t I say a friendly hello to my neighbor?” She continued to hold him tight.
She gazed with focused intent into his eyes. Toby squinted at her and tried to move backward, but he was wedged between her and the chair behind him.
“What an unusual hat you have on. Are you going to a fancy party?” She eyed him suspiciously.
He had forgotten to take off his hat!
Should he mention the people outside her house? Surely she knew about them.
“I thought I would join the people across the street.” His eyes felt glued to hers, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t look away.
Holding Toby’s gaze and still squeezing both his arms with her tiny frail hands, she casually called out for Toby’s grandfather. “You-hoo, Matthew!”
She was nose to nose with him now, and her beady little eyes didn’t move as she stared, fixated on his. He tried blinking, but it was as though someone was holding his eyelids open. He desperately wanted to run away. He couldn’t move his legs no matter how hard he tried.
Mrs. Inkwell continued to smile as she stared at Toby. It was as though she was burning a hole right through him. She lifted her eyebrows. “You’re just taking a little walk this morning, aren’t you, Tobias?”
He hated when she called him Tobias. He found her a bit creepy and always felt like she was watching him. He tried to take a mouthful of air without breathing in the stench of that perfume her clothes were drowned in. He resisted the fog that was descending onto his brain, and replied, “No. I was going to join the line of people. ”
Mrs. Inkwell’s wilted face tightened. Without taking her eyes from Toby’s, she called out again, “Matthew. Are you up and about?”
Toby felt his heart beating so fast he was sure it would fall out of his rib cage. His mind became a blur. Where was he going again? What was he doing outside? He was going for a walk, that’s right.
As his mind slipped away, he felt Mrs. Inkwell’s hands become suddenly soft around his arms. She released him, and he fell backward into the porch chair again. Through a haze, he saw Mrs. Inkwell combing her lace dress with both hands and moving toward the bright red door. As she opened it to enter, he heard her muffled voice say with a trace of sarcasm, “Goodbye, Tobias. Do enjoy your walk now, won’t you?”
Alone once again, Toby shook his brown hair out and slapped his cheeks to wake himself up. He felt like he was in a trance. Was eighty-something-year-old Mrs. Inkwell really a hypnotist?
He could have sworn he heard her mutter some weird word under her breath. Was it uberrubber ? Abba cabber ?
He thought Florence Inkwell was creepy before, but now he was convinced she was downright crazy. The haze lifted from his mind as quickly as it had descended, and he suddenly remembered the people across the street. The people across the street!
That’s why he had come outside. He needed to get back to his mission. Not wasting another second, he darted across the road.
“What!” Rubbing his eyes to be sure he wasn’t seeing things, he did a double take. There was no one there. Not a single person. The huge line of people was gone! Had Mrs. Inkwell distracted him while they all shuffled inside her house? But there had been hundreds of people, and he had only been talking to her for a few minutes. Hadn’t he?
He looked across the street at his own brightly colored house. The burnt-yellow wood shone back at him as the sun reflected off it. Looking up at the blue sky above, he wondered what he should do next.
Mrs. Inkwell would be back any minute once she discovered Grandpa wasn’t even home. This was his chance to sneak into her house and find out where all those people had gone.
Treading carefully into Mrs. Inkwell’s front yard, he looked around for signs of life. The small worn-out house stood silently before him. Grandpa, who always saw the best in everything, always called this house a cottage. Toby thought it was more like a dilapidated old shack. What was left of the white paint was steadily peeling, and an army of ants made their way to some secret hideout. As he reached the front door, he noticed it was shut.
Maybe Grandpa was right when he argued there was no line of people. What if he really had imagined it all? He had stayed up late reading about magical lands and midnight battles. Was he just tired and confused? But he remembered the girl in the crowd who had waved to him. She had seen him. She had been real. And that dreadful panther! As his memory flooded back to him, he was determined to find out the truth.
He creaked the screen door open and turned the handle of the putrid green front door. Expecting it to be locked, he fell forward into darkness when the door opened easily.
Mrs. Inkwell would be back any minute. He had to hurry. The light streaming in from outside seemed to only reach a few steps in, the darkness enveloping him as he felt his way forward. Once his eyes acclimatized to the darkness, he reached out, trying to find a light switch, but he couldn’t find a wall. Feelin
g for furniture, he found nothing. An eerie breeze brushed his face and yet he smelled nothing but stale air. Odd.
How could Mrs. Inkwell’s tiny little house seem so big all of a sudden? And why wasn’t there any furniture? He felt like he had been walking for longer than a minute, and still, nothing lay in his way. As he looked around the darkness, which wasn’t so stark anymore, he saw only vacant space surrounding him. The walls on either side seemed farther away than the breadth of Mrs. Inkwell’s entire house. He turned to face where he had come from, walking backward now.
“Hello?” he called as much to make himself feel better as anything else. His confused nose now picked up floral scents from what seemed to be an empty space. He could feel his pulse rising. Continuing his backward steps, he wondered why he couldn’t see any light coming in from the front door.
He felt himself come to a stop as he finally walked backward into a door. Mrs. Inkwell’s back door, he assumed. Feeling around for a handle, he sighed in frustration as he turned it, only to discover it was locked! He panicked and called out desperately.
“Help! Please. Someone let me out!” He felt around the space for the window, but couldn’t find one. “Help!”
Shivering and scared, he sat on the cold floor, hunched up in a ball. How was he meant to save Grandpa when he was stuck inside Mrs. Inkwell’s weird, empty house?
He stood back up with renewed determination. Toby knocked on the door as hard as he could, yelling and calling out over and over again. Surely Mrs. Inkwell had discovered that Grandpa wasn’t home and would be returning to her house any minute.
“Help! Help me! I’m trapped!”
The door opened as though responding to his calls. As light streamed in, stinging his eyes, he fell through the now open doorway and landed flat on his face on soft red carpet. Startled but pleased to be free, he turned himself onto his back without getting up and took in his surroundings. The same floral smells infused him. They were even stronger now.
“Oh, it’s just a boy. Come on, Abby, we need to get back to the rest of the doors.” The girl speaking had a crisp English accent and a soft, gentle look on her face despite her bossy temperament. She whipped her long honey-colored hair over her shoulders and grabbed her younger companion by the hand, pulling her away.
Toby looked around, dazed and confused. This definitely wasn’t Mrs. Inkwell’s house. Where was he and what was Mrs. Inkwell’s granddaughter doing here?
“Toby?” The younger of the two girls doubled back and looked down on him sprawled on the carpet. “Toby Roberts? How did you get here? Does my grandmother know about this?” Abby looked panic-stricken and eyed him nervously. “You need to go back. You need to go home before anyone sees you here!”
But Toby had no intention of going back where he came from. He was one step closer in his mind to finding Grandpa, and he was determined to succeed.
4
Triple Trouble
Toby drank in his new surroundings. He looked up and down the strange corridor he was in. A bright white wall was on his left, lined with door after door curving away into the distance. And a black wall, on his right, seemed to shimmer as though it were the night sky lined with thousands of stars.
He definitely wasn’t outside Mrs. Inkwell’s house, as he’d expected. This must be where the line of people had all vanished to. “Where am I, Abby? And what are you doing here?”
“You know this boy?” said the older girl, tapping her foot impatiently and still holding Abby’s hand. “Forget about him and do let’s go. We need to lock the doors before anyone who isn’t supposed to be here enters.”
“Elouise, this is my grandmother’s neighbor.” Abby took her porcelain doll from under her arm and squeezed it to her, letting go of Elouise’s hand. “And he’s not magical,” she whispered, her voice strained .
Toby noticed that Abby and the other girl both wore purple top hats.
“Well, he has a hat on, doesn’t he? So it seems only natural he should be allowed to explore the convention. Come on, Abby, we need to get back to it. We only have three more doors to go. I was doing you a favor by letting you come. Please don’t make me regret it,” said Elouise.
She pulled Abby toward her. “Abracadabra,” she called unexpectedly. A purple haze of light shimmered from her mouth toward the door Toby had just come through, slamming it shut. Toby covered his face, unsure of what was happening.
“Elouise! What did you do that for? Toby has to go back where he came from. Unlock the door. He can’t stay here. If Grandmother catches him . . . ”
“So what if he’s here? Let him have some fun for the day. Your grandmother can work it out herself. It’s nothing to do with us. We’ll pretend we never saw him. You’re welcome, by the way,” she said, smiling down at Toby.
“Abby, what is this place?” said Toby. He peeled himself off the soft carpet and turned to face them both.
He was waiting for her perfectly reasonable explanation. But she wasn’t listening to him. Instead, Abby pleaded with Elouise to unlock the door. Pulling her away, Elouise called out, “You can thank me later. Enjoy the convention.”
Toby watched the two girls proceed down the corridor, his mouth hanging open. Elouise walked past the succeeding doors, chanting, “Abracadabra.”
Every time the word was spoken, the same purple light escaped her mouth. “Well, that’s the last door. Let’s go back in.” Elouise pulled the frightened-looking Abby through the black shimmering wall, and they disappeared from sight.
Where had they just vanished to? Toby placed his hand on the wall. It disappeared into the blackness, golden stars floating in midair before him.
He screamed aloud, and pulled his hand back out, inspecting it. It looked just the same. He tried again, placing his hand through the black wall. He pulled it back out again, as butterflies fluttered up and down his stomach.
Trying to talk himself out of walking through the black wall, he decided to check the door he had just come through. As he turned the door knob, he noticed a golden number on it: twenty-four. It was locked. He tried the next door—number twenty-three—but that, too, was locked. Door number twenty-two was also locked. He ran a little way down the curved corridor full of doors. He guessed it formed a circle around whatever was on the other side of the black wall.
But Toby didn’t want to waste time in this empty, deserted space. He couldn’t go back, so his only choice was to go forward. Before he could change his mind, he held his breath, closed his eyes tight, and did the only logical thing left: he ran through the wall as hard and as fast as he could.
His brain expected to hit the black wall, despite what he had seen Abby and Elouise do, but all he felt was tingling all over his body. This is what swimming in bubbly water would feel like , he thought.
His eyes still closed tight, Toby felt himself slam into something after all. He opened his eyes as he hit the ground. Facedown in golden carpet, now he felt heavy pressure on his back, holding him down .
“You’ll pay for that, you jerk!”
Toby heard the American accent ring in his ears. He wriggled, feeling the pressure release. He turned onto his back and tried to see who he had accidentally run into. Before he could reply, arms lifted him up. Once again, he felt the tingling sensation of the wall as he was forced back through it. He was in the foyer again.
He winced in pain as he was thrown back, the door handle pressing into his spine. “Let me go,” said Toby, trying to push forward against the boys pinning him up. He looked from one face to the other. Three boys his own height looked back at him. They all shared the same messy red hair, contorted faces, and pointy noses.
“Let me go!” he demanded again.
Toby felt his head pulled forward by the silken glove shoved against his face and then bashed against the door.
“Ouch. What did you do that for? It was an accident,” said Toby, trying to get free.
“I think we’ve found ourselves a servant for the day, boys.”
The boy whom he’d fallen on spoke with cruelty in his voice as he looked left and right at his two companions. The three boys leaned in close to him, and Toby noticed they all wore purple top hats. With their three faces right up close, Toby wondered how he’d get out of this one.
“I know you’re only a dream,” said Toby.
The three boys laughed, still holding Toby against the door.
Not the best choice of words, he decided. But it was the only thing he could think of to distract them. As they laughed, Toby took his chance to escape. Falling to the ground, he scrambled between the boys’ legs. But one of them was too quick and blocked his escape. Toby felt a sharp kick in the face this time.
Before he could roll back from the force, he felt himself lifted by his T-shirt and shoved back into the door handle.
“I said I was sorry. Now let me go!” said Toby, the pain from his face subsiding quickly. He was impressed his golden hat had managed to stay connected to his head the whole time.
“Hey, Jim. Loser here thought he could get away.”
The boy who was Jim, standing to the left of Toby, lifted his foot and kicked Toby hard in the shin.
Toby yelled. Loudly. The kick hadn’t hurt so much, but he figured if he made a commotion, that might scare these thugs away.
He had often been bullied before Grandpa had decided to homeschool him. And he was never very good at defending himself. He didn’t have the stomach to fight. He was, however, used to getting away.
“Stop moving or we’ll kick you some more,” said the boy to his right.
“Nice one, Rod. Let’s kick him anyway,” said Jim.
But the triplet in the middle had a vicious look on his face. “Boys, I think we found our prize. Isn’t Dad going to be pleased with us? This is him .”
“Which him is that, Billy?” said Rod.
