Even and Odd

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “But what could scare a witch?” Odd asked.

  The goblin flapped his arms, exasperated. “Haven’t you been paying attention? Homes are disappearing and reappearing where they shouldn’t be! The borderlands are unstable! That’s more than enough to scare a witch. Or anyone with any sense.”

  Even asked Joj, “Have you contacted the Academy of Magic? Do they have an explanation? Or, even better, a solution?”

  Joj snorted. “Don’t you think that was the first thing I tried? Said they’ll put me ‘in the queue of complaints.’ Humph.” He tried again to open the door to the witch’s house, and again the house sidled away from him.

  “Where was your lake before?” Even asked. “Maybe it switched places with the hill?” She had no idea if geography could do that. Certainly she’d had no idea that mermaids squealed like irate dolphins.

  For the first time, Joj looked more interested than mad. “Hmm, possible.”

  “Really? Because that was just a guess,” Even said.

  “My lake is supposed to be in a town called Lakeview . . .”

  “Let’s call it!” Jeremy said. “Maybe my family is there. Do you have a magic mirror?”

  The goblin brightened to the point of almost smiling. “Yes!”

  * * *

  Joj didn’t have his own mirror, but the missing witch did. After the chicken-legged house evaded Joj a few more times, Jeremy interrupted. “Excuse me, but I’m your neighbor. May I come in?”

  The house immediately swung its door open.

  “Sometimes you just have to ask,” he said, with a hint of smugness.

  The goblin grunted at him. “And sometimes your home up and moves no matter how polite you are.”

  Going inside felt like sticking your hand into a lunch bag left in a school backpack over the summer. The house smelled of mold and mildew, and everything looked moist. Even tiptoed across the sticky floor, careful not to let her fur brush against any of the decaying furniture.

  “Why is it such a mess?” Even asked. “Is it because she’s a witch?”

  “It’s because she’s a slob,” Joj said.

  She wondered where the witch had gone when she’d fled, and she wished the witch had stayed to help. Joj and the mermaids clearly needed help, and so did Even, Odd, and Jeremy. If I were a grownup with a medallion, and fully certified as a hero, she thought, maybe I’d know what to do. But I’m not, and I don’t. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d been counting on the unicorns until now. She’d wanted to dump all of this into Jeremy’s parents’ laps. If unicorns had laps.

  “Ta-da,” Joj said, waving at a mirror. It was a tall standing mirror, with an ornate iron frame that was coated in cobwebs. “Did not have time to clean this place. For obvious reasons. Wish I could’ve gotten stuck with a witch who had better hygiene. No magic needed to dust once or twice a decade.”

  “Can we use it to call Dad?” Odd asked.

  Even hadn’t thought of that. It was a brilliant idea. “Maybe?”

  Odd turned to Jeremy. “Can we try? And then you call your parents? Please?”

  “I . . .”

  “We’ll be quick,” Even promised. All it would take was a minute to tell Dad where they were and ask what to do; then Jeremy could make sure his family was okay.

  “So long as I can make my call immediately after.”

  Odd knocked on the mirror frame, and dust flew up in a cloud. She coughed, waving her hand in front of her face to clear it away. “How do you make it call?”

  “Don’t hit it,” Joj said. “Seven years bad luck if you break it.”

  Odd clasped her hands behind her back.

  Even wondered if that was just a superstition here, like it was in the mundane world, or if the goblin was serious. She decided she wasn’t going to test it, and she filed it away as yet another question to ask later, when they were safely home.

  “Describe the mirror you want it to find,” Joj said.

  Even described the mirror in their parents’ bedroom, and the goblin performed a series of taps around the frame of the mirror. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, here’s the address you should call,” he said.

  “Lift me up,” Even whispered, nudging against Odd. She didn’t care about being embarrassed if she could see Dad.

  Odd picked her up so she could see the mirror.

  The glass fogged, a swirl of silvery gray. Even held her breath as she waited. She’d watched her parents use the magic mirror in their room, mostly to check on the news from Firoth, and she knew it always started with the fog. Soon an image would appear. She expected to be able to see into her parents’ bedroom. Their mirror faced the bookshelf, in case of unexpected calls, and this one had to qualify as unexpected.

  But no image appeared. It kept swirling.

  “Are you sure you did it correctly?” Jeremy asked.

  “Rude,” Joj said. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Could you try it one more time?” Odd pleaded.

  “The mirror can’t get a message through because the border is closed,” Even said as she realized the truth. She should have thought of that sooner. It was the same reason that Frank the centaur couldn’t send his research back, the same reason she’d gotten stuck as a skunk yesterday, the same reason the fairy lights were out and the bagel shop was closed. Without an open gateway, magic of any kind couldn’t penetrate the border.

  By now, Dad must have started worrying about them—they’d been gone long enough that he’d expect them back. They had no way to tell him they were okay. Or not okay but not hurt. There was also no way to ask him for help. But maybe there were still people—or, more accurately, unicorns—who could help them out there somewhere . . . “Your turn,” she said to Jeremy. “Try to call your family.”

  Even hopped out of Odd’s arms onto a gingerbread table. Crumbs from the surface stuck to her paws. She jumped down to the floor and tried to wipe the crumbs off while Jeremy described his parents’ mirror.

  The goblin activated the mirror again, and the dark fog swirled. This time, though, it parted in the center. A white blob appeared. Jeremy pressed his muzzle against the glass. “Mama? Mama, can you hear me? It’s me.”

  “Shimmerglow? Baby, is that you?” Her voice vibrated out of the mirror.

  “Ahh! Don’t call me that! I am not a baby anymore.” But his voice was full of relief.

  Rubbing against Odd’s ankle, Even caught her attention and whispered, “Shimmerglow?” That was a much more awesome name for a unicorn than Jeremy.

  Odd murmured back, “I see why he changed it.”

  Jeremy continued, huffing at the mirror as if that would make the fog clear. “Yes, Mama, it’s me. I’m home. Except home isn’t here. Where are you?”

  “One second, our hill and everyone on it was where it’s always been, and then, without warning, we were elsewhere. We were so worried when you didn’t appear with us! Where have you been? Everyone was transported except you.” Her voice sounded as if it was floating in the air around them. It was a musical voice, exactly the kind Even had always thought a unicorn should have. She scooted closer to the mirror for a better view, squeezing herself between Jeremy’s hooves, but the mirror was still hazy.

  “I didn’t mean to worry you,” Jeremy said, neatly avoiding answering the question. “Is everyone all right? There’s a lake where Unicorn Hill is supposed to be. What happened? What do you mean ‘transported’? Was it wizards? Witches? A spell gone wrong? A curse gone right? Or maybe—”

  “We don’t know,” Jeremy’s mother said, interrupting him gently. “We’ve heard reports of similar displacement problems all along the border, of both land and people, but as of yet we’ve heard no explanations.” The fog was beginning to part, and they could see the face of a unicorn. Her eyes were bluer than the sky in either world, and she had golden lashes and a golden mane to match her golden spiral horn. Even could immediately tell she was older than Jeremy. She looks wise, Even thought. And majestic. And one hundred percent unicornish. �
�Who are you with, darling?” the unicorn asked.

  Jeremy introduced the goblin first. “This is Joj. He’s helping us use the witch’s mirror to contact you. He was transported here with a lake filled with mermaids.”

  Joj stuck his face next to Jeremy’s. He peered into the mirror, scowling at the hazy view. “I’m not supposed to be here. Are you in my home? Is that Lakeview? You better not be messing up my home. I want it back.”

  In a soothing voice, Jeremy’s mother said, “We are as much victims as you are, and as much in the dark as to the cause of our unwelcome relocation. If our hill and caves had not moved with us, we would have already returned.”

  “And these are my new friends, Odd and Even,” Jeremy continued. “They came through the gateway, and it closed behind them. They’re looking for a way home.”

  “Oh, the poor dears!”

  Even rose on her hind paws and waved hello with one of her front paws.

  “Ask her about other gateways,” Odd whispered.

  “Mama, do you know if any of the gateways are working?”

  The fog swirled around her face again, and Jeremy’s mother appeared to retreat. Her voice sounded distant, and the words melded together. She pressed closer, her nostrils filling most of the mirror. “The one here is working. At least for now. It has been flickering off and on, which is unusual behavior for a gateway that has stood open for all recorded time. Several of the nearby residents are especially concerned because they have family across the border.”

  “Please, could you tell us where it is?” Odd asked.

  “Head south along the border for fifteen miles, and you’ll reach us,” Jeremy’s mother said. “We’re near a border town called Lakeview, except there’s no lake here.”

  Joj grumbled, “That’s because the lake is here. With my mermaids.”

  “Hopefully, this will all be sorted out soon, and everything and everyone will return back to normal,” Jeremy’s mother said. As melodious as her voice was, she also sounded worried. Even’s skin prickled under her fur. Did Jeremy’s parents know if it was possible to return things to normal? Or was his mother just being optimistic? Hoping wasn’t the same as lying.

  “Better be,” Joj said.

  Of course it will be, Even thought, fiercely squashing any doubt. Now that she and Odd knew where to find Jeremy’s parents . . . all they had to do was get there.

  Leaning, Jeremy nudged Odd.

  “Oh! Um. We’ve given Jeremy soda and Farmcats trading cards to thank him for his help.” Odd’s voice was stiff, but Jeremy’s mother seemed to accept it as the truth.

  “Very kind of you,” she said. “I’m sure whatever ‘soda’ is, he appreciates it. In return, Shimmerglow, I think it would be very kind of you to help your new friends come to this gateway before it closes. Especially since you should be here with your family anyway. Families need to stick together in times like these.”

  “I’ll help them,” he promised.

  “Come as fast as you can. I can’t predict how long the gateway will stay open. No parent should have to suffer through the worry of a missing child.” The look she gave Jeremy was pointed.

  Jeremy hung his head low. “Sorry, Mama. We’ll hurry.”

  9

  “You can ride me,” Jeremy offered, trotting out of the witch’s house.

  Odd’s face lit up. “I know how to ride. I’ve done the pony ride at the apple orchard every single fall since we moved to Connecticut.”

  “You can ride me if you don’t call me a pony.” He tossed his magnificent mane to emphasize his point.

  “Sorry,” Odd said. She still looked delighted at the idea of riding him. It was nice to see her excited about something in this world. It’s my fault she’s stuck here, Even thought. I thought I could help, but instead I made things worse. She shouldn’t have embarked on a quest before she was ready, even a quest as minor as a trip to the bagel store. At least they were on their way now to people—unicorns—who would know what to do.

  Odd lifted Even up onto Jeremy’s back and then pulled herself up behind Even.

  Coming out of the witch’s house, the goblin gave Odd a few fish-smelling jam sandwiches for their journey, as well as a bottle filled with (unenchanted, he assured them) water. When they tried to thank him, he waved off their words, saying he liked feeding people. He then wished them luck and hurried back to the lake to care for his mermaids.

  Jeremy set off at a trot down the yellow brick road.

  In the distance, they heard the mermaids shriek and squeal. The caterwauling faded the farther away they got. “How long do you think this will take?” Odd asked. “How fast do you think we’re going? Twenty miles an hour? Thirty? Less? More?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeremy said. “Not as fast as a car. Not as slow as a pony.” He added a disgusted neigh after the word “pony.”

  “What if we’re not fast enough?” Odd asked.

  It was a worry that crept into Even’s mind and caused her stomach to knot. What if the gateway closed before they got there? What if they couldn’t go home?

  Stop it, she told herself.

  They were doing everything they could to get to the gateway and Jeremy’s family as quickly as possible, and worrying about it wouldn’t make them go one bit faster. She should do what Mom always said to do when they were anxious and think of five things she was grateful for.

  One, they had a plan.

  Two, they knew where they were going.

  Three, they didn’t have to walk.

  Four, it wasn’t raining or snowing or sleeting or tornado-ing.

  Five . . .

  “Wish we could just drive there,” Odd said.

  “What does it feel like to ride in a car?” Jeremy asked dreamily.

  “It feels like you’re inside a big can with windows, moving on a road,” Even said. “It’s not like this, with the wind in your face and fur.” She lifted up her face to breathe in the cinnamon-sugar air. It ruffled her fur, massaging her cheeks. It felt and smelled wonderful.

  The fifth thing I’m grateful for is the chance to breathe the air of Firoth, she thought. And see the sky of Firoth. And hear the distant song of magical birds. And know that soon the unicorns would help them cross the border, and they’d be back with Dad.

  “No bugs in my eyes,” Jeremy said. “No pain in my hooves. Have you ever flown in a helicopter?” He pronounced the word slowly, as if he’d never said it out loud before.

  “Never,” Odd said. “But I want to.”

  “You do?” Even twisted to look up at Odd. “Why? You can fly on your own every odd day. Or you could, if you practiced. Why would you care about flying in a helicopter?”

  “Because they’re cool,” Jeremy answered for her.

  “Why do you like mundane-world stuff so much?” Even asked him. “Farmcats cards. Soda. Helicopters. You’re a unicorn! Isn’t that cool enough?”

  Jeremy didn’t answer for so long that Even began to think she’d insulted him. She hadn’t meant to. She was honestly curious. He was nothing like what she’d expected a unicorn to be like. Except for having a shiny horn.

  Odd nudged her and whispered, “I think you hurt his feelings.”

  “Jeremy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s not . . . It’s just . . . I know I’m a unicorn, and that’s awesome,” Jeremy said. Pausing, he posed, as if to show off his unicorn-ness, and then continued. “I just don’t want to be a unicorn here. Here, I’m just Shimmerglow—the unicorn kid who panics too easily and babbles too much. There . . . where you come from . . . I don’t know. I’d be different. Better.”

  Even could understand wanting to be better—after all, that was the whole reason she practiced so much—but she didn’t see what Farmcats and soda had to do with being braver or less panicky or whatever it was he wanted to be. “Can’t you be better here?”

  “Unlikely. It hasn’t happened yet.”

  Even tried to think of the right thing to say to reassure him.


  Odd spoke up. “I think you’re fine the way you are.”

  He snorted. “Thanks.” But it was clear he didn’t believe her, and there wasn’t much more either of them could think to say to that.

  After a couple more miles of riding, they stopped by a field of red and yellow flowers to eat the lunch the goblin had given them. Odd dismounted and unwrapped the sandwiches, then laid one on the ground for Even. Sitting next to it, Even tried to lift the sandwich with her paws, but they didn’t work quite the same way hands did. She ended up chasing the bread, slices of vaguely fish-smelling cheese, and gobs of jam around on the wrapper until finally she gave up and stuck her snout in.

  She was chewing her way through the sandwich when the dragon appeared.

  There was no hint that it was coming. Even heard a pop like a balloon, and the empty sky was suddenly filled by a very large, very upset dragon. Odd shrieked. Even jumped several inches into the air, and her tail lifted into spraying position. Rearing onto his hind legs, Jeremy pawed the air with his front hooves and neighed in alarm.

  She’d imagined seeing a dragon hundreds of times. She’d seen plenty of CGI dragons in movies. She’d pored over illustrations made by artists who might or might not have been to Firoth. None of that had prepared her for the sight of a real dragon.

  It was utterly massive, with outstretched wings that blocked the sun. Bright red, it was covered in scales that gleamed like metal, with feather-like strands that dangled from its neck. Screaming a guttural cry, it exposed swordlike teeth.

  In a voice that sounded like a school fire alarm, the dragon shrieked, “Where are my children? What have you done with them?”

  “We haven’t done anything!” Odd cried.

  “They were with me!” the dragon yelled in a voice so loud that it made Even’s skunk ears ache. “And now they are not! You took them from me!”

  “We didn’t!” Even shouted. “You just appeared!”

  “Then filthy wizards took me from them! Are you the minions of filthy wizards? You must be. You’re here, and my children are not!” The dragon’s neck began to glow brighter and brighter, like a fire had been lit beneath its red scales . . . Oh no, Even thought.