Pru spent detention on Tuesday reading about Odin and the other Norse gods. She read that Odin was the god of both wisdom and war, and that brave Viking warriors believed they would go to Odin’s hall of Valhalla when they died, while cowards went to the cold, cruel realm of Niflheim, where despair and living corpses dwelt.
It occurred to Pru that Niflheim sounded a lot like detention with Mrs. Edleman.
Mrs. Edleman did not appear to know what to think about Pru reading about Norse myths during detention. This uncharacteristic focus on academic achievement clearly made Mrs. Edleman nervous. Pru frequently caught her teacher stealing glances at her as though trying to catch her doing something wrong. Each time their eyes met, Pru would adopt an innocent expression and Mrs. Edleman would look more worried.
When her time was up, Pru made her way to the abandoned church on Main Street that served as the headquarters of the Earth Center. Inside, volunteers worked in groups to sort the trash they’d gathered into piles appropriate for recycling. Fay stood by the entrance.
“Pru, I was hoping to catch you for just a moment.”
“Sure,” Pru said as she stifled a groan. She followed Fay into a small office.
“I’ve already spoken to ABE,” Fay said, closing the door behind Pru. “I just wanted to catch you, too, before you head out for the day. I don’t usually consider myself an enforcer of rules, but I couldn’t help but notice that you and ABE returned without any recyclables after your outing yesterday.”
Pru grimaced. In all her excitement over encountering Old Man Grimnir the day before, she had completely forgotten the project.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I was sort of distracted, I guess,” Pru said.
“Oh? Is everything all right? Is there something you’d like to talk about?” Fay’s voice immediately took on those high, concerned tones that Pru had learned to identify with school counselors, parents, and other adults who wanted to sound caring and supportive.
“I’m fine,” she said. “You sound just like my mom.”
“Ah, I see. Trouble at home?”
“No,” Pru said. Then she remembered the weirdness of her conversation with her mother the night before. She also remembered the tension when her mother had thought she had another note from school. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Have you tried talking to your mom?”
“No.”
“Well, I don’t want to overstep. I know it’s none of my business, really. But do think about talking to your mother about whatever is troubling you, would you? It’s usually not a good idea to keep things from the people you love. Secrets build walls between people. And if there’s one thing I understand, it’s the importance of not building walls.” Fay put a hand on Pru’s shoulder.
Pru glanced up, surprised by the sincerity in the woman’s voice.
“I’ll tell you what,” Fay said. “We’ll overlook yesterday, okay? Just be sure to collect as much as you can today. People are so quick to discard things, even when they still have value.”
“Sure,” Pru said, eager to leave. “Um . . . are we all done?”
“We are. Happy hunting!” she called as Pru fled out the door.
CHAPTER
11
WITH ABE IN TOW, PRU EXITED THE EARTH CENTER and made her way to Main Street. The road was oddly quiet for the time of day. Plenty of people made their way along the street, passing various shops and businesses, but nearly everyone walked with shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. Nobody looked at the sky, which remained as dark and foreboding as it had for days. Thunder boomed, and half a dozen people around Pru flinched.
“I guess we should get going,” Pru said to ABE. They’d agreed that if they were going to make sense of what was happening in Middleton, they would have to try to find Mister Fox. “I wonder where we should start looking.”
“Um. Maybe across the street?” ABE said, pointing.
“Very funny, ABE.”
“No, Pru, seriously. Look.”
Pru turned to see a familiar figure making his way along the other side of Main Street. She couldn’t quite believe their luck, but there was no mistaking the identity of the man ABE had spotted. Tall as he was, Mister Fox towered above the hunching residents of Middleton.
“What do you think he’s doing here?” ABE asked.
“I don’t know. Let’s catch up to him and ask.” Honestly, she didn’t much care what Mister Fox was doing there. The idea of returning to the woods to find him had filled her with dread.
ABE held back. “Wait. Something’s weird.”
“He’s getting too far ahead of us.” Pru couldn’t believe how quickly he was moving. It was those long legs! Sometimes, being a bit small for your age just seemed an all-around raw deal.
“But look at him. I mean, really watch him for a second.”
Pru was inclined to argue, simply out of habit (and to stay in practice), but so many weird things had happened lately that she decided to give ABE the benefit of the doubt.
She watched as Mister Fox approached a small cluster of people. A series of things happened at the same time. A little boy in a blue windbreaker pulled away from his mother to look in the window of a toy store. The mother followed. A middle-aged man with thinning hair veered suddenly to purchase a newspaper from a dispenser. A woman power walking just behind him moved to the edge of the sidewalk to untie and then retie her shoe.
The same kind of behavior repeated itself in one form or another as Mister Fox continued down the street. To Pru, it looked like Mister Fox projected an invisible shield that deflected people around him.
“Nobody even looks at him,” ABE said. “They avoid him, but it’s almost like they don’t even see him.”
The response of the people on the street reminded Pru of her mother’s response to the envelope. Pru had held the envelope right in front of her mother, and it had been like she hadn’t seen it.
“Look,” ABE said, pointing, “he’s turning.”
Mister Fox turned down Seaside Way. Pru knew the road. It led through a quiet neighborhood of houses laid out in a grid, with trimmed lawns and neat flowerbeds. The neighborhood surrendered to the woods that surrounded the town after a bit, but the road continued another quarter of a mile.
“Come on, ABE. If we hurry, we can still catch him before he gets too far. We can figure out the weird stuff later. We’ll add it to the list.” Mister Fox was already out of sight. If they didn’t hurry, they could lose him.
Pru’s sense of urgency made each moment of waiting for a chance to cross Main Street seem like an eternity. When they did cross and turn onto Seaside Way, Pru’s fears were realized. Mister Fox wasn’t immediately visible.
“Do you think he turned onto one of these side streets?” ABE asked.
“Maybe. You look that way, I’ll look on this side.”
They reached the end of the stretch of houses without spying Mister Fox.
“Could he have gone into one of the houses? Or do you think he kept going on the road?” ABE asked.
“I don’t know.” The road was curvy enough that it was possible Mister Fox was just ahead of them, around a bend. “There’s not much down there. Just a park with an old fort.”
According to Pru’s dad, the fort dated back to Revolutionary times. It had an official name, but everyone called it the Fort of the Fallen. It got the nickname from one particularly bloody battle with the British in which nearly everyone—attacker and defender—had died. The town’s historical commission preserved the fort because they considered it “a valuable reminder of the vitally important role that history plays in the lives of everyone.”
Mostly, teenagers used the parking lot as a spot to make out.
Pru wasn’t crazy about leaving behind the comfortable neighborhood and traveling the stretch of road that went through the trees. But it was a short distance, and she figured it would be worth it if they could catch up to Mister Fox and get some questions answered. There was usually a handful of people a
t the park, anyway, so it wasn’t like they were venturing off to the unknown.
That’s what Pru kept telling herself as she led ABE down the road. After a few minutes of speed walking (with occasional nervous glances into the woods on either side of the road), they finally reached the Fort of the Fallen where it lay in a cleared section of land along the coast, just east of town and south of Winterhaven House.
The fort’s original buildings had long since crumbled and become mounds of grass. The trenches and tunnels that wound around and through the grassy mounds remained, however, like the pathways of an ant farm laid on its side. Once, that network of paths had protected long-ago soldiers from enemy fire. Now, it served to amuse the fort’s guests. Town kids (those too young to understand what all the fuss in the parking lot was about) liked to race along the dug-out paths.
The paths were empty that day, though. There didn’t appear to be any visitors at all. Beyond the empty parking lot, the open fields of the fort lay shrouded in a thick fog. Pru could hear the ocean waves crashing in the distance and the occasional call of a gull, but the fog muted the sounds and made Pru feel as though she and ABE and the fort were somehow removed from the rest of the world, isolated and alone.
“This doesn’t feel right,” ABE said quietly. Or perhaps he spoke at a normal level, and the fog muffled his voice just as it muffled the gulls and the waves.
Pru agreed. The fog reminded her of the day in the woods. It was too thick. A small voice in the back of her mind—the one her mother called her conscience—began to whisper that this was not a good idea. For once, Pru felt inclined to listen. She hadn’t expected the fort and park to be empty. Even if Mister Fox was there somewhere, Pru no longer felt a strong urge to find him.
Before she could suggest to ABE that they turn around, however, a sudden wind blew across the lot. It carried the fog with it, a thick, unnatural veil of cloudy vapor that swallowed her and ABE whole. Pru spun around in a panic. She realized her mistake, though, as she quickly became disoriented. Her throat closed slightly in fear when she realized she’d even lost sight of ABE.
“ABE!” she whispered.
“I’m here,” he responded, and Pru was sure she heard relief in his voice as he stepped into view. Even standing next to her, however, ABE seemed a bit blurred around the edges. It was as though the fog sought to undo him or make him and the world around Pru less certain.
“Pru, I can’t see anything. This isn’t normal!”
“I know. Let’s just get out of here.”
“Do you know the way?”
“No. But come on, anyway.”
She grabbed the sleeve of ABE’s coat with one hand and stretched her other arm out before her to try to feel her way. They’d only managed a few paces before she heard the sound.
Footsteps.
Big, heavy footsteps.
Just like in the woods.
“Pru . . .” ABE muttered behind her.
“Shh!” Pru moved faster. She still didn’t know where she was going, but the footsteps gave her an idea of where she didn’t want to be.
Dumb luck saved her from a fall. It occurred to her to look down to see if they were still moving along on the pavement. Pru saw immediately they weren’t—they’d somehow made it onto the grass. In fact, Pru realized as she looked down that she was barely a step away from falling into one of the trenches that scarred the fort’s fields.
The footfalls were getting closer.
Pru whispered to ABE that they should scramble down into the depression. Once at the bottom, Pru led the way through the trenches. The ground rose above her head on either side. She indeed felt like an ant, and that feeling only intensified in those stretches where the trenches ran beneath the earthen mounds and became actual tunnels of dirt and stone.
The footfalls came closer . . . so close that it seemed that whatever was making the noise had to be standing practically on top of them. Pru crouched, pulling ABE down beside her as they peered up into the fog.
The mist above them swirled, shifted by the movements of something impossibly big. All doubt vanished from Pru’s mind when the air cleared. No tree stood before them, masquerading as a monster out of a story. It was a giant.
A real, honest-to-goodness giant.
He stood four times as tall as any man, with a rough face, wild hair, and a beard. His clothes looked like what Pru had seen on people at the Explorers’ Fair in years past, except his animal skin pants and tunic looked and smelled real. The giant reeked of stale sweat.
Instinctively, Pru knew that this was the same creature that had chased her and ABE through the woods—and now he had caught them.
Almost.
The giant looked down and a wicked sneer spread across his face.
Grabbing ABE by the sleeve, Pru took off along the trench.
“Pru . . . did you see?” he stammered.
“Yes, ABE, I saw!” Pru hissed. “Less talking. More running.”
The fog closed above them. Ahead, Pru saw the vague shape of another of the fort’s grassy mounds and thought to hide in the tunnel beneath. But before they could reach the tunnel’s questionable safety, the giant stumbled into view once more. His foot came down on the top of the grassy mound above the tunnel’s opening and filled the hollow with dirt and debris.
“This way!” ABE said from behind her, and he took the lead as they dashed back through the trench in the direction from which they’d come. “Pru, what are we going to do?”
“Keep moving,” she whispered, “and be quiet!” She remembered how the fog had muffled the sounds of the waves and the birds when they first arrived at the fort. Maybe she and ABE could make that work for them.
Though the fog once more offered some cover, Pru still caught occasional glimpses of the giant when she looked over her shoulder. Those glances told her that the creature was moving slowly, as though unsure of what direction to go. The trenches through which she and ABE ran branched so often, and the fog was so thick, the giant had lost them.
ABE must have understood Pru’s caution, because he slowed a bit and began moving more quietly. He led them a little farther along the winding trail. When they reached a spot where an outcropping of earth mostly covered their path, Pru put a hand on ABE’s shoulder and stopped him. They settled into another crouch.
The giant moved nearby, but his movements sounded slow and uncertain. Another breeze shifted the fog overhead and Pru saw to her horror that the giant had stopped just above them with one foot on either side of the trench in which she hid with ABE.
The giant peered into the fog ahead. Pru held her breath and prayed that he would not look directly down.
After what seemed like forever, the giant began to move away, disappearing into the mist. Pru was just about to sigh with relief when a hand, too big to be ABE’s, reached out from behind her and rested on her shoulder.
Acting on instinct, she put her elbows to good use.
With a muffled grunt, the figure behind her let go—and Pru spun around to find Mister Fox standing there with one hand rubbing his rib cage.
“You’re a very violent little girl,” he whispered. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Yes! And don’t call me little,” Pru hissed back, wondering what, exactly, a heart attack felt like and whether eleven-year-olds could get them.
“Mister Fox?” ABE looked as surprised as Pru to find him there. “You’re not going to believe this, but there’s a giant out there. Honest. It’s a real, live giant.”
“I know. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mister Fox peered into the mist. His nose was twitching.
“You mean it’s good?” Pru asked.
“Good? That’s a Jotun—a frost giant. They’re extremely warlike. No, we’re in terrible danger,” Mister Fox said, sounding alarmingly cheerful. “Now shush, please, I need to take care of this. Fantastic a specimen as our large friend is, I can’t just leave him wandering about. Someone’s likely to get hurt.”
“Someon
e?” ABE squeaked.
“What are you going to do?” Pru asked.
“I’m going to use this,” Mister Fox said, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. She was relieved (if a little confused) when he pulled out the magnifying glass she had seen him use before.
“You’re going to use a magnifying glass? On a giant?” ABE’s eyes went from Mister Fox to where they’d last seen the giant. “Sorry, but isn’t he big enough already?”
“If it’s any comfort to you, it’s only a magnifying glass if you look through it in one direction,” Mister Fox explained. He was enjoying himself way too much, as far as Pru was concerned. “Look into the glass from the other direction and the surface is reflective, like a mirror. Which makes it, I think you’ll agree, the very epitome of a looking glass.”
“What difference does that make?” Pru asked.
“Quite a bit of difference, I think. You’d be surprised by how many of life’s little problems can be solved by taking either a closer look at the problem—or a closer look at yourself.”
“Little problems?” ABE echoed. He sounded like he’d swallowed enough helium to float a thousand balloons.
“Here’s what I need you two to do.” Mister Fox spoke over ABE. “When I give the signal, run along the trench in that direction. There’s a mound just ahead. Run until you get to the tunnel beneath the mound, then hide inside.” Without further explanation, Mister Fox took two steps back and disappeared into the fog.
“Wait! What’s the signal?” Pru whispered. There was no response.
A moment later, an earsplitting whistle broke the muffled silence.
“Um, I think that was the signal,” ABE said, and they took off running.
The mound appeared ahead, just as Mister Fox had described. To her horror, though, Pru saw that an iron gate barred the entrance to the tunnel. A sign on the gate read DEAD END, which Pru might have found amusing if she had been watching this happen to someone else in a movie.
“Now what?” ABE asked as Pru grabbed the bars with both fists and shook them to no avail.
The Entirely True Story of the Unbelievable FIB Page 6
