by Bryan Chick
“Ohhh . . . emmm . . . geee . . . Tell me you’re not serious! Richie!”
Smiling, Megan said, “You have to pretend that he’s not our Richie—just a guy on the streets, someone you’ve never met.”
“And his nerdiness?”
“Gone,” Megan said. “No big glasses. No pocketfull of pens.”
Ella tried to imagine a Richie reduced to his bare looks. After a full minute, she shook her head, saying, “Nope. I can’t do it. Richie is Richie—all flood pants and flashy shoes. I can’t see him any other way.”
Megan clapped her hands once. “Me either!”
For a few minutes, the girls went on like that, discussing boys and the things that did or did not make them cute. For Ella, the topic, as always, felt strange and exciting—especially when sharing it with Megan. The two of them had been friends their whole lives. For years, they’d thought boys were the grossest things in the world. Now, they barely knew what to do with their new feelings.
“Do you want to get married?” Megan asked.
“Not in fifth grade,” Ella teased, as she rose off the floor.
“Eventually, though?”
Ella sat at the table, turned to her friend, and watched the Christmas lights reveal Megan’s sincerity. She scooped up one of Richie’s electrical gadgets from the table, a tiny bulb affixed to a wire, and twirled it in her fingertips. “Richie and all his stuff . . . What is this thing?”
“I’m not accepting shrugs,” Megan said, referring to how Ella was dodging the question.
As Ella turned over the question, images of her family appeared. She saw her mother, her father. She saw them together, then she saw them apart. She envisioned herself lying in bed at night, crying into her pillow. How long had this gone on? Weeks? Months? How long had she blamed herself for her parents’ divorce? As Ella absently watched Richie’s gadget spin across her fingertips, her stomach clenched and pain poked into her heart. She had long known that emotional hurt could become physical.
“No,” Ella said, her tone flat and cold. “My mom said it best—marriage is momentary.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Megan shot back.
Ella considered this for a long time. At last, she said, “But who gets to decide?”
Ella lifted her gaze and watched Megan appear and disappear in consecutive flashes of light.
“How often do you think about him?” Megan asked.
“Every day,” Ella answered. “My mom still cries at night. I don’t.”
“You shouldn’t be afraid to.”
Ella smiled, but there was anger in it. “It’s easier to hate than it is to hurt.”
“Ella, you can’t—”
But Ella jumped out of her chair so suddenly that Megan’s words stopped. She tossed down Richie’s gadget, walked over to the table with the dancing snowman, and pressed his button. With a smile, she watched the three globes of his body shift and shake as the song played.
“We’re just days away from Christmas,” she said. “Let’s stay in good cheer.”
Megan nodded and forced a weak smile. She knew what all the scouts knew. Ella wasn’t avoiding the topic of her father to spare herself the pain—she was doing it to spare her friends the pain.
“You’re right about one thing,” Megan said. She motioned to the snowman. “That thing . . . it’s just the right amount of perfectly annoying.”
Ella giggled to let Megan know it was okay to laugh, and then they both did. Ella pushed out her rump and rolled her hips from side to side in dead-on mimicry of the snowman. Megan laughed harder than ever and rolled around in the beanbag, chanting, “Woo! Woo!” and pumping her fist above her head in a hip-hop way as Ella danced around the fort.
As Ella strutted near a wall, she suddenly stopped as her gaze happened to fall upon something outside the window. In the porch light three houses down, something was moving around in her neighbor’s backyard. But this something wasn’t just moving—it was hopping. Ella dropped her hands to the windowsill and peered out to see a kangaroo. Somehow it had gotten beyond the zoo wall and was now jumping around, looking confused about how to get back.
“Megan!” Ella shouted. “Come here, quick!”
In what seemed less than a second, her friend was at her side, staring out.
“Oh my . . . What’s it doing?”
“The Grottoes,” Ella answered. “It must have gotten confused in them and taken a wrong way out.”
The kangaroo became startled by something and then headed off away from Fort Scout, its hind legs kicking up a thin cloud of snow. Within seconds, it was gone.
Megan turned her stare back and forth between Ella and the place the kangaroo had been, her pigtails whipping around like the beaded strings of a spinner drum.
“What do we do?” Megan asked.
“Exactly what we’re supposed to do!” Ella answered.
With that, Ella ran across the fort, dropped down on the slide, and rode it to the ground. With Megan at her heels, she tore off across the Nowickis’ yard in chase of the kangaroo.
Chapter 22
The Pursuit of Punchy
“Which way?” Megan asked.
The two were running side by side across the Barkers’ backyard. Twilight had long since dissolved into night, leaving little more than general shapes to see. Across the stretch of yards, Ella discerned the silhouettes of pools, sheds, and play sets. Occasional porch lights dotted the darkness and cast long shadows across brick walls and the snow-dusted grass. Leafless tree branches seemed to etch the sky.
“Straight, I guess!”
They jumped the hedge along the Barkers’ property, Ella’s toes skipping off the tips of their branches. As they swung a right turn in the Hunters’ winding backyard, the kangaroo came into view along the dimmest reaches of a porch light. Ella noticed the way one of its ears bent to the side.
“You got to be kidding me!” Ella said. “That’s Punchy!”
Punchy seemed to become scared by something. He jumped left, then right, his legs kicking out to the sides. Then he continued straight after bounding a large evergreen bush, his tail plowing through the branches and sending a puff of snow toward the sky.
“What are we going to do if we catch him?” Megan asked.
“I don’t know,” Ella admitted. “Tackle him?”
“Tackle him?”
“Maybe we can steer him back to the zoo. If he hopped the wall once, he can do it again.”
As Ella heard the words come off her own lips, she realized it was the better plan. The scouts had learned a lot since crosstraining with the Descenders, but tackling a kangaroo wasn’t something they’d practiced.
The girls were quickly gaining ground on Punchy, just two yards separating them. Ella felt the cold air swirling in her lungs, her ponytail slapping across her shoulders. Her earmuffs kept sliding off her ears, and she kept correcting them with swipes of her gloves. Each time she glanced at Megan, she noticed the way her friend’s pigtails wagged up and down like the wings of a large bird.
The girls closed to within one yard. As they ran, Ella occasionally glanced into the houses that they passed. In many, dark rooms were filled with flickering lights as televisions played. In others, she saw people. She spotted Mrs. Parker standing at her kitchen window, doing something at the sink. She saw the Jeffersons on the couch, a tub of popcorn being passed between them. She saw Jessica Jones, a sixth grader at her school, gabbing into her cell phone while twirling her hair around a finger. Had anyone seen her and Megan in their mad dash through their dark yards? Ella could only hope not.
Punchy tried to jump through the middle of a play set and hooked one of his short forelimbs on a chain. He spun and crashed to the snowy grass, his long legs kicking at the nothingness of a world swept out from beneath him. Swings clattered and clanked, their metal chains ringing like chimes. He rolled himself upright and pushed his big feet against the ground. In the air, he squirmed his body back into position and continued on as if nothin
g had happened.
Within seconds, Ella and Megan closed in on the swing set. In an effort to save time, they chose to go through it rather than around it. With a turn of her shoulders and a buck of her hips, Ella twined her body through the bounce and throw of the chains. But as Megan ran beneath the play structure, a swing dropped sideways in front of her and she landed her waist across its bendable seat. Unable to slow down, she ran until the wide band of plastic conformed around her sides, the chains went taut, and she was lifted off her feet. She swung backward, her hands and knees pulling through the snow. When the swing reached the end of its backward throw, she was launched into the air. Her rear end struck the ground, and she slid through the grass like a character in a cartoon.
Ella ran back, grabbed Megan’s hand, and hoisted her to her feet, saying, “Now you know what it feels like to be Richie.”
Megan fixed her glasses and shook the confusion out of her head. Then the two girls navigated through the swings and started after Punchy again.
“Where is he?” Megan asked as they stormed into the Carters’ backyard, barely dodging a concrete birdbath that seemed to rise out of nowhere in the darkness.
Ella shook her head. “I don’t see him.”
For the next two minutes, the girls charged down the path they hoped Punchy had taken. They stormed across the Smiths’ brick patio, veered around the Campbells’ shed, and beat across the planks of the Rogerses’ gazebo, always keeping to the yards beside the concrete wall of the zoo’s perimeter. Just when they feared they’d lost him, Punchy appeared in the colorful light being thrown from the eaves of the Stewarts’ house, which was decked out for Christmas. As the lights blinked, Punchy looked red, then green, then red again.
“There he is!” Megan said, a gloved finger aimed in the kangaroo’s direction.
Again, Ella glanced through the windows of the surrounding houses. Had anyone seen them? If so, no one had stepped outside or bothered to chase after them.
Punchy jumped out of the holiday glow of the Stewarts’ place and landed in the Fergusons’ yard, where he came upon an aboveground pool, a circular thing with blue walls and a tarp stretched across the top. Rather than go around it, he tried to go over it, and when he did, he slid across the tarp and the sheet of ice beneath it. His feet struck the opposite edge of the pool wall and he tumbled over the side, disappearing from view.
“Punchy!” Ella called out way too loudly.
Seconds later, the girls rounded the pool just as the frenzied kangaroo found his feet and hopped off again. Before he could get too far, Ella went into a headfirst dive and wrapped her hands around the tip of his tail. Punchy barely seemed to care. He hopped on, pulling Ella behind him.
Ella said, “Stop!” as her shoulders rocked up and down and her face repeatedly sank into the shallow snow.
As Ella was dragged, she felt her ankles being seized and realized Megan had jumped onto her. For a second they were both pulled through the snow; then their weight proved to be too much for Punchy, who fell forward, his snout banging against the ground.
Ella released Punchy’s tail, and Megan let go of Ella’s ankles. As the two girls climbed to their feet, Ella said, “Well . . . guess we know how to tackle a kangaroo now.”
Punchy jumped up and spun around, coming face-to-face with Ella.
“It’s us, you doofus!”
The kangaroo tipped his head to one side and seemed to study her. Even in the darkness, Ella could make out his dark eyes. The tip of his black snout was coated in snow.
“It’s us,” Megan repeated.
Punchy glanced at Megan, seemed to register who she was, then turned back to Ella. He looked her over and then threw a quick, unexpected jab into her chest.
“Ow!” Ella said. “You little . . .”
As Ella cocked her arm, Megan seized her wrist. “Don’t” was all she said.
Ella uncoiled her fingers and let her arm drop. “You’re right. The neighbor’s yard . . . probably not the best place to start a fistfight with a kangaroo.” Ella turned to Punchy. “I don’t know what you’re doing over here, but you need to be on the other side of”—she shot a finger toward the zoo wall—“that thing.”
Punchy swung his snout toward the Clarksville Zoo and seemed to study it.
“C’mon,” Ella said. She took off running toward the wall, waving one arm behind her. “This way.”
Punchy and Megan fell in line behind her. As they ran away from the houses and into the wooded edges of the yards, Ella once again looked around and wondered if anyone had seen anything. She steered through the trees until she reached the zoo wall. The slab of pitted concrete stretched several feet above their heads. As Ella and Megan stopped, Punchy didn’t. With a hard kick of his hind legs, he easily cleared the wall and dropped down behind it. The girls listened to his feet rustling the crisp, snowy leaves, and waited as the sound softened, then vanished altogether.
“He’s gone,” Megan said.
“Yeah,” said Ella. “Some Gifted, huh? He hangs a wrong left and totally freaks out.”
Megan said, “I hope the Secret Society knows what they’re doing, putting all these animals in the Grottoes.”
“And I hope that’s the last time we have to chase a kangaroo through our neighborhood.” Ella straightened her earmuffs and said, “C’mon, let’s get home before Mrs. Ferguson looks out her window and realizes we’re not lawn ornaments.”
The two of them turned and headed back to Fort Scout, this time keeping to the cover of the trees.
Chapter 23
The Beginning of the End
Megan lay in bed tossing, getting tangled in the sheets. Every ten minutes or so, she’d peer at her bedside clock. Now it was almost one o’clock in the morning, two days after the Punchy incident. She kept thinking about the Grottoes, the Gifteds, and what had happened in the Secret Polliwog Bog. She kept seeing the clump of fur that Tank had shown them beneath the Knickknack and Snack Shack. How soon before the sasquatches attacked her neighborhood? Could they be stopped?
She wrestled out of bed and donned her glasses, hoping to rid herself of the images in her head. At the window, she looked out. The sky was starry and bright, the streets calm and quiet. A dusting of snow covered the grass. She peered out for the tarsiers and failed to spot them in the distant trees. Deciding that she needed a glass of orange juice, she crept out of her room and tiptoed down the hall, glancing through the half-open bedroom doors as she went. Everyone was asleep.
She walked down the stairs, crossed the kitchen, and went to the fridge, where she took out the juice and poured a glass. Sipping it, she gazed out the window at Fort Scout. Even in the bright night, it was impossible to see the Descender inside it.
She wondered who was posted in Fort Scout. Maybe she could sneak across the backyard and peek in. Maybe it would ease her mind and help her sleep. It would just take a minute.
“Forget it,” she told herself. “Dumb idea.”
She gulped the last of her juice and turned from the sink, intending to go upstairs. Instead she found herself walking to the back door, where she put on her jacket, her fleece headband, and her gloves. Without another thought, she slipped through the creaking door and eased it shut.
The wind stung her cheeks and swirled the powdery snow. She dashed across the yard and clambered up the ladder to Fort Scout. Pushing through the door, she discovered three Secret Cityzens: Sam, Marlo, and Podgy. Podgy was standing at the back of the fort, and Sam was kneeling beside the window, squinting into binoculars. Marlo, perched on the sill, spotted Megan and chirped.
Sam dropped the binoculars against his leg and stared at Megan. “You’re joking, right?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.
“And what? You thought you’d rest better out here in the freezing cold?”
Megan crossed the fort and knelt by Sam. Marlo jumped to her shoulder, chirped twice, then fluttered his wings. Podgy waddled over.
Looking at Podgy, Megan said, “
I can honestly say that I never expected to sit in this tree fort with a penguin. Never, ever.” Ideas and emotions swirled inside her like beads in the bowl of a kaleidoscope.
“You guys hear about the change of plans?” Sam asked as he hoisted his binoculars again and stared through them.
“Change of plans?” Megan repeated.
“Yeah. The Gifted in the Grottoes—gone for now.”
“Seriously?”
“Too dangerous. What happened with Punchy a few nights ago—the Secret Council was tripping out.”
“What about your best Gifteds? Can’t you guys keep a few in?”
Sam slowly swung his binoculars over to a new spot. “Council has it under review. For now, it’s just us and the usual animals—the ones that we’ve trained to do this.”
Megan opened her mouth to say more and then closed it again. She stared at the floor and considered this. Was this a good thing? Or did it put her world in more danger?
“What about the other Descenders?” she finally asked. “You guys said there’s a whole bunch besides you four.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s under review, too. Right now, they’re wrapped up in their own business, guarding the city gateways. We can’t take them off post.”
Megan stayed quiet and considered this. Was it better to keep more guard on the City of Species or her neighborhood? She didn’t know.
Podgy, perhaps sensing Megan’s concern, waddled closer to her. Megan hugged him briefly with one arm and allowed a smile onto her lips.
After some time, Megan asked, “Have you seen anything weird?”
“Not yet,” Sam said. “But the night’s young.”
For about ten minutes, the two of them chatted about things. They discussed the patrols, the tarsiers, and the Grottoes. As they talked, Marlo swung his beak back and forth between them, as if following the conversation. Just as Megan was about to ask a question about Mr. Darby, Sam raised his hand, stopping her. He fixed his stare on the floor and touched two fingertips to his ear. His body froze, and his eyes shifted nervously. Someone was talking into his headset.
