by Amy Herrick
“I think she’s going into the park,” Danton said. “She’ll climb over the wall. That’s the way she does things.”
Suddenly, Edward remembered what his aunt had said to him about the park. What had she meant? Something about dangerous things being astir.
“We’ll watch and see where she’s headed,” Danton whispered. “Probably toward the swings in the playground. When we know where she’s going, I’ll circle around in front of her and you’ll bring up the rear. We’ll surprise her. Catch her with her defenses down.”
“Her defenses don’t go down. She’s an armed warship.”
Danton laughed. “That’s just the way things look. Nothing’s really solid like that. There’s always a way around or through.”
Edward was startled. It was exactly the kind of thought he often had. He stayed quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Okay. We surprise her. Then what?”
“And then, you know, we’ll demand the rock. We’ll, uh, reason with her.”
“REASON WITH HER? REASON WITH FEENIX?”
Danton grinned. “Don’t worry. You worry too much. C’mon. There she goes. She’s over the wall. Let’s see where she’s going.”
The boys darted across the street and crept up to the spot where Feenix had disappeared.
“You keep down,” Danton ordered. “I’m going to take a look and just see which way she went.” He periscoped his head up and peered over the wall into the park.
He was silent for so long that Edward finally asked him what was going on.
“Wow,” Danton whispered. “This is so amazing. Look at this, will you?”
Very cautiously, Edward stuck his head up, too.
At first he couldn’t figure out what he was seeing. The world he expected to find—the small woods and then the playground beyond—were gone. Instead, a dense gray fog met his eyes. Ghostly figures could be made out here and there, probably just trees and bushes and park benches muffled up in fog. The heavy mist went floating and sliding over the damp ground. Where had it come from so fast? Here and there, the globe-shaped street lamps could be seen. They looked like they hung suspended in the air.
“Was that fog there a few minutes ago?” Edward whispered.
Danton shook his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention. But it’s wild, isn’t it?”
As they watched, the mist began to creep over the walls of the park, poking blind and sluggy fingers into the air.
“Where’d it come from, you think?” Danton asked.
“Whaddaya mean? It came out of the sky, right? Fog is just like a low cloud.”
Danton was watching the curling wisps as if he were hypnotized. “Maybe it came out of the lake,” Danton whispered.
“Well, whatever,” Edward said. “The question is, what do we do now?”
Danton didn’t answer for a long time. Edward was beginning to think he hadn’t heard the question, when finally Danton said, “What do we do about what?”
Edward stared at him. “Whaddaya mean? You’re the one who wanted to go after the rock. And Feenix.”
Danton looked puzzled for a moment. Then his face cleared. “Oh. Yeah. That’s weird. I nearly forgot.” He turned back to stare at the shrouded park. “Well, I don’t think there’s any point in going in there now. We’ll never find her in that.”
Edward didn’t know what to make of this. The guy had been so wired up about his mission a few minutes ago. And he definitely didn’t seem like the kind of person to retreat in the face of a little fog.
“What time is it?” Danton asked him. “I’m starving.”
Edward checked his cell. “It’s five,” he reported.
“What?” Danton yelped. “Really? My mom will kill me, she’ll boil me alive, she’ll ground me for a year. I gotta go! Catch you tomorrow.”
Before Edward could say a word, Danton took off running. Boy, he was fast. He ran in great bounding leaps. Just watching him made Edward want to lie down and take a nap. He gave his head a small shake and headed for home.
Neither of them noticed the little red-haired figure who slipped out from behind an oak tree. She stood in perfect silence, watching them. She waited till they were both gone from sight, and then she approached the stone wall and stared over it into the shifting fog. After a while she turned and she, too, headed for home.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Gingerbread House
Feenix stood outside the deli drinking in the cold air with relief. Escape from school. Escape from the big white-faced clock. Escape from Blabificent Beatrice who seemed to have almost nothing to talk about except other people’s hair. Now if only something not boring would happen. If only some adventure would overtake her.
She reached into her pocket for the Three Musketeers bar, but her fingers brushed up against something else. What was this? Oh, yes. She pulled it out and smiled. Dweebo’s stone. It was really a nice little stone—pearly pink and gray. About the size of a small potato, but much lighter than it looked. She brought it to her nose and sniffed at it again. What was that smell? She couldn’t figure it out. Something that had been in Dweebo’s pocket? But why would Dweebo’s pocket smell like rain and rushing water and some kind of tree in flower?
She put the stone back in her pocket and found the Three Musketeers bar. She finished it in four bites as she strode into the wind. Now what? She couldn’t go home. She’d gotten in trouble in French class for Krazy Glueing Mademoiselle Krigsman’s teacup to her Larousse French-English dictionary. By now her mother would have gotten the call about the detention thing tomorrow, but detention was out. Detention was the same as Chinese water torture, since you had to sit at a desk without moving and you weren’t allowed to do anything, not even homework or reading, just sit there and think about all the supposedly vicious things you had done like arriving after the first bell or glueing a teacup to a French dictionary.
Also, by now her mother might have opened the credit card bill and noticed the charge for the Thousand and One Nights Arabian Bazaar Bracelet she had ordered online. Feenix just wasn’t ready to deal with the whole “what is wrong with you are you crazy?” tantrum. There were still a few hours left in the day. She would walk up to the park and see if anybody was hanging out by Ninth Street.
At Dizzy’s restaurant, she paused to look in the window. Along the bottom of the glass someone had enthusiastically painted a wintry scene of people wearing back-in-the-day clothes and skating along an icy blue pond. On the other side of the glass you could see real people sitting in the warm interior of the restaurant. She recognized some kids from school drinking hot chocolate and laughing loudly. She felt a sharp pinch of envy. They looked so comfortable with each other. It would never be like that for her. She had friends, but most of them she couldn’t stand.
Never mind. Everything could change in an instant. Comfort wasn’t her zone. She needed . . . something else. An adventure. A great mission. Something to make the rest of the world sit up and stare at her in astonishment. The wind pushed at her back. Time tugged her forward. She flew up the hill. But then skidded to a halt. Something had snagged her attention.
Wowie zowie. It was a new yard ornament. She was sure she would have noticed it if it had been there before. It stood in the front garden of a brownstone building. A little man holding on to a lantern with one hand. Its other hand was upraised as if trying to give a warning about something. Its face was white as plaster and it was dressed all in green. What could it be trying to warn people about, she wondered? Maybe there was a dog inside the house or something.
While she stood there staring, she noted a darting movement from the corner of her eye. It was a sneaky movement. All her antennae went on the alert.
People didn’t understand her. She was a sensitive girl.
Don’t move. Act casual. Study lawn ornament. Now turn your head slowly.
It was Danton! She was sure of it. He was hiding behind that minivan parked at the curb.
Fabuloso! Something was happening. She cleaned an i
nvisible speck of schmutz off her coat. To her delight, from the corner of her eye, she saw Dweebo’s baseball cap bobbing alongside Danton.
Were they following her? Was it possible? Could Dweebo have such daring in him?
She nodded at the gnome, or whatever it was, and walked along whistling.
After half a block she reached into her pocket for her gloves and pretended to accidentally drop one. She bent to pick it up and peeked behind herself.
Yes! They were following her. Excellent. Awesome. Just when she had thought the afternoon was going to be a complete dead end.
She continued along slowly, heading toward the park, making sure she gave the boys plenty of time. She knew this park like the back of her hand. She’d lead them on a chase they wouldn’t forget and then lose them in the woods up by the waterfall.
A low stone wall ran around the boundary of the park, with benches planted up against it here and there. On sunny days these benches were full of nannies with strollers, old people, and couples with their hands all over each other acting like they thought nobody could see what they were doing. But on this cold, damp afternoon, there was no one in sight all up and down the long tree-lined avenue. When Feenix reached the edge of the park she jumped up on a bench. For a few seconds she stood there, her long black coat blowing behind her. She waited to make sure that the boys would see exactly where she was going. Then she hopped up and over the stone wall.
She walked slowly so that they would have no trouble keeping up with her. The playground was empty and the swings all hung from their chains, straight and still. She sat down on one for a minute, just to give them a chance to catch up. Edsel, as always, would need a little extra time.
Down at the end, one of the swings began to creak back and forth ever so slightly, as if a person of very light weight were sitting on it, or as if a hand had pushed it. This gave her a start. It was the wind, of course.
She rose up and passed through the playground and onto the path that went by the band shell. For once, there were no skateboarders there. Wow, it was getting dark fast. Not that she hesitated. She knew how to take care of herself. There would be dogwalkers on the ball fields, and, after all, the boys would be right behind her. She didn’t even need to turn to check on them. She was sure she heard their footsteps now and then.
Whistling, she crossed the roadway and stayed on the path that cut through the ball fields and led to the pond. When she reached the pond, she stopped by the dog beach, the small roped off area, which had been thoughtfully set aside for woofers. A skin of ice had begun to form on the water and there wasn’t a beast or a master in sight. Feenix took a sneak peek behind herself.
Whooaa. Where had this mist come from? It was slinking across the ball fields, moving low along the grounds. It reminded her of a cat hunting something, sneaking along. If the boys were out there, she couldn’t see them. She hesitated, wondering if it would be wiser to turn back. Then, right up close behind her, she heard something. A voice. She couldn’t hear exactly what it said because it was trying to whisper, but it was grumbling. That had to be Dweebo.
Up she went, following the long curve. She could hear the sound of the waterfall that fed the pond below. The wooden bridge! Hooray. She crossed over it slowly, making as much noise as possible, running her hand along the smooth tree-log railing. At the far end of the small bridge was a large boulder, perfectly shaped for a little sit and a rest, but there was no resting tonight.
In a moment, Feenix found herself on the other side of the stream, back on the smooth path. She was high in the trees now. She listened for the sound of the boys’ footsteps or their voices. But now there was nothing.
She strained her ears. All she could hear was the low soft shushing of wind through the old leaves. Very suddenly, she felt all alone in a way she did not like. With the mist pressing in, the darkness falling fast, and the sound of the water rushing by, it was like she was on a little ship far out to sea, a thousand miles from anywhere. She stopped whistling and held still, waiting for the sound of the boys behind her.
The silence, however, went on and on. All she could hear was the shushing of the trees. Crud buckets, where were the twerpy bleepsters?
To her relief, she heard a padding and a soft breathing. That had to be Edsel. He was so not in shape. She decided she would give them a great reward for their efforts and let them catch up with her. They could all walk back together and if he really wanted the stupid rock maybe she would give it to him.
Feenix waited until the footsteps were almost upon her. “Took you long enough,” she called out.
A shape came out of the mist. “You have the advantage, your legs being longer.”
Her breath caught in her throat. This was neither Dweebo nor Danton. Being accosted by strange people when you were alone in the park was not a good thing. And of course, it was her own fault. How come she never realized stuff like this till the last minute?
She couldn’t see much of the person in front of her, but she could tell that whoever it was, was pretty small. He had switched on some kind of light and held it high so she couldn’t see his face.
“Put that down,” she said.
“Pardon me,” he answered and lowered the light. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“Do I know you?” The person looked weirdly pale in the falling darkness, but somehow familiar.
He shook his head. “I had hoped to catch up with you before the bridge, but the time is past for that now. We are all in great danger. ”
She peered at him, trying to see if he was carrying some kind of weapon. From what she could make out he was small and kind of vegetarian looking. She was sure she had seen him somewhere before. In any case, she could probably give him a good kick and outrun him.
“The Fetch,” he said urgently in a low voice. “You must give it to me now.”
“Excuse me?”
“The Fetch. The stone you stole from the boy.”
Whoa! How would this guy know about the stone? Could he have been following her, too? It was one thing to have a couple of yo-yos like Edsel and Danton sneaking up behind her, but some creepy little stranger?
“Do not be foolish. What you carry is dangerous to us all. If it gets into the wrong hands, we will all pay dearly. There are lesser powers who would make terrible mischief with it given half a chance, and already the Unraveler is on the loose. His strength increases with each day that we approach the solstice.”
Lesser powers? An Unraveler? She imagined some kind of mutant X-Man whose power was making holes in people’s sweaters. She giggled with sudden relief. Now she got it. “The boys put you up to this, didn’t they?”
The little man made a gesture of impatience. “If your young friend had left the Fetch where it was meant to stay, we would not be in this peril. The Keeper would have collected the treasure at the appointed hour and no one would have been any the wiser. But a Fetch, once it is moved, is irresistible and the Keeper has little power to intervene. If some meddler wakes the foragers now, and any happen to get loose, we will be in the gravest danger. Who will call them in? Give it to me now. You cannot possibly hope to accomplish this task on your own.” His lantern was half lifted and he held out his other hand commandingly. Suddenly she knew where she had seen him before.
A wind began to rise through the trees. It made a low moaning sound.
“Quick! Give me the Fetch!” the man repeated urgently.
The moaning grew to a shriek. A great gust of wind rammed into her from behind and the man’s light vanished.
“Too late!” he yelled. “Keep it hidden. I will do my best to—”
But whatever he was going to say was cut off by the wind, which went howling through the branches overhead. Feenix heard a loud cracking sound.
Afraid she was going to be smashed to bits, she began to run down the path through the woods. The wind screamed angrily. She could hardly keep up with her own feet. The clattering of her boots was drowned out by the noise all around her.
Down and down she went, until at last the path spat her out of the trees and into the open meadow. She stumbled the last few yards and came to a stop. The wind tugged and pulled at her.
She looked around, confused. This space was called the Nethermead. She’d been here before, but only in the daytime, in the summer, when the place was open and calm and sunny, full of people playing Frisbee and soccer. Now, it was nearly night and nearly winter. Around the perimeter of the Nethermead ran a deserted road. The streetlamps with their long, curved goosenecks were just beginning to blink on. Their little pools of stuttering yellow light could only reach so far. The rolling surface of the meadow was covered in dry and flattened grass. Old leaves went spinning and tossing through the air. Beyond the encircling lamps, the branches of the trees lashed and whipped.
Feenix turned right, pretty sure this was the way to the main road. It had been quite a day. Really exciting. Much better than she had expected. Her mother would be having a heart attack right about now. Not a real one, of course. Her mother took a certain pleasure in having heart attacks. Although, oddly enough, Feenix realized her cellphone had not yet rung or buzzed with her mother’s frantic text. Maybe the battery had died.
She pushed against the wind, which seemed to fight her, to want her to go in another direction entirely. She stumbled and then she stopped.
What was that over across the meadow by the hill? It looked like a small house made of stones. It couldn’t be. There’d never been a house over there. How weird.
Well, whatever it was, she was going to ignore it. She’d had enough for the day.
She turned away and the wind rammed into her, spinning her around.
She was facing the house again. She stared at it. It had to be one of those historical museum things that popped up like mushrooms here and there in the park. The parks department was always doing stuff like this because they loved to educate and bore people to death at the same time.Then she noticed that there was smoke coming out of the steep, old-fashioned chimney. If it were a museum, why would somebody be inside cooking?
