by Abby Smith
“There, that one!” Pettikin pointed at Introductory Gatekeeping, and I picked it up.
It was a large book, with a creased and worn black leather cover. The title was engraved in fancy gold letters at the top, and beneath it was an intricate design of crisscrossing lines that alternated with every color in the rainbow, like long, thin prisms. I tilted the book back and forth in the light of the lamp, watching the colors change.
“Neat,” I said.
I passed the book to Andie so she could see it. “It reminds me of an Escher drawing or something, the pattern of the lines,” she said, mesmerized.
We put the book in the center of the coffee table so we could all see it, and I flipped it open.
Preface.
Pettikin got down on his hands and knees, peering intently at the page. I read out loud:
“If you’re reading this book, then you probably live on one of the Forbidden Worlds. Sorry about that. But just remember, it could be worse!”
“What the...” I stopped reading. “Who wrote this?”
“A Guardian, probably,” Pettikin said. “They’re very funny.”
Oookaaay, I thought, and continued.
“The fact that you’re reading this book also suggests that you have been chosen by a Guardian to be a Gatekeeper. This is a very good thing, indeed. As a Gatekeeper you will learn to open and travel through the Gateways on your world, helping the Guardians in their mission to protect the bright worlds and battle the forces which work against the light.”
I stopped reading again.
“So that’s what Aunt May was doing? She worked for these Guardians that you keep talking about?”
Pettikin nodded.
I wanted to ask what a Guardian is but decided to finish reading.
“Your primary task as a Gatekeeper will be to help beings who work with the Guardians travel through the Gateways on your world, while making sure the dark forces on your world don’t gain access to the other worlds through your Gateways. This book should serve as a useful first guide for understanding the Gateways on your world. Remember, only another Gatekeeper or Guardian can teach you how to travel through them safely. We wish you the best of luck on your journey!”
“That’s all it says in the preface,” I said. “Does that mean anything to you?”
Pettikin sat back on the table.
“On worlds like mine, the Gateways are open. Anyone can use them. But on worlds where there are dark forces, the Guardians close the Gateways. They set up a maze of dimensions around those worlds, and only give Gatekeepers the keys to unlock them. So while you can travel to a Forbidden World easily, once you are there you can’t get back out unless a Gatekeeper takes you through those dimensions.”
“Oh man,” Andie said.
“That’s why we call them Forbidden Worlds. They’re not exactly forbidden, you can go to them, but there’s a chance you might never return.”
“Was Aunt May the only Gatekeeper here? Isn’t there another Gatekeeper who might be able to help you?” I asked.
“I don’t know. If there are others, I never met them. Aunt May is the only Gatekeeper I ever knew from Earth. Actually, she is the only person I ever knew from Earth, until I met you.”
“Hey, wait a minute, how can you speak English?” Andie asked.
That was a good point. It never occurred to me to question why a gnome from another world knew my native tongue.
“If you mean the language you’re speaking, I can’t speak it,” Pettikin said.
“Um, clearly you can,” Andie said.
“Yeah, I’m hearing English,” I said.
“I’m speaking my native language, but you understand me and I can understand you because I’m communicating with you telepathically,” Pettikin said, in a tone that sounded like one he might normally use with baby gnomes.
“You mean you’re psychic?” Andie asked.
“Everyone’s psychic. How else would all of us who travel in the dimensions communicate with one another?”
“But we don’t travel in the dimensions,” Andie said.
“But you’re still part of the universe,” Pettikin said, as if this explained anything.
I flipped through the book. Its pages were filled with complex technical diagrams and explanations, as well as a few photographs. Some of them were of famous places I recognized, like the pyramids in Egypt and the Grand Canyon. Others were just random, unfamiliar places, most of them outdoors, near the water, woods, or other natural settings. They had all been superimposed with multicolored bright lines, which came together to create tightly woven webs of light.
My heart sank, thinking we wouldn’t be able to figure this out easily.
“Are these crisscrossing lines supposed to be Gateways?” I showed Pettikin the pictures.
He nodded.
“It’s a way of trying to show what the Gateways look like and where they are. If you can see the Gateways they do look something like that, although it doesn’t translate exactly to the drawings, since the Gateways aren’t really part of the physical world.”
“So,” I said slowly, “you said that you can’t see the Gateways here. But what if we could find one in this book and take you to it? I mean, maybe if we got you to the physical location of the Gateway you could get through it the same way you usually do, even if you can’t see it.”
Pettikin thought this over.
“I suppose we could try that,” he said, sounding doubtful. “Since I don’t know another Gatekeeper here, that seems like my best hope at this point.”
Andie picked the book up and flipped through some of the pictures.
“Great, we’ll just hop on a plane to Egypt….”
“There’s gotta be one closer than that, don’t you think? I mean, I don’t remember Aunt May flying off to Egypt or the Grand Canyon all the time, so there must be some Gateways nearby that she could travel through.” It was amazing how quickly we had started discussing inter-dimensional travel as if it were something completely normal.
Andie set the book back on the coffee table and flipped through the pages, pausing on pictures with Gateways. Egypt. Flip. Ocean. Flip, flip. Pond. Flip. Woods. Flip, flip. Grand Canyon. Flip.
“Hey, wait, Andie, go back,” I reached forward. Flip, flip, flip.
The photograph was grainy, like it was taken in the fifties or sixties. It was a picture of a field on the edge of a woods, apparently taken sometime in the fall, golden-brown grasses gleaming in the light of a setting sun. A row of large, silver beech trees bordered the edge of the field near the woods, and in between the two tallest trees was a web of multicolored lines.
“Isn’t that here? I think this is here!”
I snatched the book off the table and scanned the photo.
“The cottage isn’t there, maybe it wasn’t built yet, and there were more beech trees then, but I really think this is here. I think these two trees”—I pointed to the beech trees with the Gateway superimposed between them—“are the ones at the edge of Aunt May’s yard next to the woods!”
We all crowded around the picture.
“Oh wow, you might be right,” Andie said.
“It would make sense that Aunt May would live close to her primary Gateway,” Pettikin said cautiously.
I could hardly contain my excitement. “So it might be right here! We might be able to get you home easier than we thought!”
Pettikin’s face was doubtful.
Andie, however, was catching my enthusiasm. “Let’s go outside and look before it gets any darker.”
Pettikin slid off the edge of the sofa onto my shoulder, clamping a hand against my head for balance. I set the book on the coffee table and stood up, using one hand to steady him.
“Hang on.” I knelt carefully, bending my knees but keeping my back straight like I was in a ballet class, so I wouldn’t dislodge Pettikin. I fished the lantern-style flashlight out of my backpack and eased myself up.
Andie was already waiting by the fr
ont door. She pulled it open, and we all stepped outside.
“Whoa,” I said.
It must have been ten degrees colder than when we walked down to the cottage. A frigid wind blew across the yard, swirling the first fallen leaves from the ground up into the air. The sun had set and the last light of the day was fading. Dark clouds scuttled across the sky. I shivered.
“This is crazy,” Andie said. “How can it already be this much colder?”
“Global climate change,” I answered automatically, with a tiny doubt in the back of my mind. I wanted to put my sweatshirt on, but that would have been difficult with Pettikin sitting on my shoulder. I flicked the flashlight on and focused the beam on the front walkway.
Andie set off at a brisk clip down the path that lead to the woods. I tried to keep up with her without jostling Pettikin too much. He grabbed two handfuls of my hair like reins as I half-jogged, half-glided behind her, one hand reaching up occasionally to steady him.
Andie stopped abruptly near the entrance of the woods.
“Do you hear that?”
I stopped and listened.
“Hear what?”
She put a finger to her lips, her head cocked to one side.
“I think there might be something in there,” she said in a low voice, pointing toward the woods.
I thought I could hear it too, a steady rustling in the underbrush.
“A deer? Maybe a skunk?”
Pettikin breathed heavily on my shoulders.
Andie’s face was serious.
“Maybe you should hide Pettikin.”
Before I had time to react, the rustling became louder and faster. A deafening noise almost ruptured my eardrums.
“Ow, Pettikin, don’t scream!” I reached up and got a hand between his mouth and my ear just as a black figure came hurtling out of the woods.
I burst out laughing. It was Socrates lumbering toward us, his coat covered in leaves and burrs. He danced around me in a circle, jumping up to see if the object on my shoulders was some kind of new toy for him to play with.
“Down, Socks!”
I stepped back, worried that Pettikin would be terrified, but to my surprise the gnome slid down my arm and climbed on Socrates’ back, his hands burrowed in the dog’s neck. Socrates pranced in a wide circle, turning his head to see the creature on his back, before stopping in front of me and Andie with a wide dog-grin on his face.
“Do you have dogs on Arcorn, Pettikin?” I untied my hoodie from around my waist and slid my arms into the sleeves, rubbing them to try and create some warmth.
“No, dragons, but they are very similar,” Pettikin said.
I was about to protest that dogs and dragons were nothing alike. But seeing Socks’ gleaming white teeth, enormous paws and pointed ears, I wondered if he didn’t seem like a dragon after all.
I can’t believe I’m thinking this, I thought.
“OK, let’s keep going,” Andie said, walking along the edge of the woods toward the two beech trees.
I shined the beam of the flashlight along the ground near the first one as we approached it.
“I wonder if there’s any evidence that there used to be more than just the two trees here—an old stump or something,” I said.
Andie walked into the beam of the flashlight searching the ground, Socks sniffing next to her. “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary.”
“Maybe it’s not the right place after all,” I said.
“I wish we brought the book with us so we could study the picture more carefully,” Andie said.
“Yeah, but it’s so dark out now anyway.” I moved the flashlight beam up and down the trunk of the first tree and around the surrounding area.
“Maybe on the other side? Next to the other tree?” Andie asked
We walked behind the second tree, searching along the ground for anything that might suggest there used to be more trees. It took a few seconds for my brain to register a new rhythmic sound: crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.
Andie grabbed my arm, and we froze.
“Behind you,” she said. I turned the flashlight beam toward the yard but didn’t see anything.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. The noise grew louder.
“Are we just imagining things again?” I asked.
Socrates pinned his ears against his head and a low rumble emerged from deep within his chest. Pettikin’s eyes widened with alarm. I squinted out into the darkness.
“Who’s there?” I called, trying to make my voice sound deeper than it was.
The crunching stopped. The only sounds I could hear were the wind in the trees and my own loud breathing.
“You need to hide Pettikin,” Andie hissed, taking the flashlight from me.
I hurried over to the gnome. He clamped both hands over his mouth to keep from screaming.
“It’s OK, don’t panic,” I whispered. I picked him up and held him a few inches in front of me while I searched for some place to hide him.
“What am I supposed to do with him?” I hissed at Andie.
“Hide him under your sweatshirt,” she hissed back.
“Here, Pettikin, just keep as still as you possibly can.”
He trembled, but did what I said. I got him situated so he was inside the flaps of my sweatshirt but resting against the crook of my arm, with the jacket part zipped over him.
“This is ridiculous!” I whispered, “I look like I have a bun in the oven!”
Andie glanced over at us, and, totally inappropriately, we burst into hysterics. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle the chortles, while I doubled over in silent spasms of laughter, trying not to crush Pettikin and hoping I wouldn’t pee my pants.
“Stop it, stop it!” I said in between gasps, “It’s not funny!”
The crunching started again, and a dark figure emerged from the shadows. Andie recovered and whirled around. Socrates growled feverishly. I grabbed his collar just before he could lunge forward.
Andie swung the beam of the flashlight onto the dark figure.
It was Mr. Cutter.
“Hello, girls.” He squinted into the beam of the flashlight. “It’s just me. I’m sorry, did I scare you?”
“Mr. Cutter?” I was totally bewildered.
“Allie, is that you?” Mr. Cutter put one hand up to his eyes and tried to peer around the bright beam of light that Andie shone deliberately in his face.
Socrates snarled and pulled on his collar.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Didn’t your father tell you? We’re neighbors now.” His voice sounded too friendly, like a salesman’s. He tried unsuccessfully to step out of the flashlight beam. “Could you call your dog off?”
“I’ve got him,” I said, although I wasn’t at all sure about that. “I meant, what are you doing here, on our property?”
“I saw the lights on in the cottage and I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.” He took a step toward us, and Socrates almost pulled my arm out of its socket. Pettikin slipped down on my hip, and I was afraid his feet would be hanging out from under my sweatshirt if we weren’t careful.
“Easy, easy!” Mr. Cutter yelled, backing away. “Hey, could you put the dog inside?”
“I think you better just go, Mr. Cutter,” I said. Seeing his expression in the flashlight beam, though, I wished I hadn’t.
“Now listen,” he said, taking a step forward.
Before I could do anything, Andie said in an unexpectedly loud voice, “Please go away!”
Mr. Cutter jerked his head toward her and vanished.
Socrates lunged. This time I lost my grip on his collar and fell backwards onto the ground. I heard a muffled squeak from Pettikin and felt him scrambling underneath my sweatshirt as he poked his head out to see what happened.
Andie dropped the flashlight.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” She stared at the place where Mr. Cutter had vanished while Socrates sniffed furiously aro
und it.
“I can’t…did you see….” I couldn’t get out a coherent thought as I struggled to my feet, clutching Pettikin to my side. I stumbled over to where Andie and Socrates stood, but there was no trace of the man who had been there not thirty seconds earlier.
“Did that just happen?” My voice was high and loud. “Did Mr. Cutter just appear out of nowhere and vanish right in front of us?”
Pettikin shrieked, and almost reflexively, I clamped my hand over his mouth.
“Oh my God,” Andie said one last time. She covered her mouth with one hand and stared at me.
To my horror, I heard more footsteps, this time accompanied by voices, heading directly for us.
“Pettikin,” I said.
He nodded slowly, and I removed my hand from his mouth. He replaced it with both his own, I guess not trusting that he wouldn’t scream. I tucked him against my side and zipped the sweatshirt over him again, feeling awful when I saw him squeeze his eyes shut. What in the world was he feeling right now? Andie grabbed the flashlight and shined it into the yard.
Socrates barked again, but this time it was his normal, friendly, welcoming bark.
“Who’s there?” I called out.
“It’s us, Allie!” a melodious voice replied. “We’ve come to return the alpacas.”
Mrs. Widgit, Professor Theopolous, Bob, and the alpacas emerged from the darkness.
4
“Your parents told us you girls were spending the night down here.” Mrs. Widgit stopped in front of us and put her hands on her hips. “I must admit, I’m impressed with your bravery.”
Andie let out a kind of half laugh.
“Andie, this is Mrs. Widgit, Professor Theopolous and Bob,” I said. “Friends of Aunt May’s who were at her funeral this afternoon. This is my best friend, Andie Wu.”
“How do you do?” Mrs. Widgit held out the edges of her dress and curtsied. Professor Theopolous nodded once without smiling. Bob ducked his head and scuffed the sole of one shoe against the ground.
Mrs. Widgit turned her head back and forth between Andie and me.
“Is everything OK, girls? We thought we heard screaming before.”
Neither of us said anything.
