by Abby Smith
“Did you see Aunt May’s ghost or something?” She chuckled.
“That would have been preferable, actually,” I muttered.
Andie frowned at me, as if to say, what are you doing? I winced at my own stupidity.
Mrs. Widgit raised her eyebrows.
“Did something happen?”
We were both silent, and I shifted my weight uncomfortably. Mrs. Widgit peered at me through the flashlight beam with oddly crooked eyes.
“What’s under your sweatshirt, Allie?”
I looked at Andie helplessly. Mrs. Widgit wouldn’t believe me if I said “nothing,” but I couldn’t think of a single intelligent answer that wouldn’t give Pettikin away.
Good guys? Andie asked me silently.
I shrugged and grimaced slightly.
I think so, you?
Andie nodded, almost imperceptibly. She turned toward Mrs. Widgit.
“Actually, we ran into Mr. Cutter just before you got here. He kind of startled us, which is why we were screaming.”
“The rich man from the funeral?” I didn’t think Mrs. Widgit really bought the explanation, but she seemed willing to let the topic of my sudden-onset teen pregnancy drop for the moment. “I believe he and May knew each other for quite some time.”
“We weren’t sure what he wanted, and Socrates kept barking and growling at him. Finally, he just, uh…disappeared.”
Andie omitted the part about her possibly having “disappeared” him.
“When you say he disappeared…” Mrs. Widgit said slowly.
“She means one minute he was standing here and the next minute he was gone. Like he had just… evaporated or something,” I said.
“Can you show us where this happened?” Professor Theopolous’ voice was gruff.
“Yeah, I mean it was right here.” Andie gestured toward the spot on the ground where Mr. Cutter had been. Socrates had finished sniffing it and was sitting nearby on his haunches with a satisfied expression, as if he had taken care of everything.
The Professor and Mrs. Widgit huddled around the spot, conferring with each other. Professor Theopolous bent down and touched something on the ground. Bob watched them while rubbing an alpaca’s nose.
Andie caught my eye.
“I’ll be right back,” I called out, then walked away as fast as I could, trying not to jostle Pettikin too much.
It was dark without the flashlight, so I went just as far as necessary to get out of their line of sight. I carefully unzipped my sweatshirt. Pettikin still had his hands over his mouth and his eyes squinched shut. I set him on the ground and crouched next to him, making sure that my body was between him and the strangers. His expression was forlorn.
“Pettikin, I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “I think these people were Aunt May’s friends, so they might be able to help us, but to find out, I’ll have to tell them about you. Is that OK?”
Pettikin’s eyes darted around, as if searching for escape. “I don’t know, Allie. The man that was here—I didn’t like him.”
“Me neither,” I said. “Heck, I didn’t like him even before he got all weird and started trespassing and disappearing into thin air and stuff.”
The wind picked up again and blew the puffed end of Pettikin’s Santa hat over his face. He brushed it away and shivered.
“I can’t be sure, but I don’t think these people are like that,” I said. “They seem strange on the outside, but they might be OK on the inside, if that makes sense. Dad knows them, and I think Aunt May trusted them. Socrates seems to like them too. They might know more about how to help you than I do.”
Pettikin fidgeted with a button on the front of his jacket. He was so small and alone, and I felt completely useless. Why hadn’t he run into a human who could actually help him, instead of a doofus American teenager?
“OK,” he said finally. “If you think it’s a good idea, then let’s tell them.”
I sighed in relief.
“OK. Don’t worry, I won’t let them hurt you.” I wondered how in the world I thought I could keep that promise. Pettikin grabbed the sleeve of my hoodie and pulled himself up my arm to my shoulder.
We didn’t say anything else as we walked back to the group.
Everyone was still gathered around the place where Mr. Cutter had vanished, Andie explaining something while the others listened intently.
“Um, Mrs. Widgit?” I said.
They all stopped talking.
“This is what, or rather who, was under my sweatshirt.” I stepped into the circle of light created by Andie’s flashlight.
Mrs. Widgit gasped.
“My goodness -- it’s a gnome!”
Bob’s eyes almost doubled in diameter, and even Professor Theopolous seemed shocked, which was about the first discernible emotion I’d seen him express.
“Mrs. Widgit, Professor, Bob—this is Pettikin Periwinkle from Arcorn,” I said, feeling ridiculous, like I was introducing him as one of the Arcorn Periwinkles. “Pettikin, these are Aunt May’s friends I was telling you about. Ow! Hey, don’t….”
Pettikin had grabbed two handfuls of my hair and was pulling on them with increasing tension as I spoke. He relaxed his grip ever so slightly as I reached a hand up to intervene.
“Sorry, Allie,” he said so quietly that only I could hear him.
Mrs. Widgit gaped at us.
“He lets you touch him.” She said, with evident amazement.
“Well, uh, yeah, sure, when he needs to. Why?”
She took a cautious step toward us, and almost instantly Pettikin started shrieking. He yanked on my hair so hard I thought he was going to pull it right out of my head.
“Pettikin, stop! Don’t scream--ow….” I stumbled backwards, reaching up to try and calm him, and Mrs. Widgit immediately stepped back to her original position. The alpacas hopped up and down and honked while Bob tried to calm them.
Pettikin stopped screaming and let go of my hair. I felt the blood returning to my scalp.
“He is a little bit shy around people, I guess,” I said, rubbing my head. I could hear Pettikin breathing heavily on my shoulder.
“I can see that,” Mrs. Widgit said, “but that makes sense. Gnomes are notoriously shy. It’s one of their defining characteristics. They normally wouldn’t let themselves be seen by a human, let alone touched by one. So, from our point of view, the only extraordinary part of this situation, besides the fact that there is a gnome here on Earth, is that he seems to feel so comfortable with you.”
“Well, I, uh....”
I felt weird talking about Pettikin in the third person, as if he weren’t sitting right there on my shoulder.
“OK, wait a minute,” Andie said. “You’re talking about this stuff like it’s totally normal, saying things like ‘here on Earth’, and you know what a gnome is and how a gnome is supposed to act. And we just told you some guy disappeared on the lawn, and you didn’t even try to call our parents and tell them we were doing drugs down here or something. There is something way weird going on here, and it seems like you all know something about it, and since there’s a gnome sitting on Allie’s shoulders, and we need to find a way to get him home pronto, I’m thinking now might be a good time for you to start giving us some answers.”
If they were worried about us doing drugs down here, this outburst probably hadn’t done much to convince them that we weren’t.
“Perhaps we should all go inside for a bit, Viola,” Professor Theopolous said. “It might be easier to chat there.”
I thought I could hear the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, but it might have just been an attempt on my part to humanize him.
“Of course you’re right, Theo,” Mrs. Widgit said. “Girls, could we join you in the cottage for a little while? I can make some hot cocoa for everyone, if you like. I’m fairly sure May will have the ingredients. And Theo can build a fire.”
It was hard to believe we needed a fire after the heat of the day, but my nose and hands were starting to feel
numb from the chill, and I could see my breath when I exhaled.
“A fire sounds nice,” I said. “Actually, I think there’s some firewood stacked behind the cottage. At least that’s where Aunt May used to keep it. Andie and I will go get some.”
I wondered if I was being too obvious, but I wanted a chance to talk to Andie alone, and also to take Pettikin to the beech trees one more time. If there was a Gateway and he could get through it, maybe we could just spare him the rest of this ordeal.
“That sounds fine, dear,” Mrs. Widgit said, pulling a small flashlight from her pocket and flicking it on. “We’ll wait for you. Come Socrates! You can help me make cocoa!”
Socrates pricked up his ears and trotted eagerly after them, in case “cocoa” meant the same thing as “cookie.” When they neared the cottage Bob veered away, leading the alpacas toward the barn.
“Beech trees?” Andie and I asked at the same time, and laughed.
“We need to do it faster this time, and I’m going to need the brain to do homework at some point this weekend,” Andie said.
We jogged to the beech trees, with me holding on to Pettikin’s legs to keep him steady. As soon as we got there, Andie trained the flashlight beam in between them.
A break in the clouds allowed the nearly full moon to cast a pale glow on us. The trees were taller than any other ones in the woods -- their branches almost seemed to touch the moon. Their trunks were so thick in diameter that even if Andie, Pettikin, and I held hands we wouldn’t be able to encircle them.
“OK, Pettikin.” I lifted him off my shoulder, setting him down on the ground in front of the trees. “What do you think? Is it a Gateway? Can you get through?”
Pettikin approached the space between the two trees. Andie, coughed from the exertion of running in the cold, covering her mouth with the crook of her left arm, still keeping the flashlight focused on the trees.
Pettikin raised one hand and took a few tentative steps forward. Then he stopped. He dropped his hand to his side.
“I thought it might be a Gateway. It feels like a Gateway. But I can’t open it, and I can’t get through. I think it has been closed.” He shivered as he said these last words.
I guess I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. I had a terrible feeling that things were about to get much more complicated.
“So what do you think?” Andie asked. “Do we trust Aunt May’s friends?”
“I guess we have to,” I said. “I mean, we can’t tell my parents, that’s for sure.”
“And we’re not going to be able to do much on our own unless we get some more information. We at least need to find out what they know,” Andie said.
I knelt down by Pettikin, offering him my hand.
“Don’t worry. This was just our first attempt. Maybe this wasn’t even the Gateway we wanted -- that picture could have been from anywhere.”
“Maybe Mrs. Widgit and Professor Theopolous know something about the Gateways, since they know about gnomes,” Andie added. “They might even know where the right Gateway is, or how to get you home.”
Pettikin took my hand and climbed up to my shoulder.
“OK, let’s go get some firewood so they won’t wonder what we were doing out here,” I said, “and then let’s go get some cocoa.”
“What’s cocoa?” Pettikin asked as we walked toward the stone patio behind the cottage where several cords of firewood were stacked underneath a green tarp.
I had already started thinking of Pettikin as a small person and forgot how alien all of this must seem to him.
“You’ve never had cocoa? It’s warm and chocolaty and sweet. I think you’ll like it.”
I lifted the tarp off of the firewood while Andie stacked a couple pieces in her arms. In the distance I could see the lights on in the barn. Bob must have been down there with the alpacas, feeding them or changing their water.
We tromped into the living room. It seemed brighter and warmer than it had when we left. Someone had turned the steam radiators on, and dishes clattered in the kitchen. Mrs. Widgit alternately hummed and talked to Socrates. Professor Theopolous kneeled in front of the fireplace, futzing with the flue.
“I’ve got firewood for you, Professor T,” Andie said.
I watched his face for any type of reaction to her informality, but his voice was formal when he answered her.
“Thank you, Andie.” He took the wood and arranged it on the metal grate. “Now let’s see here...”
Mrs. Widgit came into the living room carrying a tray with five steaming mugs of cocoa and cookies from the funeral reception. Socrates trotted close to her legs, gazing up at the tray and making it difficult for her to walk.
“Welcome back, girls! The cocoa is ready. I hope you don’t mind that I turned the heat on.”
Pettikin grabbed a couple handfuls of my hair and tightened his grip as Mrs. Widgit approached. Fortunately, Socrates spotted Pettikin on my shoulders and sidled up next to me. Pettikin slid down my arm to the dog’s back – maybe there he wouldn’t get too stressed out by the humans in the room. Socrates wagged his tail so hard that his whole hind end wagged with it.
Andie I and hurried over to clear away some of the books on the coffee table so there would be room for Mrs. Widgit to set the tray down.
“I’m assuming Bob will stay out in the barn with the alpacas a bit longer. He’s quite shy you know,” she said. “If he decides to come in I can easily make another mug for him.”
FWOOM!
A wall of flame exploded out of the fireplace. I yelled and Andie ducked down, holding a book up in front of her face like a shield. Pettikin screamed and Socrates started barking and running in circles. Professor Theopolous was still standing next to the fireplace, and, for a moment, it seemed like the flames might engulf him, but they died down to a comfortable, crackling fire in the fireplace.
“What the heck was that?” Andie lowered her book-slash-shield. Socrates was still barking, and Pettikin only stopped screaming because he burrowed his face in the thick fur on Socrates’ neck.
Only Mrs. Widgit hadn’t flinched as she carefully set the tray of cocoa down on the coffee table.
“Little out of practice there, Theo?” Her voice was mild, but her lips were twitching.
Professor Theopolous cleared his throat and straightened his suit jacket.
“Fire’s all set.”
Andie and I frowned at each other. Our collective brain expressed that it was reaching its limit for bizarre, fantastical occurrences for one evening.
Socrates trotted over to the fireplace, still carrying Pettikin on his back, and sniffed around it. He scratched the floor with his front paws, turned around three times, and plopped down. He put his head down on his front paws and sighed. Pettikin slid off of him onto the floor in front of the fire. He leaned against the dog and stared into the flames with a distant expression.
Mrs. Widgit handed me a steaming mug of cocoa on a red paper napkin, then reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a straw. She jutted her chin at the gnome and winked at me.
“Here, Pettikin, try some cocoa.”
I stuck the straw in the cocoa and set the mug down next to him, pushing Socrates’ inquisitive nose away. I took a small sip to show him how to use the straw. The cocoa was warm, but not too hot.
Pettikin took a tentative sip, and then started slurping eagerly. I rejoined the others—Mrs. Widgit and the Professor on the sofa closest to the kitchen and Andie and I on the one across from them. Pettikin finished his cocoa and snuggled into Socrates’ fur, his eyelids drooping.
Mrs. Widgit tucked her legs up underneath her on the couch and blew across her mug.
“So, did you find what you were looking for outside?” she asked.
Andie and I glanced at each other.
“What, you mean the firewood?” Andie’s expression was innocent, but her voice sounded flat.
“Actually, I rather thought you might be searching for the Nexus Gateway. We thought pe
rhaps you were going to take Pettikin home.” She watched me carefully as she took another sip of cocoa.
It wasn’t at all what I was expecting her to say, and something about her tone caught me off guard. Was this an ambush? Had it been a mistake to trust them? I felt something inside me hardening, putting up shields, the way I did when Mom was prying too much.
“We didn’t know it had a name,” I said finally, in a cold voice. Ugh. I was about to take a sip of cocoa, and then wondered if maybe I shouldn’t.
“What do you know about it?” Mrs. Widgit’s tone was sharper.
“Nothing. What do you think we know about it? I mean, shouldn’t you be explaining this stuff to us, not the other way around?” I glanced over at Pettikin. He didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects from drinking his cocoa, so I took a tentative sip of mine. It tasted good, like Mrs. Widgit had made it by melting real chocolate in warm milk, not from one of those instant powders.
“If you don’t know anything about it, then how did you know it was the right Gateway to get Pettikin home?”
“Dude, we didn’t know, we were just guessing,” Andie said. “Pettikin told us about the Gateways, we flipped though some of Aunt May’s books, and we thought that might be the closest one to try.”
“Pettikin told you about the Gateways? You had never heard of them before?” Professor Theopolous asked.
“No. Look, what is this?” I asked. “I thought we were supposed to be getting information from you about what’s going on. All I know is my great aunt died and left me all of her things, and that poor little Pettikin is trapped here because apparently Aunt May was some kind of Gatekeeper, and he needed her to take him home. That’s it. That’s all we know.”
Mrs. Widgit and Professor Theopolous exchanged glances.
“You’re saying that until this afternoon you had no idea that your Aunt May was a Gatekeeper?” the Professor asked.
“No idea. If Pettikin weren’t here I probably wouldn’t believe it.”
“In all these years, May never talked to you about the Gateways? Are you sure?” Mrs. Widgit pressed.
“I’m sure. You think I wouldn’t remember something like that?”
“But she spent a lot of time with you when you were younger, yes?” the Professor asked. Man, they wouldn’t let this drop.
