by Abby Smith
“Yeah, but we just made cookies, and she told me stories about dragons and gnomes and…”
“And?” Mrs. Widgit prompted.
“And…nothing. Only I just now realized that maybe the stories she was telling me weren’t really stories. Maybe they were real.”
“Do you remember anything about them?” Professor Theopolous prodded.
“No, honestly-they were just stories to me. I didn’t know there was going to be a quiz.”
“You’re sure she didn’t mention the Gateways in the stories…” Mrs. Widgit again.
“No!” I was exasperated now. “I would have remembered that because it would have been something I had never heard of. I would have asked her about it. I don’t know anything about the Gateways. I didn’t know Aunt May was a Gatekeeper. I just know we need to find a Gateway to get Pettikin home.”
“Not just a Gateway, but a Gatekeeper,” Professor Theopolous corrected.
“And not just Pettikin,” Mrs. Widgit added.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andie asked.
“Let’s just say that Aunt May left more than one interdimensional traveler stranded this week.” Mrs. Widgit said, a smile twitching on her lips.
Andie groaned. “Oh man.”
“I don’t believe this,” I said, setting my unfinished mug of cocoa down on the coffee table. “This is a nightmare.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad for Theo, Bob and I,” Mrs. Widgit said. “We do spend a lot of time here and are accustomed to Earth. We could stay if we had to, although we prefer not to. But the gnome does present a more pressing problem. I think I have a better sense of the situation now, Allie. We apologize. We were working under a slight… misapprehension here.”
“What misapprehension is that?”
Mrs. Widgit rearranged herself on the couch. “Well, as you are now aware, your Aunt May was a Gatekeeper. Gatekeepers are special people who have been chosen by the Guardians to protect the Secret Gateways on the Forbidden Worlds, and to open them for other travelers who work with the Guardians of the Universe.”
“Like you?” I asked.
“Yes, like us.”
“But you’re not a Gatekeeper?” Andie asked. “You can’t open the Gateways here either?”
“No, I’m not a Gatekeeper, I’m a Facilitator,” Mrs. Widgit said.
“What’s a Facilitator?” I asked.
“A Facilitator is someone who brings exactly the right people together at precisely the right moment in time in order to accomplish a specific task, sometimes without even being aware of it.” Mrs. Widgit said. “Facilitators help make things happen, get things done.”
“So why don’t you bring us a Gatekeeper?” I suggested sarcastically.
“It’s not that simple, Allie,” Professor Theopolous’ tone conveyed that he was Very Disappointed in my attitude, as only a teacher’s could. My cheeks flushed and I scowled down at my hands.
“How is it not that simple?” Andie asked. “If we had another Gatekeeper here, then they could take Pettikin home through that Nexus Gateway thing. Problem solved.”
Mrs. Widgit struggled to pull herself forward from the sofa she had nestled into. She set her mug down on the coffee table and perched on the edge of the couch.
“I notice that neither of you have asked yet, what exactly it is that Professor Theopolous teaches,” she said, leaning toward us, smiling.
The Professor didn’t say anything.
“Well, what do you teach?” I asked
Professor Theopolous’ expression was stony behind his monocle.
“I teach Gatekeeping. I am a Gatekeeper.”
5
Andie and I gaped at him, and Pettikin’s head appeared from behind Socrates, his eyes no longer sleepy.
“Are you kidding?” Andie asked.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go back to the Gateway and—” I said.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” I sounded whiny.
“Because Gatekeepers do not have unlimited power to enter all of the Secret Gateways on all of the Forbidden Worlds. They are chosen by the Guardians to guard and protect the Secret Gateways only on their own world.” I had a feeling we were hearing part of a Gatekeeping 101 lecture.
“You might say the Guardians give the Gatekeepers the keys they need to unlock and enter the Secret Gateways on their world. Without those keys a Gatekeeper can’t see or open the Secret Gateways on a Forbidden world any more than any other person can.”
Those Guardians, again. I should have done more research up front.
Professor Theopolous pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, removed his monocle and rubbed the lens between his thumb and forefinger.
“So, even though I am a Gatekeeper, and even though I train other Gatekeepers, I don’t have the right keys to open the Gateways here.”
I let out a long, slow sigh and slumped into the couch.
“Also-” Professor Theopolous hesitated for a moment. “I’m rather a retired Gatekeeper. At the moment I only teach.”
“Those who can, do. Those who can’t…” Andie muttered.
“So, what are we going to do?” I asked. “I mean, do we have any other options? Is there something else we could try?”
I glanced over toward the fireplace. Pettikin leaned against Socrates, but his eyes were open now, and he appeared to be listening to the conversation.
“I imagine,” Mrs. Widgit said cheerfully and, I thought, a little smugly, “that is what we are all here to find out.”
Professor Theopolous rolled his eyes. “Facilitators can be so insufferable.”
Andie pressed her lips together in a thin line. I was starting to wonder if we might have been better off without the grownups.
“Well, has something like this ever happened before?” I asked. “I mean, what usually happens when a Gatekeeper dies? Do the Guardians find another Gatekeeper, or are the Gateways just closed forever?”
“Ah, now, that is an excellent question,” the Professor said. “Generally a Gatekeeper trains an apprentice, for exactly this reason. Take my case for example. I was the Gatekeeper on a world called Feron, but I trained an apprentice Gatekeeper for twenty years. When I left Feron to become a teacher, my Guardian empowered my apprentice to be able to see and access the Secret Gateways there. Because of his many years of training and dedication, he easily took over the job from me, and one day his apprentice will take over from him.”
Professor Theopolous paused. “But your second statement is also correct. If a Gatekeeper were to die, and left no apprentice to take over, the Guardians could close the Gateways on that world for good.”
“What does that mean?” Andie asked.
Mrs. Widgit sounded grim. “It means there’s a danger the world could become a Shadow World-a world cut off completely from the higher worlds of light.”
“So did Aunt May have an apprentice then?” I asked. “Someone she was training to be the next Gatekeeper?”
Mrs. Widgit and Professor Theopolous stared at me. Andie turned her head toward me. From the fireplace, Pettikin’s face appeared above the bulk of Socrates’ body.
“Why are you all looking at me?”
No one said anything.
“Oh come on. You can’t be serious. No. There’s no way.”
“I mean, it kinda makes sense, Al,” Andie said. “She left you all her stuff and you said that she dedicated that poem to you at the funeral-”
“Yeah, and with all that at no point did she say, ‘Yo, Allie, if I die you’re the next Gatekeeper.’ I mean come on!”
“Well, it’s definitely the impression we were left with dear,” Mrs. Widgit said. “That’s why we were so confused when it became clear that you knew nothing about the Gateways or Gatekeeping.”
I wondered how they could continue to be unmoved by my incredulousness. “You’re serious? You actually think I was supposed to be Aunt May’s apprentice Gatekeeper?”
“The only
thing we can’t figure out,” Mrs. Widgit said, “Is why she didn’t complete your training after she started.”
“OK,” I said, trying to be reasonable, “I know why you might hope there was training, but there wasn’t, I swear. I just found out about all this stuff, like, two hours ago! I don’t even know what it means!”
“Then it’s a good thing that we have not just an apprentice Gatekeeper here but also a Professor of Gatekeeping,” Mrs. Widgit sounded triumphant.
Professor Theopolous scowled.
“I’m not an apprentice Gatekeeper!” I was totally exasperated. “I’m, like, marginally related to a Gatekeeper, I have no other skills!”
“Well, everyone has to start from somewhere,” Mrs. Widgit said.
“Well, if we’re just going to pick someone randomly, why not pick her,” I pointed at Andie, “or better yet, him! The actual Gatekeeper,” I waved my hand at Professor Theopolous.
Professor Theopolous thumped the palm of his hand on the arm of the sofa.
“Even if I wanted to consider this preposterous idea, it is highly doubtful that I could train Allie to be a Gatekeeper at this point.”
“Why not?” Andie asked. “She’s the smartest kid in our class. She can learn anything.”
“Andie—what the—you’re not helping,” I said.
“Book smarts isn’t all it takes to become a Gatekeeper,” Professor Theopolous said.
“Theo, you know very well that she’s got a lot more than just book smarts going for her,” Mrs. Widgit chided.
“Yeah,” Andie agreed, “so why can’t you train her?”
Here it comes, I thought. He’s going to say I’m too young.
“She’s too old.”
What?
Mrs. Widgit reached up with her index finger and rubbed her forehead just above her eyebrows. “I hardly think we have time to find and train a Gatekeeper from a suitably young age, Theo.”
“You know as well as I do that it takes years of discipline and practice to develop the skill and dedication required to be a Gatekeeper. Even if it were possible to train someone so quickly, it would be particularly difficult to do here on Earth.”
“Here on Earth, nothing works the way it’s supposed to any more. I think this is a situation screaming for us to act in accordance with the times and not get hung up on a set of moldy traditions.”
“The traditions are there for a reason.”
“The traditions are outdated and no longer practical.”
I was starting to feel a little sick to my stomach.
“I know it may not have been what you consider formal training, Theo, but May did spend a fair amount of time with Allie when she was younger. Perhaps she was laying the groundwork for future training,” Mrs. Widgit said.
“That may be, Viola, but a few afternoons spent together is not going to substitute for the years of training she should have had by now.”
“I could help her.” The voice was small and came from the fireplace.
We all turned toward Pettikin. He cringed and ducked behind Socrates.
“Thank you, Pettikin, but gnomes are not Gatekeepers. I’m not sure how you could help.” Professor Theopolous’ tone was at least softer.
“We’re not Gatekeepers, but we know a lot about interdimensional travel. If the Guardian agrees to empower her, I can go with her on her initial tests and help her.”
“Tests?” I asked.
Everyone ignored me. The Professor peered at Pettikin with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“It’s never been done before,” he said finally. “It would be highly unconventional.”
“Oh Theo!” Mrs. Widgit jumped up and waved her arms in exasperation. “You and your traditions! Blaze a trail for once for God’s sake!”
The Professor shifted his weight uncomfortably on the couch. “It is an intriguing idea,” he admitted begrudgingly. “Gnomes do have a natural understanding of interdimensional travel, and a certain magic of their own. It might be enough to help her through the initial trial.”
“Trial?” my voice sounded weak.
“If,” Professor Theopolous ignored me and glared at Mrs. Widgit, “we can get the Guardian to consider it, and you know as well as I do that it is not likely.”
“Perhaps we can convince him that May meant for Allie to be her replacement, and simply hadn’t finished her training yet. We won’t know unless we ask,” Mrs. Widgit said.
“Without May here, we don’t even know if he will give us an audience,” Professor Theopolous said.
“Um, excuse me?” I said.
Mrs. Widgit appeared to have forgotten I was there. “Yes, dear?”
“Do I get any say in this at all?”
“Well of course you do dear. What did you want to say?”
“That I don’t understand why we’re talking about this like it’s the only option. I mean, why not ask the Guardian to just give the keys to the Secret Gateways to Professor Theopolous? He’s already a Gatekeeper. He can take Pettikin home.”
“The Guardian won’t give the keys to someone who can’t stay here and guard the Gateways once they’re open again,” Professor Theopolous said, “and I still have obligations on Feron and elsewhere. I can’t take on this responsibility.”
“But why me?” I asked. “I mean, I don’t understand any of this. I don’t even know if I can do it.”
“You’re the closest thing we have to an apprentice here, Allie. You’re our best hope,” Mrs. Widgit answered. “Are you saying you’re not willing to try?”
“I, no, but, I mean…”
Pettikin stood back up and leaned toward me, his hands pressing into Socrates’ fur.
“Please, Allie,” he said. “Please say you’ll try. We can ask the Guardian together. I’ll help you.”
I froze. What was I going to do, say no to that?
“Oh, OK, fine. I’ll try,” I said. It felt like the most anti-climactic, unheroic statement ever in the history of time.
“Don’t worry. It’s highly unlikely the Guardian will even see us, let alone agree to this idea.” Professor Theopolous said, nodding his head.
“Great.” I said, with no emotion in my voice.
“So it’s settled then! Good. Well, on that note,” Mrs. Widgit stood up, “I think it is time for us to leave for the evening. I believe you girls were trying to have a slumber party when you were so rudely interrupted.”
“Wait a minute, that’s it? You’re just leaving?” I struggled to my feet.
“Well there’s not much more we can do tonight. And you’ll need some sleep if we’re going to take you to the Guardian tomorrow.”
“What? What do you mean you’re going to take me to the Guardian tomorrow? I’m not ready to meet any Guardian—I don’t even know what a Guardian is,” I said as I followed her toward the door.
“Oh, It’s OK, dear. We’ll explain it to you tomorrow before we go.”
“Although you might want to browse through some of these books to see if any of them talk about Guardians and Gatekeeping,” the Professor added.
Homework on a Friday night. He really was a professor.
“We’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Widgit paused with her hand on the door. “Oh, and it’s probably best to keep the doors locked and not let anyone else in this evening. We don’t want another Mr. Cutter stopping by.”
“Now that the alpacas are here they should be OK,” Professor Theopolous said incomprehensibly.
“But—” I said.
“Tomorrow, Allie. We will answer all your questions tomorrow!”
With that, Mrs. Widgit and Professor Theopolous stepped through the door and disappeared into the darkness.
6
I stood staring after them for a moment, then slowly shut the door and returned to the living room. Andie was lying across the sofa with her hands over her face. I slumped down onto the couch across from her. Pettikin emerged from behind Socrates and climbed up the sofa to perch on the ar
mrest next to me.
“Andie, what have I done?”
Andie moaned, rubbed her face a few times and then sat up, her hair staticky.
“You think you’ve got it bad. I may have killed a man.”
“Oh hey, yeah!” I said. “I almost forgot about that. Did they say anything to you about that? About Mr. Cutter disappearing?”
Andie shook her head. “No, but I told them that I used the phrase from that book. You came back with Pettikin before they had a chance to say anything.”
“I’m sure you didn’t kill him.” I tried to sound reassuring. “I mean, if you’d killed him there would be a body or something, wouldn’t there?”
“It looked like he went through a Gateway,” Pettikin said.
We both turned to him.
“Seriously?” I asked. “But I thought the Gateways here are all closed. I mean, isn’t that why we’re in this mess?”
Pettikin slid off the armrest to sit beside me on the couch.
“The interdimensional Gateways-the secret ones-are closed. But there are other types of Gateways,” he said.
“Like what?” Andie asked.
“Like, Gateways that connect two points on the same world-next to a river, or mountain for example. You can take the Gateway on one side of the river to get across to the other side, or use a Gateway to get to the top of a mountain or to the other side if you don’t want to climb it.”
“Are you serious? All this money to build roads and bridges and lifts and we could just be using Gateways?” I asked.
“Maybe you’ve gotten so used to not having Gateways that you’ve just forgotten about them. Or maybe you don’t know how to use them anymore.”
“What other kinds of Gateways are there?” Andie asked.
“Guardian Gateways,” Pettikin said. “Those are the most special. They’re different from the other Gateways, because instead of leading to another place they lead directly to a Guardian, in his or her realm. The Guardian Gateways are the hardest to find on any world, and they’re almost always closed. You can only get in if the Guardian lets you in.”
