by Abby Smith
We were all quiet for a moment. The cuckoo clock chirped once. It was almost nine pm. Somehow it felt much later.
“I’m starving,” I said finally. “All we’ve had to eat are cookies and hot chocolate.”
“Yeah, let’s see what’s left in the kitchen,” Andie said.
Mrs. Widgit had cleaned up the vegetables from the kitchen floor and tidied up the kitchen table for us. We rummaged through the refrigerator until we found a tuna casserole from the reception that didn’t seem half bad. Andie and I nuked huge bowls of that in the microwave while Pettikin ate a piece of apple pie. I hoped that this was his normal diet and that we weren’t killing him with sugar.
When we finished eating we returned to the living room and got the sleeping bags out. We zipped them together into a large square in front of the fireplace so there would be room for all of us, and I went upstairs to see if I could find some more sheets and bedding.
I flicked on the light in Aunt May’s bedroom. Unlike the mess of books downstairs, it was very spare- a platform bed with a cream colored comforter, a night stand, and a fuzzy white rug on the hardwood floor next to the bed. A row of built in shelves on the far wall housed extra blankets and linens. I grabbed a couple blankets and two more pillows and was about to leave when I saw a small flash of light from the night stand. A necklace- a black leather strap with some kind of stone or charm on the end- lay next to an old, wind-up alarm clock and a box of tissues. I perched myself on the edge of her bed, tucking the pillows and blankets under my left arm and picked it up.
The stone was smooth and not particularly shiny, so I wasn’t sure why I thought I had seen a flash of light. It was round, about the size of a quarter, maybe a quarter inch thick in the middle, tapering at the ends. It seemed to change color in the light, sometimes white like marble, sometimes gray like granite. I stuffed it into the pocket of my hoodie, hoisted the blankets and pillows and went back downstairs. Socrates took up the major portion of our bed, with Pettikin snuggled up against him. I dropped the blankets and pillows down next to them.
“Hey Andie, look at this.” I fished the necklace out of my pocket and handed it to her.
Andie held it up by the strap, then took the stone between her fingers and flipped it over in the light.
“That’s pretty cool. What is it do you think?” she asked.
“I don’t know. It changes color sometimes.”
“It’s attached to the strap with a clip,” she unhooked the charm and held it out to me. “You could wear it on your charm bracelet-a memento from Aunt May.”
My parents gave me the charm bracelet when I was twelve, and it was something I always wore. Most of the charms on it were gifts from Andie or my parents.
“Do you think it’s OK?” I took the stone from her.
“Sure. I mean she left everything to you, it seems like she would want you to have it.”
I clipped the charm onto my bracelet, then held my wrist up to the light for a moment to admire it.
“Cool. Thanks Aunt May,” I said.
Andie and I arranged the rest of the blankets and pillows on the bed and then took turns in the bathroom changing into T-shirts and pajama bottoms. I rummaged through the books that had been relocated from the coffee table to the floor earlier in the evening.
“So, what should we read for homework tonight?”
“What are our options?” Andie was walking in from the kitchen carrying a half-eaten pan of brownies, her hair in two sleek ponytails on either side of her head.
“Uh, let’s see. Here’s Introductory Gatekeeping again. Guess I better grab that one.” I put it into the ‘maybe’ pile. “Oh, and here’s your Book of Useful Phrases Andie.” I handed it to her as she walked by. “Try to use it only for good and not evil.”
Andie rolled her eyes.
“Ohhh! Here’s one we haven’t seen yet. It’s just called The Guardians.”
“I love hearing about the Guardians,” Pettikin said dreamily from in front of the fire.
“OK, let’s try that one then,” I said, picking it up and heading for the nest.
Andie and I each staked out a portion of the sleeping area.
“You read, I’ll eat,” Andie said, taking one of the remaining brownies and handing me one.
I propped my head up on a couple of pillows and bent my knees so I could balance the book on my stomach.
This book had a red leather cover with a faded picture on the front. I munched on my brownie for a second while I looked at it. A tall golden figure like a ghost, the kind you make from a sheet when you’re a kid, stood on an enormous oval disc that glowed like the moon. Its round head tapered to a thin neck, and its body flowed down and outwards, eventually blending with the surface it was standing on. It didn’t have legs, but it did have two small appendages like arms. Behind this figure were the now-familiar interwoven patterns of criss-crossing, multi-colored lines. Gold lettering at the top spelled out The Guardians in fancy script.
“So are Guardians like wizards or something, Pettikin?” I asked.
“More powerful than wizards,” Pettikin said.
“More powerful?”
“Yes, they’re the most powerful beings in the universe, but also the kindest.”
“That’s a relief,” Andie said around a mouthful of brownie.
“I don’t understand what they are, exactly,” I said, a little frustrated as I opened the book. “I mean, are they people or something else?”
“They can look like people in some worlds, and in others they look like the beings in those worlds. But that’s just an outer form they take. Even when they look like people, they aren’t really people.” Pettikin said, as I skimmed the first page.
“OK, let’s see if this helps,” I started to read:
“If you could remember back as far as remembering goes, before this life, before all the other lives you've had, before you existed and even beyond the outer boundaries of time and space and existence itself, before all of this ever was, the Ancients existed. Tasked with the creation, preservation and destruction of all that would ever be, from the light of the universe, the Ancients created all these worlds and the doorways through space and time that connect them. From the Ancients, the Guardians emerged, powerful beings charged with the protection and preservation of this creation.
“The Guardians are not bound by time and space. They work with the ancient light of the universe to preserve and protect your world, all other worlds, and the secret Gateways that connect them.”
“Yada, yada...” I skimmed forward a few sentences. “This isn’t helping much, is it?”
“It’s kind of general or something,” Andie said. “I mean, I understand all the words but I’m not sure what they’re trying to say. I still can’t picture what a Guardian is in my mind.”
I shut the book and tossed it to the side. “You know what, I give up. I can’t take any more for one evening.”
“Me either,” Andie said. She stood up and put the pan of brownies on the coffee table. “Ready for me to turn out the lights?”
“Yeah.”
She flicked off the lamps, then rejoined us by the fire. I fluffed my pillow and pulled a blanket up around my chin. Pettikin glowed white in the darkness, like a gnome nightlight.
“Goodnight Pettikin,” I said.
“Good night, Allie. Good night, Andie.”
I was pretty sure that both Pettikin and Andie fell asleep quickly, but I found myself wide awake. I stared at the low, orange flames in the fireplace as they licked at the remains of the firewood, the soft crackling occasionally punctuated by the muted crashes of the logs breaking down and readjusting on the metal grate. The events of the day played over in my mind. I felt like I was in a speeding car, and suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to jump out, or at least put the brakes on until I had a chance to think things through.
I tried to focus on the sound of the cuckoo clock, the fire, and Socrates’ snoring, hoping it might have a soporific effe
ct. Instead, I heard Professor Theopolous in my mind talking about the years of preparation required to meet a Guardian, about how I wasn’t ready, even as Mrs. Widgit insisted I would meet one tomorrow-to do what? Ask to be a Gatekeeper? The idea was absurd, none of this was possible.
I could almost feel the thoughts and doubts swirling around in my head, as if they had physical mass. I pressed a pillow over the top of my head hoping maybe the pressure would make them stop.
The cuckoo clock chimed midnight before I finally fell asleep.
Once asleep I had the weirdest dream. I was walking down a crowded cobblestone street in a foreign city I didn’t recognize. Pettikin was riding on my shoulder. The streets were lined with stalls where shopkeepers were selling fruits and vegetables, flowers, spices, and yards of silk and cloth.
Pettikin let out a small cry, slid down my arm to the ground, and took off running. I started running after him.
“Pettikin, not so fast! I can’t keep up!”
Dozens of people were walking toward me, and I tried to dodge them, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream. Soon he disappeared, and I had no idea where he was. I stopped running, out of breath. I scanned the crowded streets, searching for any sign of him. Tears of anxiety formed in my eyes, and I blinked them back.
Aunt May appeared from out of nowhere beside me. She looked exactly as she had the last time I saw her—tall and thin, with her bright blue eyes and golden-gray hair cut in a sleek bob. She was wearing blue slacks and a crisp, white shirt. She motioned for me to walk with her. I walked behind her, trying to keep up with her brisk pace. She walked for several blocks, weaving through the crowd, occasionally glancing back to make sure I was still there. Finally, she stopped a few feet away from a vendor’s stall and pointed inside.
It must have been a type of laundromat. People were steaming and pressing garments in the back, and customers were picking up bundles of clothes in front. I put my hand up to my eyes and squinted.
That’s when I saw him. He was young, maybe seventeen, and really tall. He had platinum blond hair cut into shaggy layers that he sometimes shook or brushed away from his face as he worked. In between washing and pressing shirts, he delivered packages of freshly laundered clothes to the people stopping by the stall, greeting everyone with a huge smile.
He must have felt me staring at him, because he looked directly at me with eyes so green they could have been photoshopped. His face brightened, and with one graceful motion he leaped over the counter and jogged over to us. He stopped in front of me and grinned. I immediately grinned back, like a dork.
“You see, May?” He turned to my great aunt. “I told you I could make her smile.”
Aunt May beamed at both of us, and that’s the last thing I remembered until morning.
7
I awoke to the sound of a slow and steady rain washing over the cottage. The fire had burned out in the fireplace, and it was chilly in the room. I sat up and pulled my blanket around me. Andie was lying sprawled across the sleeping bags on her stomach, and Pettikin was still curled up against Socrates.
So Pettikin hadn’t been a dream. I stared at him for a moment, then got up quietly, wearing my blanket like a cape. I padded to the nearest radiator and cranked the knob higher. It came to life with a soft hiss. I went over to the window and looked outside.
The sky was a solid swath of gray, and I wondered if it was supposed to rain all day. The paddock was turning into a sea of mud. One of the alpacas peered gloomily out from the barn.
Inside it looked like we’d had a wild party here last night. The coffee table was piled with mugs, some with cocoa still in them, half-eaten cookies, and the pan of brownies. Books were scattered across the floor, and our sleeping nest was a tangle of sheets and pillows. The fireplace and surrounding hearth were smudged with soot, a byproduct of the Professor’s overly exuberant fire.
I wrapped my blanket tighter around me and wandered into the kitchen, wondering if there was anything to eat for breakfast. There were eggs and milk in the refrigerator, but not much else. Normally Andie and I would have walked back to my house to eat, but I wasn’t sure what we should do about Pettikin.
The cuckoo clock chimed from the living room. It was only 8:00 am.
A sudden knock on the door made me freeze. Socrates jumped up and started barking, which caused Pettikin to wake up and start screaming.
“No, no, Pettikin, it’s OK!” I rushed into the living room and scooped him up under my blanket. Andie sat up, her ponytails a disheveled mess, eyes heavy with sleep.
“Andie, can you go see who it is at the door?”
She scrambled to her feet as I pressed myself against the wall next to the fireplace so I was hidden from view. Pettikin stopped screaming, but I could feel his heart beating rapidly next to me.
I heard Andie trip over Socrates, and swear under her breath as she pulled the door open.
“Oh, hi Mr. Thomas.”
It was just Dad. With all the strange events of the past evening, and people appearing and disappearing out of nowhere, I had pretty much forgotten about my parents.
Socrates was whining, and I heard him push his way outside.
Dad’s voice was hushed. “Did I wake you up?”
“Oh, um, yeah—sorry. We went to sleep pretty late last night.”
“Is Allie still asleep?”
“Yeah. Uh—did you want me to wake her?”
“No, no,” Dad kept his voice quiet. “I don’t want to disturb you. I came down to feed the alpacas, and Pat asked me to deliver some food for you girls.” It sounded like he transferred a grocery bag to Andie. “This way you can sleep as late as you want and not worry about missing breakfast.”
“Oh, that’s super. Thanks!”
“You girls have any plans for the day?”
“Uh,” I could almost hear gears whirling and clacking inside Andie’s head. “We were thinking of going for a hike in the woods later. I mean, if it stops raining,” she added as if she had just noticed the rain outside. “Or maybe we’ll just stay here and watch movies.”
I put one hand to my forehead.
Dad laughed. “OK, well, Allie’s mom and I are going into town to take care of a few things from May’s estate. We might be gone for most of the morning, but there’s plenty of food up at the house whenever you girls feel like coming back to civilization. They’re saying the rain should end later this morning, even though it doesn’t seem like it right now.”
“OK.”
“Oh! And your parents called, and I let them know that it’s fine with us if you wanted to stay for dinner or even spend the night again tonight.”
“That sounds great. Thank you so much, Mr. Thomas.”
“Sure thing. OK, bye now. You girls have fun.”
“We will. Bye!”
Andie shut the door and brought the grocery bag into the living room. I let Pettikin out from under the blanket and onto the floor.
“So it sounds like we at least have a day to work on getting Pettikin back home,” I said.
“Yeah. Let’s go see what your mom packed us for breakfast.”
We traipsed into the kitchen and rummaged through the bag which was stuffed with a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, toaster waffles, butter, jam, syrup, a carton of orange juice, two grapefruits and a bunch of bananas.
“Jeez there’s a ton of food here. What do you want Andie?”
“Waffles!” Andie answered immediately.
“Waffles OK with you Pettikin?” He seemed unsure so I added, “They’re sweet.”
“OK, waffles then,” he said, as he shinnied up the leg of a stool and climbed onto the kitchen counter.
I toasted the waffles while Andie found some plates and silverware. Andie poured orange juice for us, and I cut a grapefruit in half and sweetened it with some sugar I found in Aunt May’s pantry. Andie and I sat on stools at the counter to eat, and Pettikin sat on the counter itself with his legs stuck out in a V. Pettikin ate his waffle by holding it
in his hands and dipping it in syrup before every bite.
“I wonder what we’re supposed to do now,” Andie said as we ate. “I mean, we didn’t really make concrete plans with Mrs. Widgit and the Professor. Are they coming here today?”
“I’m not sure. I’m still having a hard time believing last night really happened.”
After we ate, we did the dishes. I washed, Pettikin held the sprayer and rinsed the dishes off, and Andie dried them and put them away. Then Andie and I alternated turns in the shower and getting dressed.
I took a long hot shower to get some of the chill I was still feeling out of my bones. I pulled on my jeans and a clean T-shirt and sweatshirt, and wiped a circle in the steam on the bathroom mirror. My hair was wavy when it was wet, and it had gotten darker as I got older. If we were being charitable we might call it honey blonde, which is nicer than saying dishwater blonde or, “What color is your hair?” My eyes were gray-blue, and my skin was pale with a few freckles, like Mom’s. I didn’t think I was ugly, but I was the kind of pretty where grownups said how beautiful I was and kids my own age didn’t seem to notice. Sometimes I wished I could have Andie’s flawless skin and shiny black hair. It would take me forever to dry my hair in this humidity. I sighed.
Back in the living room, Pettikin, with a dishcloth tied around his waist like a little apron, was using another dishcloth to dust Aunt May’s books as he stacked them into neat piles on the coffee table. Andie was rolling up the sleeping bags.
“’Bout time you got here,” she said. “We’re finishing all the work.”
“My plan worked out perfectly,” I joked, as I started folding the blankets.
I was interrupted by another knock at the door. Pettikin froze in a pre-scream stance, dust cloth in the air.
“No, don’t scream, don’t scream,” I said, tossing the blanket I was folding aside and heading for the door. I paused with my hand on the handle, feeling suddenly nervous. “Who’s there?”
“It’s us, Allie! Mrs. Widgit and Professor Theopolous!”
I relaxed slightly and pulled the door open.
