by Abby Smith
Mrs. Widgit swirled into the room wearing a long, yellow rain poncho with a matching hat and boots. She had a large tote bag slung across her shoulder. She took the hat off with a flourish and gave it a shake, spraying droplets of water around the entrance hallway. Professor Theopolous was wearing the same outfit he had the night before, except he was also carrying a large, black umbrella, which he was using more as a walking stick than for protection from the rain.
“Good morning, girls,” Mrs. Widgit said brightly. “Good morning Pettikin!”
“Good morning, Mrs. Widgit,” Andie and I chorused like a couple of obedient schoolchildren. Pettikin retreated to the far end of the living room and hid behind the sofas.
“I hope you don’t mind us stopping by so early, but we have a lot to accomplish today, and there is no time to waste!” Mrs. Widgit stamped and wiped her feet on the entryway rug. “We’ve been up all night making preparations.”
“All night? Didn’t you sleep at all?” I asked.
“Oh, heavens no, Allie, there was so much to do, after everything you girls told us. What with this Mr. Cutter of yours appearing and disappearing, we became quite concerned that there may be sslorcs at work here, and heaven knows that’s the last thing we need. But don’t you worry, we had a long talk with the alpacas, and they agreed that it would be best to put some additional protective charms around you and the cottage until we can get this all sorted out. Bob’s out there with them now.”
Mrs. Widgit continued stomping and shaking water droplets from her hat until she saw Andie and I staring at her. She stopped. “What?”
“Oh, we just had a little chat with the alpacas,” Andie said, clasping her hands under her chin, her voice a comically overdone Mrs. Widgit lilt. “They’ve agreed to protect you from the slorks.”
“Not slorks, dear, sslorcs.”
Andie looked at me and then at Mrs. Widget. “Slorks.”
“No, no, dear the s is long and k is soft: ssloooorrrcs.”
“Slorks.” Andie scowled and folded her arms across her chest.
“No, I’m afraid you’re not quite getting it, it’s…”
“Viola!” Professor Theopolous’ arms puffed out from his sides as if from the force of his exasperation. “Do we really have time?”
“Yes, of course, quite right, Theo. Girls, are you ready to go?” Mrs. Widgit stared pointedly at our sock-clad feet.
“Go where? What in the world are you talking about?” I asked. “What do you mean you were talking to the alpacas? And what’s a… s… sslorc,” I tried to copy her phonics as best I could.
“Very good Allie! You are a quick learner!”
I rolled my eyes.
Professor Theopolous put a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Do we have time to explain just a few things to them, do you think?” Mrs. Widgit asked. As if on cue, her tote bag began humming and vibrating.
“Oh, dear.” She sat her hat down on the small bench in the entryway, unslung her tote bag, and began rummaging through it. After a few seconds she pulled out a purple, clam-shaped item about the size of her palm. She flicked it open.
A glowing white sphere with several smaller spheres spinning around it, like electrons orbiting the nucleus of an atom, appeared above the shell. The orbs began spinning faster, shooting off rainbow colored sparks and small puffs of steam while the whole apparatus hummed and buzzed.
“Ah! I am afraid the Professor is right, we are out of time.” She snapped the clam shell shut, and shoved it in the tote bag. “Hurry girls, there is no time to lose. Put your shoes on and get Pettikin. We’ll explain on our way to the Gateway.”
“The Nexus Gateway?” I asked as Andie and I searched for our shoes. Pettikin climbed silently onto my shoulder when I bent down to tie mine. It was starting to feel like second nature to have him sitting there.
“No, the Guardian Gateway. It’s our only hope at this point, even if it’s a remote hope.”
I straightened up. “Pettikin told us about Guardian Gateways last night,” I said. “Is there one around here?”
“There’s one nearby, but it remains to be seen if we will be able to gain entrance. The particular Guardian we must deal with for this endeavor can be somewhat … problematic,” Mrs. Widgit sounded distracted as she stuffed her rain hat into the pocket of her poncho.
Professor Theopolous waited for us by the already opened the door. Andie and I exchanged worried glances as we followed him and Mrs. Widgit outside.
The rain had stopped, but everything was still soaked. Water dripped down from the trees and the eaves of the cottage. The sky had lightened to a smoky white color, the sun a hazy, glowing orb low on the eastern horizon. It was chilly, but my sweatshirt provided adequate warmth, even without a proper jacket.
Mrs. Widgit and the Professor set off down the path toward the woods, Andie and I following behind. I eyed Mrs. Widgit’s yellow, rubber rain boots enviously as my sneakers quickly soaked through.
“So, where exactly are we going?” I asked, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.
“The Gateway that leads to the Guardian that Aunt May worked with is a quarter mile or so behind the cottage in the woods. Viola and I know where it is, although neither of us has ever been granted access to it,” Professor Theopolous said.
“And once we get to the Gateway, then what?” Andie asked.
“Our plan is for Theo and I to attempt to enter the Gateway. If we can persuade the Guardian to grant us access, we will visit him in his realm and explain the situation. If he agrees, we will bring him back to meet you, Allie.”
“Why even bring us along then?” I asked. “Why not see if you can talk to him first, and then, if he agrees, bring him to the cottage?”
Mrs. Widgit drew her breath in. What emotion was that on her face? Horror?
“Allie,” Professor Theopolous’ voice sounded urgent. “I realize that this is all being done on incredibly short notice, and that you have not even been remotely properly trained, but let me try to impress upon you, as thoroughly as I possibly can, that the Guardians are not to be trifled with. Ever. In any way. No matter how small. They are the greatest, wisest and most powerful beings in the universe. You do not waste their time, or approach them lightly. This is doubly important in this case, because although Viola and I have been fortunate enough to encounter this Guardian before, he is not our usual Guardian, and he is a little… different from some of the others. Should he agree to even give us an audience in this matter, let alone come back to meet you, then it is imperative that you be waiting by his Gateway so as not to waste his time.”
If his intention was to scare the crap out of me, he succeeded. “OK, consider the point impressed upon me,” I said. Geez.
We turned down the main path into the woods. The leaves had just started to change to fall colors, but the rain made everything appear dull and brown.
“How is he different from the other Guardians?” Andie asked.
Professor Theopolous and Mrs. Widgit exchanged glances but didn’t immediately answer.
“That is something you’ll just have to see for yourselves. There’s no way to explain.” Mrs. Widgit answered finally.
We hiked in silence for about five minutes, and then the Professor veered off the main path to a smaller deer trail that had been worn through the ferns and underbrush. Andie and I stopped as the adults continued down the short, steep slope to the small pond that lay just a few feet below.
“Walden? The Guardian Gateway is at Walden?” I asked.
Professor Theopolous and Mrs. Widgit were waiting for us at the bottom of the hill. “You know this place?”
We half-jogged, half-skidded down the slope to meet them.
“Yeah, up until now we thought this was our oh-so-secret hiding place,” I said.
Professor Theopolous peered at me from behind his monocle.
“Interesting,” he said.
The pond lay in front of us, a long oval of smooth,
gray water reflecting the sky above. It was about seventy feet long and maybe thirty feet across. A large, gray boulder lay on the right hand bank in front of us. On the far side of the bank was the small campsite Andie and I had created, useful for when we came down here to burn things.
Andie and I glanced at each other, and in unspoken agreement walked past the two adults. We each dipped the soles of our right feet and our right hands in the water, and then used the water to make one footprint and one handprint each on the boulder. The ritual was held over from our childhood, when we first started coming here, but we observed it religiously. It seemed wrong to ignore it now, even with everything that was going on. Professor and Mrs. Widgit watched us without saying anything. Pettikin, however, slid down my arm and dropped to the ground. He walked to the edge of the pond and stuck his right sole and right palm in the water and then placed a footprint and palm print on the boulder exactly as we had, albeit somewhat lower down on the rock.
“OK, Pettikin, you’re in! Welcome to Walden,” I said.
Pettikin surveyed the surroundings carefully. “This is a nice place. I like it here.” He began wandering along the bank toward our campsite.
“So, what are we supposed to do now?” I asked as we all followed behind him.
“You girls can amuse yourselves while we make preparations,” Professor Theopolous answered. He and Mrs. Widgit stopped a few feet past the boulder, and then Mrs. Widgit set her tote bag down and began rummaging through it again. She pulled out a wrinkled and yellowed square of paper which had been folder over on itself several times, like a map. The professor held one corner while she unfolded it, revealing a diagram like a star chart, with more of those criss-crossing patterns of lines I was getting used to seeing. They got into a heated conversation, Professor Theopolous pointing at the map and Mrs. Widgit gesturing toward the pond.
Andie and I shrugged at each other, and followed after Pettikin.
When Pettikin reached our campsite, he gazed around for a few minutes, then walked over to a large oak tree set a few feet back from the water’s edge. Humming softly, he began to clear away leaves from a small hollow in the old, gnarled root structure. Then he dragged an old pine bough out of the woods and used it to sweep away as much debris as possible.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the pond, Mrs. Widgit was standing on the boulder with her right foot pressed against her left calf and her hands clasped in front of her, just like she had at the funeral, only this time she didn’t move for several minutes. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she frowned slightly, as if she were concentrating on something. I nudged Andie and gestured toward her.
“Well, this is obviously going to take a while,” Andie said and walked over to the large wooden storage bin that my father had built for us to keep our camping supplies in. We pulled out two collapsible chairs and set them up at the edge of the pond to watch. Pettikin hummed and spread pine needles across the floor of his root hollow.
Eventually, Mrs. Widgit opened her eyes and hopped down from the boulder. Professor Theopolous took over. He stood next to the boulder, put his hands on his hips and did a series of deep knee bends. Then he took a deep breath and folded his hands in front of him so his left palm rested on top of his right and his thumbs were touching. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and then began chanting in a way that reminded me of the dying frog horns from the funeral.
Andie snorted and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. I edged my chair away from her, knowing that if we got started laughing, we would never be able to stop.
When the chanting failed to produce any discernible result, Mrs. Widgit tried again, this time perching in a full lotus position on top of the boulder, her upturned hands on her knees, thumbs and forefingers touching. She too, began chanting. Andie rested one cheek on her knee, a pained expression on her face.
The two of them continued to go at it, taking turns like this, for the better part of an hour. Pettikin was settled into his root hollow home and was now digging a small fire pit with the sharp edge of a stone he had found. I picked up a handful of rocks and tried skipping them across the pond, but I’d never really learned how to do it, so I was basically just throwing rocks into the water. Andie folded her hands behind her head and leaned back in her chair.
“I should have brought my notes from class down,” she said. “At least we could have been productive.”
The Professor and Mrs. Widgit stopped, and Mrs. Widgit sighed. “I’m afraid it seem that we’re not going to be successful, girls,” she said.
“What was your first clue?” Andie asked softly without turning her head, so only I could hear her.
“So, what do we do now?” I asked.
“We’ll need to come up with another plan,” Professor Theopolous said, his voice serious.
From its resting place near the water’s edge, Mrs. Widgit’s tote bag began to vibrate and hum.
“Oh, dear,” she rushed over and fished out her purple clamshell device. It almost leapt out of her hand, it was vibrating so hard, steam escaping from the seam where the two halves met. When she opened it, the orbs were turning and orbiting each other so fast they almost formed a solid cloud. “We really don’t have time Theo. We need to think of something now, or we’ll miss the opportunity altogether.”
“If the Guardian doesn’t let us enter his Gateway there is nothing we can do to make him,” the Professor answered pragmatically.
“No, there isn’t,” Mrs. Widgit said slowly. She paused. “Allie, maybe you should try.”
“Try what?”
“See if you can enter the Guardian Gateway.”
“What do you mean? I already know I can’t. I wouldn’t even know what to do.” I thought about all the posing and chanting I just witnessed.
“Well, the beauty of a Guardian Gateway is that there isn’t much you have to do except convince the Guardian to let you through. He’ll do all the work for you.”
Pettikin was walking toward his root hollow home with an armful of twigs. He dumped them into his fire pit.
“I’ve been through Guardian Gateways before, the ones on Arcorn,” he said, “I’ll go with you Allie. We can ask the Guardian together.”
“Well, uh,” I found it almost impossible to say no to Pettikin, but I really had no idea what to do.
Pettikin turned and walked past me toward the boulder. Andie shrugged at me.
I followed after Pettikin, who, once again, despite his tiny size and what should have been correspondingly tiny stride, was making it difficult for me to keep up.
Pettikin examined the boulder for a minute, then scaled it like a miniature rock climber. I climbed up after him. The top of the boulder was flat, and it was easy enough for the two of us to sit side by side, me with my legs crossed Indian style, and Pettikin with his legs stuck out in front of him in what I was starting to think of as his signature tripod stance.
Mrs. Widgit bustled over. “Now Allie, if the Guardian lets you through, explain the situation as quickly and clearly as possible. You can tell him that Theo and I are waiting here and that we can explain everything to him.”
“And for heaven’s sake, remember to be polite,” Professor Theopolous’ voice sounded strained. “Don’t waste his time and try to remember that he is one of the most ancient, powerful beings in the universe, and could turn you into a smoking pile of rubble if he should so choose.”
“Theo…” Mrs. Widgit turned to him, hands on hips, annoyed.
My palms started to sweat and my throat felt dry. “You’re sure you’ve done this before, Pettikin?”
“Oh sure, it’s easy,” he said cheerfully, his demeanor the exact opposite of the two fussing adults standing nearby.
“So, uh, what do we do?”
“Just close your eyes and try not to think too much, so the Guardian can take you through the Gateway.”
“Don’t think too much? How am I supposed to do that?” It reminded me of that stupid exercise my drama teacher had given us in school—whatever
you do, don’t think about a giant, killer rabbit with fangs—after which all you can think about is a giant, killer rabbit with fangs.
Pettikin didn’t answer. He sat motionless on the rock with his eyes closed, his shoulders slumped slightly forward.
I closed my eyes, and tried to stop my thoughts. Instead, I replayed Mrs. Widgit’s and the Professor’s instructions in my mind, thought about how nervous I was, how ridiculous this all seemed, and the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. Then I started wondering inanely about school, homework, and even the stupid homecoming dance that I had not been invited to. Pettikin was going to be stuck here forever at this rate.
I could hear my own breathing, an occasional splash of water from the pond, and the sound of the breeze through the trees in the woods. I sat as still as I could and waited for something to happen. I felt a warmth against my forehead and could see a bright light from behind my eyelids. The sun must have finally broken out from behind the clouds, I thought.
I was going to say something to Pettikin, but I couldn’t speak or move. That was strange. It didn’t feel bad, it just seemed that there was some disconnect between my wanting to say something and my physical body. But I felt kind of peaceful and warm, so it didn’t really matter.
The light and warmth gradually faded, and I felt like I was regaining my faculties. The sun must have moved back behind the clouds, I thought.
“I don’t think it’s working, Pettikin,” I said. My eyelids felt heavy, like I had been asleep for hours. I pried them open, and things came into focus, like normal.
Except it wasn’t normal. I was no longer sitting on top of the boulder on the edge of the pond in our woods, but instead on top of grass that was so lush and soft it almost felt like carpeting.
“What the…” I stood up but my legs felt weak and buckled out from under me. I landed hard on my tailbone. “Ow.”
I was in a field of blue and green mountain grasses and wildflowers, somewhere in the foothills of a distant range of snow-capped mountains. Hazy white clouds hovered near their peaks and cast shadows that drifted across their gray stone peaks like a celestial shadow lamp. I could hear a gentle breeze rustling through the meadow, a few birds singing, and water running nearby, but none of the background noise I was used to—no planes in the sky or cars going by on a road.
