“Yes, ma'am, I do agree.” He looked up from filing his fingernails. “Time for private schooling again, chappy.”
“No!”
Mother's look was sharp enough to cut glass. “Don't you dare.”
“I can't be alone again.”
“Nonsense, Master Borax. You'll be with me.”
His mother nodded. To her, time spent with a middle-aged British tutor sounded great. She didn't have friends anymore, so why should he?
“I am not doing this.”
“Yes, you are. School is not safe.” With a shudder, Mother crossed her thin arms.
He couldn't take watching that man file his fingernails another day. “You can't make me!”
“We can, and we will.” She rose from the table as if that were that. Time to bathe again.
“Now come along, Master Borax. We obviously have a great deal of work to do.”
They weren't listening to a word he said. Every argument went in one ear and flew out the other. His teeth clamped down cutting his lip. Instead of swaying his resolve, the iron taste only fed his anger. He remembered the Artanian words. Our world will be saved if their art is true. “No!” he cried.
Mr. White shook his head, and Mother turned to exit the room.
Be true. Bartholomew looked around desperately. He had to make them listen.
His eyes fell upon the silver urn on the sideboard. Above it was a portrait of Mother and him. Two sets of diamond blue eyes stared from stiff, uncomfortable faces. We look so clean and perfect. Like we aren't real.
He remembered Gwen laughing and patting him on the back, Jose using calm words to drive his nerves away, and Zach showing him a cool hairstyle.
Especially, the mirror of himself, Alex, the one person who understood him. Alex, the true artist. With his heroic ways, Alex could always be counted on to fashion exactly the right thing for any battle.
Alex hadn't even tried to call since Bartholomew had been suspended.
Hot tears filled his eyes. I will not be trapped again. My heart is mine. Not theirs!
Leaping over the glass table, he pushed past Mr. White, grasped the ornate handles of the silver urn, and chucked it right at that photo.
Crash! The shattering glass fell like all those trapped tears, pooling on the white marble floor in sharp crystal shards.
Bartholomew's eyes darkened to the color of the sea. He crossed his arms and met their shocked gaze defiantly. He felt power washing over him like waves. He was azure, cyan, and sapphire blue. In that moment, he painted a sea over each of their faces and was swimming away to place where he could truly feel at home.
The Thinker nodded. A crack had opened in his land, but the painted girl did not fall in. Bartholomew's strength had saved her. The watercolor mother embraced her child, and both gave thanks to the Chosen Twin who continued to fight.
Chapter 15
Alex looked down at his hands. No paint under the fingernails or on his sweatshirt sleeve. No smell of turpentine from his rags. Even the calluses on his left hand were shrinking. He'd stopped painting, and it was driving him crazy.
Why had B-three been so stupid? If he'd only accepted Dad's help, they wouldn't be in this mess. Bartholomew would still be in his empty seat, they'd still be friends, and their art would be protecting both Earth and Artania.
With the note to all parents about cheating, Mom and Dad were looking at him as if he were some kind of criminal, even though he had nothing to do with it.
Alex heard Gwen's shoes squeaking on the steel legs of her desk a few rows away. That girl never sat still. He glanced at the vacant desk next to hers. It stood empty for a week—ever since Bartholomew went to the principal's office. Was he suspended? Expelled? They didn't send kids to Juvenile Hall for stealing books, did they? Alex had no a clue since the two friends still weren't speaking. Even though he remained full-on mad, he didn't want Bartholomew trapped in his family's mansion again.
“Remember that each line of a sonnet has ten syllables, so—” Mrs. Fuller stopped in mid-sentence.
All eyes turned towards the door. Alex's jaw dropped open. Beside his British tutor stood Bartholomew. With his blond hair slicked back, sand-colored suit with a tie, and white shoes to match, he looked like a mini Mr. White. Alex couldn't help feeling sorry for him. Dorkville all the way.
“Ahem … Mrs. Fuller,” Mr. White began. “I do apologize for interrupting, but it seems Bartholomew needs a day or so here while I gather the appropriate materials for his homeschooling transition.”
Mrs. Fuller she stared at Mr. White, while her mouth made weird shapes as if he were a magician struggling with a magic trick. She raised her thin eyebrows and blinked. “Of course Bartholomew is welcome. You say he's going to be homeschooled?”
“Starting Monday. However, I must first attend to a few necessities.”
Alex knew exactly what Mrs. Fuller was thinking. It was written all over her face. Alex waited for her to protest and fight for his friend.
Tell him, Mrs. Fuller. Tell him how Bartholomew needs to be around other kids. How crazy he feels being cooped up in that mansion all the time. Come on.
Instead of arguing, she smiled her fake teacher smile and told Bartholomew to take a seat before continuing with her poetry lesson. Mr. White to exited without a word.
Rustling her binder paper loudly, Gwen gave Alex a meaningful look he returned with a sad nod. Man. Only a few days. Then his fellow Deliverer would be locked away. This sucked big time.
When the bell rang, Bartholomew didn't even look Alex's way as he slouched to the doorway and shuffled down the hall.
“Crazy, huh?” Gwen said.
“I know.” Alex sighed as the two of them followed the line of kids heading to lunch.
A few feet down the hall, Ty and Con exited another class and spied Bartholomew. They trailed him.
“We better see what they're up to,” Alex said. Keeping to the shadows, they followed the lumbering pair through the hallways toward the gym.
“Why is B-three taking the long way?” Gwen asked.
Alex's reply was cut short when Con glanced back. Alex yanked Gwen into a doorway. He put a finger to his lips, and she nodded. They both craned their necks to listen for approaching feet before continuing to trail the bullies half a minute later.
As soon as B-three was behind the gym where no adults were in sight, Alex heard Ty call, “Hey, rat.”
Bartholomew turned, his face as pale as death. Glanced around, he tried to dash toward the doors, but Ty stepped in front of him while Con blocked him from behind.
Bartholomew twisted right. Left. There was no escape.
Still many paces away, Alex quickened his pace.
“You told,” Ty accused taking a step closer to his victim.
“No. I s-swear…” Bartholomew stammered.
Ty closed in, his Mohawk's spikes denting Bartholomew's cheek. “I think you did.”
B-three shrank back.
“Yeah.” The hulking Con grabbed Bartholomew's wrists and crossed them behind his back.
“Here is a reminder of what will happen if you do.” Ty lifted a fist.
A trembling Bartholomew closed his eyes.
Blood boiling, Alex rushed forward, but B-three was already doubled over gasping for air from the blow to his midsection.
When Ty wound up for another hit, Alex head-butted the bully in the chest. He staggered back.
Meanwhile, Gwen snap-kicked Con from behind. Legs buckling, he stumbled, releasing Bartholomew, who crumpled to the floor.
Ty reared back on one foot, fist raised and knuckles brandished at Alex. “You want a piece of this?”
“I'd love it, jerkface,” Alex growled. “But I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to take the fall for you like Bartholomew did.”
Ty feigned a punch, but Alex didn't flinch.
“You were right about him, Gwen,” Alex said.
She nodded. “Stupid as a toad.”
“Yep.” Alex blew out a nonchalant
breath. “He'll hit me, campus police will come, and I'll be forced to tell them all I know about the stolen book. He'll be busted for bullying and stealing.”
“I guess his I.Q. does match his shoe size,” Gwen said with shrug.
A few kids gathered with scattered chuckles. Ty narrowed his eyes while Con scratched his head. Heather Gomez, the biggest tattletale in all of Santa Barbara, already had her cell phone out.
“I'll let you get away this time, wuss, but you just wait.” Ty shook his fist one more time before grabbing Con and strutting off.
When most of the snickering kids wandered away to look for more excitement, a red-faced Bartholomew rose to his feet.
“Are you all right?” Alex asked, patting his friend's back.
Nodding, Bartholomew pulled out the hand sanitizer from his pocket and rubbed it in. Shuffling his feet, he said, “I made a mess of things. I'm sorry Alex, I—”
“Forget it.” Alex held up a hand to cut him off. “I'm just glad you're okay. Even with the friggin' homeschool thing.”
Bartholomew hunched his shoulders and drew a circle on the concrete with his shoe. An uncomfortable silence ensued. When the last of the chattering kids drifted away, Alex was surprised that Gwen stayed. She usually ate lunch at the quad. “Maybe if you talked to your mom, she'd let you hang out with us,” she suggested.
“You have met my mother. Do you really think anything I say would matter?”
“There has to be something. When I get in trouble, I usually try to do something good so Dad thinks I learned my lesson.”
Bartholomew's eyes met hers. “Like what?”
“Oh, chores around the house. Volunteering at the daycare in Dad's gym. Stuff like that.”
“Mother does speak about upholding the Borax name a lot.”
“I know!” Gwen said. “The student store always needs help. We could go there.”
When Bartholomew gave an I-don't-care-shrug, Alex decided it was time for action. Anything was worth a try. He turned and jogged toward the campus store. “Come on, slowpokes!” he called over his shoulder.
Along the way, Gwen teased B-three and Alex about how ridiculous they'd looked facing those two bullies, while Alex shot back with his own insults. Pretty soon, all three were clutching their guts in laughter.
When they arrived at the store, a chortling Gwen opened the door and said she knew the faculty advisor. “He's my P.E. teacher and pretty cool.” She went in first.
Alex peered around inside. The room was empty. All the Las Brisas Bears pennants, pencils, and folders were locked away. Someone had drawn a school bus with the words Field Trip! on the whiteboard, and the chairs were stacked neatly in one corner. On the wall, a half-finished fall dance poster with a rainbow-colored disco ball in the center hung from blue tape.
“Bummer,” Gwen said, turning to go.
“But—” Bartholomew began.
The heavy steel door blew closed, silencing all three. Now the only sound in the air-conditioned room was the robotic ticking of a large wall clock.
Alex shivered. Was he mistaken or did the temperature suddenly drop twenty degrees?
Gwen rubbed her bare arms. “Okay, there's always… hey! What's that?” She pointed behind Alex and Bartholomew.
Alex spun on his heels. Something he knew all too well was floating above the closed door.
The color drained from his face. It was the same blue jewel they followed to Artania the year before. “What is that doing here?” Alex gasped.
“I don't know, but it's cool.” Moving underneath the flashing jewel, Gwen swiped at it with one hand. It hovered over her, then bobbed through the air towards the other end of the room. A giggling Gwen skipped after it.
“I think you should leave it alone, Gwen. It could be dangerous,” Bartholomew warned, giving Alex a meaningful look.
“Yeah.” Alex nodded and added quickly, “Anyhow, we should go. We don't want to get caught in here without a teacher.”
“No way. It's awesome.” Gwen leapt into the air and swiped at it again.
Like a balloon in a dust devil, the jewel circled her head. Gwen spun around, arms outstretched. It grew brighter.
Alex's stomach turned.
The ever-lighter gem bounced through the air toward the fall dance poster. There it slowly spun. Gwen took another step closer and reached up. “Amazing.”
“Don't touch it,” Alex warned.
Pulsating, it whirled faster, shooting rays of red, green, and purple in all directions. Then the painted disco ball vibrated and grew larger. The mirrored lights swelled as colored bands flashed on the walls.
You'd think Gwen would have stepped back. Instead, she said something about being a dancing queen while pointed at the air in a silly disco pose.
“Gwen, stop!” Bartholomew said.
Later Alex would wonder why he hadn't acted. Even though every muscle was set to spring, he just stood there.
Twirling, Gwen danced with the flashing colors coating the floor. She threw her head back and bent her knees. “It's like a living rainbow,” she said.
Alex's friend and was halfway through a leap when her smile suddenly disappeared. Feet stuck, she jerked right and left, but the bands of rising color held her fast. In two seconds, she was submerged to her knees. In four, her hips. Then the rainbow gave a lurch and pulled her forward.
Right into the poster.
Black and orange braces opened and closed like a Halloween fish. Green eyes wide, Gwen implored Alex to do something.
By the time he acted, it was too late.
There was a brilliant flash, and the entire room filled with blinding light. Alex squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Gwen had disappeared. Sighing, he turned to Bartholomew. “You know what that means.”
Bartholomew nodded. “Here we go again.”
Chapter 16
Years of skateboarding had taught Gwen something about how to fall. So when the crazy roller coaster disappeared, and the ground rose to meet her, she tucked into a roll. After a few bumping somersaults, she sprang to her feet.
The student store, jewel, and dance poster were gone.
“What the … ?” There was no sign of Mr. Clean or Alex. “Hey, where are you guys?” Gwen called.
No answer—just echoes over the barren earth. Or was it even Earth? Actually, it looked more like a spooky cartoon than any place she'd ever been. Reaching out a tentative hand, she touched the ground. It felt like dirt, kind of. But as Gwen crumbled the soil between her fingers, it fell away in tiny balls of brown Playdough.
The raucous caw of a vulture pierced the silence. Gwen glanced up and realized it wasn't really a bird. At least, not like any she'd seen. This thing flapping through the sky flew on paper wings and had an aluminum foil beak. It was a sculpture!
This isn't real. I'm dreaming, Gwen thought as she crossed her arms defensively across her chest. Get a grip, girl. She turned toward the black hills on the horizon for calm. “Okay, hills are normal.” Gwen let out a breath. Then she squinted, opening and closing her eyes. The mountains weren't real either. Cardboard, like some Hollywood set. “Impossible.”
She spun around, searching for something that wasn't freak-show crazy. Trees made of construction paper? Rocks sculpted in bronze? A wood-carved bunny hopping around?
Her breath caught in her throat. She felt light-headed and unsteady on her feet.
“No …way,” she choked out. It's just like those horrible dreams. Gwen thought, teetering back and forth.
Loud cries filled the air. Gwen gaped at the falling objects but didn't move until she realized they were directly over her. She screamed and fell to her knees, clasping her hands behind her head.
Thud! Crash! The ground shuddered. Keeping her eyes squeezed shut, she waited for the fireball to pass.
“Hey, Gwen.” She felt a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
She lifted her head. Alex was standing over her, his face a knot of concern.
“Alex?
”
Nodding, he pulled her to her feet. Beside him stood a worried-looking Bartholomew, his white slacks streaked with dirt, and he was rubbing a dollop of hand sanitizer into his palms.
“Where are we?” she asked, her eyes darting from one to the other.
Alex and Bartholomew exchanged a glance. Bartholomew shrugged as if to say we might as well tell her now.
“Artania,” Alex said.
“Art what?” Like those nightmares with strange creatures? Gwen's breath quickened, making her dizzy again. Hyperventilating, she bent over, hands on her knees.
“Hey, Gwen, take it easy. Just breathe,” Alex assured her. “We'll try to get you home real quick.”
“People are gonna worry,” she said.
“No, they won't. Time is frozen on Earth while we're here,” Bartholomew said.
“Frozen? Go back? Artania?” Gwen straightened her shoulders and curled her hands into fists. “What's going on? I want some answers!”
“We're in another dimension,” Alex explained. “It comes from people's art.”
“Whenever people paint or sculpt, those beings are born.” Bartholomew pointed at the paper vulture flying overhead.
“No way.”
“Way,” Alex replied. “It's another realm, but it's connected to Earth. The creative energy of humans keeps this place alive.”
Gwen didn't believe it. No, siree. She was dreaming. She never went to school today. Nope. She was still back at home sleeping in her cozy bed with the skateboard sheets. When she woke up, she was gonna laugh at all this. Wake up, she told herself. Come on. It's just a dream. Open your eyes. She pinched her arm. Ouch!
“Gwen? Hello?” Bartholomew asked her before turning to Alex. “Has she gone into shock?”
Alex removed his sweatshirt and slipped it over her shoulders. Shrugging him off, Gwen rolled her eyes. Even in a dream, he could only let the hero business so far. “I'm fine. As soon as I wake up, I'll be even better.”
“But you're not dreaming. This is real.”
Defiant, Gwen shook her head.
The sound of clattering hoof-beats made her turn, but she didn't see any animals trotting over the hills. She heard a loud cry, and the sky brightened. She looked up.
The Kidnapped Smile Page 6
