by Megan Atwood
To my Minnesota kidlit family—don’t forget me. I adore you all.
CHAPTER 1
Magic Is in the Air
Peter watched the snow come down, swirling and white, like a magic spell come to life, and listened to the chaos behind him. His house was packed, like normal on game night. Most of the time he didn’t mind. And his dads loved hosting. But today the world seemed a little off. He rolled his shoulders and tried to shake the feeling.
“Are you here with us, Peter?” a voice said near his ear. His twin, Olive, climbed up next to him in the window seat. Her eyes looked worried—she’d started having a tiny little crease on her forehead every time she talked to him lately. She knew something was wrong. There was something wrong, but Peter wasn’t exactly sure he could put words around it. Maybe he felt sad because he missed his friends in Boston. Or because every time he talked, someone interrupted him. Or because he’d felt beside the point ever since they’d moved to New Amity. And that their new best friends, Sarah and Lizzie, were really just Olive’s new best friends.
Maybe he felt sad because it seemed like he was from a different world and didn’t belong here.
Mostly, he felt a big ball of emotions that he didn’t know what to do with. So the snow seemed simpler at the moment. Plus, the way it sparkled under the streetlight made it look like it was winking at him.
With some effort, he dragged his gaze away from the snow and said, “I’m here.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say so he just looked at Olive.
Olive huffed. “Of course you’re here. I mean are you going to come hang out? We’re getting ready to play charades. Kids against the grown-ups—you know we’ll win!” She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back.
He loved playing with Olive, especially when they played guessing games. Olive and Peter each always knew what the other one was thinking—they had since birth. He stood up and tried to shake off his mood. “I’m definitely in.” Olive grinned and stood up.
His dad John said, “Uh-oh. I think we’re in trouble,” when Peter and Olive walked into the living room. David, his other dad, said almost at the same time, “Let’s not make any bets, okay?” Peter looked at the Garrisons. Tabitha and Albert Garrison owned the oldest apple orchard in New England. When Peter and Olive had first moved to the town, they’d met the Garrisons’ daughter Lizzie, who was their age. And Sarah was Lizzie’s best friend. The four of them had been inseparable ever since.
The Garrisons had another, older daughter named Gloria. She was a little . . . weird. But Peter liked how she had committed herself to becoming an actress. Even if it was a little annoying.
“Why can’t we make bets?” Sarah asked, a huge whipped-cream mustache on her upper lip. She licked it off and took another big drink of her hot chocolate. She and Lizzie sat together in one of the overstuffed antique chairs Peter’s dad David had gotten. The house they were renting was a large Queen Anne, and David had decided the whole house would be decorated in different periods of antiques.
Lizzie was trying to catch a marshmallow in her hot chocolate with her tongue. “Do we normally make bets?” she asked, confused for a second. But she caught the marshmallow and didn’t seem to care about the answer. She smiled at Peter when he joined them. Lizzie and Peter were the most alike. Even though Olive and he were twins, they had very different personalities. But Lizzie and Peter were both quiet and were okay if Sarah and Olive took charge. And they always did. Sometimes at the same time.
“Okay,” said Tabitha, “let’s let the kids go first.” She snuggled into Albert, her husband, on the antique settee. Peter’s dads also sat back on the huge velvet davenport and snuggled in, and Peter noticed that Sheriff Hadley and Ms. Shirvani also sat pretty close together at the other end. He glanced at Sarah—did she know her mom and the sheriff seemed to be . . . well, closer than most friends?
Sarah and Olive said at the same time, “I’ll go first.” But then Gloria swept in and said, “All right, darling babies. I shall show you how one inhabits a role.”
She grabbed a piece of paper before anyone could say anything. “Please do start the timer,” Gloria said, looking down her nose at the adults. Gloria was the only kid Peter knew who could do that and make it look convincing.
John turned the hourglass timer over, and Gloria looked at the piece of paper with the charades word on it. She set the paper down, closed her eyes, and whispered, “Acting!” to herself. Then she opened her eyes again and widened them. She let out a huge roar and made her arms beat up and down like wings.
“A bat!” said Lizzie.
“A vulture!” said Olive.
“A flying lion?” said Sarah.
Peter didn’t say anything. He had no idea what it could possibly be. Gloria made her mouth into an O and then moved her head back and forth, like she was blowing on everyone.
It reminded him of something . . .
His new video game, Elf Mirror! There was a dragon in there that made exactly those movements. He had just gotten the game a few days ago and already he’d become obsessed with it. In fact, it was hard for him to sit and play charades with everyone when Elf Mirror sat in his room. But here he was, and he knew what Gloria was acting out.
“A dragon,” he said quietly.
“A hose!” Olive yelled.
“Jack Frost!” Lizzie said. Everyone looked at her, and she shrank back. “What? Mom and I are reading about winter lore at night.” Tabitha grinned and winked at her, but Gloria stamped her foot in frustration.
“A flying lion with bad breath?” Sarah guessed. Lizzie and Olive giggled, and Peter snickered too.
“A dragon,” he said, but the girls had started shouting again and no one heard him.
“Time!” his dad said, holding up the hourglass.
Gloria huffed. “What would I expect from babies? I was a dragon, clearly.” She flounced off to another antique chair and plopped down. Peter saw his dad cringe at how hard Gloria sat in the chair.
“I said that,” Peter said, but everyone had started talking again and the grown-ups were taking their turn.
Maybe he wasn’t really there after all.
When it was the kids’ turn again, Olive turned to Peter. “Why don’t you go?” He knew she was saying that so they could easily get a point. He nodded and stood up.
As he grabbed the paper with the word, his dad John said, “Ready?” He flipped over the hourglass timer just as Peter flipped over the paper.
His word was “hero.”
That was a hard one. He took a second to think about how he would perform his charade. The room was quiet, making him nervous. He wasn’t a fan of having all the attention. It made him tongue-tied.
But he knew how to do this. Easy.
Looking at Olive, he pointed to Gloria. Olive said, “Acting?”
Peter shook his head. He mimicked the actions Gloria had done. Lizzie said, “Dragon?”
He nodded. He was more than a little surprised that Olive hadn’t gotten that but Lizzie had. Still, he had no time to think about it.
Sarah yelled, “Dragon Gloria!” Everyone looked at her, and Gloria rolled her eyes.
Peter mimicked riding a horse and holding a spear. He didn’t like horses, but he didn’t mind riding a fake one. Olive guessed, “Horse!” and Peter grinned. Now they were in sync. When he mimed thrusting the spear at Gloria and then getting off his horse and celebrating, Olive guessed, “Olympic medalist!”
He stopped to furrow his eyebrows at her. How could that possibly be her guess? Sarah guessed, “Party dragon Gloria!” and Lizzie said, “Happy horse rider?”
These were not charades terms. Peter was pretty sure no one had ever gotten the charades phrase “happy horse rider.” He looked at Oli
ve with wide eyes, trying to will her into understanding him. He said in his mind, over and over, “Hero, hero, hero.”
Olive guessed, “Dragon rider?”
“Time!” said John. Peter’s heart sank.
Not so much because they’d missed a point. But the big ball of lonely seemed to be back. He shrugged and avoided Olive’s eyes as he sat down. For the rest of the game, he barely participated. He looked out at the snow swirling around outside, wishing he was in it. It really did look magical. Like the world had turned into something different in front of his very eyes.
After the game—which the kids lost handily—the whole crew grabbed more cider or hot chocolate and sat down around the fire again. Everyone seemed to cozy up to everyone else. Lizzie, Sarah, and Olive sat close, whispering to each other and giggling every once in a while. Peter couldn’t take his eyes off the snow.
Tabitha and Albert started talking about the holiday season at the orchard. “This time between Thanksgiving and the solstice is probably our biggest season. That and the beginning of fall. If you want to help out at the orchard and make some money, Peter and Olive, we’d love to have you!”
Peter turned his attention to the conversation. Olive pushed her glasses up her nose and beamed. Her answer was definitely yes. But Peter wanted to know more.
“What kind of help?” he asked, turning away from the window.
“Well, we give sleigh rides and tours—we’d love help with those. There’s a snowperson-making contest where we need people to help with setup, a baked goods sale where we need help advertising and organizing . . . we could use help decorating in general for the season! We need to put up our giant Christmas tree and the huge menorah. Our solstice celebration brings a ton of people in. Would you be interested?” Tabitha smiled warmly.
“I’m in!” Sarah said, which surprised no one.
Lizzie shrugged. “I sort of have to.” Tabitha winked at her.
Olive said, “Can I, Dads?”
Peter noticed she didn’t say “we.”
David beamed. “Of course! That sounds just lovely. Thank you, Tabitha and Albert. Peter, are you interested?”
John piped up. “I think that would be a really good idea. Peter, I think you should help with the sleigh rides.” He looked meaningfully at Peter.
Peter frowned. He was not a fan of horses; they scared him, which was why his dad was trying to get him to agree. Years ago he’d gone to horseback-riding camp and had gotten bucked off a horse. He had loved camp until then and had learned all sorts of things. But the lesson he’d learned more than anything was that horses were mean.
He wanted to help at the orchard—he really did. The thought of his friends getting to do something together without him made a pang shoot through him. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Peter missed his friends in Boston more than he had since his family had moved to New Amity. He hadn’t had a ton of friends, but he’d had a few. They were all boys, and it was different to hang around with them, but he’d loved it. Just like he used to love hanging around with Sarah and Lizzie. And, he realized with another pang, Olive. Something had changed between him and Olive, and he didn’t know what.
“Okay, I can help,” he finally said. Maybe this would make things better. Maybe he’d feel like he had close friends again.
And maybe his dad was right: perhaps it was time to stop being afraid of horses. After all, he was in middle school already. It wasn’t like he was a kid anymore. He didn’t have to like horses, but he should at least stop being afraid of them.
He swallowed. “I’ll help with the sleigh rides, too.”
Olive said, “I’ll help with you.”
Something about that irritated Peter. It would have been nice if she’d asked him if he wanted her to help. Being twins, siblings, and best friends since birth didn’t mean Peter couldn’t do things on his own.
Albert said, “Peter and Olive, you’ll love winter at the orchard. Something about the snow makes everything feel magical. Like anything can happen.”
“It’s like a whole different world,” Lizzie said, her eyes shining.
A small tendril of hope broke through Peter’s gloominess. They’d said the exact words he’d been thinking. This had to be a sign. He hoped this new world would be one where he didn’t feel quite so alone and unheard.
CHAPTER 2
Through the Wardrobe
PETER!” his dad David’s voice traveled upstairs and cut through the music playing on Elf Mirror. Peter knew this meant he was close to getting in trouble, but he had almost found the right spell to enter the world where the dragon lived. If he could just . . .
The TV turned off and his dad stood in front of him. “Peter Thomas Wu, I have been calling you for ten minutes. You’re going to be late for school! And you didn’t even have breakfast.”
David wore his long apron, which meant he’d be welding today.
Peter groaned and rolled his eyes. He put down the controller and got up, barely looking at his dad.
David moved closer to him. “Honey, are you okay? You just haven’t been yourself lately.”
Peter shrugged on his backpack and turned around. He put on a smile. “I’m fine.”
His dad looked him in the eyes for a few more seconds and then said, “Well, the girls are waiting for you downstairs. Grab a granola bar on your way out, and don’t forget your lunch!” His dad squeezed his shoulder, and Peter walked down the stairs. His dad yelled after him, “I think Olive took the phone, honey!”
Olive and Peter shared a cell phone, each getting to have it on alternate days. Peter never really paid attention to it anymore. None of his Boston friends texted him much, and most of the texts were from Sarah and Lizzie to Olive.
“Took ya long enough!” Sarah said cheerfully when he joined the group. They all walked to school together when the weather was good enough. The walk was pretty far, but all the adults thought it was a good idea for them to get fresh air and exercise. Olive shot him an irritated look—if they were late and it was Peter’s fault, she would be mad for hours. Lizzie looked at him and said, “Hey, Peter. Hope you’re doing okay.”
Peter said, “I was playing Elf Mirror,” and he saw Olive roll her eyes.
For some reason, he felt like he needed to explain to her. The game meant a lot to him right now. When he played it, he felt like he belonged somewhere. “It’s a really good game, Olive. There’s this mirror, and on the other side of it, there’s a land that needs a hero. There’s a dragon that is menacing the whole world, and once you go through the mirror, you have to find all these—”
“It’s not real life, Peter. In real life, we have to get to school on time,” Olive said, walking a little faster. Lizzie and Sarah exchanged a look. Sarah walked faster to catch up with Olive, and Lizzie hung back with Peter.
After a second, Lizzie said, “The game sounds fun.”
Peter melted just a little. He could always count on Lizzie to make him feel better. He didn’t know why Olive was SO mad at him. But he was most surprised to find out: it didn’t bother him that much. He’d wanted to explain the game to her, but suddenly that didn’t seem so important. If she didn’t want to listen, he couldn’t make her.
He shrugged. “It is. I mean, it may sound silly . . .”
Lizzie laughed. “Are you kidding? Sarah and me used to pretend we were spies for days. Sometimes it’s nice to be in a fantasy.”
Peter felt his eyebrows furrow. That wasn’t what Elf Mirror was. It wasn’t some kids’ game—he had to be a real hero in it.
“It’s different from that” was all he said.
Lizzie paused for a minute but then said, “Maybe I can try it sometime?”
Peter looked up at her in surprise. He hadn’t thought she liked video games. And looking into her eyes, he realized she didn’t. She was just being nice to him.
“Um, yeah. If you want, sometime,” he said.
The school came into view, and Peter went silent again. He knew Lizzie was just being Lizzi
e, but somehow her kindness made him feel worse.
As the four of them approached the school and mingled with the students milling around, Peter felt more alone than ever.
In period 1, during language arts, Peter’s world changed.
Right in the middle of a discussion of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the most beautiful boy Peter had ever seen walked in.
“Can I help you?” Mr. Moreau asked.
The boy chewed gum and smiled widely. Peter had never seen such white teeth. “Uh, yeah. Kai Delikatua. I’m new.”
He was about three inches taller than Peter, and his skin was a rich olive brown—lighter than Peter and Olive’s black-brown coloring but darker than Sarah’s copper-brown tone, and way darker than Lizzie’s pale white. His hair was wavy and dark brown, and Peter could see deep brown eyes under his thick eyebrows. His eyes actually twinkled. When the boy turned his gaze toward him, Peter looked down at his desk quickly.
“All right, Kai. But I’m going to ask you to spit out your gum. No chewing in class.” Mr. Moreau smiled and grabbed a small garbage can near his desk. He held it up to Kai.
Kai smiled back, kept chewing, and then blew a bubble. Mr. Moreau stood holding the garbage can, his smile fading until finally his lips formed a straight line.
“Kai . . . ,” Mr. Moreau said.
“What? I’m just trying to get as much as I can out of this gum.” Kai chewed harder and then smiled at the class. Some of the students snickered. Peter smiled down at his desk, though he felt bad for Mr. Moreau.
“In the garbage can, now, Mr. Delikatua.” Mr. Moreau was definitely mad. He only used last names when he lost patience.
Kai chewed one more time and then made a loud gulping sound. He opened his mouth wide and said, “I swallowed it. See? You can quit holding the garbage now, Mr. Morose.” Then he smiled again and pointed to an empty desk catty-corner to and behind Peter. “Should I take that one?”
Mr. Moreau put the garbage can down. “Yes. But you should know that you’re already on thin ice—perhaps in your other classes you can begin acting a little more mature. You only have one chance to make a good first impression, Mr. Delikatua, and yours so far leaves a lot to be desired.”
