by Amy Neftzger
Now her only problem was how to get out of the city. The issue with leaving was the exit. The smooth stone path out of the city turned into large, broad rocks with rows of teeth and sharp fangs. These fanged stones went on for about 20 feet until the path changed to dirt again. And they were alive! Twenty feet of biting, snapping rocks. It was enough to take off their toes and possibly more, Kelsey thought to herself. There was no way out of the city but to cross the rocks. As she stared at them, Kelsey saw one of the rocks lean off the path and into the street in order to scrape at a man’s ankle when he stepped too close to the exit. The man stumbled and cursed as he jumped away from the rocks, but he wisely kept moving. The rocks chuckled among themselves, as if they had shared some great, inside joke. But it wasn’t funny to Kelsey.
“We’re trapped,” Kelsey exclaimed helplessly. “We need to cross over the rocks. We have to find a way to get past them without getting bitten.” She and Silence were both wearing sandals and the rocks would damage their feet even if their shoes survived the trek.
Kelsey contemplated their position. If she went back out the same way she entered, she would wind up at home, and her quest would be a failure. She sighed in frustration, making a small whistling noise as she did so. The sun was dropping lower behind her, and time was slipping away. They would need to find a safe place to camp outside the city before nightfall to avoid paying for rooms and there was still dinner to think about.
She considered the situation and tried to think about ways they could climb over the dangerous path. They sat quietly on the edge of the fountain for quite some time, thinking about possible ways to get across. Silence squinted as he surveyed the area. Kelsey spoke her thoughts out loud as she reasoned her way through possibilities. She mentioned finding a bridge or some other support to suspend themselves over the rocks. “If we only had a bicycle,” Kelsey sighed. Silence shook his head and motioned with his hands that the rocks could bite the tires and let the air out. He turned to watch a cafe owner mopping the sidewalk to remove the debris from underneath his tables. The rhythmic movement was hypnotic, and pretty soon Kelsey was also staring at the motions as she continued to think. It seemed to help. Finally, Kelsey walked over to the man with the mop.
“Excuse me, sir,” she asked as politely as she could. “But how do people get over the rocks?”
“They don’t,” he grunted without looking up. “Never seen anyone survive it. Those rocks are violent. Their jaws are like steel claws that can grind up anything. Once they get their victims, they eat them up, bones and all. Just crush the person like a stale piece of biscuit, only with a lot more blood coming out, and ...”
“Thank you,” Kelsey loudly interrupted the man before he could tell her anything more. He wasn’t being helpful, and she couldn’t stand to hear any more of his gruesome descriptions. She walked back across the street, feeling despondent but still wishing for a sudden inspiration on how they could get across those vicious, blood-thirsty rocks. She stared at them as she sat down on the edge of the fountain. Silence rested patiently at her side and kept her company. Splash! swish, swish, swish went the mop near the cafe as the owner repeatedly dunked the mop and brushed the sidewalk three times. It was a rhythmic pattern that, in Kelsey’s mind, sounded like, “Splash! You’re stuck here!”
Chapter Five
The Elusive Essence of Miracles
“How is Taro supposed to help us if he doesn’t know how to make a miracle?” Maggie asked as she put all her weight on her elbows and leaned over the black marble lab table. The surface was smooth and cold against her forearms. “I don’t see how he can help us if he’s never made one himself.”
“Maybe he knows what doesn’t work,” Nicholas suggested.
“We don’t need that,” Maggie argued. She dropped her head onto the table and rolled over dramatically so that her back was arched and her arms spread out across the surface. She closed her clear, blue eyes and rolled her head slowly from side to side as she spoke. “We have too much of people telling us what not to do, but no one tells us what we should do, and they still expect results.” She opened her eyes to stare up at the vaulted ceiling as she squeezed her fists. “It’s impossible!” she said forcefully through her gritted teeth.
“I don’t believe it’s impossible,” Nicholas insisted. He understood Maggie’s frustration but thought her drama was unnecessary.
“It certainly looks impossible,” Jovan agreed with Maggie, demonstrating a small amount of empathy with her position. “But that doesn’t mean that it is.” He paused to take a deep breath and formulate his thoughts. He understood why she was upset but didn’t want to encourage her feelings of despair. “He may still know something that could help us. He was giving us more information than anyone has so far. And that’s a positive thing. Most of the time all anyone talks about are the rules or giving us jobs to do that we don’t understand. He was actually talking to us. He remembers what it was like outside of this place, and he’s been here longer than any of us.”
“How does that help?” Maggie cried in frustration.
“Well,” Nicholas began quickly thinking as he was speaking. “It’s possible that Taro may have answers that he doesn’t know he has.”
“Such as?” Maggie demanded as she lifted her head to stare back at Nicholas.
“He meets with the guardians all the time, and he also talks to other mentors. He’s probably talked with someone who’s made a miracle. Those people might have told him something that he can share with us. We just need to get him to talk more,” Nicholas explained.
“That’s true,” Jovan agreed. “And even if some of those people haven’t made miracles, they might have come close to it. Knowing about those incidents could be useful. What we really need is a direction, and this type of information could provide one for us.”
“That doesn’t help us right now,” Maggie complained as she finally stood facing her friends.
“What might help us right now,” said Jovan, changing the subject with an encouraging smile, “is a little research that I did in the library last night.”
“How did you get in there after hours?” Nicholas asked. “It was closed by the time we finished dinner.” He had wanted to do some research himself.
“I know the librarian,” Jovan confessed. “I often go there to read in the evenings. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“Who cares how he got in there? What did you find?” Maggie asked eagerly.
“Some interesting things. I looked up everything I could find on Mondays. I learned that the English word for Monday means ‘moon day,’ and in some other languages, the word for Monday means ‘first day,’” Jovan explained. He waited for a moment so that they could consider what he was saying before he continued. “I’ve been thinking about this all night, and since Monday means ‘moon day,’ I was wondering if making a miracle has something to do with the phases of the moon.”
“It could be that miracles only take place during certain phases of the moon. That would explain why we don’t see miracles that often,” Nicholas reasoned. “The moon changes phases all the time.”
“Yes,” Jovan agreed, “but we’re always told that there are no miracles on Mondays. That makes me wonder if there are no miracles when the moon is present.”
“So we have to wait for a day when there’s no moon?” Maggie asked without disguising her disappointment. “That’s terrible! That will take way too long!”
“You also said that it means ‘first day’ in some languages,” Nicholas interjected. “So it could mean something like there are no miracles on the first try or during the first phase of the moon. Or something like that.”
“It could,” Jovan nodded with approval. “That’s a good line of thought, and it fits in with what we see around here. The one thing that I find odd is that Mondays happen every week, and miracles seem to be rare.”
“They’re not rare here,” Nicholas argued. “The garden is filled with them.”
“Those
miracles have been here for a very long time. But new miracles are rare,” Jovan replied. “I’ve never seen one created. Have either of you?” Nicholas and Maggie thought for a moment and then shook their heads. “In fact, I don’t ever remember seeing a miracle before I came here.”
“If I’d seen one created, I might know something about how to make one,” Nicholas replied. “Because we could copy whatever the person was doing when the miracle appeared. But I don’t remember seeing any before I came here, either. And I haven’t seen one created here.”
“None of us remembers anything very well from before we came here,” Maggie pointed out. “So we could have seen them and lost the memory. But that doesn’t explain why we haven’t seen them created here. That’s odd, if you ask me.”
“Exactly. There are tons of miracles here, but none of us has seen one created or caught,” Jovan continued to reason aloud. “So where do they come from? Are they making them in secret?”
“Why would they be hiding the process?” Nicholas asked. “It still doesn’t make sense to me. If we’re all here to make miracles, shouldn’t we be trained on how to make the best miracles possible? Shouldn’t the knowledge on how to do that be shared more openly? It seems like they’re actually trying to prevent us from making miracles.”
The deep blue door to Ms. White’s office opened with a loud creaking noise. The effect of the sudden, slow noise made the children feel that something creepy and foreboding was about to happen. Maggie felt a shiver as she purposefully looked away from the door. Nicholas and his friends stared down at the polished marble table in apprehension, waiting to find out where Ms. White was headed. By keeping their gaze focused downward, they hoped they wouldn’t be noticed. The clicking of high heels on the tile floor sounded like little metal hammers echoing inside their ears. The clicks became louder with each step as she walked toward them. Nicholas looked up hesitantly, although he already knew that she was standing right in front of him. He wondered if she had heard their conversation.
Nicholas did not have to study her face long to see that she was irritated. Her pale lips were tightly pressed together, and her squinting eyes had a piercing look about them. She was wearing another sweater dress in a different shade of green. It had a vertical ribbed pattern down the sides of the garment, exaggerating the effect of a plant stalk. Nicholas imagined her entire wardrobe was a sea of green sweater dresses that all looked like flower stems. He swallowed nervously.
“Having a nice chat?” Ms. White asked the group pointedly.
“Yes, Ms. White,” Jovan answered politely. He did not offer any more information, and there was an awkward, silent pause.
“This is a lovely facility, don’t you think?” She waited for the children to nod in agreement before continuing. “We have everything you could possibly need to produce something marvelous.”
“It’s wonderful,” said Nicholas, trying to appear gracious. “We couldn’t ask for more.” He was using his most polite tone and trying not to look frightened. She might look like a daisy, but her attitude was all snapdragon.
“Then how about getting to work?” She slapped her fist on the table as she emphasized the last word.
“Absolutely,” Jovan nodded. “We’ll just get a few supplies.”
“Miracles don’t make themselves,” she muttered as she re-entered her office and closed the door loudly. As soon as Ms. White disappeared, they scattered into the storerooms and gathered a few interesting looking materials. They didn’t know what they were doing; they just knew that they should be doing something.
“I don’t even know where to start,” Nicholas admitted when they were back at the lab table.
“Start trying stuff,” Maggie insisted. “Try anything. That’s what everyone else is doing, and they’re not getting into trouble. No one else has a plan, and until we get one, we need to look busy. We don’t need to be productive. We only need to be busy. She just wants action from us.”
“I think you’re right. We can go back to the library and look up miracles later,” Jovan decided.
They began haphazardly throwing things together and heating them up in a large test tube, but most of what they put together just melted into a lump and smelled terrible. At one point, the contents of the test tube expanded and shattered the glass, but the kids jumped out of the way in time and no one was hurt. A little later, Maggie started mixing together ingredients for what appeared to be a blueberry muffin and cooked it with a Bunsen burner.
“I call it a beaker muffin,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Are you cooking in the lab?” asked a girl from across the room in a neighboring group. “That’s against the rules! You’re breaking the rules!” The girl’s name was Junko. Maggie didn’t know Junko well, but her mentor was Barnaby, and his apprentices were a little too nosy about what everyone else was doing. They seemed to love the rules more than the average person, and they prided themselves on catching rule-breakers, especially those belonging to other mentors.
“I’m experimenting,” Maggie shouted back at Junko, “I used the supplies from the storeroom, and this is what I put together as part of my research. Some of the supplies are edible, you know. Or maybe you haven’t really investigated thoroughly?” She spoke the last sentence in an accusing tone before turning to Nicholas and Jovan and adding quietly, “It just so happens that it can be eaten. In fact, it may be a miracle that I’ve made something edible!” She started to giggle at her own joke.
Maggie glanced back at Junko to see that she was still peeking over at their table occasionally, but she seemed to have lost her desire to challenge Maggie’s work. Maggie locked eyes with her once and held her gaze long enough to make Junko feel awkward. Junko eventually turned back to her own work, and Maggie continued toasting her beaker muffin.
“I think we’re wasting our time,” Jovan sighed in desperation as he watched Maggie carefully turn the beaker to brown the outside evenly.
“I wonder why they want us here doing things without knowing what we’re doing,” Nicholas mused. “I think they want activity for the sake of activity, but we don’t know if that will produce any result.”
“Who cares what they think?” Maggie retorted. “Try my beaker muffin.” She set the beaker down on a hot pad and tore off a hot piece of muffin, tossing it from hand to hand to cool it off before giving it to the boys. “Is it edible?” she asked hopefully. Nicholas placed the muffin on his tongue and then quickly removed it. The beaker muffin smelled like blueberry, but the flavor was both salty and bitter at the same time and not at all tasty.
“It’s still hot. I’ll just save it for later,” he explained and put the piece of muffin in his lab pocket. Jovan took the hint and did the same.
“Yes,” Jovan replied politely. “I’ll save mine for later, also.”
“Oh, don’t bother,” Maggie told them. “I probably used too many ocular rhapsidons.”
“I thought those were blueberries!” Nicholas exclaimed as he quickly pulled the piece of muffin out of his pocket and discretely tossed it in the trash can.
“Maybe they were,” Maggie replied thoughtfully. “I lost track of the ingredients.” She smiled to herself with satisfaction and then absentmindedly took a piece of muffin and stuffed it into her mouth. She immediately let it roll off her tongue and into the trash can with a horrified expression. “I guess I’ll have to work on the recipe.”
They continued experimenting with different ingredients and temperatures, but they didn’t know what they were doing, and it all seemed like a waste of time. When it was time to leave the lab for the day, they were actually excited because they would have a little time before dinner to go to the library.
They set off through the hallways, walking in perfect formation. Soon they ran into Taro, who immediately asked them how their plants were doing. Nicholas gave his standard answer, but Jovan and Maggie were more descriptive, and this delayed them.
“It appears to be progressing in a favorable dire
ction,” Jovan replied.
“Appears to be?” Taro asked with interest. The answer wasn’t solid enough.
“Not appears,” Jovan corrected himself when he realized his mistake. “It is definitely progressing in a favorable direction.” Taro nodded with satisfaction at this response.
“And your plant, Maggie?” Taro enquired.
“A little wilty, but I gave it plenty of water. I’m not sure why. It just looks like it needs a good cry or something. Should I tell it a sad story to see if it helps? Do plants like stories? Do they like to cry? Maybe they just need a good cry once in a while. I know I do.” She knew that she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it.
“Wilty?” Taro sounded concerned. “You mean it’s wilted or drooping? A lot or a little?” Maggie realized her mistake when she saw Taro’s expression and she became more nervous.
“A little,” she answered. “But I’m sure it will be just fine. Do you think the sad story is a good idea?”
“I don’t know what your plant needs,” Taro replied. “Do you think it needs a sad story?” At first Nicholas thought he was joking, but then he realized Taro was serious. He really thought Maggie would know what her plant needed. Nicholas felt relieved that he hadn’t started laughing.
“Yes?” Maggie’s nervousness showed even more as she answered with a question instead of a statement. She glanced at Jovan and Nicholas for help before recovering herself and continuing. “I mean yes. Yes, it does need a sad story and that will get all the sadness out, and it will be fine afterwards.” Both her friends had been nodding very discretely, trying to get her attention.
“Then try that and let me know how it goes,” Taro appeared satisfied that the situation was under control and he went on his way.
