by Tad Williams
But what was bothering her most of all, Lucinda realized, was the strong feeling of unfinished business. There were still so many questions!
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t get it,” she said to her brother.
She must have spoken louder than she meant to, because Tyler heard her even through his earbuds. “Get what?” he asked without looking up from his hamstering.
“I don’t know. Take those off, will you?” She waited. He grunted and turned off his game. “A lot of stuff,” she said. “What was that witch really trying to do to Gideon with that fungus? And why didn’t I turn into a zombie too-was it just because I didn’t get as much of that spore-stuff as he did…?”
Tyler looked at her, all innocence. “I think you meant to say, ‘Why didn’t I turn into more of a zombie than I already am?’ ”
She gave him a good hard shot on the leg to focus his thoughts. “Cut it out. We know from the letter that the fungus thing came from near Madagascar. Didn’t you tell me Octavio said something about Madagascar, too?”
“Yeah, he told me it’s on the opposite side of the earth from the Fault Line here. That’s what I think he said, anyway. That the two places were like the North and South poles. But it was pretty scientific.” He shook his head. “Okay, giant Madagascar Fault Line fungus. I have a question, too-how did Gideon get away from it? Why was he wandering around on the Fourth of July?”
“I have a guess.” Lucinda put a piece of tissue in her book to mark her place, then slid it into her backpack. “When I was at the greenhouse that day I got… spored, I guess, some of the metal of the greenhouse was melted. I think it must have got hit by lightning in that first storm.”
“So?”
“So that’s almost for sure where Mrs. Needle was keeping Gideon, and then the lightning hit the place and then… ” she shrugged, “then somehow it freaked out the fungus or something. Anyway, I think that’s when he got out, because there was that storm, remember, and then the next day was the Fourth when we went to the Carillos and Gideon suddenly showed up.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay. Sort of makes sense. But what about the other stuff? I know Colin’s got the Continuascope. What if he starts messing with the Fault Line?”
She shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do about it right now. You warned Ragnar and Mr. Walkwell. They’ll keep their eyes open. They said they’d find it if they could, or at least keep him out of the Fault Line.”
He scowled. “That guy is such a creep.”
For once Lucinda didn’t bother arguing. “And the mirror, the washstand mirror. They said Gideon was going to take that back from Mrs. Needle, so that’s good too, right?”
“I guess. But how come Octavio didn’t know anything about it? How could it be sitting right there in his house and the guy who knew everything didn’t know?”
Lucinda still found the idea of Tyler meeting old, long-dead Octavio Tinker in a spooky tunnel under the ground something she didn’t really want to think about too much. “Hey,” she said, “I brought Uncle Gideon’s worst enemy onto the property and lived to tell about it. Everything about Ordinary Farm is crazy.”
Tyler laughed. “I can’t believe you did that, sis. You were awesome!”
Thinking about it now, the whole thing with Stillman terrified her. What had she been thinking? But what was done was done. It had worked out all right. No use getting all worked up about it.
Wow, she thought. That’s almost like something Tyler would say. Suddenly, she was glad to have a brother. “I hope everything’s going to be okay. And I really want to go back there soon-maybe over Thanksgiving!”
Tyler laughed again. “That girl who was saying all last summer, ‘I want to go home!’-wasn’t that you?”
“Yeah, and that kid who was saying, ‘Gee, Lucinda, sorry I kept getting you into trouble’, wasn’t that you? No, wait, it wasn’t, because you never say that.”
A year before Tyler would have snapped at her, or just plugged back into his GameBoss and ignored her. “Well, somebody has to make things happen,” he said. “That’s my job.”
“Oh, and you’re good at it, too, Tyler Jenkins,” she told him, smiling despite herself. “Way too good.”
They stopped talking after a while and Tyler went back to guiding his hamster-wizard through its perilous quest, but Lucinda kept losing track of the words in her book, and looking out the window didn’t cheer her up, either. She was still miserable at how things had ended up with the dragons. After all that Lucinda had done that summer, all her kind, slow, careful attempts to build a connection with the dragons, and especially with little Desta, the whole thing had gone ka-boom in a matter of moments.
But I didn’t want to do it! I didn’t want to upset her! I had to do it to save the farm… to save Gideon and everyone else, even the dragons!
The hurt was so sharp that for a moment she could almost feel what she had felt that night, the storm of Desta’s angry, terrified thoughts and how she had forced herself to ignore them. Thinking about it made Lucinda feel as if she had a chunk of ice in the middle of her chest where her heart should be. I’m so sorry, she thought. I’m so sorry, Desta…!
Carrot Girl sad?
It surprised her so much she gasped. Desta? Is that you? The dragon-thoughts were faint, like a voice you could only hear when the wind was blowing the right direction, but at the moment that was just the direction it was blowing. Desta?
Sad why?
How could she explain such things to a dragon-and a young dragon at that? Especially when they might only have moments. Carrot Girl is sad because… because she made Desta sad. Didn’t want to. Had to. But still sad. Carrot Girl sorry. Carrot Girl so very, very sorry …!
There was a long pause, and Lucinda was certain she had lost the fleeting contact. Then:
Carrot Girl make better.
What? What can I do to make it better? I’m going away now for months and months! Lucinda did her best to convey the feeling of time-moons waxing and waning, one after another. Gone long. What can I do?
Come back soon. The thought came with a tickle of dragonly amusement. Next time bring more carrots-millions of carrots! The thought was of a pile as high as the sky.
Laughter like a stream of warm, smoky bubbles floated through her mind. Then the touch was gone and Lucinda Jenkins was alone in her own head once more.
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Document ID: fbd-d3fd2f-f37f-7f45-db89-5a4b-d1e5-5f91b3
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 25.08.2011
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