Abby in Wonderland (Special Edition)

by Sarah Mlynowski

  “Good focusing,” she says with a smirk.

  I flip over another one. Queen of hearts. Finally! Wahoo! I did it! “There,” I say, but just as I’m about to slam the card down in victory, a gust of wind blows it right out of my hand. “Hey!” I cry as I watch the card fly over the patio and onto the grass. “Come back!”

  “Just pick another card,” Penny barks.

  “No way,” I say, jumping out of my seat. “It was the queen of hearts. I want that card.” But the card continues floating away from us like a kite without a string. “I told you it was too windy to play cards!”

  “Forget the card, Abby,” Penny snaps. “Don’t be difficult.”

  Difficult? Me? I’m the one who’s being difficult? I’m not the one being difficult! She is the queen of being difficult! “I’m getting it,” I say, and jump down the three steps off the patio.

  “I’ll help!” Robin cries, and I hear her stomping down the steps behind me.

  Hah! She’s helping me. Take that, Penny. Robin is following me. Not you. Me.

  “Where’d it go?” I ask.

  “It’s right there,” Robin says, pointing to the edge of the birdbath fountain.

  “Good eye,” I say.

  I’m about to snatch the card when another gust of wind comes, lifting the card up and sending it soaring right over Penny’s white fence, out of the backyard, and straight onto the golf course.

  “It’s gone!” Penny calls. “Pick another card.”

  There is no way, no how, no chance I am picking another card. I am getting that card. But how?

  “Look, Abby,” Robin says, and I turn around to see her standing on the edge of the fountain. “The fence isn’t that high. We can climb over.”

  Yes. Yes, yes, yes! I can definitely climb over the fence. I’ve climbed over a ton of fences before. And yay! Robin’s on my side. Not Penny’s! I step onto the fountain beside Robin.

  “What are you doing?” Penny calls nervously from the patio.

  “We’re going to get the card,” I say. “Ready, Rob?”

  “Guys, be careful,” Frankie warns, biting her thumbnail and standing up from her chair.

  “I’m not supposed to go onto the golf course,” Penny says.

  “You’re not going,” I say. “We are.”

  Robin winks. “One. Two. Three!”

  We both climb on top of the fence, and then swing our legs over.

  “Come back!” Penny hollers from the patio. “Right now!”

  “I see it,” I say, happily ignoring Penny and pointing to the card on the ground. “I’m going to get it. You can just stay up here and —”

  Before I finish my sentence, Robin has already jumped off the fence. “Wahoo!” she screams as she goes.

  Okay, then.

  I guess I’m going, too. I land on the grass with a thud. Ouch.

  I stand up and reach for the card. Another gust of wind blows it out of my hand. Tricky little thing.

  “Guys!” Penny cries. I turn to see her and Frankie standing behind us, the gate open behind them.

  There was a gate? That would have been slightly easier.

  I turn back around. From where we’re standing, we can see the entire golf course: short green grass, small hills, and tiny flags.

  “There’s the card!” Robin cries, pointing. She starts running through the golf course toward one of the flags.

  “What if she gets hit by a ball?” Frankie asks.

  Penny shakes her head. “No one’s golfing right now. The course is closed this month. Too cold.”

  “I told you it was too cold to be outside!” I can’t help but say. “Also too windy.”

  “It’s not that windy,” Penny says as the wind blows her blond ponytail straight up in the air.

  “Are you kidding me?” I cry.

  Robin stops and whirls around. “I don’t know where it went!” she calls.

  Then I see the card. Just sitting there on the grass, right beside Frankie.

  “Grab it, Frankie!” I say.

  “’Kay,” Frankie says and reaches out. Of course that’s exactly when the wind lifts the card off the ground and away from her. Frankie follows the card up a small hill. The card seems to take a flying leap over the hill … and then it disappears.

  “Wait!” Frankie yells and runs after it. And then Frankie disappears.

  “Frankie!” I yell, reaching the top of the hill. I don’t see Frankie anywhere on the horizon. Where did she go? What happened?

  I take a few steps down and stop right before a massive hole in the ground. It’s about four feet across and deep. Very deep. So deep I can’t see the bottom.

  What I can see is Frankie half dangling in the hole, her fingers digging into the ground, trying to keep herself from falling all the way inside.

  Oh, no!

  “Abby!” Frankie cries, her dark hair billowing behind her, her glasses crooked on her face. “Help me!”

  “Oh my goodness!” I say, feeling sick. Why is there a huge hole in the middle of the golf course? Is that where the golf balls go? How does anyone ever get them out?

  I reach down and try to grab Frankie’s hand and pull her up, but she’s too heavy.

  “Penny! Robin!” I holler.

  They appear by my side, huffing and puffing. When Robin sees Frankie, she lets out a strangled cry.

  Penny grabs Frankie’s other arm, and Robin holds on to the back of her shirt.

  “Come on, guys!” I shout.

  “I’m trying!” Penny says.

  “I can’t hold on!” Robin says.

  Frankie is squirming like crazy. “Don’t let me fall,” she says, sounding panicked. “I don’t see a bottom!”

  “We won’t,” I promise. I will not let her fall. I will not. I will NOT.

  I lie down flat on my belly to try to get a better grip. But Frankie’s still sliding. Now Penny and I are each holding one of Frankie’s hands. Robin is still holding her shirt.

  “Don’t let go,” I tell Frankie, my heart racing.

  “I’m trying not to, but Penny’s hands are all sweaty!” Frankie says.

  “My hands are sweaty?” Penny yells. “Your hands are sweaty!”

  “My hands are definitely sweaty,” Robin says.

  “Please save me,” Frankie begs.

  “WE’RE TRYING TO!” Penny yells.

  “We will,” I say, but Frankie’s sliding farther down. “Can you dig your feet into the sides to give you a better hold?”

  She tries to kick her foot to the side, but the swinging motion makes her loosen her grip. The next thing I know, her hands aren’t holding our hands anymore. She’s not holding us at all. Instead, her arms and legs are spread out and she’s screaming — loudly — as she falls down the hole.

  “HEEEEELLLLP MEEEEeeeeeeeeeee,” her voice echoes. It gets quieter and quieter the farther she falls.

  Until we can’t hear anything at all.

  Oh, no. Oh, no.

  Oh, NOOOOoooooo.

  Robin, Penny, and I are still staring into the hole, but now there’s nothing to hear or see. Just blackness.

  We lost Frankie! Where did she go? Where does the hole lead?

  Robin gets on her knees and peers in. “I can’t see her! How deep can the hole be?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. I shiver, remembering the echoing sound her voice made as she fell. “But I have a bad feeling that it’s very, very deep.”

  And then, as we’re gaping at the hole, I notice that it’s starting to shrink. To slowly, slowly, close up.

  Huh? Why is that happening? That doesn’t make any sense! I hate things that make no sense.

  “I think we should get my nanny,” Penny says, her voice trembling.

  My sweatshirt pocket starts to buzz.

  I frown. What is that? Did one of my parents’ cell phones somehow make its way into my pocket? No, that doesn’t seem likely. The buzzing stops. Could it be a bee or a wasp? I carefully feel the outline of the object against my s
weatshirt. It’s hard. And has jagged edges. And —

  Oh! It’s the piece of the broken mirror frame from my basement!

  The mirror piece starts to buzz again.

  Is it trying to tell me something?

  The piece of frame starts to shake back and forth. Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s trying to tell me something. And I’m pretty sure it’s trying to tell me that the massive hole in the ground is somehow related to the magic mirror in my basement.

  Wait. Is the hole a portal into a fairy tale? But how can it be? It’s a hole in a golf course! And I usually go into fairy tales with Jonah and Prince. And they’re not here. Prince is at home, and Jonah is at Isaac’s. I don’t go into fairy tales with my friends. I did once, when Robin sleepwalked into the story of Sleeping Beauty with me and Jonah. But that was an accident and that was still at my house, at midnight. But if this hole is a magic portal, that means Frankie’s already inside a fairy tale. Alone. And she doesn’t even know that she’s in a fairy tale since she’s never been in one before. She has no idea what’s happening. She’s probably still screaming and totally terrified.

  The hole keeps slowly shrinking. The portal could close for good any minute.

  I have to help her. Now.

  My pocket buzzes a third time.

  I swallow. Hard. “I need to go in after Frankie,” I say.

  “No!” Penny says. “That’s crazy. Why would we do that? Use your brain, Abby!”

  “I am using my brain,” I say. “I said I’ll go after her. You stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?”

  Robin’s eyes light up. “I’m coming, too!”

  “No, Robin, you should stay here with Penny. I won’t be that long. I’ll —”

  “Geronimooooo!” Robin cries, and the next thing I know, she jumps into the hole like she’s jumping off a diving board, her knees pulled in to her stomach.

  And down she goes.

  “Robin!” Penny cries, but it’s too late.

  I should have seen that coming. Robin can be a wee bit impulsive.

  “I’m going,” I say. I take a step forward to jump.

  “No,” Penny says, grabbing on to my arm. “Let’s get Sheila. Or maybe the fire department. They have ladders!”

  I shake my head. I don’t want any grown-ups knowing what’s going on. The fairy tale stuff is supposed to be a secret. “I can find Robin and Frankie. I promise. Just let go of me.”

  “No! You’re not jumping in there!” Penny cries, holding my arm in a death grip. “You are my guest and you’re my responsibility! I’m getting help!”

  The hole is shrinking faster now. This is bad.

  “I can’t let you get help,” I tell Penny.

  “You can’t stop me!”

  “Oh, yes, I can,” I say.

  And before she realizes what’s going on, I jump inside the hole and yank Penny with me.

  Whoooooosh!

  “Ahhhhhh!” Penny screams as we fall.

  Except we’re not really falling. We’re kind of gently sinking, like we’re in a pool. A pool without water.

  It’s still dark, but I can see Penny right beside me. Her eyes are shut and her mouth is open and she looks completely freaked out.

  “This isn’t happening … this is NOT happening … THIS IS NOT NOT NOT HAPPENING!” Penny cries. Her fingers are spread wide as if she just painted her nails and she’s waiting for them to dry.

  And wait — there’s Robin. She’s just a few feet below us!

  “Robin!” I call out as we all keep sinking. “You okay?”

  “This is amazing!” Robin cries. She does a somersault in midair. “I’m flying! I wish I had a cape!”

  “Do you see Frankie?” I ask her.

  “No!” she says, and giggles. “But I see a kitchen!”

  Huh?

  A few seconds later I see it, too. A kitchen. White cupboards swirl near us. Is that a jar of orange marmalade? It is! Then a bookshelf full of books is whooshing through the air beside us. And a chair. Then there’s a bed with a flowered quilt. And a loaf of bread.

  What in the world is going on?

  Okay, this hole has to be related to the magic mirror in my basement. I mean, we HAVE to be falling somewhere. Somewhere that will lead to a fairy tale. It’s not the way I usually get to fairy tales, but this is clearly magic. The real world does not have flying loaves of bread.

  “THIS IS NOT HAPPENINGGGG!” Penny screams again as we all continue to sink-fall.

  We pass a polka-dot umbrella. And then a blackboard etched with a tic-tac-toe game. A tray of peanut butter and banana sandwiches. A shelf with a container of baby powder on it.

  “I must be dreaming,” Penny says, nodding to herself. “Yes. This is a dream. It has to be a dream.”

  Hmm. If Penny thinks this is a dream, that wouldn’t be so bad. When we get out of here, I can just tell her that she woke up. Then she won’t tell anyone about anything strange she saw. “Yup,” I say happily. “It’s a dream. A lovely dream!”

  “Yes! Robin and I are on an adventure!” Penny says, all three of us still drifting downward. “But why are you in it, Abby? I never dream about you.”

  “Sorry,” I say as I duck a flying jar of mayonnaise.

  I wish I knew what fairy tale we’re in. What story has a flying jar of mayonnaise?

  Nope. Can’t think of any.

  A bottle of ketchup whizzes by my head. Can’t think of any story that has those, either.

  But, aw, ketchup! Jonah would get a kick out of that one. Jonah loves ketchup. No, Jonah is obsessed with ketchup. He puts it on everything. Fries. Mac and cheese. Bread. He would take a bath in ketchup if my parents would let him.

  He’s going to be so bummed he missed this.

  “Do you think we’re going to come out on the other side of the world?” Robin asks. “Like in Australia?”

  “My parents are taking me to Australia next Christmas,” Penny says. “They promised.”

  We’re going to have to land soon. This hole can’t go on forever, right?

  And just like that …

  BOOM!

  We land hard. The floor is wood, and feels bumpy like a tree trunk. Ouch. I rub my legs as I scramble up. I need to get my bearings.

  We’re in a long hallway and it’s hot in here. The ceiling is a banana yellow and the walls are made of black and white tiles, like a chessboard. Except there’s no pattern. It’s just uneven patches of black and white.

  Penny grabs my leg, then my waist, then my shoulders as she pulls herself up. “What a weird dream,” she says.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m wide awake,” Robin says cheerfully. “And this is fab.”

  “No. It’s a dream,” Penny says. “It has to be. This is all in my imagination.”

  “It is,” I say, nodding. “It’s all in your imagination.” I need her to believe that. It will make everything so much easier.

  “I don’t think it is,” Robin says, shrugging. “Sorry, guys. It’s real.”

  Penny crosses her arms in front of her. “It’s a dream!”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It’s totally a dream.” C’mon, Robin, quit blowing my cover!

  “It’s not a dream,” Robin says. “I’ll prove it.” She reaches over and pinches Penny hard on the arm.

  “Hey,” Penny cries. “That hurt!”

  Then Robin reaches over and pinches my arm, too.

  “Ouch!” I say, rubbing the red spot she left.

  “See? If it hurts, you’re not dreaming. Told you.”

  “Does that even really work?” I grumble. “Seems bogus to me.”

  “But … but … but …” Penny’s eyes widen again and take in the black-and-white walls. “This is real?”

  “No,” I insist.

  “Yes,” Robin says.

  “This is REAL?” she asks again. “It can’t be.” Penny pinches her own arm. “Ouch! No! Impossible!” She pinches herself again. “Ouch! No! Still impossible! Tell me the truth! TELL
ME THE TRUTH!”

  “Fine. It’s real,” I admit. I’ll have to come up with another explanation for all this later anyway.

  “But how?” Penny cries. “And why? I want to go home!” She looks up toward the hole, which has now closed above us. “How do we get out of here?”

  “I’m not exactly sure yet, but it’s going to be okay,” I say, since she seems totally panicked.

  “How could it possibly be okay?” she asks. “We’re stuck underground! And look at us! We’re covered in dirt! I’ve never felt more disgusting in my entire life! This is all your fault, Abby. Why did you go onto the golf course?”

  I’m about to snap back at her when I remember — Frankie.

  Oh, no. Where is she?

  “Frankie! Frankie? Are you here?” I call out. I wait for her to answer. And wait. Nothing.

  “I can’t believe she fell in here,” Penny grumbles. “What a klutz.”

  “Hey,” Robin says softly. “Don’t be mean. It was an accident.”

  Penny flushes. “She fell in by accident, but you jumped in.” Then she turns to me. “And you pulled me in!”

  Now I kind of wish I had left her behind. I finally, finally get to go into a fairy tale with friends, and I bring Penny? Annoying, show-offy, Robin-hogging Penny? What’s wrong with me?

  Penny cranes her neck to see the end of the hallway. “Maybe there’s another way out. This place is so bizarre. Yes. Look! There’s a door.”

  Up ahead there is a door. A blue door. No, wait. There are a lot of blue doors. Like fifty or so. I walk over and try to open one, but it’s jammed. Locked probably. Penny tries another door and it’s also locked. Robin runs down the hall and tries some others. We all run from door to door, trying every one, calling out to Frankie as we go.

  There’s no answer from Frankie. And not one door opens. What fairy tale has a lot of doors? Where are we?

  “There’s one more,” Robin says, pointing to the last blue door at the end of the hall.

  I almost missed it, because it’s so small. Like a dog door but even smaller. It has a key in it. I turn the key and the door opens. Wahoo! But it’s such a small door that I can’t fit more than my face through it. I lie flat on the floor on my stomach to get a better look. It’s not like my clothes can get any dirtier, as Penny has already pointed out.