Xander and the Lost Island of Monsters

by Margaret Dilloway

  “No!” I say, but it’s too late. Rice balls explode in her mouth, expanding her cheeks to their limit, and then pop out of her lips. She almost chokes.

  Peyton clucks disapprovingly and crosses his arms. “Serves you right. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

  “My parents didn’t teach me anything.” She bends and snatches the sticky rice grains out of the dirt, shoving them into her pockets. Inu tries to eat some, but she pushes his head away. “Those are mine, dog.”

  “Leaving her behind sounds better all the time,” Peyton mutters into my ear.

  Probably, I’m about to say. But then I get a big, fat lightbulb over my head. “Hey,” I whisper, “she’s the monkey!” The monkey from the Momotaro story. It couldn’t be more obvious. The climbing. The uncanny speed. Even the rudeness.

  She lifts up her upper lip, showing her teeth. “Monkey? Ha. I’ve been called worse.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then extends her palm to me. It’s covered in bits of sticky rice and mud. Ew. I’m about to shake it anyway when Inu saves me by getting between us and licking the rice off. “I’m Jinx.”

  “I’ll say.” Peyton crosses his arms.

  “It was my great-great-grandmother’s nickname. She was a flapper. Al Capone’s girlfriend.” Jinx wipes Inu’s slobber off on her jeans. “My family has a long history of lawlessness. Or at least”—she grins—“being associated with lawless people.”

  “You say that like you’re proud of being associated with mobsters.” Peyton’s voice deepens in disapproval.

  “I’m not not proud of it. I didn’t choose who came before me. I suppose you did, Mr. Perfect?” She rolls her eyes at him.

  Jinx has a point. And Peyton is sounding a lot like his father—not that I’d point this out to him at the moment, in front of a stranger. Instead I squint at her. “Do you really know how to get out of here?”

  She looks right and left and up and down. “That depends on where you want to go.” She wiggles her fingers at me. “Come on, already. Give me another one. I haven’t eaten for days. No joke.”

  “Wait a second.” I close my hand protectively around the monkey netsuke. She’s not going to trick me into handing over more food. I’ve got to find my dad. “I want to go where the oni live. Tell me where that is and I’ll give you all the onigiri you want.”

  “The oni live everywhere on this island. Duh.” She eyes my hand, perhaps assessing how to steal the food.

  “No, I mean where their, like, headquarters are, or whatever.” I don’t know how to describe what I’m looking for.

  Jinx stares at me disbelievingly. She snorts. “Baka. Nobody goes there on purpose.”

  Peyton raises his brows quizzically.

  “Baka. That means we’re dumb idiots,” I say to him. “It’s kind of rude, actually.”

  “Yeah, I know how to get there. But I’m not showing you until I get more rice.” She reaches for the netsuke on my belt, yanks at them. “Let me have some.”

  “Stop!” I try to push her off, but her long fingers snag my belt. She pulls me right to her. She smells like mud and coconuts. I slap her hands and try to turn, but she’s too persistent. And strong.

  Peyton steps in and shoulders her away from me, sending her crashing into a giant hairy fern. He unfurls his wings and squawks so loudly I have to cover my ears. “Enough, jungle girl!”

  Whoa. He really is my bodyguard. “You guys, cut it out. Now.” I wipe the sweat off my forehead and pat my belt to make sure everything is still there. “Jinx, if you can’t play nice, you can’t play at all.”

  Jinx regains her composure. She stands up straight and glares at Peyton. “The little kid better keep his word.”

  “Of course I’ll keep my word!” I say hotly.

  Jinx lunges toward me, and Peyton blocks her. She holds up her hands as if she’s afraid Peyton’s going to hit her. But he’s got his arms crossed—he only wants her to leave me alone. I wonder who has hit her, made her so scared and mad at everybody. That witch back in the cave?

  Then Inu thrusts himself between me and Peyton and Jinx and barks. Ruffruffruff. That’s what he does at our house whenever people raise their voices. I always assumed it was because he thought we were playing and he was excited. But now I see that Inu really understands what’s going on. He looks at Peyton. Ruff. He looks at Jinx. Ruffruff. My dog is scolding everyone like he’s my grandma.

  Jinx sinks to the ground, suddenly looking as exhausted as I feel. “Fine, fine, fine. Truce.”

  Peyton glances down at Inu and then takes a step back. His wings expand and contract slightly with the rhythm of his hard, angry breathing. He points at Jinx with an index finger that might as well be an ice pick. “Don’t you ever touch Xander again. Do you understand?”

  Her hands go to her hair, smoothing it back as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, but I can see the pulse beating in her neck. “Or what? Do you really think a chicken can take on a monkey?”

  “Pheasant!” Peyton spits.

  Jinx smiles. “Whatever. I’ve eaten those, too.”

  Peyton takes a step toward her again.

  Ruff! Inu jumps up on Peyton, putting his paws on his shoulders. Woof! He barks right into Peyton’s face.

  “Ew, your breath smells like the garbage dump.” Peyton pushes Inu down. “Okay, boy, I get it.” He pets Inu’s fluffy head. It’s hard to stay mad with Inu around. Inu sticks out his long tongue sideways and thumps his tail.

  “Can we please get back to saving my father now?” I move closer to Jinx, but not within reach of her. I’m done trusting this monkey. “Jinx, are you going to show me or not? If not, tell me now and we’ll leave you alone.”

  Jinx lies back in a bush like she decided it’s a nice resting place. She crosses her hands over her belly. “Why would you want to go to the oni nest, anyway?”

  I gulp. “The oni have my father, Jinx. I have to get him back.”

  Jinx glares up at me, her eyes turning a very light amber. I realize she’s holding back tears. She scrambles to her feet. “You want to see the oni? It’s your funeral. I’ll get you there. Then we’re done.”

  “Fine by me,” I say.

  Jinx nods once. She starts walking through the bushes. Stalking is a better word. She beats the branches aside with her fists, probably wishing she was hitting me and Peyton instead. The underbrush seems to make room for her, moving to the sides to get out of her way, but it smacks us in the face and chest as it springs back. When I feel something like a hummingbird land on my bloody arm, I look down and see that it’s actually a giant mosquito. I wave it off.

  Jinx keeps moving. “So, the oni have your father. He must be the Momotaro.”

  “You know the story of Momotaro?” I hurry to keep up with her.

  “Everyone here does.” She glances back at me, then stops short. “But if you’re his son…”

  I wince at the disbelief on her face.

  Her eyes go to the silver hair on the sides of my face. “I never would have guessed it. Momotaro are warriors. Big and strong. Like him.” She jerks her head toward Peyton. “You are—”

  “He actually prefers to be called Peach Boy,” Peyton interrupts.

  I sock him in the arm. But I can’t worry about what Jinx thinks about me. I just need her to get me to Dad. “What do you mean, ‘everyone here’? Do you live in this jungle?”

  “I make it a habit not to tell people things unless they need to know. And you don’t need to know.” She pulls back her hair and knots it high on her head. The ends are tinged green. Then she starts running again.

  I consider telling her that she’s supposed to stick with me, because, according to the story, I have three sidekicks. She didn’t care about being called a monkey, but I can’t say that she’s my, like, pet. She might just climb into a tree and disappear forever. “I’d like to know, though.”

  The day’s getting hotter. Now I’m sweaty and bloody. Jinx doesn’t let up her pace. “Originally, I was
from Kauai. One of the Hawaiian islands.”

  “We’re in sixth grade. We know where Kauai is.” Peyton scowls.

  Jinx comes to a halt again. My feet skid in the crumbling red dirt as I try to avoid bumping into her. “How am I supposed to know what you don’t know, genius?” She moves her hand in a circle by a leafy fern. Another plant with flat succulent leaves leans toward us, as if she’s pulling it forward with an invisible thread. She tears off a leaf and snaps it in two. Clear gel oozes out of the middle.

  She grabs my arm and, before I can say anything, turns it over and dabs the gel on the cuts and hives. A coolness slides over the skin and immediately my arm feels better. “I started in Kauai; I ended up here. A place like Kauai, yet not like Kauai.”

  I flex my fingers. The welts are gone. “Thanks, Jinx.”

  She ducks her head and, for the first time, smiles a genuine smile at me. Her cheeks turn pink. “You can find the plant all over the place here. It’s like aloe, only way stronger. If your throat or stomach hurts, drink it. It’ll help.”

  Peyton squints at her. “And how long have you enjoyed this whacked-out paradise?”

  Jinx shrugs, and her dimples disappear. Her hair falls over her face. She closes up like a clamshell. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What was that thing in the cave?” I ask her. We start moving forward, and again Jinx makes those beating motions with her arms. She’s not trampling the plants; they’re pulling back for her. Even Peyton’s got to admit that jungle travel’s a lot easier with her.

  “An oni. A yuki-onna. A woman made of snow. Lures travelers to their deaths. Mostly men, who are easy to trick.” Jinx smiles with amusement. “Eats their souls.”

  “So how’d you get tricked, smarty-pants?” Peyton asks.

  I snicker. She glares at him. “Again—you don’t need to know. Anyway, the forest ends soon.” She points. “We have to head due south.”

  This sounds like a pretty good plan. Also, it’s the only plan anybody can think of.

  “Lead on, monkey girl,” Peyton says under his breath.

  The sun moves across the top of the jungle and still Jinx keeps pushing forward. Sticky mud pushes up disgustingly between my toes. By now, my vision is blurry, my hair is sticking to my scalp, my lips are cracked, and my face feels like it’s melting off. Did one of the netsuke boxes have water? I look in both of them, but there’s nothing new to be found. I didn’t bring the canteen.

  Peyton’s breathing so hard it sounds like he’s panting, but he keeps looking ahead and doesn’t slow. Another nugget of info from a nature show floats to the surface of my brain—birds don’t sweat. They kind of pant when they get hot, like dogs. Convenient for him—my shirt’s drenched, and the only reason I don’t take it off is because I don’t want to get sunburned. Or blind anyone with my moon-white belly.

  Ahead of us, Inu isn’t moving at his usual trot; instead, a paw-dragging trudge, and he’s also panting. Jinx seems like she’s doing all right—no crankier than she was an hour ago, anyway. Maybe she’s used to the jungle climate, being from Kauai and all. Nobody speaks.

  I take what my grandma would call a “deep, cleansing breath.” Or I try to, at least. The air is so humid it’s like breathing in warm soup, which sticks in my throat. I cough. What I really want to do is sit down in the shade for approximately twenty hours and have a good rest. Apparently I’m not meant for outdoor life. I think of my room at home and my video games. Heck, I’d even be happy washing dishes for Obāchan, if it meant I could be inside.

  Then again, if I was home, that would mean being back in a room wrecked by the disaster. It would mean that everyone and everything in my town was gone, including my father and Peyton’s parents.

  Not to mention what it would mean for the rest of the world when the oni attacked them, too.

  I’m walking straight into the oni nest—no, I probably don’t want to think about that.

  A shadow passes overhead, and then a giant splotch of bird poop, neon yellow and green and white, plops down in front of me. Ew. I glance up and see a monstrously huge bird flapping away. I’m pretty sure it’s laughing.

  How much longer can we keep walking?

  I stare at Jinx’s back as she leads us to wherever we’re going. She’s my sidekick, and so is Peyton. They’re here to help me. But even with them, how can I fight all the oni? Throwing salt can’t be the answer—I don’t have enough. I need a sword. Or something. Anything.

  I remember the dream I had about my grandfather. Ojīchan, I say in my head, what am I supposed to do? Obāchan told me I had faith and imagination. But imagination isn’t good for much when a real live monster is trying to claw your guts out. I don’t know what she meant by faith. Faith in what? I don’t have any faith. I don’t even have a weapon. That sword in my dream—my grandfather’s sword—shouldn’t I have that? I’m no expert on heroes and demon fighting, but that weapon seems kind of important. In my frustration, I hit a palm leaf that’s sticking out into the path, and it hisses and smacks me back. I jump forward, almost knocking into Peyton. Okay, mental note: leave plants alone.

  The trees become more closely packed, their roots gnarled foot-traps. We have to slow down, pick our way over the knotty, ropelike appendages. Abruptly the light dims and the air cools, though there’s not a breath of wind. Thank goodness. I inhale and feel the refreshing chill seep into the deepest part of my lungs. I look up, and the sky’s completely obscured by leaves again. No birds or creatures chirp. It is as quiet as a baby’s nursery at naptime. Ahead there’s an especially big tree, with space between its huge, exposed roots that look like two arms waiting to hug me. I want to lie down between them. Usually dark forests are spooky, but this one’s as inviting as a pool on a hot day. I stop walking. My eyelids are so heavy I might literally fall asleep on my feet. “Can we rest in here?” I try not to show how tired I am. I put my hands on my hips.

  Jinx looks back at me and frowns. “This is not a good place. It’s the Sacred Grove.”

  “Why’s it sacred?” I move toward the roots, where I want to lie down. “We won’t hurt anything.”

  “I don’t know. It’s just really ancient.” She purses her lips. “It’s like a church. Would you sleep in church?”

  The two times a year when my dad takes me to church, I do tend to nod off during the sermon. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Peyton yawns loudly and sits down on a root, his wings folding up behind him. “I vote for a rest, too.”

  Inu leans against Jinx. Guess that means he’s siding with her, which makes me reconsider my opinion. But Peyton’s already slid down to the ground, and his head’s bobbing against his chest.

  Jinx wipes sweat off her forehead. “Whatever. I guess it’s safe enough. Just don’t hurt anything.” She sits against a root, too, and Inu throws himself down beside her with a sigh.

  “I won’t. I’m a regular tree hugger.” I examine the massive tree.

  Its bark is gray-white and only slightly rough, like watercolor paper. It’s as wide as three men lying end to end. I stare at the bark, looking for something out of the ordinary. Nothing. I turn and examine the other trees in this copse, too. A soft breeze rustles the leaves and dappled sunlight hits the uppermost branches. They’re just regular trees.

  Jinx and Inu are already fast asleep, as is Peyton. I sit down against the biggest tree, in between two roots, curling my body up against its trunk.

  In a moment, the grove falls away and I’m standing on a mountainside that overlooks an ocean. A regular, non-tsunami ocean. And it’s not my mountain, either. I look down at big white waves crashing into rocks, up at pine trees and snow.

  “Musashi.”

  I turn. My grandfather sits on a small boulder. He is older this time, a hump in his back. A jolt goes through me.

  “You were at school!” I point at him. “It was you, older!”

  He winks. “Suffering through your boring social studies class with you.”

  I grin. Finally, a grown-up
who will admit the truth. Too bad he’s an ancestor now and can’t back me up in real life. “I’m having trouble, Ojīchan. How do I know what to do?”

  “Have you consulted the comic book?” He stretches his legs out in front of him, flexing his feet in his wooden geta sandals, wincing as if this action pains him.

  “It’s back on the ship. But we read it.” I stand in front of him, my arms crossed. I’m not going to let him turn into the beast-man this time. This is my dream, darn it. “The comic book doesn’t say, like, how to kill the beast-man or get my father back. His father’s not even missing in the story. It’s not the same at all.”

  “But you created it, Xander Musashi. You know all you need to know.” He reaches up and taps my temple with his cold right forefinger. “All you need to do is access it. Like with your computers.”

  “Well, I don’t know how to do that.” My nose begins running, and my eyes sting. I look down to stave off tears. “I don’t know why nobody will tell me anything.”

  My grandfather’s calves are bare under his kimono, crisscrossed with blue veins and red scars. This man has seen a fight or two. I soften. “Please, can’t you help me?”

  He laughs, not unkindly. “If I helped you any more, Musashi, I would be having this adventure for you. You must live it yourself.”

  My nose tingles. I sneeze once, twice. By the third, I’m awake, back in the grove, my face pressed against the tree.

  So I still don’t know where Momotaro’s sword is, or how to vanquish anything. Everything I’ve done has been through trial and error, not because I know how to access information stored somewhere secret in my brain.

  And the sword! I didn’t ask about the sword. I punch the tree’s bark lightly. Not only would I like to live this adventure, I’d very much like to live through it, thankyouverymuch.

  I take a few breaths so deep my lungs pinch. The bark smells like lemongrass. I see now that the bark is actually many colors, light greens to grays to green-whites and silver-whites. It looks like a CraftWorlds tree, made of thousands of pixels. I stare at the pixels and think about how I’d re-form them into different shapes. Like a tree-colored person.