by Sheila Grau
Pismo swam us over to a spot away from the pier, safe from the skeletons. My skin was completely numb from the cold by the time we made our way to shore. Pismo dried off with his towel and handed it to me. I wrapped it over my shoulders and we walked back together.
“P-p-pis-m-m-mo?” I asked, my teeth clattering from cold. “What’s it l-l-like . . . b-b-being a p-p-prince?” Pismo was the fourteenth son of the king of the merpeople. It was unlikely he’d ever be king. Still, I wondered.
“Good and bad,” he replied. “I like the perks, don’t like the responsibilities.”
“R-r-responsibilities?”
“Dressing up, attending boring dinners, showing up for events, and the lessons. Even though I’ll never be king, when I’m home, I have to take all these lessons about economics and diplomacy and stuff. Bo-ring.”
“What are the p-p-perks?”
“Well, we’re rich, so there’s that,” he said. “I can have anything I want.”
With that he shoved me into the bushes.
“Hey, Bianca, Verduccia, Grace. Nice Night Prowl?” he asked.
“Hey, Pismo,” I heard Bianca say. “It was fun.”
“Great warm-up for the Minion Games,” Grace added.
I heard footsteps fade into the night, then Pismo’s whisper. “Sorry, dude, but you’re in your underwear, looking like a dork. Can’t be seen with you. You understand. See you tomorrow.”
After Pismo left, I sprinted back to the safety of my dorm.
There’s a sucker born every minute.
—MOTTO OF AUNT HOWIE’S LEECH MONSTER FARM
I went to the cafeteria early the next morning, expecting the worse. Sure enough, as I stood in line I overheard two ogre-men talking behind me.
“You hear about that kid who was dancing in the cemetery last night?”
“Yeah, hilarious! I heard he was howling at the moon, pretending to be a werewolf.”
“That’s just sad.”
“Shut up, guys,” an imp said. “He’s standing right there.”
I tried to sneak to my table, but lots of kids made a point of howling as I passed them, the howls then breaking into laughter.
I realized then that Syke had been my armor against these sorts of attacks. Kids could have teased me for a million things before this, but they were just doing it now. Why? Because before, if anyone teased me, Syke would throw some insults right back at them. Along with a fruit cup, and maybe a chair.
I missed Syke. So much.
Halfway to my table I detoured and snuck into the kitchen, blinking fast so the tears wouldn’t spill down my face. Once safely there, I took a deep, shaky breath. I sat down at Cook’s table in the corner and looked at my wrists for the twentieth time that morning. The angry red lines had faded to a mellow pink. I pulled out my Good List and added: “Tether Curse has been defeated!” And then tried to convince myself to be happy.
When Cook came over, I showed her my wrists.
“What does it mean?” she asked.
“Mistress Moira thinks that if the curser added a tether, her curse range must be weak,” I said. “If it was strong, she wouldn’t worry about me getting out of range. At the very least, I’ll be able to escape the death curse by moving far away.”
“But I don’t want you to move far away,” Cook said.
“Do you want me to die on my sixteenth birthday?”
“Of course not,” she said. “This is really great news. And I will continue to hope that she finds out who cursed you and gets her to remove the curse altogether.”
Cook placed a plate of muffins on the table. I showed her that my hands were clean, she nodded, and then I grabbed one. She returned to her pan of scrambled eggs on the stove top.
“Cook,” I said between bites. “Have you seen any trees running around lately?”
“Excuse me?”
“Tootles raised some enchanted trees, but until their roots strengthen, they can run around. He’s missing six weeping blue atlas cedars, about as tall as me.”
“Well, that’s a new one,” she said. “No, I haven’t.”
“I saw one in the swamp, but when I asked it to come with me, it screamed ‘Nooooo’ and ran away like a toddler.”
“You can’t reason with a toddler,” Cook said with a chuckle.
“That’s the truth,” Mrs. Gomes, the head of security, added. She’d just come into the kitchen with her assistant, Margaret. Between them, Mrs. Gomes and Cook had raised eleven kids, so they would know.
“And you can’t win a struggle of wills, either,” Mrs. Gomes added, grabbing a muffin. “Toddlers feel powerless most of the time. Saying no is the only power they have. You have to allow them to feel powerful, but in a constructive way.”
“How do I do that?” I asked.
“Don’t give him a chance to say no,” Cook said. “If you say ‘Come with me,’ you’ve given him two choices—one, to come with you; the other, to say no. Instead, give him the power to decide between two choices you pick. Like, ‘We can go to Tootle’s tree house or to the field. Which one do you want to do?’”
“I’ll tell Tootles,” I said.
“One that always worked for me was turning what I wanted my kids to do into a game,” Mrs. Gomes said.
Cook nodded. “And when all else fails, put them in charge of what you want them to do.”
They continued to reminisce about their childrearing tactics. I left wondering if I really was in charge of handwashing in our family, or if that was just a trick. Jeesh.
I headed out to the new forest for my first-period mentor class and found Tootles pulling out weeds from a flowerbed near the river. I sat down next to him and helped while I told him about the tree I’d spotted in the swamp.
“And then he ran off,” I said. “I couldn’t catch him.”
“When are you going to try again?” he asked.
“Um . . . ,” I said, because I had no plans to try again. This was a job for someone else.
“Don’t give up, Runt,” Tootles said.
“It’s just that . . .” I fell backward and lay on my back, staring up at the sky. “Nothing is going my way lately. Everything seems impossible.”
“Would you look at these weeds?” he said, pointing to the pile he’d made. “I pull these weeds out all the time. And they keep coming back.”
“That’s annoying,” I said.
He pointed to his toolshed, closer to the road. The small brick building was covered with ivy that seemed to drip from the wooden roof.
“I used to pull that ivy out too. But then I got busy and neglected to do it for a while. Now it’s kind of grown on me, because I like the look of it.”
“You like weeds?”
“No, I hate them,” he said. “But I admire their persistence. I yank them out, telling them they can’t grow here. They come back. I yank them out. They come back. I forget to yank them out, and all of a sudden—they win.”
He helped me up. “Don’t stop trying just because you don’t succeed on your first try,” he said. “Otherwise, you’ll never know what you can do.”
‡‡‡
At lunch, instead of stampeding to the cafeteria, everyone was racing to the front gate. I saw Eloni and Boris following some ogre-men, so I jogged to catch up.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“Someone saw a giant gorilla outside the gate,” Eloni said. “They think that Pravus is attacking the school for revenge, because he thinks Critchlore destroyed his gorilla enclosure.”
“That can’t be right,” I said. “Pravus wouldn’t risk attacking us. Plus, all his gorillas died in that cave-in.”
“Maybe not,” Eloni said. “What if Pravus faked the whole thing?”
We followed the mob to the gate. It didn’t take long to see what the commotion was about. Giant gorillas are, well, giant. This one could have stepped right over our perimeter wall, but he sat huddled back between some trees. He seemed nervous and kept scanning the growing crowd, like he
was looking for someone.
The guards at the gate were trying to get everyone to back away.
“Maybe he’s a new student,” I said. “Vodum sent two new recruits yesterday.”
“Or maybe this is the minion that Dr. Pravus had to give us,” Boris said.
“Why would he give us one of his best minions?” Eloni said. “He’s probably going to give us that dorky human kid. You know, the one on their tackle three-ball team who never gets in the game and just sits on the bench?”
“Someone should get Janet,” I said. “I bet she could get him to do whatever she wants.”
Rufus knocked into me from behind. “Why don’t you quit obsessing over Janet, Runt. She thinks you’re lame.”
“Runt’s right, though,” Eloni said. “Janet could talk to that gorilla.”
“No, she couldn’t,” Rufus said. “She’s not here. She went home because of a family emergency.”
“Do you know what happened?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” Rufus said. “And it’s none of your business.”
I had my theory about Janet. I was pretty sure she was a spy. There were just too many things about her that didn’t add up. She claimed to be part-siren, but she couldn’t sing. She’d avoided the Fashion Show when all the siren mothers came to visit, and none of them had asked about her. Clearly she was just pretending to be a siren. Plus, she’d acted very suspiciously in the capital during our field trip. I saw her talking to a very tall man in the library there, but she wouldn’t tell me who he was.
And she knew I was a prince.
Security showed up, followed by Mr. Everest, the dean of students, who herded us away from the gate. Since I was close to the school’s perimeter path, I decided to follow it to the swamp and see if I could rustle up some wayward trees.
“Remember—safety first! No mauling allowed during the Minion Games.”
—MRS. GOMES, ALL-POINTS SAFETY BULLETIN
I needed to get those trees back to Tootles so I could be assigned a new mentor and get some real minions to lead. If I could do something impressive in the Minion Games, maybe I’d pass Professor Murphy’s class and stay in the Junior Henchman Program.
I approached the swamp carefully, hoping the tree was still there and not wanting to startle it. I rounded a clump of mangroves and saw the two giant leech-men napping in the shallows. Air hissed in and out of their gaping mouths. I’ve learned that most monsters leave you alone as long as you don’t bother them, so I edged around them and headed farther down the path.
I saw two of the enchanted cedars splashing each other at the swamp’s edge. As soon as they noticed me, they froze, like they were pretending to be normal trees.
“Hi, trees!” I said in a cheerful voice. “Looks like you’re having fun.” I could sense how much they wanted to run away from me. My plan was to take Cook’s advice and turn it into a game. “Can I play?”
They slowly turned toward each other. I swear it looked like one of them shrugged.
“You like to run? How about a race?”
This got them bouncing up and down. I smiled. “Okay, let’s race to that tree over there.” I pointed to a cypress tree that was away from the swamp but equally far for all of us. “Ready? On your mark, get set—”
They took off, the little cheaters. I sprinted as fast as I could, but they beat me by a few steps.
“Good job, guys,” I said. “But you have to wait until I say ‘Go!’ Otherwise, it’s cheating.” The taller one swiped a branch at the smaller one. Soon they were slapping each other like wimpy kids trying to fight. They made noises that sounded like the high-pitched whistles of wind through leaves.
“Hey, settle down!” I said. “It’s fine—I didn’t explain the rules first. Let’s try again.”
They stopped slapping and looked at me. Up close, I could see through the dangling pine needles that they had faces on their trunks. They were faint and hard to see, but they were there.
“Where should we race to next?” I said. “Let’s go a bit farther this time. How about to that building over there?” I pointed to the Necromancy Building, which was on the way back to Tootles’s tree house. “No cheating this time. Ready? On your mark, get set, GO!”
I sprinted. I wasn’t sure they were going to follow, but soon they both passed me, waving their branches like crazy. The tall tree won this time, stretching his longest limb to reach the side of the building before shorty, who barreled into the building, rattling the windows.
“Wow, you guys are fast!” I said, panting, with my hands on my knees. “Are you even tired?”
“Nooooo,” they both said, now sounding like a low wind howling through the forest.
“I am,” I said. “I need to catch my breath.” I sat down next to them. “Hey, what can I call you?”
“Googa,” the tall one said.
“Ffffthhhp,” said shorty.
“Okay. Googa and . . . Fthip,” I said. “I’m Runt.”
“Ruunnnth,” they said. Close enough.
“I have another game,” I said, still sitting. “I’m going to cover my eyes. I’m just so tired from all that running. I wonder if you two will surprise me by racing to Tootles’s tree house while I’m not looking. I just need to rest for a second. Here I go . . . closing my eyes . . .”
I covered my eyes and heard them scamper off with what sounded like tree giggles. I couldn’t believe it—they were heading right for Tootles’s tree house! I waited for a few seconds and then stood up.
“Hey!” I shouted. “Where did Googa and Fthip go?”
I watched their little tree limbs shake with glee as they sped up, sprinting for the tree house in the distance. I jogged after them.
Riga had spotted them coming and came down from the tree house with a watering can.
“Hello, darlings!” she said. “Look what I have for you!” She sprinkled them with water. She also attached little tracking bracelets to their branches and winked at me.
“Googa, Fthip,” I said, “I can’t believe you ran here when I wasn’t looking. That was so funny. We’ll have to play again later, but right now I have to meet my Minion Games team.”
I waved good-bye as Riga herded them back toward the new forest.
Two down, four to go. And then I’d get a real mentor with some fierce minions to lead!
I changed into my blue team T-shirt and my black shorts for the opening ceremonies of the Minion Games, held, like every all-school event, on the giant boulderball field.
The teams filled the stands like a rainbow—groups of red-, yellow-, green-, blue-, and purple-shirted kids. Dr. Critchlore, Coach Foley, and other faculty stood on the track that circled the enormous field. Barry Merrybench hustled over with a microphone for Dr. Critchlore. After handing it to him, he wedged himself into place next to Dr. Critchlore, slightly pushing Professor Dunkirk. She scowled at him but stepped aside. There was something very irritating about Barry Merrybench.
Once everyone had settled down, Dr. Critchlore called the captains down for the presentation of the symbols.
Even though Rufus was a third-year, like me, he was used to being in charge of games. He elected himself captain and ran down before anyone else on the blue team could say anything. We waited while the other teams voted for their captains.
“Looks like we’re going to play Giants versus Villagers,” I said to Penelope, a second-year human.
“Yep,” she agreed.
Giants vs. Villagers is a lot of fun. Normally, a few minions of impressive size—not just the giants, but sometimes ogres or trolls—stand on the field while everyone else (the “villagers”) lines up on one side. When the teacher says, “Villagers—flee!” we run across the field, trying not to get swatted by a giant. If you get tagged, you’re out. Giant minions are kind of slow, but they have good reach. One giant can tag out ten villagers with a single swoop of his hand. The game’s a riot of running and dodging and fun, unless a giant steps on you.
In the Minion Gam
es version, there was one giant for each team, and he or she would try to tag out all the villagers not on his team. He could also protect his villager teammates by blocking the other giants.
They’d added some new obstacles as well. The normally clear field was now filled with trees in planter boxes, some of them as tall as the giants (these were probably part of Tootles forest restoration project), giant boulders, and even a few huts. These obstacles would provide some protection from the rampaging giants, but not much, and not for long.
At last, the other captains joined Rufus on the track with the faculty. Coach Foley arranged them in a line and Dr. Critchlore presented each team with a symbol: an ax, a sword, a scepter, a cup, and a crown. We got the crown. Each team had to protect its symbol carefully, because stealing another team’s symbol was worth a bonus of ten points.
The captains then announced their team’s evil overlord theme. Rufus decided on Fraze Coldheart and his realm of Riggen, which was a good choice. The games end with a float parade, and Riggen is filled with dangerous terrain and cool monsters. Perfect for a float theme. The red team chose Wexmir Smarvy (Lower Worb), yellow chose Maya Tupo (Delpha), green picked Tankotto (Voran), and purple went with Dark Victor (Bluetorch).
A sense of anticipation and excitement swept through the stands, and everyone cheered and stomped as Dr. Critchlore passed the microphone to Coach Foley to announce the first challenge.
“Today, you are going to compete in the War Games version of Giants versus Villagers,” he said. “In addition to dodging the giants, there are a few more obstacles you villagers will have to navigate to make it to the other side of the field—namely, land mines and bombs dropping from the air.”
Immediately hands rose up from us “villagers.”
“No, not real ones,” Coach Foley assured us. The hands went down. “The land mines are buried springboards that will pop you into the air if you step on them. The bombs are bags of flour dropped by flying minions.
“Each team will get two points for every minion who makes it to the other side. If any do, I’ll be shocked, I have to say. The team that gets the most kids to the end earns a five-point bonus. In addition, any team that retrieves its flag from the hut in the middle of the field and carries it safely to the end line will get ten points. You have a few minutes to discuss strategy, and then we’ll start on my whistle.”
