Of Giants and Ice (Ever Afters, The)

by Bach, Shelby

  “No, I’m asking you. Do you think you’re impressing anyone?” I said.

  “I’m impressed,” Adelaide said haughtily while Chase eyed the bucket in my hand like he expected me to hit him with it.

  “You don’t count,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it doesn’t take much to impress you. You would probably be impressed if he sneezed,” Lena said, coming up to stand beside me.

  I couldn’t tell who was more insulted at this statement—Chase or Adelaide. It was nice to have an ally. “So, what’s it going to take to get you to stop bugging me all the time?” I asked.

  Adelaide just screamed at the top of her lungs.

  y first thought was that Adelaide had serious problems if she would throw a temper tantrum like that for Chase, but then she pointed.

  I looked over my shoulder and froze.

  Twenty feet away, slumped on the ground between us and the Tree of Hope, a ragged figure lay very still. Then two more figures appeared, one carrying the other, so suddenly that dust swirled around them. The one standing staggered and fell to his knees, choking on the dust. All three were covered in brown and red muck, so it took me a few seconds to recognize them.

  On the fourth finger of the coughing boy’s right hand, a ring shone neon blue.

  “Evan?” I said hesitantly.

  He glared at us. For a second, I thought I was wrong. He didn’t seem like the same kid who had left here weeks ago biting his nails. The look in his eyes was completely different. “Are you just going to stand there?” he said, and his voice broke, ragged with coughing.

  Then George was beside him. He knelt on the ground and gripped Evan’s shoulders. “What happened?”

  Seeing George there made the scene seem more real. I could move again.

  I ran. I reached the girl first—Evan’s sister, I couldn’t remember her name. She was slumped over on her stomach, her leg twisted underneath her. I flipped her over without thinking, wanting to see her face, to check if she was okay, but she screamed, even louder than Adelaide.

  “Mary.” Evan sounded like he was only a few seconds away from fainting himself. “Her shoulder.”

  Then I noticed too late the puncture wound just above her collarbone and the blood seeping from it.

  I knew suddenly what all the red muck was. She had lost a lot of blood.

  What happened next was weird. My hand reached out and pressed hard against the wound, but I felt like I was watching it from very far away. Under my palm, her right shoulder felt feverish and wet. I knew I should say something comforting, but my mind couldn’t find the words.

  “Evan, what happened?” George said again.

  Shaking his head hard, Evan held George’s forearms, like he couldn’t stay upright on his own. Blood dripped off the cuff of his left sleeve.

  “Evan, you have to tell me,” George told Evan. “If you pass out before Gretel gets here, someone has to tell her what happened to you three.”

  He blinked at George, like he just now realized who was talking to him. “Trolls. Captured us. Took the rings. Not sure how long. Days? Hard to tell. They held us in a cave. They couldn’t decide if they wanted to sell us as livestock or slaves. Kept asking questions about EAS.”

  Chase ran up next and tossed a handful of leaves in my lap. “From the Tree of Hope. They’ll slow the bleeding and dull some of the pain.”

  I stared at him, remembering dimly that we had been fighting about something a few moments before. It all seemed very stupid and far away with Evan and Mary and Russell here.

  Chase completely misunderstood the look. “Gretel taught me, all right? And isn’t anything better than your bare hands?” he said, exasperated, dashing around George and Evan to Russell.

  My palm was very red when I took my hand away, and the leaves looked shockingly green against it. When I pressed the leaf to Mary’s shoulder, she whimpered again, but nowhere near as loud as before.

  “How did you get out?” George asked Evan.

  “They kept us in cages. On the ground,” Evan said in the same halting monotone. “I asked a squirrel to help me dig under the bars one night. I crawled out and broke the locks on Mary's and Russell’s cages, but it woke the trolls up. We ran. We hid, but we couldn’t come back—we had to steal the rings . . .”

  “But why is Russell unconscious?” Chase asked impatiently.

  “Mary was h-hurt,” Evan said. “A troll threw a dagger when we left. So Russell and I went back alone. I found the rings, but one of the trolls caught Russell. I stabbed his foot, the troll let go, but he dropped Russell on his head. I slipped a ring on his hand to send him here, and I ran for Mary.”

  “You did a good job,” George said, trying to sound encouraging. “You got everyone back.”

  Tears ran down Evan’s cheeks, clearing tracks through the smeared mud, and he covered his face. I saw what was wrong with his left hand, and my stomach lurched. He had two stumps where his ring finger and his pinky should have been.

  “My fault,” Evan said, his voice thick and muffled. “Russell and Mary. It’s all my fault. What if they never wake up?”

  “Hush,” said someone else. “Let’s not give up hope before we reach the infirmary and I get a good look at you all.”

  It was Gretel, right behind us. Lena stood next to her, panting, obviously the only one smart enough to run for help. I had never been so glad to see a grown-up in my life. Gretel took charge immediately, directing two-foot-tall men with their names stitched on their work suits—the Shoemaker’s elves. My knees weak and rubbery, I stepped away from Mary to make room for the stretcher carried by two named Bob and Rufus.

  The whole courtyard fell silent while the elves loaded up the questers and carried them off. Gretel led the way. I didn’t see what door they entered, because Miriam dragged me to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

  I scrubbed and scrubbed my hands under the faucet with almost a cup of soap, watching the bubbles turn from pink to white, and still, I couldn’t forget the way Mary’s shoulder felt under my palm—slick with blood and unnaturally hot.

  “You’re okay, right?” Miriam handed me a paper towel, and I realized she was worried.

  I nodded and dried my hands, and I was okay. I walked out of the bathroom without stumbling, and I made my way over to Lena’s table under the Tree, where all the sixth graders had gathered. Kelly sat with her feet propped up on the seat, her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes very wide. Kyle, Lena, and Chase occupied the other chairs, so I sat on the ground.

  I was fine, but seeing Evan and his Companions come back like that . . . well, Failing a Tale felt a lot more real than just seeing a name on a wall.

  The whole courtyard waited for news. You could practically taste the worry in the air. All the seventh graders were a mess, which surprised me in a numb, distant way. They hadn’t seemed all that fond of Evan and Russell before they went on a Tale.

  “What could possibly be taking so long?” Kevin’s voice shook a little, but we all pretended not to notice.

  “They should be fine,” Chase said from the chair beside Lena. “I’ve seen worse. Well, as far as the Garrisons go, anyway. Head wounds are a different story.”

  “You’re really doing a great job of cheering everybody up,” Kyle said, and Chase shrugged.

  We fell silent again.

  I spread my hands in my lap, palm up, and tried to imagine what they would look like if I lost the same fingers Evan had.

  Both hands trembled. Not a lot, but enough to notice if you were looking.

  Great—not only did I freeze (again) at the first sign of trouble, but my hands shook afterward. If I got this freaked out over a Tale I wasn’t part of, my own Tale would be a disaster.

  “Whoa,” said Chase, staring down from the chair above me.

  I sat on my hands and glared at him, waiting for the teasing to start. I almost wanted an excuse to fight back. It was easier to be mad at him than to be scared.

  He did
n’t get the chance.

  “Look.” Lena pointed across the courtyard. I scrambled to my feet to see.

  Ellie stood at the Director’s podium, looking more serious than I had ever seen her. “The Director asked me to make a brief announcement. I’m sure you’re all worried. But Evan, Mary, and Russell will be fine.”

  I let out a deep breath I hadn’t known I was holding, and Lena echoed it beside me. Chase propped his chin on his hand, sharing a relieved grin with Kyle, who slumped in his seat. Kevin thumped Conner’s back, Conner’s eyes looking a little teary.

  “None of the injuries are life-threatening,” Ellie continued, “and under Gretel’s care, they’re expected to make a full recovery. Barring only a few scars.” Evan’s missing fingers flashed in my mind.

  “Now, Gretel’s infirmary is a bit full at the moment with Evan, his Companions, and a few particularly concerned friends. ‘The White Snake’ isn’t for the faint of heart,” Ellie added with a small smile. Nervous giggles rang out across the courtyard, but I didn’t get the joke. “So, if anyone else is feeling lightheaded or shaky, please come see me right away. I’ve got a special restorative tea you’ll need before you go home.”

  Chase looked pointedly at me, but I stuffed my hands in my pockets. I didn’t want anyone else to see them trembling.

  “Who fainted?” Kevin asked.

  All across the courtyard, kids started gathering their things and talking. Every once in a while, someone laughed, too loudly, and shook his head with relief. Darcy had cried all her eyeliner off, while her brother, the fawn with the spiked collar, nuzzled her hands, trying to comfort her.

  “One of Jenny’s friends,” said Lena.

  “And Adelaide,” said Chase.

  “Do you think it counts as a Failed Tale?” Kyle asked in a hushed voice, and everyone fell quiet again. I’m pretty sure we were all imagining “Evan Garrison” carved on the Wall.

  “No. They never ran across any of the trials,” said Puss, jumping up onto our table. “Rumpel says that they should have survived at least two. Evan’s Tale is still ongoing.”

  “But the last White Snake Tales always concluded in six weeks tops,” Lena said hesitantly. “I mean, Rumpel told me—”

  “This one is different. I’ve just seen the current Book myself.” The cat’s accent sounded even more clipped than usual. “New lines have appeared: ‘Evan came to the sinking realization that this Tale would take much longer than anyone expected. He was years away from his happily ever after.’” She looked me up and down with her piercing green gaze.

  “What?” Uncomfortable, I checked my clothes, thinking maybe I was a bloody mess, but the only spot I saw was a grass stain on my knee.

  “It seems the Tales are changing.” Puss turned and licked her white shoulder, as the bell sounded to dismiss us. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Kelly’s mother wants her.” The cat leaped into Kelly’s open arms.

  Without a word, Kelly ran all the way across the courtyard, past a group of girls, and straight into Ellie’s arms. When she buried her face in her mother’s stomach, her shoulders shook a little, and I felt terrible that I hadn’t noticed she was upset. She knew so much more than I did. Sometimes I forgot she was younger than the rest of us.

  Then Ellie murmured something and smoothed her daughter’s hair. Suddenly, I wished my mother was around too. I wished that I had already told Mom the truth about EAS.

  Lena turned my way, looking about fifty times more cheerful than me. “Ready?” Over her shoulder, she carried a weathered canvas duffel, the straps a little frayed.

  I had completely forgotten about the sleepover. I grinned at her, relieved. More than anything, I didn’t want to face a whole weekend worrying over Failed Tales by myself. If Lena wasn’t coming home with me, I probably would have cracked and told Mom and Amy the truth—whether it was actually a good time or not.

  “So,” Lena said, waiting while I shrugged on my backpack. “Is there anything I should know about your family?”

  One of Mom’s movie posters came to mind, but Lena probably knew about that already. I led the way to the ruby door. “Um, yeah, actually. They don’t know about EAS. I mean, about the magic side of it.”

  “Really?” Lena’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “I was thinking bad temper, or a weird mole someplace, but that’s definitely good to know.”

  • • •

  Lena had a talent for grown-ups. She was probably the best person to bring to my house for a sleepover when my family was worried about my friends.

  Amy was charmed. Lena even shook her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Stevens.” In the privacy of the backseat, I gave Lena a thumbs-up. Amy loved it when people called her Ms. Stevens. She took it as a sign of respect. She doesn’t get a lot of that from work.

  Mom was even easier to please than Amy. She wanted to like Lena, and she wanted Lena to like her. So, from the moment we walked in the door, Mom was her most friendly.

  “We’re home!” I called from the doorway.

  “In the kitchen!” Mom called back.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. Amy and I exchanged a worried glance.

  My mother loved to cook. She mentioned it in all of her interviews. Publishers had approached her to see if she would consider doing a cookbook. She was really flattered. It only encouraged her. But since she worked so much, she never got a lot of practice. On a good day, Mom’s meals were edible. On a bad day, I hid most of it in a paper napkin.

  Lena would eat anything, I was pretty sure, but I didn’t want to have to apologize profusely later for Mom’s Chicken Florentine or Provimi Veal disasters.

  “Be brave,” Amy told me. “If it’s awful, I’ll accidentally-on-purpose spill soda on it and order us pizza.”

  Sometimes, I didn’t know how we ever managed without Amy.

  “What’s wrong? Is there something else I should know?” Lena said, as we dumped our bags at the bottom of the staircase and headed into the kitchen.

  “Yeah—Mom can’t cook,” I whispered back. “Don’t tell her fans, though.”

  “Her fans?” Lena repeated, frowning.

  Mom stood in front of the oven. Seeing us, she waved both hands at Lena, two hands that happened to be covered in oven mitts—one shaped like a pig and the other shaped like a cow. Her hair fizzed out in wayward tufts. She was definitely at her least intimidating.

  “Hi, Lena!” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you! All good things, don’t worry.”

  “Hi,” Lena’s voice dropped off to a whisper. She looked startled and embarrassed—like she’d accidentally just swallowed her gum.

  She’d just recognized Mom. Lena hadn’t known who Mom was. She hadn’t even suspected. She had come to hang out with me, and only me. Wanting to meet the famous Maggie Wright hadn’t even entered into the equation.

  I felt like laughing. I felt happy.

  Then Lena shot me a look, which clearly said, Why the hiccups didn’t you tell me? I couldn’t keep myself from grinning.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. L—” Then Lena stopped herself. Obviously she had just remembered that my parents were divorced.

  But Mom rescued her before I could. She shook Lena’s hand wearing the cow oven mitt. “Call me Maggie.”

  Lena still looked stunned, like she didn’t know what else to say, so I changed the subject. “Mom, you’re not cooking, are you?”

  “No . . . why?” she asked.

  I pointed at the oven mitts. “I thought we were having pizza.”

  “Oh!” Mom said. “Just brownies. The pizza is on its way.”

  Behind Mom’s back, Amy lifted up an empty box of brownie mix, giving me and Lena the A-OK sign.

  Lena covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. When Mom turned around suspiciously, Amy strolled forward, dropping her car keys and opening the freezer.

  Then the oven timer beeped, which did a really good job of keeping Mom from catching on. “Ooh, brownies. While I dish these up, why don’t you two change into your pj
’s and make this a real pajama party?”

  It was the best sleepover I ever had. The brownies had baked into a hard, solid sheet in the pan (Mom swore up and down that she had followed the directions exactly), but they still tasted good after Amy crumbled them over ice-cream sundaes. Since we ate them before the pizza came, Mom said, “It’s just the kind of day when you need to eat dessert first.” We hadn’t rented any movies, so we flipped through the channels until we found one of Mom’s old films—something she had made near the beginning of her career, a teen movie that started with a cafeteria foodfight and ended with prom. With the TV’s volume turned on low, Mom entertained us with anecdotes about the filming—here, the director and the lead actor had an hour-long fight over whether the actor’s collar should be flipped up or folded down.

  During the intense confrontation scene, the male lead had apparently farted loudly after declaring his love for Mom’s character. When he looked into the camera with wide earnest eyes and said, “I love you, Carrie. I always have,” she cracked up again, so hard that she dropped a spoonful of ice cream down her front. Which made Lena laugh so hard that Sprite poured out of her nose.

  When the teen movie ended, The Last Shoe Standing came on.

  Amy made a face, her hand poised over the remote. “Do we have to watch this? I hate these movies.”

  “What’s wrong with it?” Mom asked. This was one of her favorites.

  “It’s just another Cinderella-type, rags-to-riches story. It’s so unrealistic,” Amy said, and I wondered what Ellie might think of that.

  Then Lena asked a question that made me choke on my pizza. “What’s your favorite fairy tale?”

  Amy patted my back as I coughed and sputtered. “Are you okay?”

  I was not okay. I was kind of concerned that my friend was going to rat me out.

  “Oooh, that’s a good question,” Mom said. “‘East of the Sun, West of the Moon.’ Do you remember it, Rory? I used to read it to you when you were little.”

  “No,” I said hoarsely.

  “Pizza probably went down the wrong way.” Amy passed me my Sprite. “Drink some of this.”