She remembered them. “Every cage—”
Deus made an abrupt shushing noise. Indira fell silent, but that did not stop the phrase from echoing in her mind: Every cage has a key.
“Don’t tell people your Words,” he scolded. “They’re yours, and they’re private. Every character has First Words. Consider them a promise and a warning. If you do well in school, those words will be the very first words of your story. If you don’t do well…” He trailed off awkwardly. “Let’s just say I can’t snap my fingers to get you out of that.”
Indira felt the weight of his warning. Every cage has a key. The words were dancing through her head like a promise. This was why she’d come to Fable in the first place. She was a character, and deep down she burned with desire to exist in a story she could call her own. Deus must have sensed her excitement, because he was grinning at her in his knowing way.
“One final thing.” He flashed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a bronze penny. “A parting gift. Give it a spin and I’ll come running. It will only work once, savvy?”
She nodded. With a deep breath, she took the penny and shoved it into her pocket. Deus offered her the briefest of hugs. She tried to hold him tight, but he felt thin, as if he had already vanished and appeared somewhere else in the world.
“Sorry to run, Indie. There’s a rebellious teen locked in a dungeon somewhere.”
“See you when I need you,” Indira replied with a wink.
He turned on the spot and vanished. In the distance, beyond where Deus had just been standing, Indira saw a little slash of color, as though someone had just ducked into an alleyway and out of sight. She eyed the spot, frowning, before turning back toward the school.
The next step in her journey was waiting.
All the new and hopeful characters had gathered in front of Protagonist Preparatory. She could not help feeling like there were quite a lot of them. She’d always thought Origin was the only place with characters-in-waiting, but as she approached, she heard the other characters talking about where they’d traveled from. Towns like Prologue and Wellspring and Inception. One girl had even grown up in a little mountain town called Flashback. Indira frowned.
Were they all really here to audition?
Indira saw three imposing figures in front of the building. They looked as if they were as much a part of the landscape as the stained-glass windows and iron weather vanes. Indira could hardly take her eyes off them as she stumbled over to where Maxi was standing. She bumped shoulders with the girl and nodded into the distance. “Who are they?”
Maxi let out a shriek and wrapped her arms around Indira.
“You’re alive!”
“Of course I’m alive. Why wouldn’t I be alive?”
Maxi gestured vaguely. “I read this book, where people got taken away through teleports, and they all, like…I don’t know…had very different experiences on this, like…alien planet.”
Indira laughed. “No worries. I wasn’t experimented on.”
She glanced around. Most of the other characters looked around her age—though there were one or two adults in the crowd—and most of the waiting group looked like they needed some training. She was still sizing the others up when Maxi let out another squeal. The ranks of gathered characters parted as Phoenix strode toward them.
“You’re alive too!”
Phoenix smiled. “Maxi, we talked like five seconds ago.”
“Can’t a girl be excited?” she asked. “Live a little, you two!”
Indira and Phoenix exchanged an eye roll. Indira took a second to search the crowd for Peeve. Her ex-neighbor hadn’t arrived yet, though. Indira remembered the Author Borealis representative saying something about taking a different route. Whatever route they were taking, it was apparently going to make Peeve late for auditions.
Indira’s eyes were drawn once more to the three figures waiting in front of the building. It couldn’t be more clear that they weren’t characters. “Who are they?” she asked again.
Phoenix answered, “The brainstorms.”
In spite of the sunny day, Indira felt the air go very still. It was like the exact moment before a storm roared to life, all that lightning and thunder and rain. She finally realized what was so strange about the brainstorms. Their features looked too sharp. They seemed to have more substance than the world around them, more color and presence.
Two of them were women. The first was short and slight with dark brown skin. Everything about her had a crisp and orderly quality to it. Her hair had been cut perfectly at the shoulders. It didn’t curl or wave or do anything playful at all. Her lips looked as though they’d been carved from the quiet stone of her face. She wore a business suit with a high, dominating collar.
The second woman had a quieter kind of power. Her skin was light and freckled. Indira saw that her eyes were two remarkably different colors. The left hinted at green forests and spring leaves. The right looked like the type of amber that encased prehistoric insects. The woman’s jacket was made of little black dragon scales. The perfect attire for dancing or sword fighting on a bloody plain.
Of the three of them, the man seemed least intimidating. He was certainly tall, but it almost looked accidental, like he’d been given more height than he knew what to do with. His features were quite striking: dark, slanting eyebrows and a sharp nose that were complemented pleasantly by a charcoal mustache. Indira felt that he looked like someone’s uncle.
As she watched, the shorter woman with the high collar stepped forward. She held up a hand for silence. “Good morning,” she said in a crisp voice. “I am Brainstorm Underglass.”
The man stepped forward. “I am Brainstorm Vesulias.”
“And I’m Brainstorm Ketty.” The woman with the mismatched eyes waved.
The first woman, Brainstorm Underglass, waited for the half murmurs of the crowd to fully die out before continuing. “We are the brainstorms of Protagonist Preparatory. Over the past few months, each of us has spent time engaging with the Authors. Our explorations of the Real World have given us long lists of upcoming availability in their stories. Each of you will be assigned to one brainstorm. We will monitor your grades and your progress, and determine the best possible matches for you based on our research and your school performance.”
Brainstorm Vesulias spoke next. “Today is a chance to demonstrate your potential. Auditions are a glimpse of your talents. We’ve found that this method is rather timeworn and proven. You’ll each face an antagonist who’s applying to the school in Fester. There will be three scene illusions. The first will favor your opponent, the second will favor you, and the third scene will be neutral ground. After completing the three scenes, we will analyze what track we think best fits your talents based on the results.”
Maxi grabbed on to Indira’s arm and squeezed excitedly. Indira thought she heard the girl mutter something about destiny and protagonists. Brainstorm Ketty continued. “I am going to call out a list of names. Please line up in order. Your auditions will begin soon after.”
Indira felt her stomach begin to turn nervously as the names were called out. Abner Allenby, Augustus Best, Bertram the Beadle, Bollister Borcreaux, Catherine Daedalus…Each name dug its steady way to I. She watched the other characters step forward and found she was rather thankful her name wasn’t Aardvark or Abigail.
Eventually they did call her name. Her stomach did a few backflips. Maxi wished her luck. Phoenix nodded firmly. She went to stand in line behind a shirtless boy who was covered in tattoos. Behind her, a girl played an instrument that looked more like a snake than a flute. The line stretched from the doorway to the middle of the courtyard. When everyone had found their places, Indira counted at least forty new characters.
How many would be allowed to take the protagonist track that Deus had mentioned? Indira’s goal had always been to get to Fable. But now that s
he was here, she had her eyes on a new prize: to be a hero in her own story.
And if I’m a hero, she thought, I can bring David into the story with me.
Looking around, Indira found it impossible to measure herself against the others. She saw characters in wizards’ robes, a strange creature with eight arms, and one girl with a ponytail so long it almost reached the nearest alleyway. Indira set a nervous hand on the grip of her hammer. It was hard to know how she stacked up with the others. After all, they could be destined for completely different stories.
She tried to focus on making a plan, but realized that that was just as impossible. She had no idea what to expect. The brainstorm’s instructions echoed back to her.
Three illusions.
One that fit her enemy’s strengths.
One that fit her strengths.
One to determine the real winner.
She didn’t have much time to think, because the line was already beginning to move.
“Indira Story.”
She walked through the open gothic doors and followed a secretary through bright hallways. Little bulletin boards swirled with activity: the last school year’s happenings. Indira could not help slowing down and reading, enchanted by all the possibilities.
One flyer offered tutoring in horseback riding (undead mounts available upon request). A second invited members to come out and participate in their favorite imaginary sports (brooms not provided). Someone had drawn a mustache on the face of a smiling lion who promised that his evening classes could help characters find the courage to face their greatest fears (especially helpful if you’re afraid of your own tail!).
The final poster read simply: LEARN JABBERWOCKY. The explanation below made no sense at all, though. Indira was mouthing words like gyre and gimble and slithy when the waiting secretary cleared her throat.
“Plenty of time to sign up for clubs later,” she promised.
Indira followed her excitedly. Their journey ended at the double-door entrance to an auditorium. The secretary smiled at her. “Just wait for your name to be called.”
She took a deep breath as the secretary’s retreating footsteps faded. She was starting to count off the seconds, tapping out each one with her foot, when a voice boomed from inside.
“Indira Story!”
She pushed through the entryway. Inside, a vast amphitheater waited, its plush seats empty. Between the seats and the stage, a table had been set out and three judges were seated with very official-looking clipboards. Indira walked up and took her place onstage, trying to keep her hands from shaking.
She recognized Brainstorm Vesulias, who sat to the far right. She didn’t know who the other judges were. In the middle, a boy with rosy cheeks. He looked surprised to be there. The last judge’s appearance was the most startling. Indira couldn’t be sure, but he looked like a demon. His diamond skin was as hard and unforgiving as stone. Little veins ran through the crystalline of his arms and legs like streaks of faded lava. His burnished eyes gleamed hungrily.
Indira saw a door at the opposite end of the stage. She guessed her competition was waiting to walk out through it. Indira had been too nervous to consider her opponent. She had been busy worrying about her own strengths, about how to pull David into a story one day. She hadn’t considered that some other character’s fate depended on this competition too. She tried to make herself feel better by remembering that the person was from Fester.
That made them a bad guy, didn’t it?
She wasn’t even sure what an antagonist would look like. She imagined horns or an evil laugh or a sword dripping with blood. Which made the name the judges called out even more surprising: “Peeve Meadows.”
Indira’s ex-neighbor walked through the door. It was all Indira could do to keep her knees from buckling. Peeve’s blond hair was in a tight braid. Her guitar bounced against her back, the strap stretching across her chest. For the first time, Indira noticed the scatter of freckles on either side of the girl’s button of a nose. “Characters, shake hands!” called Brainstorm Vesulias.
Peeve held her hand out confidently. Indira shook it with numb fingers. Her mind was spinning. She tried to retrace every conversation and interaction, the months that they had spent as neighbors. Indira hadn’t even paid enough attention to notice that the girl had freckles.
But what had Peeve learned about her? The girl had always been eager to talk and engage, even though Indira had never given her much time in return. And now they were about to face off against each other. Indira felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Peeve has the advantage. She knows me, but I don’t know her at all.
“I’ve been watching you,” Peeve said, as if she could read Indira’s mind. “For months now. I even watched you today as you walked around Fable. I didn’t want it to be this way, but you embarrassed me this morning. You made me feel like a fool. Now it’s my turn.”
Indira stared back at the girl, speechless.
Peeve smiled. “I’m going to win.”
A clatter sounded backstage, and an old raisin of a man joined them on the stage. He wore an official-looking name tag that read: MERLIN? Indira frowned at the question mark. She supposed that if she was lucky enough to live that long, she wouldn’t be too sure about her name, either. Merlin waved a lazy hand and three tables appeared. One stood in front of Indira and another in front of Peeve; another hovered between the two of them. A second wave produced three stones on the middle tabletop. One black, one white, one gray.
Merlin spoke in a steady voice. “The illusions that follow will not allow you to actually come to harm. Thus you need not hesitate out of fear that you will actually hurt the person standing across from you. You need only consider how your actions reflect your ability, personality, and self.”
The hunched wizard gave a deep bow and left the stage. Indira’s heart continued to beat far too fast. She felt as though her life in Fable depended on what happened next. All three judges stood.
“Any last questions, characters?” asked the demon.
Indira shook her head. She felt a deep and growing desire to beat Peeve. It wasn’t her fault the girl had lied that morning. Maybe that action had turned Peeve into an antagonist? Indira felt the unfairness of it all beating in her chest.
Brainstorm Vesulias gave a signal. “Are you ready?”
Indira and Peeve turned to face each other as the walls vanished around them. For a long, uncomfortable moment, she could only see a stretching whiteness and Peeve’s traitorous face…
…and then the world echoed. She was in the halls of a school. She had a bathroom pass in her hands. The square tiles were painted unenthusiastic colors. She followed a dull purple line to the bathroom, but stopped short at the sound of laughter.
Cautiously she glanced around the corner. A girl with blond hair stood at the far end of the bathroom. She had taken toilet paper from one of the stalls and stretched it over the entire room. It looped through doorways and over sinks, leaving a spiderweb maze hanging in the air. She recognized the girl now. It was that troublemaker, Peeve Meadows.
Indira dropped the hall pass, and the girl looked up, startled.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Indira asked. Peeve started forward, fumbling for an explanation, but Indira retreated a few steps. “I’m telling a teacher.”
Before Peeve could stop her, Indira bolted back into the hallway. Room 1612. She found the room around the corner and knocked impatiently. A teacher appeared.
“Ms. Lobasso, there’s someone in the girls’ bathroom. They’re vandalizing it!”
The teacher raised an eyebrow and followed Indira down the hallway. Ms. Lobasso paused at the threshold, eyeing the water that had started leaking from within. She muttered something about new shoes and plunged forward. Indira followed.
Peeve had fled the scene, but she hadn’t bothered to cover he
r tracks. If anything, she had made things even worse. The nearest stall had been kicked from its frame. Water leaked out generously, pooling in the room and trickling toward the hall. Indira was about to explain what she’d seen when a soft moan sounded from inside one of the stalls.
“What was that?” Ms. Lobasso asked.
The teacher hitched up her dress a little and walked over to the third stall. She opened it and let out a gasp. Indira hurried forward. The sight stunned her. An entire roll of toilet paper had been used to mummify Peeve Meadows. She was wrapped from head to toe. The wooden hall pass Indira had dropped had been set carefully on the plumbing, and someone had written the word REVENGE in permanent marker. A great wad of toilet paper had even been used to gag the girl, whose eyes were wide with panic.
“Indira!” Ms. Lobasso rounded on her unexpectedly. “Did you do this?”
Indira’s eyes widened. “No! I told you, she was in here! I wasn’t—”
“The poor girl looks terrified,” Ms. Lobasso said, rushing forward to remove the bindings and gag. “Peeve, what in the world happened to you?”
“It was her!” Peeve cried. “Don’t let her get me again, Ms. Lobasso!”
“You’re safe, Peeve. Now tell me what happened!”
“I was walking to the bathroom and she grabbed me,” Peeve explained. “She says I cut her in line yesterday. I swear, Ms. Lobasso, I don’t remember it at all! But she pushed me in here and tied me up and she…oh, I don’t know if I can even repeat it, Ms. Lobasso!”
“Peeve Meadows. I have to report this to the principal. What did she say?”
Peeve put on a pained face, as if it really was unbearable to go on. Indira felt rage boiling to life inside her. She was clearly lying! Indira hadn’t done any of those things.
“Well,” Peeve continued, “she said she hoped no one found me before the water got to me. She wanted to drown me, Ms. Lobasso!”
Saving Fable Page 4
