by Temre Beltz
And with a dramatic spin that swirled the edges of his long cape, Master Von Hollow vanished into the trees. Oliver climbed into the rowboat in pursuit of a—gulp—witch. Surely nothing could go wrong. Surely nothing at—
Oh, I can’t even stand to utter such nonsense. Certainly by now you know how legitimately awful the witches in Wanderly are, but Helga Hookeye was in an extra-special class. She ranked among the top five worst witches in the entire kingdom alongside the likes of Council member Rudey Longtooth, broomstick-racing champion Irma Scram, and number one curmudgeon Agnes Prunella Crunch.18
And so, as we leave Oliver behind, perhaps the best thing to be hoped for is that whatever happened to go wrong, it wouldn’t be completely and utterly disastrous.
Seven
A Sizzling Companion
In the wee hours of the morning before the rising sun began to paint the sky a perfectly rosy shade of pink, Pippa North tiptoed through the dark hallways of Castle Cressida. Despite the fact that a wicked witch had nearly taken the entire castle hostage the day before, and there was merely the flicker of a few candlelit wall sconces to light her way, Pippa wasn’t afraid; she was motivated.
This motivation was only fueled by Mistress Peabody’s astonishing announcement at last night’s dinner table that Peabody’s two newest students, Bernard and Pippa, would be receiving their loyal companion assignments on the very next day. Though all the students had cheered—and Bernard had bragged that he’d probably get matched with a lion because lions were the king of all—Pippa thought she was going to be sick in her silk napkin.
The pairing of a loyal companion and a Triumphant was a huge deal. Indeed, what was Ms. Bravo without her turquoise macaw, Dynamite? And when a match was made, it was supposed to be for life. Pippa, on the other hand, was doing everything she could to find a way out of Peabody’s Academy and back home with the hope of never having to return again. She could only imagine the sort of complications that could arise if she got stuck with a loyal companion. Or if a loyal companion got stuck with her.
First, there was the logistical issue of space. If she brought a loyal companion back home with her to Ink Hollow, could her family really fit one more living creature inside their teensy two-bedroom cottage? Not to mention her mother’s long-standing, adamant rule about no pets.19 And beyond that, would a loyal companion really be satisfied if its most thrilling challenge was picking food out of the triplets’ hair after an epic food fight or haggling over spinach prices at the grocer’s cart? There was, of course, much more to life as a commoner, especially in the North family, but would a Triumphant loyal companion ever see it that way?
Pippa didn’t think so, and so she was on her way to the Triumphants’ classroom to visit the Chest of Unnecessaries and secure those one hundred grubins for her fairy godmother, Olivanderella Dash.
“Pippa?” a voice whispered from behind her.
Pippa skidded to a halt. She whirled around and found herself eye to eye with a pair of round spectacles. “Ernest!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad it’s you.”
Ernest’s eyes lit up. “Really? Not many people say that around here. But what are you doing up so early?”
Pippa hesitated. “I, um, well . . . what are you doing up so early?” she finished weakly.
Ernest looked up and down the hallway. Then he leaned closer and whispered, “Lemon bars. I can’t resist them! They were on the dessert menu last night, and I was hoping one or two might be left over on last night’s platter. You know, just for a little snack.”
Before Pippa could answer, a door cracked open a few feet away and a girl poked her head out. Even in the dim lighting, Pippa recognized Maisy. “I didn’t know that was you, Pippa!” Maisy said. “I was just on my way to the dining hall to check on the breakfast croissants when I heard the word ‘snack,’ clear as day. It’s sort of a code word among bakers. Are you hungry?”
Ernest’s eyes grew wide. He turned to Pippa. “You know the baker?” he said. “The one who makes the lemon bars?”
“Yes,” Pippa said with a smile. “And no matter what Mistress Peabody says, after years of living under the same roof, it’s about time you got to know her too. Ernest, this is Maisy; Maisy, this is Ernest.”
Maisy executed a little curtsy. Ernest’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink. “Your lemon bars are the best things I’ve ever tasted,” he gushed.
“I—oh—wow, really?” Maisy said, a grin lighting up her face. When Ernest nodded, she continued, “Then I’ll definitely try to get those on the menu more often.”
“How about tonight?” Ernest said. “After all, we should do something to celebrate Pippa’s big day.”
Maisy’s eyes lit up. “Pippa’s big day?” she echoed. “Oh, Pippa, does that mean you found a way to get the grubins after all? Is your fairy godmother coming here today, to grant your wish?”
Behind Ernest, Pippa was frantically shaking her head and trying to get Maisy to stop, but it was too late. “Fairy who-mother? Grubins?” Ernest cried, whirling around to face her. “Pippa, what is Maisy talking about?”
Maisy’s shoulders slumped. “Oh no,” she said quietly. “Ernest didn’t know about any of that, did he? Oh, Pippa, I’m so sorry, I just . . .”
“It’s all right. I was just about to tell Ernest,” Pippa said. But she felt a twinge of guilt. She didn’t actually know if she was going to tell Ernest, but seeing the disappointment in his eyes, remembering that he was the one who gave her the idea to write to a fairy godmother in the first place, it was what she wanted to be true.
Ernest slowly shook his head. “I know your first day here was rough, but I thought things were starting to get better. I thought Peabody’s was starting to . . . grow on you. I didn’t know you were working with a fairy godmother all this time.”
“‘Working’ is sort of a strong word,” Pippa said, thinking back on the one letter she’d received. “And until I come up with one hundred grubins, it doesn’t sound like there’s much she can do.”
Ernest’s jaw dropped. “One hundred grubins! But, Pippa, that’s—”
“A ton? I know. But, Ernest, I don’t belong here. I miss my family. I miss them so much sometimes it’s hard to breathe. Castle Cressida isn’t anything like what the Chancellor’s made it out to be, and yesterday a witch came to visit who I am pretty sure no one had an ounce of control over—including Mistress Peabody. Today I’m supposed to be paired with my loyal companion for life who’s going to assist me on quests that I never wanted to go on in the first place. I’m not cut out to be a hero, and I was already happy with my ending!” Pippa swiped at the tears that she hadn’t realized were falling. Maisy took a small step in her direction and rested a comforting hand on Pippa’s shoulder.
Ernest stared down at his royal blue slipper socks. “Just because you belong with your family doesn’t mean you can’t belong here too.” But when Pippa didn’t say anything, Ernest asked, “Do you really think you’ll be able to come up with one hundred grubins?”
“I do,” Pippa said firmly. “And that’s the real reason why I’m up so early. I’m on my way to the classroom, and I’m going to see if the Chest of Unnecessaries will give me the grubins.”
Ernest’s jaw gaped. “Mistress Peabody’s prize box?” he said. “Pippa, there are some things you’ve got to know about that box—”
“I know Prudence Bumble bragged about asking it for a ball gown,” Pippa said, “and it gave her the most beautiful—”
“Yes,” Ernest countered, “but only because she didn’t have any place to wear it to—”
“And I know Viola asked it for a train set, and it gave her three of them—”
“Yes,” Ernest agreed, “but only because she already had four—”
“And Anastasia told me that Mistress Peabody sometimes asks it for her fancy outfits—”
“Yes, but only because nobody needs that many ruffles,” Ernest said. Pippa opened her mouth to offer yet another example, but Ernest cried out, “Pi
ppa, please! You’ve got to listen. The Chest of Unnecessaries is just like it sounds. It’s only useful for things that you don’t need. In fact, if you ask it for something you do need, bad things happen.”
So that was why Ernest got his sixth baseball bat. The Chest of Unnecessaries didn’t give extravagant gifts; it gave useless ones. But maybe it didn’t have to work that way; maybe trying was worth the risk, especially because Pippa couldn’t think of a single other option.
“When you say ‘bad things happen,’” Pippa began slowly, “how bad do you mean, exactly?”
Maisy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Wait! Is that why Mistress Peabody’s hair turned green last winter? Because of a tangle with the Chest of Unnecessaries?” Ernest nodded, and Maisy explained to Pippa, “She wore a wig for months, but it wasn’t a very good one. The staff placed bets on whether it was an unlucky visit to the hair salon or a mild curse. I never imagined it was the result of that wooden box.”
Pippa combed her fingers through the ends of her ponytail with a thoughtful expression on her face. “You know, I’ve never really been that particular about my hair, and there are certainly worse things than green.” She nodded her head determinedly. “All right, then.”
“All right, then?” Ernest exclaimed. “Pippa, there’s no guarantee you’ll get green hair. You’ll probably get something different. You might get something worse. Maybe even Tragic End worse.”
“I—really?” Pippa said. She wasn’t in need of the Chancellor’s version of a happy ending, but that didn’t mean she wanted a tragical ending, either. Of all the roles in Wanderly, the Tragicals had the very worst of it. Though it was true that in a storybook kingdom not everyone could get a happy ending, the Chancellor sought to optimize this process by assigning bad endings to those who—according to him—were already marked for doom, i.e., the kingdom’s orphans. And so the Tragicals were shuttled off to the easternmost peninsula of Wanderly, atop the crooked and crumbling peak of Tragic Mountain, where, at Foulweather’s Home for the Tragical, they spent their days learning about all the horrible ways in which they were likely to die and how to cheerfully accept such a fate.20
Pippa’s chest was tight. She was having difficulty breathing. Finally, she said, “So, you’re saying that asking the Chest of Unnecessaries for one hundred grubins is . . . hopeless?”
“No,” Ernest said, swallowing hard. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’m saying that I think I should be the one to do it, because I’m not the one who needs it. And I think we should probably do it fast before I lose my nerve.”
Without waiting for a response, Ernest walked determinedly past Pippa and Maisy and through the door of the Triumphants’ classroom. By the time Pippa and Maisy caught up with him, he was already kneeling in front of the Chest of Unnecessaries.
“Ernest, you really don’t have to do this,” Pippa said.
Ernest lifted his head. He paused for a moment. “I know I don’t have to do this,” he said. “But I think maybe that’s the very reason why I want to, if that makes any sense?”
Pippa smiled. “I think it makes perfect sense for a hero.”
At the word “hero,” Ernest’s eyes lit up. He took a deep breath, he cleared his throat, and he called out in a loud, clear voice, “Give me one hundred grubins!”
Beside Pippa, Maisy whispered, “Do you think it would have been better to say ‘please’?”
“I don’t think so,” Pippa whispered back. “I’ve been learning that Triumphants don’t have nice manners. They don’t even raise their hands in class.”
Manners aside, the Chest of Unnecessaries didn’t react one bit to Ernest’s request. It just sat there, doing absolutely nothing.
“Is it . . . broken?” Maisy asked.
Ernest frowned. “It can’t be. It gave me my sixth baseball bat yesterday. Maybe I’m doing something wrong.”
“Try again, but a little louder,” Pippa said.
Ernest rolled up his sleeves. “Give me one hundred grubins!” he nearly shouted.
The Chest of Unnecessaries began to glow. It began to glow a bright and ominous shade of green.
It rattled and banged and clanged against the floor.
It shimmied and twisted and even growled a bit.
Finally, in a puff of green smoke, the lid burst wide open.
“Is my hair green?” Ernest blurted out. “Did it turn my hair green?”
Maisy and Pippa vigorously shook their heads, and Ernest blew out a little sigh of relief. “Maybe it actually worked, then,” he said, taking a step closer to the Chest of Unnecessaries. “Maybe the grubins are inside the chest!”
Hisssssss. A merry sound rang out.
Ernest froze. “Was that one of you?” he asked, looking from Maisy to Pippa and back again. “Please tell me that was one of you.”
But the sound was unmistakably coming from within the Chest of Unnecessaries. Ernest, Maisy, and Pippa inched closer to it, and something black and shiny with incredibly long antennae inched its way out to greet them.
“Oh!” Maisy exclaimed, clasping her hands against her chest, “it’s just a cockroach! Poor little bug must have accidentally fallen inside. And here I was worried we might have a snake problem on our hands!”
But then another pair of antennae popped out. And another, and soon dozens of cockroaches—hissing cockroaches, no less—were sliding down the edge of the Chest of Unnecessaries and sashaying into every nook and cranny of the classroom.
Ernest’s eyes bulged. He hopped from one foot to the next as three cockroaches scurried toward him. “Um, does anyone have any ideas about what we should do? Because I’m pretty sure even Mistress Peabody’s not going to be able to ignore these guys.”
Pippa gawked at the ever-growing parade of cockroaches. She hung her head. “It must have given us one hundred hissing cockroaches instead of one hundred grubins. Oh, what a terrible mess!”
Pippa slipped off her royal blue cape and began using it to gently herd the cockroaches back toward the Chest of Unnecessaries.
Maisy leaped up. “Great idea, Pippa!” she said. She reached into her apron pocket and whipped out her wooden cooking spoon. She whirled it through the air and prepared to sweep it across the floor. “Come on, Ernest! If we work together, maybe we can corral them all.” And though Ernest was looking a bit glum (and slightly squeamish), he perked up considerably at the irresistible scent of lemon bars wafting off Maisy’s cooking spoon.
“Oh!” he said, taking a deep sniff. “It smells just like those lemon bars! I can almost taste them! It almost makes me feel like everything’s going to be . . . okay.”
Apparently, the hissing cockroaches couldn’t have agreed more. They all turned on a dime. They scurried in Maisy’s direction as fast as their six legs could carry them. They hissed a perfectly synchronized and merry tune as they followed the scent of Maisy’s lemon bars and marched back toward the Chest of Unnecessaries. Every last one of them hopped gleefully inside and Maisy closed the lid finally shut.
She brushed her hands off with a satisfied grin on her face and plunked her spoon back in her apron pocket.
Pippa shook her head in awe. “Maisy, you did it! Don’t let me forget to get that recipe from you before I go home.” A shadow crossed over Pippa’s face. “I mean, if I go home. Or when I go home, or—”
“You will find a way home, Pippa,” Maisy said softly. “The Chest of Unnecessaries didn’t work, but something will. I know it.”
“And in the meantime, I think we ought to get you ready to meet your loyal companion,” Ernest said. “Who knows, if yours is anything like my goat, Leonardo, maybe it’ll make you feel differently about being a Triumphant. Maybe it will even make you want to stay. I couldn’t imagine a day away from Leonardo.”
Pippa, however, thought the odds of that happening were one in one million.
Later that morning, Pippa stood on the famed glittering gold steps of Castle Cressida. Though she could have been wrong, the steps lo
oked slightly less peely and perhaps a hint more sparkly than the day she first arrived. Pippa, unfortunately, was dressed from head to toe in a suit of armor. It was maybe the only thing she’d ever worn that was even more uncomfortable than the stiff, royal blue Triumphant uniforms, and getting into it had caused her to be ten minutes late. When Mistress Peabody caught sight of Pippa, she executed a little two-step and rushed closer.
“You look fabulous!” Mistress Peabody exclaimed. “It really is all about looking the part, isn’t it? Come along,” she said, gesturing at the festive red and white tent that had been set up on Castle Cressida’s front lawn. “Bernard is already seated at the inquisition table, and the other students can barely stand the suspense! We even have a few Council members present!”
Pippa clunked after Mistress Peabody as quickly as her chain-mail suit would allow. When Mistress Peabody pulled back the curtain, the entire crowd burst into enthusiastic applause. Pippa felt her cheeks grow warm. She felt her insides grow warm too. She’d never had anyone greet her in such a way. It became suddenly easy to see how this was the sort of thing Triumphants not only got used to but craved. And maybe even at the expense of other more important things.
“Pippa, please take your seat,” Mistress Peabody said, directing her attention to the front of the room, where two thrones sat before a long wooden table. Bernard, also clad in a chain-mail suit of armor, was already seated at one of the thrones. He didn’t bother to turn his head even the slightest bit in Pippa’s direction.
As Pippa clanked noisily along, she spotted Ms. Bravo seated in the front row with Dynamite perched on her shoulder. Ms. Bravo gave her one of those dazzling “front page of the Wanderly Whistle” smiles, but unlike Mistress Peabody’s, hers actually seemed genuine. Way in the back, Pippa thought she saw the tall magician’s hat that belonged to Council member Slickabee, but it was hard to tell because he kept ducking and bobbing and weaving and was furiously scribbling onto a notepad. He also looked quite a bit different when he wasn’t completely soaked with rainwater.
