All the Colors of Magic

by Valija Zinck

  “Fine. I don’t need the contents. I can find what I need myself!” She carried on turning the pages, trembling, but every one was identical to the last.

  She remembered last time—how the words had bloomed gradually before her eyes. “OK, I get it. I’ve got to wait,” she growled, and stared grimly at the green shoots. “Well, get on with it, then.” She stared and stared, but nothing happened. “OK, then, just forget it!” The book clattered onto the floorboards. “To heck with you, Alpha Regius—I’ll find some way of getting back at him without your help.” She stared out of the window with a poisonous look on her face. “I need a few good ideas, that’s all.”

  But the good ideas would have to wait. Good ideas didn’t like anger, Penelope knew that—they tended to keep their distance until the anger had spent itself. But that just made Penelope even madder. She looked around the room wildly, searching for something she could break.

  She heard a meow outside her bedroom door. She opened it, shouted, “Push off, Coco!” and was about to slam the door shut, but Coco had already squeezed her way in and was looking at Penelope so scathingly that she had to bite her lip.

  The cat sat down next to the book on the floor and stuck her nose in the air. She sneezed, then jumped onto the bed and gazed into Penelope’s eyes expectantly. Penelope looked away at first, but after a while, she picked the book up off the floor and laid it on the table. “Happy now?” she grumbled. Coco yawned, turned around several times on the spot, and sank into the cushions. Penelope waited, but the cat ignored her.

  “What is it now?”

  Coco was washing her back vigorously.

  Penelope sat down on the bed. Coco just carried on washing.

  “OK, OK. I’m sorry.”

  Immediately a paw landed in her lap. That meant: Apology accepted, you may stroke me now. Penelope didn’t need telling twice. She stroked the gray fur, again and again, her heart calming a little every time she moved her hand over Coco’s sleek coat. The last traces of her anger faded away and finally vanished altogether. And as Coco licked her hand, Penelope saw the first glimmer of a plan taking shape in her mind’s eye.

  She had to go to Blackslough. There were no two ways about it. She had to go there and track down her father and stop him from tormenting her mother any longer. Finding him might be rather difficult, without an exact address—but then again, maybe it wouldn’t be too difficult, for in a month’s time her father would send another of his gray envelopes. They always arrived on the seventh …

  Penelope would go to Blackslough the day before, then, on the sixth of July. She’d camp out at the post office. No—first she’d have to make sure all the postboxes in the village were out of order. Some superglue might do the job … yes, she would glue up the flaps on all the postboxes—except the one at the post office. Then anyone in the village who wanted to send anything on the sixth of July would have to use that one. Then all Penelope would have to do was wait. If a man came along and posted a letter in a dark gray envelope, she’d follow him. She’d trail him back to his house and then she would … Penelope glanced out the window at Granny weeding the front garden. That’s it, she would throw creeper corms into his yard! It would be perfect. If he didn’t weed them out right away, they’d overgrow his whole house and yard, clinging to the walls and slowly destroying his foundations.

  Or she could pour sand into his letter box. Or she could paint his windowpanes gray and leave some of her red hairs drying in the paint. Or … she could simply ring the doorbell.

  Yes. That was it. She’d pour water over her head, ring the doorbell, and say, “I’m Penelope Gardener!” She’d look at him through narrowed eyes. “If you think your gray envelopes are funny, you’re wrong. In the future, you can keep your money and build sandcastles with your stupid sand, for all we care!” Perhaps her father would take a breath and start to say something, but Penelope would be quicker. “Save your apologies for someone who wants to hear them.” Then she would simply turn around and walk away.

  “Penelope! Wait, please!” Her father was bound to follow her, but she wouldn’t stop. Maybe he’d say something else, but she wouldn’t listen. She would have already taken root, shouted, “Semus triokko!” and taken off into the sky. She’d leave him behind, his words crumbling to dust around him. And then she’d throw the creeper corms down, too, for good measure.

  Yes. That was a better plan. But in order to carry it out, she’d have to:

  Find out where this Blackslough was, and how to get there.

  Dye her hair gray again. She didn’t want her father to sense her presence before she rang the bell, after all—that would totally defeat the purpose.

  Buy some brown hair dye to cover the gray, because her father would be sure to notice a gray-haired child at the post office. And he’d know exactly how she came to have hair like that—he was the one who’d made the ash paste, after all.

  “Pennyyyyy!” Mrs. Gardener’s warm voice echoed up the stairs. “You said you wanted to tell me something. Come down, let’s not let that idiot ruin our day.”

  Oh, yes—Penelope still hadn’t said anything to her mother about the movie theater trip tomorrow. Her heart lightened at the thought—plus, she realized, she’d be able to buy some brown hair dye at the shopping center. The movie marathon really was a double stroke of luck.

  The next day at eleven o’clock, Penelope was standing with Tom and Pete on a very long escalator, traveling up to the movie theater. The Ring Center was an enormous glass complex, with lots of shops, restaurants, hair salons, and cafés, crowned by a multiscreen movie theater on the top floor.

  “We’ve definitely got to see Killer Whale 3 first,” said Tom, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Stuff that,” said Pete. “We’re starting with either Horror Fighter or The Mushrooms of Terror, like we agreed.”

  Penelope was beginning to wonder whether a movie marathon with the two boys had been such a great idea, but suddenly they both snorted. “Just kidding. We know we’re in the presence of a lady.” The boys laughed uproariously, leaning on the escalator railing. But when she said, “Well, in that case, I think we should see The Moon Dust Fairy Finds Her Magic Pony.” They grew oddly silent, and Penelope smirked behind her hand.

  On arriving at the movie theater, they finally settled unanimously on Storm on the High Seas as their first film, and settled down with cups of slush in the huge, almost empty theater. The film was a bit boring, Tom and Pete started a running commentary on the actors’ hairstyles and noses, and Penelope found herself cracking up with laughter. She really liked Tom, and she really liked Pete, but as a double act, they were simply unbeatable. They had the knack of making almost anything seem funny. But the boys were quiet during the next film, Save Yourselves from Soramo, as that one was totally gripping. Penelope almost grabbed Pete’s hand during one especially exciting bit, but she pulled herself together.

  Later they recovered with popcorn in the foyer. Penelope’s heart was still beating a little faster than usual, and the noises around her seemed far too loud. Tom stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth and wiped his fingers on his jeans. “Hey, look—The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms is starting in a minute. Shall we get some more ice cream and go back in?”

  “I could do with a bit of a break, guys,” said Penelope decisively. “Why don’t you go and see the killer whale film? I’ll go for a bit of a wander round the shops, and we can meet up again at five, maybe?”

  Tom and Pete pretended to be indignant, but Penelope could tell from the way their eyes lit up that the killer whale idea was a winner. Penelope took the escalator down to the shops and walked along past windows full of garish clothes, jewelry, and stationery. I’d just better watch I don’t get lost in here, she thought.

  The next moment, a fleeting shiver suddenly passed across the back of her neck and ran down her spine.

  Someone like me!

  Penelope spun round. There was someone around here somewhere who was the same as her! Her cur
iosity started to fight her caution—she had longed to find someone like her, someone to advise her and answer her questions … she had to speak to them! They were really close by too—she could feel it. But where? There were so many people pushing past her that it was difficult to tell. She looked to the left, to the right, she rocked up onto the tips of her toes. She tried to gaze into the eyes of the passersby, but far from their eyes lighting up as they recognized one of their own, people appeared to be unnerved. The person like her was growing farther away, not closer, the feeling was weakening, and suddenly it vanished altogether. Penelope felt sad and frustrated, as if she’d lost something precious. She waited, scanning the crowd, but she couldn’t feel anyone.

  After a while, she gave up. She carried on browsing the shops until a shoe shop caught her eye. It had shoelaces in the window—shoelaces in all the colors of the rainbow! Less than a minute later, she was the proud owner of a pair of electric-blue laces. She’d finally be able to give Pete his shoelace back.

  She glanced at the clock. She had quite a while before five, when she’d promised to meet up with Tom and Pete. Plenty of time to locate a pharmacy in the huge complex, and buy a packet of brown hair dye.

  * * *

  Penelope eventually found herself in the pharmacy on the ground floor, but as she scanned the endless shelf of hair dyes, she started to wonder whether she had enough time after all. Choosing between light, medium, and dark brown was just the start—how on earth was she supposed to choose between Mahogany Brown, Chestnut Brown, Rust Brown, Cocoa Brown, Lanzarote Brown, Alder Brown, and Hazel Brown? Or what about Icelandic Earth Brown?

  She took a box of Icelandic Earth Brown off the shelf, and was about to read the back of it, when her neck tingled again, and a fleeting tremor passed down her spine. Before Penelope could turn around to find the person like her, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I don’t believe it!” exclaimed a girl’s voice. “We’ve been living here for three years, and I’ve never met a single person of our kind until now!”

  A slender girl with strawberry-blond hair, a little taller than Penelope, was standing opposite her. She was wearing a bottle-green dress and ankle boots, and was staring at Penelope through pale, close-set eyes.

  “Where have you sprung from all of a sudden?” asked the girl. But all Penelope could do was stare openmouthed at the girl, too tongue-tied to reply. Someone like me! she kept thinking excitedly. Someone who could help explain … everything!

  “Are you just visiting or do you live here? Why are you looking at hair coloring stuff—does it work on you, then? Nothing happened whatsoever when I tried it. My mom said that was normal for people like us—the color just won’t go in, no matter what you do. And one time my brother tried … Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Gina. What’s your name?” The girl held out a slim, pale hand to Penelope.

  “Penelope,” she managed to say, slowly coming out of her trance. She reached for the girl’s hand and shook it.

  “That’s an interesting name. So, what’s up?”

  “I’m here with my friends,” Penelope said. “We’re having a movie marathon—but I’m skipping the killer whale movie.”

  “It’s so cool to finally meet one of us! Hey, want to come back to my place for a bit? I mean, I know we’ve only just met, but I live right round the corner and it would be cool to talk properly without, you know …” She waved her hand at the crowds of people in the shopping center.

  If anyone else had asked her that, Penelope might have tapped her forehead and said, “Excuse me? I’ve known you for exactly three seconds. Why would I want to come back to yours?” But it was different with this Gina: Penelope wanted to go with her, to see what her house was like, and her family, and her world. The girl was certainly peculiar, but that was the point: Penelope was peculiar too, and she’d never met anyone else like that.

  “OK. But I’ve got to be back up at the movie theater by five. My friends will be waiting for me,” she said.

  “Friends? Are they … ?” A slightly greedy expression came over Gina’s face, then vanished immediately as Penelope shook her head. “Oh, well, I guess that would be a bit much, all in one day. Anyway, we can get you back here for five, no worries. Like I said, I live really close by.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, linked her arm through Penelope’s, and pulled her toward the checkout. Penelope paid for the hair dye, and then Gina led her out of the Ring Center and toward a large apartment building across the road.

  On the way, Gina asked Penelope so many questions that her head began to ache. She answered the nonstop stream as best she could; she told Gina that she hardly ever came to town and that up until a short time ago, her hair hadn’t even been like this. She didn’t really want to explain that any further—after all, even though Gina was just like her, that didn’t mean Penelope had to spill the beans on everything. But she did tell her that she’d inherited her hair, and other things, from her father, and that she didn’t know him. In turn, Gina told Penelope that she and her family felt a little bit lonely living here. It was easier for her brother, Gian, because he was already fourteen, so he could go on “courses” during school breaks.

  “What kind of courses?” asked Penelope.

  “Well, there are these training courses run by the Alpha Regius people. They don’t let you start till you’re eleven. Don’t you think that’s stupid? But I’ve already taught myself a whole bunch of stuff, and … oh, hi, Mrs. Jaluschek.” Gina nodded to an old lady who was just coming out of the glass door of an apartment block, said, “Sorry, no time to chat right now!” and pulled Penelope by the arm into a rather dingy stairwell.

  “Who is Alpha Regius?” Penelope asked, recognizing the name from her book.

  Gina’s eyebrows rose up.

  “Is? Who was Alpha Regius would be the better question. He isn’t alive anymore, but he started the whole training thing.”

  Before Penelope could ask any other questions, they rode up to the eighth floor in a lift that smelled of cigarette smoke. Penelope could feel the shiver on the back of her neck again, much more strongly than before. More people like me!

  Gina was just about to unlock the door to her flat when it flew open of its own accord. A tall freckled lady with a black sun hat in her hand stood in the doorway, beaming.

  “Oh, Gina! You’ve brought a guest! Wonderful, that’s wonderful—come in, you two. I must say, it’s very refreshing to see someone like us around here. Would you like some lemonade? Or would you prefer juice? Of course, there’s coffee as well … I could put some ice cream out … would you like some cherries to take up to your room? Or … no, you must come and sit with me on the balcony—I’ll put the shade on it so we don’t get too hot. Gian is in his room, we’ll fetch him, too, of course—and then, my dear fire-red child, you must tell us where you—”

  “Mom!” Gina flashed a look at her mother.

  “Oh, I beg your pardon! I’m sorry. Of course, I understand—you girls want to be alone. So, just give me a shout if you need anything, and if you do want to come and join me on the balcony, then … um, yes, OK, I’ll just …” She darted down the hallway and disappeared behind a door.

  “I can’t blame her.” Gina shrugged. “I think it’s really exciting that we’ve found you too.”

  Penelope smiled, feeling a little embarrassed. She had so many questions, but somehow she felt too overwhelmed to ask anything at all!

  Gina’s room was incredible. Not that Penelope found it strange that someone should have a silver-painted bed and a black bedspread, a large dark blue rug with a silver spiral pattern, a black wooden writing desk, a dainty shelf painted with cobwebs, and a cupboard with a mirror on it. What really struck her about the room was that it was as clean and tidy as a set piece in a furniture store. There was nothing lying around, not a speck of dust to be seen, the bed was neatly made up without a single wrinkle. The books were arranged on the shelf by color, the pens and pencils were all nea
tly stored in a pot on the desk, and the windows were so clean it was impossible to tell if there was actually glass in the frames.

  “This is your room?” Penelope was amazed. Even though she hadn’t known her long, Gina didn’t seem like the kind of person to keep her room so neat and clean.

  “Yes. You can come in, you know—it’s quite safe,” answered Gina, sitting down cross-legged on the shaggy rug.

  Penelope came into the room and stood around, feeling a little awkward. “It’s pretty tidy in here. My room never looks this tidy,” she said in amazement.

  “Mine never used to either,” Gina giggled. “That’s why Gian gave me automatic room cleaning for my last birthday. He’d just learned it on his latest course and he was able to use it straightaway, thanks to me being so messy.”

  “What, your room tidies itself, you mean? That’s handy.” Penelope’s eyes shone at the thought.

  “It’s more than handy. But I’m actually really glad the self-cleaning doesn’t last forever. It wears off after five months—at least I’ll be able to get some sleep then.” Gina sank down on the rug with a sigh, curled herself up in a ball, and closed her eyes with dramatic slowness.

  “What has sleep got to do with tidying up?” asked Penelope, puzzled.

  “Oh, nothing really. It’s just that Gian’s creation isn’t exactly what you’d call flexible. Every weekend, my duvet throws me out of bed at six thirty in the morning so it can shake itself out and then air itself by the open window for an hour.”

  “What?” Penelope giggled.

  “It does it no matter what the weather’s like. I’ve often ended up with a soaking wet pillow that Mom’s had to dry off for me.”

  “But apart from that, it must be amazing to have that sort of room service, surely?”

  “Pretty much. Want to see how it works?” Without waiting for a reply, Gina jumped up, slipped out of the room, and came back with a full vacuum cleaner bag. She held it over the dark blue rug and began to shake the contents out vigorously. Dirt, dust, sand, and hair spilled out, covering the rug with a thick, disgusting layer of filth.