“Come by the yard sometime,” said Clocker.
“I will,” Ollie promised. “Thank you. Thank you all for everything.”
“Hey,” said Pet Rock. “Thank you! Nobody’s thrown me for ages!” That made them laugh. When the laughter stopped, Ollie smiled sadly at them. He felt a heaviness inside as he jumped back up to Billy. Good-byes in movies always had music in them that sounded like good-bye feels. There wasn’t music in real life, but this good-bye felt very real. And “good-bye” was a word he didn’t want to say.
He looked at Tinny. He knew he couldn’t say good-bye to the tin can that was braver than any of them. Tinny gave a slight bow, making a crinkling sound as always. Then the can sprang forward and landed with surprising accuracy into the open top of Billy’s backpack. From inside, they could hear Tinny ting ting ting-ing mischievously.
“Tinny isn’t really junk,” said Clocker, and Ollie nodded. But he still didn’t know how to say good-bye to the rest of them. He then remembered a movie where seven good guys had to fight a bunch of bad guys, and when the good guys had won, they didn’t say good-bye to everybody; they said another word, and so Ollie waved one hand and said that word instead.
“Adiós.”
Then Clipper Greenfellow replied, “Vaya con Dios, old sport.” Revved his motor and pulled the Junkyard Army away. Each and every one of the Junkyard Gang waved and waved. Ollie stared after them until they disappeared into the dark.
Billy had never really seen Ollie sad before, and for a moment it made him feel kinda . . . separate from his friend. They had always been together, and so they pretty much felt the same way about things. Except when Billy was sad, then Ollie would cheer him up by being funny or goofy. But Billy wasn’t sure that this was a kind of sad he could fix by being funny. This was a lot worse than “skinned-knee” sad. Or “I dropped my Popsicle” sad. So Billy decided he would just say the thing that he knew they both needed to do.
“I think we should go home now, Ollie.” As Ollie nodded, however, they heard a coughing sound behind them, as though someone was trying to get their attention. And then a nervous little voice spoke up.
“We want to go home too.” Billy and Ollie spun around. Standing there, very patiently, were the forgotten favorites! They stared up at Billy and Ollie hopefully. Worn and faded, frayed and torn, they were the most homesick bunch of things you’d ever seen, but they had a quiet nobility to them. They look like really old knights who’ve been in many battles, thought Billy, and they’re ready to finally go home.
“Do any of you remember where you lived?” Ollie asked. The toys shuffled around glumly.
“Not really,” said One-Eye Teddy.
“Being an elephant, I should remember,” added Elephant. “But I don’t.” They all looked down, seeming heartbroken.
Billy turned to Ollie. “We’ve gotta figure something out!” Ollie looked at Billy in surprise. It was the first time Billy had ever asked him what they should do. But before Ollie could answer, a muffled voice rose up from Billy’s pocket. It was the Super Creep. Or, well, his head. Billy had completely forgotten about him. He pulled the gum-smeared little head out, and the Super Creep started talking a mile a minute.
“I remember! I remember where every one of them lived. I helped steal them all!! I’m the SUPER CREEP, am I not?!” The other Creeps drew closer.
“But we’re the bad guys. We can’t take ’em home,” Creep 2 protested.
“Who says?” the Super Creep replied with plenty of attitude. “We’ve been the best bad guys around; now let’s freshen up the act. Try something new. Ya know, a real challenge.”
Creep 3 shrugged. “He’s gotta point. Being good would be a BIG challenge.”
“All right, it’s settled.” Super Creep grinned. “Now, will somebody find me a body, please. And hurry it up. We gotta lotta ground to cover.”
Billy tossed the Super Creep’s head down to his troops.
“Thanks, kid,” the Super Creep said. “You and the Homemade did pretty good.”
As the Creeps began to organize the Faves, the teddy bears came up and saluted Billy.
“It was an honor to serve you, Mr. President,” said One-Eye Teddy. Billy saluted them back with a smile.
“You got a lotta new friends,” said Ollie, half joking.
“It’s okay, Ollie.” Billy then made sure Ollie was hanging tight around his neck as he began to walk away. “I’ve only got one Favorite.”
And as they walked out of the old carnival and toward home, the teddies began to sing “Hail to the Chief,” and even the old merry-go-round joined in.
It wouldn’t take Billy and Ollie long to get home. Billy had his trail of action figures to follow. And a very good song to send them on their way.
35
The Trail of Toys
And so they began the walk home.
“We should go patchpaw. . . .” Ollie told Billy. “No, wait. . . . The other way? . . . Um . . .” Ollie had done many amazing things this night. He made great journeys and commanded an army the likes of which had never been seen, even in a daydream. But he realized he did not know the way home.
“It’s okay, Ollie,” said Billy. “I left a trail of friends to help us.” He pulled Pegasus out of his pocket. “The rest of the guys are along the way.”
“You’re a good trail-leaver, Billy,” said Ollie, and then he settled into Billy’s backpack and just let the nighttime world go by. Every now and then, Billy would lean over and pluck up another action figure guy (and three warrior princesses) as they got closer to home. There was so much to talk about and tell, but they could do that later.
* * *
The walk home was very different from any they had ever taken before. And, in fact, Billy and Ollie were different now too. It wasn’t a different you could see, though they surely looked different—both were astoundingly dirty, covered with dust, grass stains, and smears of mud. Ollie even had a few tiny arrows stuck in his fabric.
But they were mostly different inside. And in ways they couldn’t quite grasp. They could just barely see the park gates when Ollie said:
“Should we tell Mom about Nina and Zozo?”
Billy thought about that for a moment and finally said, “No . . . she’d . . . just freak out or something.”
“Then you can just say that you went looking for me, and I was right where you left me.”
Billy laughed a little. Ollie knew there’d be a lot more questions if they were caught sneaking back home. But he was too tired to come up with any more ideas. Besides, Billy was probably right. Grown-ups liked questions, but they didn’t seem to like answers nearly as much.
“Man, we did A LOT of brave tonight, Billy,” he said.
“Yeah, and faced A LOT of bummer, and crummy . . .”
“And fought A LOT of mean and got STORMED on . . .”
“And had a battle royal!”
“And saved each other’s day!”
Then Billy stopped. He leaned over and picked up Grongo, the Twig Man of Planet Zaxxo. He handed the little plastic alien to Ollie. “He’s the last one.”
“Good job, Grongo,” Ollie whispered to the toy as he tucked him into the backpack. They were almost home!
“We saved A LOT of people’s day,” Billy reflected in a faraway voice, and they both thought about the Junkyard Gang and the forgotten toys and the Creeps and then even Zozo and Nina.
“Ya know, Ollie, there’s a lot of nutty stuff out in the world,” said the muddy, tired boy, sounding almost wise. “Bummer and bliss out. Scary and safe. All at the SAME time.”
Ollie completely agreed. But he also felt a tinge of unease—Billy, his Billy, almost sounded like a grown-up. Almost. So he snuggled up against Tinny and tried not to think about it. Billy walked them out the park entrance. He looked both ways and crossed the street without even thinking it was a big deal. They saw flashing lights. Lots of them. Police cars were PARKED RIGHT IN FRONT OF BILLY’S HOUSE!
“Wow,” sa
id Ollie. “I think we’re going to jail!”
“And the lock key is getting thrown far away.”
36
At a Threshold
Coming home was very strange. There were a lot of police cars and a lot of lights going flash flash flash across the lawn and the house and the policemen and -women who were staring at Billy and Ollie as they walked into the yard.
“We surrender!” said Billy, putting his hands up. “We crossed a lot of streets without permission. . . .”
Then Billy’s mom came running down the porch faster than Billy had ever seen any mom run. And she was in her pajamas and robe! In front of people!
She reached out and practically knocked Billy over as she picked him up and hugged him tight. So tight.
“Billy! Billy! Billy!” she kept saying in a funny crying sort of way. She was hugging so hard that Ollie was getting squeezed out of the backpack. She ran with Billy in her arms across the lawn and up the steps to the house.
Ollie asked Billy, “So are we in trouble?”
“I’m not sure,” Billy whispered from within his mother’s crushing hug. And as she ran through the open front doorway, Ollie fell out of Billy’s backpack and landed on the floor of the entrance.
Ollie sat there on the threshold. Not inside or out, but in between. The stillness of dawn seemed to quiet the sounds of the fading night. The thunders, winds, and roiling leaves, all the shouts and cries and songs, seemed now to have been a very vivid dream. He couldn’t see Billy or his mom; they were down the hall in the TV room where Billy’s dad and the police people seemed to be talking all at once. Ollie wasn’t really hearing them.
He was sitting there and wondering about everything. He wondered about Can Man, and the lost favorites and his junkyard friends. He wondered about Zozo and Nina. But mostly he was wondering about the future. He knew that everything would change. He knew that Billy would grow up. Pretending couldn’t stop that. Can Man’s face was what comforted him the most. Can Man’s look of remembering. Remembering. “Remembering” was a word that made Ollie feel real. It didn’t matter if something was pretend or real; if it was remembered, then it was true. If it was remembered, then it didn’t go away.
“Remember” is a good word.
Ollie knew this now.
Billy would always remember.
And Ollie would never forget.
* * *
As he sat there, he heard footsteps coming toward him from down the hall. But it was dark inside. He hoped it was Billy. And he waited for the next part of his long Aventure to begin.
In grateful acknowledgment to the following compadres of the narrative:
BRANDON OLDENBURG, HEATHER HENSON, JAKE HART, ARTHUR MINTZ, ADAM VOLKER, STANLEY MOORE, AND JOE BLUHM
Lest we forget.
WILLIAM JOYCE does a lot of stuff but children’s books are his true bailiwick (The Numberlys, The Man in the Moon, Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King, Toothiana, and the #1 New York Times bestselling The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore, which is also an Academy Award®–winning short film, to name a few). He lives with his family in Shreveport, Louisiana. Talk to William Joyce and look at upcoming work at @heybilljoyce on Twitter and Instagram.
Moonbot Studios is a secret, zero-gravity colony in Shreveport, Louisiana, whose mission is to create imaginative books, films, apps, and games in this—and any other—dimension. Come see at MoonbotStudios.com.
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Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Simon & Schuster • New York
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Also by WILLIAM JOYCE
THE GUARDIANS
Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King
E. Aster Bunnymund and the Warrior Eggs at the Earth’s Core!
Toothiana, Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies
Sandman and the War of Dreams
THE GUARDIANS OF CHILDHOOD
The Man in the Moon
The Sandman: The Story of Sanderson Mansnoozie
Jack Frost
The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore
The Mischievians
The Numberlys
A Bean, a Stalk and a Boy Named Jack
Billy’s Booger
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ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS • An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division • 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020 • www.SimonandSchuster.com • This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. • Copyright © 2016 by William Joyce • All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. • ATHENEUM BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. • Atheneum logo is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc. • Moonbot and Moonbot Books are registered trademarks of Moonbot Studios LA LLC. • For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or
[email protected] • The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com. • Book design by Lauren Rille • The text for this book was set in Adobe Jenson. • The illustrations for this book were rendered in multimedia. • Manufactured in China • 0116 SCP • First Edition • 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 • CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress. • ISBN 978-1-4424-7355-3 • ISBN 978-1-4424-7357-7 (eBook)
William Joyce, The Lost
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