The Wrong Side of Magic

  Mr. Fantasmo buttered a freshly baked role. “Don’t trouble yourself about that. I sent a messenger to your wife last night telling her the good news.”

  Hudson dipped his spoon into a chocolate moose. “How did you do that?” Part of him dreaded going home, where things were so ordinary and dull. If he still had a way to communicate with Charlotte, it wouldn’t be quite so bad.

  Charlotte raised an eyebrow at Mr. Fantasmo. “I thought you said it was nearly impossible to send people to the Land of Banishment.”

  “People, yes.” Mr. Fantasmo took a bite of a juicy red beat. “Bugs, however, can get through to just about anywhere. I simply wrote out a message to Mrs. Brown, enchanted a cockroach so it felt compelled to deliver any messages given to it, and then I sent the bug on his way.”

  “You sent an enchanted cockroach to my house?” Mr. Brown repeated.

  Hudson’s mother didn’t like bugs. Especially cockroaches. She had probably killed the thing on first sight.

  Charlotte cut into a roasted meet. “Cockroaches are so small. How could it have delivered a message that Mrs. Brown would even see?”

  “Oh, I took care of that,” Mr. Fantasmo said with a wave of his hand. “Part of the enchantment is that the bug grows two feet as soon as it enters the Browns’ house.”

  Well, that had probably been an interesting sight. Hudson could just imagine his mother finding a two-foot cockroach wandering around the house with a letter grasped in its pincers. The next moments had no doubt been filled with a lot of shrieking and objects being hurled at the insect. Hudson probably shouldn’t have laughed at the thought, but he did.

  “Great,” Mr. Brown said, sounding less than happy. “That is very…”

  “Reassuring,” Mr. Fantasmo supplied.

  “Yeah.” Mr. Brown cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “But we should still get home as soon as possible.”

  * * *

  The next day, Hudson, Mr. Brown, Charlotte, and Mr. Fantasmo set out on horseback to go to the Cliff of Faces. As they went down the streets of Grammaria, the stone bee flew up to Charlotte. “Welcome home, Your Highness.”

  “Thank you,” Charlotte said. “And thank you for your help earlier.”

  As Hudson remembered it, the bee hadn’t been that helpful. The bug had said, “The princess is closer than you think, but rescuing her is a process, not an event.”

  Hudson narrowed his eyes at the hovering bee. “Did you know all along that Charlotte was the princess?”

  “Her looks changed,” the bee said, “but her voice didn’t. Bees notice those sorts of details.”

  “I came alone to ask you the question,” Hudson pointed out. “You never heard Charlotte talk.”

  “I didn’t hear her,” the bee said, flying in a lazy circle above Hudson’s head. “The other bees did, though, and we’re very social. It’s hard to keep secrets from us.”

  Charlotte frowned at the bee. “If you knew I was the princess, why didn’t you tell me?”

  The bee bobbed up and down in the air between Charlotte’s and Hudson’s horses. “It wasn’t enough that I knew it. You had to know, and you wouldn’t have believed me even if I’d told you. Just like Hudson wouldn’t believe me if I told him he would one day be the president of his land.”

  Hudson sat up straighter in his saddle. “What?”

  The bee didn’t answer, just flew higher.

  “Wait,” Hudson called. “Was that just an example, or am I really going to be president?”

  The bee buzzed upward in a spiral. “You’ll have to find out yourself.” Then the bug zipped off toward the castle garden.

  The squirrel ran across Charlotte’s shoulder, nose twitching at the departing insect. “If you ask me,” Meko said, “bees are a bunch of gossiping biddies.”

  No one had asked the squirrel. Still, Charlotte petted him. He arched his back in pleasure and ruffled his tail. Ever since Meko had cut through her ropes, he’d insisted on being her bodyguard. She let him ride around on her shoulder a lot. The squirrel was perpetually fluffed up with pride about this.

  When Charlotte went through Scriptoria, the people lined the streets and applauded. Hudson recognized a few of the merchants. Madam Lola, who made renouned baked words, clapped the loudest.

  Before long, the group reached the Sea of Life. A mild breeze blew across the water today, and the sea looked an inviting turquoise blue. Instead of smelling of salt, danger, and things lurking near the bottom, it smelled of warm summer days and friendship.

  As Hudson dismounted his horse, he turned to his father. “Guess which boat will get us safely across.”

  Mr. Brown slid from his saddle and tied his horse to a hitching post near the docks. He squinted at the names written on the boats. “Is there one that says ‘Have a platoon of Marines watching your back’?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The rest of the group tied their horses to the post, as well. Hudson waited for his father’s guess. “Love,” Mr. Brown said.

  “That’s what I thought,” Hudson said as the group headed toward the docks. “It took us most of the way there and then sank.”

  “Love,” the squirrel called over, “isn’t always smooth sailing.”

  “But,” Hudson added, “when you’ve got to throw something at King Vaygran, love—or at least a sturdy box of Valentine’s candy—is all you need.”

  “Endurance?” Mr. Brown guessed. “Because you’ve got to endure to get to the end?”

  Hudson shook his head.

  “Endurance is a sturdy boat,” Mr. Fantasmo said. “Most of these boats can make the trip on a good day. However, when the storms come and the waves get high, gratitude is your best bet.”

  The group reached the dock and walked down to the gratitude boat. Mr. Fantasmo stepped into it, pushing his robes aside so he could sit down on the bench. “The secret is attitude—it’s built in.”

  Hudson was sure that made sense, in a Logosian sort of way.

  The bench wasn’t big enough for all of them, so Mr. Fantasmo and Mr. Brown worked the oars while Charlotte and Hudson sat together in the back. As the boat slid across the water, everyone took turns saying what they were grateful for. It should have been easy for Hudson. Things had turned out so well. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the year of his life he was about to lose.

  An entire year. You could do a lot in that time. Learn things, go places, build stuff. Spend time with friends and family. There was so much to do when you thought about it.

  “I’m thankful Hudson and Charlotte are okay,” Mr. Brown said. Earlier, when Hudson asked if they could keep calling her Charlotte, she said, “Of course. I know how hard it is for people from the Land of Banishment to change.” Which was probably not a compliment, but Hudson decided not to take offense anyway.

  Mr. Fantasmo pulled on his oar, leaning into it. “I’m thankful Colette knows who she is and has forgiven me for being part of her imprisonment.” He smiled at Charlotte.

  She smiled back. “I’m thankful you took me to the Land of Banishment. I was safe, and Hudson and I became friends.”

  She grinned at Hudson, and he wanted to agree, but it would be too embarrassing in front of their fathers. Then he followed his inner compass and said the words anyway. “I’m glad we’re friends, too.”

  “I’m glad you’re glad,” she said, and neither of them mentioned he would be leaving soon.

  19

  WHEN THEY GOT to the island, the group trudged up the path to the Cliff of Faces. Each step Hudson took reminded him of the deal he’d made. Really, for twelve months of his life, the faces should have been a little more helpful. Would it have been so hard for the rock dude to say, “Hey, the princess is standing right next to you”?

  Then again, maybe the stone bee was right. It wasn’t enough for Charlotte to know who she was. While she was imprisoned at the tower, she knew who she was, and it hadn’t done her any good. She needed to get to the point where she stopped hoping for so
meone else to depose King Vaygran and was willing to do it and rule Logos herself.

  The group hiked up the dirt path, past scraggly bushes with leaves like curling shells, past seagulls whose wings and beaks were shaped like C’s. At last, they stood at the tall grayish-brown cliffs. They seemed bleak and imposing.

  Two spots on the cliff wall blinked. The jagged lines on the rock deepened and moved until a face took shape. A weathered old man with a mossy beard peered out at Hudson and Charlotte. “I see you found the princess,” he said.

  “Yes,” Charlotte said, “we did.”

  Hudson sighed. This was it. “We’ve come to pay our time for the answers you gave us.”

  As soon as he spoke, two colored piles of coins appeared on the ground beside them. Hudson’s name floated above one, and Charlotte’s name—now Her Highness Colette—floated above the other.

  Mr. Fantasmo nudged her forward. “The law must be satisfied, Your Majesty.”

  She took a deep breath and walked over to her pile. Hudson went to his, as well. He looked down at the coins—the years left of his life. Instead of pictures of presidents, each coin was stamped with a likeness of Hudson, a silhouette of him looking off into the distance. Even though it was a substantial pile, he didn’t want to give any of them up. Charlotte had already picked up a coin, though, so he took a dull brown one from the top of the pile and joined her at the cliff wall. He hoped the dingy color of the coin meant it was a year Hudson wouldn’t enjoy much anyway.

  Two more faces appeared in the rock wall in front of them, one resembling Hudson, the other Charlotte. The rock Hudson frowned. “Well, get on with it,” he said, in a voice that sounded much older than Hudson’s. The face’s lips thinned until they became a waiting slot.

  Hudson gingerly slid his brown coin into the face’s mouth. No magic happened. Nothing whooshed out of his body. He didn’t feel different. He had wondered if he would age a year in an instant. That, at least, would be cool, because then he would be taller. But he didn’t change. Neither did Charlotte.

  He half expected the rock Hudson to lick its lips, savoring his year the way the fairies savored memories. Instead, after a moment, the face spit the coin back out, making it tumble onto the ground

  Hudson picked up the coin and turned it over in his hand. It was now the color of fresh gold.

  He looked over at Charlotte and saw that she held a golden coin, too.

  “Why did we get a coin back?” he asked.

  The stone Hudson winked, and his slot mouth lifted into a smile. “Because time well spent is never really lost.”

  “And,” the rock Charlotte added in a voice that sounded old and stately, “a quest for knowledge generally makes you richer than when you started, at least in the ways that matter.”

  Both faces faded back into the cliff wall, becoming jutting patches of grayish-brown stone again.

  Hudson held up the coin. “We didn’t lose a year, then?”

  Three rock faces formed in the wall in front of him, noses and chins suddenly protruding out.

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Define lost.”

  Hudson glanced at Mr. Fantasmo to see if he knew which answer was correct. The man only shrugged. “It’s not a question I would pay to have answered.”

  Charlotte walked to her pile of coins and dropped her gold coin on the top. “Our pile of life is richer. That’s enough.”

  Hudson tossed his coin back onto his pile, as well. “Thanks,” he told the faces.

  The faces nodded and faded back into the cliff until the only thing that remained were the thin lines where their mouths had been.

  Mr. Fantasmo put his hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “Sometimes magic turns out better than you expect.”

  Hudson’s dad turned away from the cliff, his stance more relaxed now that the faces were gone. “Well, I guess it’s time for us to head home.”

  Hudson didn’t move. “Where’s the nearest portal back to our world?” He had heard Mr. Fantasmo and his father talking about it in Grammaria, but Hudson purposely hadn’t paid attention. He didn’t want to think about it. He hated good-byes. This one would be especially hard.

  “It’s on the top of the bluff.” Mr. Fantasmo pointed to the far end of the cliffs, where a trail curved around the side. “It will take you a few hours to get to the peak. Once you’re there, you’ll see it.”

  “Oh.” Hudson felt like his stomach had folded in half. He and Charlotte stared at each other in a hesitant sort of silence.

  Mr. Brown reached out and shook Mr. Fantasmo’s hand. “I guess this is where we part ways. Thanks for your help.”

  Mr. Fantasmo gave a curt nod of his head. “And yours.”

  Charlotte forced a smile at Hudson. She still didn’t say anything. After a moment, she looked at her feet. It was the first time in days that she didn’t seem regal and confident. She was just Charlotte again, a girl who didn’t know what to say.

  Hudson pulled the compass out of his pocket and held it out to her. “This is yours.”

  She didn’t take it. “I thought you might want it.” Her eyes met his, questioning. “I mean, if you ever wanted to come back for a visit.” She shrugged. “I mean, since I don’t need it anymore.”

  Hudson smiled, and his stomach seemed to unfold. “I know what you mean.” He slipped the compass back into his pocket. “I’d like to come back for a visit. It would be nice to check up on the unicorns … and things.”

  She smiled back at him. “I know what you mean.”

  “Good.”

  Mr. Brown turned toward the trail. “Hudson, are you ready to go?”

  He wasn’t and he was. Either way, he didn’t have a choice. It was time to return to Texas. Charlotte and Hudson stood looking at each other for a moment longer. He reached out and gave her a quick hug. She wrapped her arms around him and made it into a longer hug.

  “Good-bye,” she said. “For now.”

  * * *

  When they reached home—coming out of the coat closet this time, instead of the kitchen cupboards—Hudson’s mother was the first to see them. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, she didn’t have makeup on, and she was dressed in a pair of old jeans, as though she hadn’t bothered to go to work today.

  She let out a happy gasp and rushed over, arms open wide. She hugged Hudson, dropped kisses on his forehead, and checked him over for injuries. She also grounded him—which was sort of unnecessary, since his father had already done that—and told him that he was never, ever, to run off to another realm without discussing it with his parents first.

  You would think saving a country from a tyrant would automatically get you out of being grounded, but no.

  Mrs. Brown then hugged her husband and checked him over, too. When she was assured that they were both all right, she took Mr. Brown by the arm and smiled in a gritting-her-teeth sort of way. “Although I really appreciate the message y’all sent about being safe, next time could you think of a way to send one that doesn’t involve a two-foot-long cockroach? You could just text me, for example.”

  Mr. Brown pulled her into another hug. “Sorry about that, baby. Fantasmo sent the bug.” Mr. Brown tilted his head to better see his wife’s face. “Did you kill the messenger?” He let out a low chuckle. “How much Raid did that take?”

  “Oh, I didn’t kill it,” Mrs. Brown said. “Bonnie wouldn’t let me. She named the thing Fredericka and wants to keep it as a pet.”

  “Are you kidding?” Hudson looked around the living room and kitchen for his sister. “You already let her keep a kitten. She can’t have a mutant pet cockroach, too.”

  Mrs. Brown shook her head. “I tell you what, if Bonnie doesn’t keep an eye on that bug, Fredericka is going to up and eat the kitten.”

  “Do cockroaches eat cats?” Hudson pulled off his jacket and hung it in the coat closet. Besides the rips from the thorn tree, it was now also stained. Didn’t matter. He would keep it because it reminded him of Logos and Char
lotte.

  “That cockroach eats everything,” Mrs. Brown said. “Even things that aren’t polite to mention. It’s all I can do to keep it out of the garbage can. I’m constantly smacking its little antennae.”

  Mr. Brown pulled off his coat and hung it with Hudson’s. “Why haven’t you gotten rid of the bug before now?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “And just how am I supposed to get rid of a two-foot cockroach? Give it a satchel full of garbage and send it on its way?” She put a hand on her hip. “I was waiting for you to come home so you could shrink it and dispose of it somehow. Then we could tell Bonnie it went home to live with its family.”

  Mr. Brown ran a hand over his short hair. They didn’t have a compactulator, and Mr. Fantasmo hadn’t told them how to shrink the bug. He probably hadn’t taken into consideration that anyone would be bothered by a two-foot messenger cockroach.

  “Where is Bonnie now?” Mr. Brown asked.

  “In her room playing with Fredericka.”

  Mr. Brown walked toward the hallway. “Bonnie?”

  From her bedroom, Bonnie let out a squeal of glee, and her footsteps pounded down the hallway. “Daddy, you’re home! Did you find Hudson?” She rounded the corner, pigtails flapping, and launched herself first at their father, then at Hudson. She smelled of strawberry shampoo and peanut butter. “What took you so long?” she asked. “We were worried!”

  Long? Bonnie obviously had an overly optimistic opinion of Hudson’s tyrant-fighting abilities.

  After finishing her hug, Bonnie let Hudson go and excitedly jumped up and down on the balls of her feet. “You gotta meet Fredericka. She’s the smartest cockroach in the whole world. I want to take her to school for show-and-tell, but Mom says I can’t. She says she’ll scare people. But Fredericka is a nice cockroach.”

  Bonnie took Hudson’s hand and pulled him to her room. There, sitting at Bonnie’s play table, was Fredericka, the two-foot-long cockroach. Most bugs have hideous faces, and Fredericka was no exception. The huge cockroach would have looked like something out of a horror show, except she was dressed in one of Bonnie’s ballerina tutus with a feather boa draped around her thick brown neck.