Falcon Quinn and the Black Mirror (35 page)

T
he faculty and students at the Academy for Monsters were dancing with abandon to the music of the green men. Ankh-hoptet, the fearsome mummy, was swung through the air on the arms of Lincoln Pugh, the werebear. Dr. Ziegfield-Gruff kicked his cloven hoofs in the air and butted heads and horns with Picador, the young minotaur. Willow Wordswaste-Phinney danced on the arm of nearly immobile Mr. Shale, as the moth man stood to one side, thoughtfully chewing on a red mitten. And Turpin, the wereturtle, stood absolutely still, watching this all with slow and patient wonder.

Miss Cuspid approached a microphone at center stage and sang.

Then the green men pounded their drums and tin cans and old refrigerators with mallets, and everyone's ears rang. Mr. Hake transformed into the Terrible Kraken and tossed a group of Frankensteins in the air like round rubber balls—Sparkbolt and Crackthunder, as well as several other guys from the Upper School: Shockbottle and Deadfinger and Stumblevolt. The zombie force did the electric slide.

Falcon stood at the edge of the dance hall, watching the action. The arrival of the students from the Upper School had completely altered the feeling of the Academy, as the small group of first-year students was now overwhelmed and outnumbered by these older monsters, all of whom had their own long history together. And yet many of the older students were reaching out to the younger ones, especially those of their own kind. There were ghouls and Sasquatches and mummies, werecreatures and vampires and banshees. Even Pearl had found another
Chupakabra
, this guy
el Boco,
the famous goatsucker of Argentina, with whom she was now doing a kind of flamenco watusi.

Everybody has somebody like themselves,
Falcon thought.
Except me.

It was true. Of the many different kinds of monstrous beings dancing to the music of the green men in the gym, only one was an angel.

Oh well,
Falcon thought.
There are worse things than being one of a kind.

The cafeteria lady walked past him, holding a large bouquet of cotton candy. She paused, with her sour, lizardlike expression, and then she nodded.

“I still don't like you,” she said. “Much.”

Then she walked away, licking at her cotton candy with her long, sticky tongue.

Falcon walked out of the dance hall and through the swinging doors of the gym. The night was warm, and the quad was illuminated by the glow of a full yellow moon in the sky above. The campus was beautiful, lit by soft lights, and the gates to the Upper School stood wide-open. Falcon could see all the academic buildings and the long paths that meandered across the manicured lawns of Castle Gruesombe and the Hall of Unspeakable Tongues and the Hall of Horrible Experiments. Closer at hand were the high citadels of the Towers of Moonlight, and Science, and Blood, and Aberrations. Above them all was the pointed roof of the Tower of Souls.

A breeze blew through the air, bringing Falcon the far-off scent of the ocean and the sand. His hair was lifted gently by the soft gust, and for a moment he thought he
imagined a distant voice crying on the wind.
Falcon
, it said.
I'm here.

He saw the shadow of a figure at the bottom of the stairs that led down to the quad, and for a moment he was uneasy, wondering who this could be. Then he recognized the silhouette.

“Max?” said Falcon. His friend turned around halfway and cast a glance toward him. Then he turned back. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” said Max.

“You're sure?”

Falcon drew near to the Sasquatch and saw that his eyes were watery, and his lip thrust forward in a pout.

“What's up?” said Falcon.

“Nothing,” said Max. “I just want to be alone for a while, okay?”

“If you want to talk or something—”

“I just want to be alone, okay? I guess that's not, like, a crime or something?”

Falcon stood there in the half shadows for a minute, unsure what to say but unwilling to leave.

“You're not worried about Pearl, are you?”

Max shrugged. “What do you think?”

“Max, come on! You're not serious.”

“Dude,” said Max, turning toward Falcon. “She's
dancing
with him. That
el Boco
dude, with his stupid mustache and his stupid bandito hat. They're having, like, some whole
Chupakabra
meltdown.”

“Why don't you join them? You know she'd make room for you, if you asked.”

“They're speaking Spanish, okay?
Spanish!
I don't know any Spanish. I took French!”

“Max,” said Falcon. “You can't blame her for wanting to hang out with someone like herself. It gets lonely, being one of a kind.”

“Don't you see what's going to happen?” said Max. “They're going to hang out now, all the time, talking Spanish, talking about—I don't know. Goat sucking and stuff. Pretty soon? It's going to be,
So long, Sasquatch
.” He sighed.

A mockingbird flew out of the night and landed on the limb of a tree nearby. “Aww,” he said.

“Aww, yourself,” said Max. “You don't know what it's like—to
die of a broken heart
!”

“Max,” said Falcon. “You're not going to die of a broken heart, okay?”

“What would you know about it?” said Max angrily. For a moment the boys stood there in silence. Then Max leaned toward Falcon and clapped him on the shoulder, next to his wing. “Sorry, dude,” Max said. “You
know a lot about it, I guess.”

Falcon looked up at the sky. There were two bright stars shining down on them, and he thought of Peeler and Woody.

“Aww,” said the mockingbird.

Max moved a little closer to his friend. “Don't worry, man,” he said softly. “We'll find her. Megan, I mean. I promise.”

“¡Estúpido!”
said a voice. Pearl buzzed out into the night air. “He shall rue the day he has misjudged
la Chupakabra
! This day shall spell the beginning of his doom!”

“Pearl,” said Max, his features transforming from dejection to hope.

“
¡El estúpido! ¡El—chumpo!
This so-called goatsucker from Argentina! He is not a gentleman!”

“What did he do?” said Max. “Are you all right?”

Pearl buzzed around in a small circle for a moment, attempting to regain her composure. “He has attempted,” she said, “to press his advantage.”

“Wow,” said Falcon. “He doesn't waste any time.”

Max said, “I thought you—
wanted
him to—”

“What?” said Pearl. “I do not understand!”

“The way you guys were dancing. It was like you were having some big Chupakabra-rama.”

“I should sting you myself,” said Pearl, dumbfounded. “How could you think I could wish this thing? When I
have sworn my allegiance to yourself—the largest of the large!”

Max smiled from ear to ear. At that moment he looked like the happiest creature on Earth.

“Aww,” said the mockingbird.

“What is this bird,” said Pearl, “who watches us from the bush of juniper?”

“I don't know,” said Falcon. The bird looked him in the eye, and for a moment Falcon felt as if the expression in the mockingbird's glance was one he had seen before.

From inside came the voices of the students and their teachers raised in celebration.

“Hey, guys,” said Max. “What do you say we all go in and dance? We should party! And
stuff
!”

“Okay, Max,” said Falcon. “I'm with you.”

“Let us dance together, we three,” said Pearl. “Come, Señor Falcon. It would be an honor to be the partner of Falcon Quinn—he who has risked so much to find his wings!”

Falcon smiled. “I found a lot more than wings,” he said.

They turned toward the gym. Max and Pearl entered the dance hall ahead of him. He was just about to follow them when he thought he heard, on a passing breeze, one last time, the distant voice.
Falcon…I'm here….

He looked up and saw, in the Tower of Souls, a figure standing there alone, looking down on the grounds of the Academy. Moonlight slanted through the arches above the enormous clock, casting just enough light on the figure's face for Falcon to recognize the dark, distant silhouette of his father.

Falcon froze for a moment as he realized that the man had been standing there all this time, watching him. Falcon felt his dark eye throb softly, and the fire within him smoldered.

The Crow raised one hand gently and waved. Falcon looked at the shadow in the tower for another long moment, then waved back.

Then he turned and walked toward the loud, happy music of monsters, and the joyful voices of his friends.

The mockingbird watched as the door closed softly. It hopped to the end of the branch, flapped its wings, and then flew off in the darkness. And was gone.

JENNIFER FINNEY BOYLAN
is the author of eleven books, including a bestselling memoir, a collection of short stories entitled
REMIND ME TO MURDER YOU LATER
, and three novels for adults. Her novel
GETTING IN
won the Alex Award from the American Library Association in 1998 for an adult novel with special appeal to young adult readers. Since 1988 she has been a professor of English at Colby College.

Jenny Boylan lives at the end of a dirt road in Maine with a Sasquatch, a wind elemental, two were-dogs, and a leprechaun. To learn more about Jenny and Falcon and to find a wide range of bonus material associated with this story, visit www.falconquinn.com.

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Jacket art © 2010 by Brandon Dorman

Jacket design by Amy Ryan