Jack (17 page)

“L
ook at my three beautiful children—Tom Thumb, Tim Thumb, and now tiny Thumbelina.” Martha clapped her hands together. “I've never felt so happy in my life!”

Martha had not stopped chattering from the moment I'd arrived. My disappearance had been totally forgotten in the excitement over Annabella…or Thumbelina, as Martha called her.

Martha picked all three of us up and squeezed us to her chest. Annabella looked at me as though pleading for me to save her. I just smiled. And then Martha plopped us into the washbasin.

“So dirty!” she said, dousing us with sudsy water. “And we'll have to make you new clothes. Tim, dear, your pants are torn to bits. Did you get in a fight with the pixies?”

After we were half drowned, Martha pulled us out of the water and dried us off, then she went to her sewing basket and pulled out some pants and a shirt and shoes for me. I would have been grateful, seeing as my own clothes were practically falling off, except the pants were red on one side and yellow on the other, and the shirt looked like it had been knit out of dried grass and dyed purple, probably with berry juice. It smelled kind of fruity. And the shoes…well, they had
bells
on the twirly tips.

“You look like a jester,” said Tom.

“I'll never be able to sneak around in these.” I took a few steps and the bells jingled.

“I think that's the point,” said Tom.

Annabella giggled. “We can call you Tinkle Toes.”

“Ha. Ha. Let's see what she dresses you in.”

“Thumbelina, I have just the thing for you!” Martha pulled out three little dresses, as if she'd been waiting for an elf girl to dress like a doll. There was a blue dress trimmed with lace and one with green polka dots. Annabella picked a frilly pink one with six flounces and a sash that tied into a humongous bow at the back.

Once she was dressed she did a twirl, and Martha clapped her hands and wiped a tear from her eye. “Aren't you precious? We must celebrate! I'll get the cheese!”

Martha brought the block of cheese from the
cupboard and sliced off big chunks for each of us. “Eat up, Thumbelina. You are so tiny, I'm afraid you might disappear. Now, I must think what to cook for the king tonight. The puddings have not sat well with him of late. I'd roast some chickens, but he was so upset last time. I suppose it reminded him of that silly hen he carries around….”

Martha popped a chunk of cheese into her mouth and began gathering ingredients from the baskets and buckets—potatoes and onions, beets and radishes. “Perhaps a stew will do,” she mused.

“I guess you didn't find your papa, then,” said Tom.

“No,” I said.

“I'm sorry.” Tom looked down and shuffled his feet. I could tell he wasn't just apologizing about Papa, but for the things he said to me before I left.

“It's okay,” I said. “We'll find him. He got away from the cobbler in one of the king's shoes.”

“That's not good,” said Tom. “What if King Barf squished him with his big toe?”

“Our papa is smart,” said Annabella. “I'm sure he's fine.”

“You're right. He probably got out of the shoe. I just hope Rufus didn't eat him.”

“Who's Rufus?” asked Annabella.

“That's Rufus.” Tom pointed to where the orange beast sat on his haunches beside the table, his big yellow eyes fixed on some elves cracking chestnuts. His tail flipped back and forth.

“Oh, what a sweet kitty!” cooed Annabella. She went
right to the edge of the table and called out. “Rufus! Here, kitty, kitty! C'mere, kitty!” Rufus turned his attention to Annabella. He dipped his head and stalked forward.

“That's a good kitty. Come on!”

“Bells, I wouldn't—”

The cat sprang up and swiped a giant paw at Annabella, who shrieked and stumbled back. Tom and I fell over laughing. Annabella glared at us, but it was hard to take her seriously in that frilly pink dress. Rufus sprang up once more, but this time Annabella looked him square in the face and hissed like a rabid alley cat. Rufus mewled and ran back to the fireplace, his ears pressed down flat. Tom and I looked at each other. Neither one of us was laughing now.

“Well done, flower girl,” said Tom. “Nobody's ever been able to tame Rufus, not even Martha.”

“I have a way with animals,” said Annabella. “At home I could always get the sheep to follow me. Jack never could.”

That was true, but so what? At least I didn't scream at the sight of snakes and grasshoppers.

“So how do we get out of the kitchen to find Papa?” Annabella asked.

“We could ride mice,” I suggested.

“I don't know a way to the king's chambers through the walls,” said Tom. “Martha could send a gnome to someone in the castle.”

“We can't wait around for that,” I said.

Suddenly Tom snapped his fingers. “I've got it! Rufus!
He'll be much faster than mice, and we can go wherever we want without being noticed. Nobody pays any mind to a cat.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I mean we should
ride
on Rufus! It'll be an adventure!”

“Are you
trying
to get eaten again?”

“We'll sit on the back of his neck where he can't reach!”

“You're crazy,” I said.

“I think it could work,” said Annabella.

“You're not serious, are you?” I asked. “Bells, that cat just tried to eat you!”

“It's all right, Tinkle Toes,” said Annabella, smirking. “I understand if you're afraid. Tom and I can ride him, and you can stay here with Martha. We'll be back with Papa before you know it.”

I glared and flung off the ridiculous shoes. “Fine. You want to ride the cat? We can ride the cat.”

Tom whooped and grinned. “Now, we just need to get something to lure Rufus and distract him. If only we had a rope…”

“Like this?” Annabella whipped out her braided-grass rope from an inner pocket beneath one of her flounces.

“Fantastic!” said Tom. “Well done, blossom head. Now we just need to tie it to the end of something. Jack, can you go get one of Martha's knitting needles from her sewing basket?”

I sulked all the way to the sewing basket, thinking this was a terrible idea. When I got back, Annabella
was fraying and tangling the end of her rope, and Tom was telling Annabella about one of his adventures. She laughed. I started to feel this burning in my stomach. I wished Annabella had just stayed home with Mama.

“I have the needle,” I interrupted them.

“Good!” said Tom. “Let's get going.”

Tom tied the rope to the end of the knitting needle, and we gathered at the edge of the table. Annabella lowered the tangled end of the rope and gently swayed it back and forth. Rufus stared at it for a few seconds, his ears and tail twitching. He stalked toward it like a hunter on the prowl. Annabella bounced the rope, and Rufus followed it with rapt attention. She let it rest, and Rufus came in for a sniff. She led the big cat until he was in position right alongside the table.

“On three,” said Tom. “One…two…three!”

Tom and Annabella jumped, landing neatly on Rufus's back, but I held back. Jumping from high places had never been one of my favorite things. I much preferred climbing.

“Jack! Jump!” Annabella shouted. “He's starting to move!”

Rufus pawed at the grass rope Annabella was dangling in his face, getting farther away from the table.

It was now or never, and I wasn't about to let Annabella face the giants without me! I jumped, but my leg was still weak, so I didn't push off hard enough. I fell fast, but the cat was not beneath me.

“Jack!” Annabella screamed. Rufus shifted back just enough, and I landed on his tail.

If there is a place you don't ever want to be, it is on the end of a giant cat's tail. Rufus turned and hissed, baring his dagger teeth. Then he began to chase his tail and therefore me. I held on to his fur for dear life as I went around and around, first one way and then the other. The pots and pans and food and fire all turned to a streaky blur.

Somehow, as I was being whipped around and nearly clawed or gnawed to death, all I could think was that this beast of a cat was punishing me on behalf of all the mice and toads and crickets and spiders—all the small animals I had ever used for pranks. I was sorry! So sorry! Let me live!

“Oh, Rufus, you silly cat,” I heard Martha say. She apparently did not notice the three silly children clinging to his fur. “Get out from under my feet and go chase some mice!” She pushed Rufus out the kitchen door, which momentarily caused him to stop chasing his tail.

“Jack!” shouted Annabella. “Climb up here!”

Climb? I knew how to climb. If only I could remember how. I was so dizzy, I barely knew my own name. I grabbed a clump of Rufus's fur and pulled myself upward, then grabbed another. Finally I reached the neck, where Rufus couldn't see or bite us. The world was still spinning, and my insides felt all tangled up like tree roots.

“That was amazing!” said Tom. “Was it fun? Did it feel like you were spinning inside a tornado?”

I took deep breaths. “It felt like a giant cat was chasing me while I was hanging on to his tail.”

“You look a little green,” said Tom.

“I think he's going to be sick,” said Annabella.

“Try not to be sick in the fur,” said Tom. “We don't want Rufus to give himself a bath while we're up here.”

“I'm fine,” I said. “I just have to catch my breath.”

Rufus meowed and stalked aimlessly, as though he wasn't sure what to do next.

“Let's go catfishing,” said Tom. “Flower girl, toss the line!”

“Aye, sir!” shouted Annabella, and she flung the knitting needle forward so her grass rope flew out in front of Rufus. Rufus shot into the air, and we all lurched forward, clinging to the fur.

Away we went, flying down the corridors. Once Rufus showed signs of slowing down, we pulled in the rope and flung it out again, and Rufus chased it like a mouse—or me.

Once my dizziness subsided, I had to admit that cats were magnificent as far as rides go. Rufus was perfectly still one moment, and then he'd spring to a run in the next. Then he'd jump and land so lightly, we barely felt the force of it at all. Cats are a very unpredictable, unboring way to travel.

It also allowed us to search the castle in plain sight. A cat is a creature that has the right to roam wherever he pleases, since his sole purpose is to catch mice, and mice could be anywhere and everywhere. We went through the dining hall, which was empty except for a servant dusting the great golden chandelier and a few pixies buzzing in her face.

“Pixies!” Annabella exclaimed.

“Don't call their attention here!” I hissed, but the servant took care of them by whacking them with a cloth. They fluttered down to the ground.

“Oh, how horrid! The poor creatures!”

“Annabella thinks the pixies are sweet.” I rolled my eyes at Tom.

Tom shrugged. “She tamed Rufus. Maybe she can handle pixies.”

I scowled, annoyed that he would take her side.

We went down another corridor and entered the great hall. The ceilings were so high, I half expected to see clouds up there. Servants polished the gold floors and a great golden staircase. I thought I saw some elves polishing right along with the servants, but then they flew off and I realized they were more pixies.

“Let's go up the stairs,” Annabella suggested. “I bet that's where the royal chambers are.”

“Yeah,” said Tom. “Then we can slide down the banister on the way back!”

We launched the rope up the golden staircase, and Rufus bounded up faster than a galloping steed. I loved giant cats!

But when we reached the top of the staircase, Rufus was done. Annabella whipped out the rope again and again, but the cat just meowed pitifully and would not move farther.