The Prince of Neither Here Nor There (15 page)

“Huh,” Brendan grunted. “I guess that makes sense.”

“Then there’s my babka’s point of view,” Dmitri said.

“She believes in all sorts of crazy things. She says dreams are a way for spirits to speak with us directly. It’s a kind of teleconferencing for the spirit world.” Dmitri tossed his head. “She also believes her cat gives her stock tips.”
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“Is she crazy or what?”

“Well, she has a fairly healthy stock portfolio … but I can’t say I share her point of view. The human brain is a pretty amazing thing. We understand very little about how it actually works. Who can tell what dreams actually mean?” Dmitri looked sideways at Brendan. “Why this interest in dreams? Had any interesting ones lately?”

“Naw. Just curious. Some reading I was doing.” He changed the subject. “Are you going to the field hockey game after school? We should support Kim.”
And maybe I can finally corner her and make her talk.

“I wouldn’t miss it. All those girls in short skirts beating each other with sticks? Is there any finer entertainment?” Dmitri grinned.

“You are truly creepy,” Brendan said, laughing.

“I won’t argue with you.”

They were walking past the elementary school and the huge rock when Brendan heard snoring. Heavy and ponderous, it sounded like the wheezing of an elephant. He stopped and looked around. It sounded as if someone was sleeping nearby but there was no one around.

“Who’s snoring?” Brendan asked Dmitri.

“What?” Dmitri asked in return.

“There’s somebody snoring right here. Can’t you hear it?”

Dmitri looked at Brendan like he was a little nutty. That was happening a lot lately. “I can’t hear anything.”

“Well, I can.” He looked around once again and saw that there was no one around, just him, Dmitri, and the huge black rock.

Brendan stepped over in front of the large stone. The snoring seemed to be coming from behind it.

“Come out of there,” he demanded. “You can’t sleep there.”

“Brendan?” Dmitri came and stood beside him. “Are you okay?” Dmitri laid a hand on his arm.

“I hear snoring. I think somebody’s sleeping behind the stone.” Brendan shook off his friend’s hand and stepped over the short white fence that surrounded the stone. “Come out of there, right now.” He had to prove to Dmitri that he wasn’t crazy. He walked around the stone and looked down. There was nobody there.

Now he felt foolish. He had been sure he would find someone. He scratched his head and leaned on the stone. Suddenly the snoring was very loud. With a snort like someone stirring in his sleep, the rock under his hand shifted almost imperceptibly.

Suddenly, a loud deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Who is there? Who disturbs my slumber?”

Brendan jumped away from the stone, jerking his hand back as if he’d been stung. He staggered backward and fell over the fence at Dmitri’s feet.

“Brendan! What happened?” Dmitri helped him to his feet.

“D-didn’t you hear that?” Brendan stammered. “It was the rock.” He pointed at the stone, inert and stone-like as ever. “It yelled at me!”

“Brendan, I didn’t hear anything.” Brendan looked into his friend’s face and saw only worry there, the same worry that had been on his parents’ faces last night and at breakfast this morning. He decided to change the subject.

“Never mind.” Brendan waved Dmitri away. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess.” Dmitri didn’t look convinced.

“C’mon,” Brendan said. “We’re gonna be late.” He took a final look at the now-silent rock and strode up the street.

Dmitri had to hurry to catch up with Brendan. The scowl on Brendan’s face pre-empted any attempt at conversation. Dmitri was worried. He’d never seen his friend behave this way before.

Brendan was scowling to cover up his bewilderment. He was sure he’d heard someone speaking to him and was terrified he was losing his mind. What made it worse was the fact that the world just seemed so noisy all of a sudden. The birds seemed louder. Every car driving past sounded like a freight train. The leaves in the trees rattled in the wind and the sound was so acute that he felt they were speaking. If only he could listen to them more closely, he might catch a word or two of their conversation. He clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his ears.

They reached the park and started along the path that would carry them diagonally across the green to the school. The wind was gusting strongly, plucking at his jacket and keening in his ears.

“Winter is coming
.” The wind’s whistling resolved into a haunting voice. Brendan stopped so suddenly that Dmitri ran into him. The wind spoke again.
“Smell the snow. The devouring winter comes
.”

Brendan whirled and grabbed Dmitri. “What did you say?”

Dmitri stared into Brendan’s eyes, inches from his own. “I … I … didn’t say anything.”

“Are you trying to freak me out?” Brendan’s eyes were wide and wild, white showing all around the pupil. “I heard someone speaking. I heard a voice. How are you doing this?”

Dmitri didn’t know what to say. He stepped back in confusion. Brendan saw how frightened his friend was, and with a great effort, he reined in his own terror. “I’m sorry, D. I didn’t mean to scare you … I … I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just feeling really weird. I can’t explain it.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Dmitri smiled to reassure Brendan, but his eyes said that he clearly wasn’t comfortable.

“Why don’t you go on ahead,” Brendan suggested. “I need a minute to myself. To clear my head.”

“Are you sure? You don’t seem well.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just need a minute. I’m tired, that’s all.”

Dmitri didn’t need much convincing. “All right. I’ll see you in homeroom.” He quickly set off across the park but not without a worried backward glance.

Brendan sank down onto a park bench. He’d lied when he said he’d felt tired. Quite the opposite, he felt completely wired. His nerves were jangling, he felt more acutely aware of everything around him. He could sense each blade of grass reaching for the weak rays of the sun. He felt their yearning, their despair as they seemed to know that autumn was ending and they were doomed to die.

What is happening to me? Am I losing my mind?
He felt close to tears
.

“Food? Food? Food?” sang a chorus of tiny voices. They were high and silly sounding like when he swallowed helium out of a balloon or when his dad sped up recordings of his voice to make him laugh.

Brendan looked around in confusion. There was no one nearby. “Hello?”

“Food? Food? Food?” the voices repeated, more insistent this time.

Brendan looked down and gasped.

A gang of chubby grey squirrels had gathered around the bench. Not unusual, for they congregated whenever a person stood still, hoping for scraps of bread or potato chips. Their beady black eyes fixed Brendan with fevered intensity.

Suddenly, their tiny mouths opened in unison. “Food? Food? Food?”

Brendan practically choked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. “You … you’re talking!”

The squirrels scampered closer, forming a ring around Brendan’s trainers.
“Food? Food? Food?”
The little voices were annoyed now. Tiny paws stretched out in entreaty. It was such a human gesture that Brendan answered, “I don’t have anything.”

One of the squirrels suddenly reached up a paw and seemed to pull its head off. Brendan gasped. It wasn’t a head. It was a hat. Standing amid the squirrels was a small man with big black eyes and a twitching nose. He was dressed in a suit of grey fur, roughly stitched together. In his hand was a minute
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silver object, a forked stick made out of metal with a cord strung between the tips of the two tines. It was a tiny slingshot! The little man sneered at Brendan.

“What’s the deal, buddy? You gonna give us some bread or what?” The voice was high and squeaky.

Brendan swallowed, gasping for air. “I … I …”

“C’mon, you selfish jerk. I can smell that tuna sandwich in your knapsack. Fork it over.”

Brendan lurched to his feet. “This can’t be happening,” he choked.

An old woman who was walking along the path stopped short at Brendan’s outburst. “Are you all right?” she asked.

Brendan stared at her, then back at the little man, still standing amid the pack of rodents. Wild-eyed, he looked back at the old woman. “Don’t you see him?”

“See who?” She looked down at the little coven of squirrels. “The squirrels?”

Brendan whipped his head around to glare at the little man, who smiled sardonically up at him.

“The little man! Right there! He’s
right there
!” Brendan’s voice rose toward hysteria. The old woman suddenly decided that she had better places to be. She backed up a few steps and then turned to hurry back the way she had come.

“Are you gonna give us something or what?” the tiny voice demanded.

Brendan shook his head, moving away from the pack of squirrels. “You can’t be real. You can’t be
real!”
He tripped over the corner of the bench and fell backward, dropping his knapsack.

“C’mon, lads!” the tiny man cried. The squirrels swarmed forward, their little paws scrabbling at the flaps of the pack, worming their way inside.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

The tiny man leapt easily onto the bench. He moved like the squirrels, in quick darting leaps. “Back off, biggun! It’s ours now!”

Brendan made a grab for his bag but a sudden pain stung his ear. “Ow!”

The tiny man was reloading his slingshot, grinning. His mouth was filled with sharp rows of teeth. “Go ahead, punk! Try that again! Lord Chitter will sting you a second time!”

That was the final straw. Brendan screamed and turned tail. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. He ran …

Straight into a tree.

He saw stars … with angry squirrels dancing among them … then blackness.

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 Do not take your cat’s advice in business dealings. I speak from experience. My cat was my investment manager for three years. I now own over seventy thousand squeaky mice and an acre of swamp in Siberia.

⁴⁵
 By
minute
(pronounced my-nyoot), I don’t mean a minute (pronounced mi-nit) made up of sixty seconds. I mean minute (pronounced my-nyoot), which is another word for very small. I suppose a minute (pronounced mi-nit) is a small part of an hour, one might say. A Minute (pronounced mi-nit) Man was a nickname for American soldiers in the Revolutionary War. But they were not minute (pronounced my-nyoot) but capable of being ready in a minute (pronounced mi-nit). A very important difference. Tiny soldiers would certainly have been defeated in short (pardon the pun) order.

A STORM IS COMING

When he woke, someone was standing over him. His eyes watered and his head ached. Blinking to clear his vision, he first saw Kim’s scooter, then her frowning face, her head tilted to the side. She looked to be torn between wry amusement and concern.

“Rise and shine!”

“Huh?” Brendan sat up and immediately regretted it. His head pounded. He probed his scalp and found a large goose egg on the side of his skull. He hadn’t broken the skin but it certainly hurt.
Okay. That’s three in three days. I have a streak going.
“I was being chased. I ran into a tree.”

“Chased by who?” Her eyes narrowed. “Chester and his pals?” She whipped her head around, searching for a threat.

Brendan opened his mouth to answer and promptly snapped it shut again. What was he going to tell her? He was attacked by squirrels? That he’d seen a little man in a fur coat with a slingshot? That the wind was talking to him? He shook his head, wincing again at the pain.

He’d been desperate to question her about Greenleaf but now he felt a little too ridiculous to begin an interrogation. He brushed the dry leaves from his clothes instead and mumbled “Never mind.” Then, with alarm, he gasped, “My bag …” He suddenly realized he’d left it at the bench.

Kim held it out to him. “I found it on the path. It looks like an animal got into it.”

He took it from her and examined it. The straps were gnawed through and his sandwich was missing, but otherwise, everything was accounted for. He opened his mouth to thank her but he almost choked before he could say a word. Something fell out of his mouth. Looking down on the grass, he saw his braces glinting in the weak sunlight.

“Oh no,” Brendan groaned. “My parents are gonna kill me.” He stuck a finger in his mouth and ran it over his teeth, checking to see if they were all accounted for. They felt strange: smooth and even. He had always been self-conscious about his crooked teeth but they didn’t feel crooked any more. He wished he had a mirror. He grabbed the braces and stuffed them into his pocket.

“That’s a shame,” Kim said, offering a hand to help him to his feet. He accepted it and rose to his feet.

“Thanks,” Brendan mumbled.

“Don’t mention it.” Kim raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm.” She studied Brendan, casting her gaze from his head to his feet and back again.

“What hmmm?” Brendan demanded. “Hmmm what?”

“Nothing,” she said softly. “Just thinking. You look … different. Has anything weird happened today?”

He wanted to shout,
Yes, I’m totally losing my mind! I was mugged by rodents!
Instead he said, “No. Nothing really. I’m fine.”

She eyed him a little longer and then snapped her fingers. “I know what it is! Your glasses! You aren’t wearing them.”

Brendan’s hand automatically went up to his face. She was right. They were gone. He must have lost them while being chased through the park. “Oh, crap. That’s all I need.” He looked around and saw nothing but leaves and grass. “I must have dropped them somewhere …” He stopped short.
How can I see the leaves and the grass? I can see everything perfectly without my glasses!
As he continued to look around, he marvelled at the clarity of his vision. He’d always worn glasses. He couldn’t get contacts because he had astigmatism.
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The glasses were practically a part of his body. Now he was seeing with remarkable clarity, better than he’d ever had even wearing glasses. He looked across the park and read the lettering on the side of a van moving along the street.
DAN’S
PLUMBING: LET ME TAKE A LOOK UP YOUR PIPES!
He laughed aloud.