Unlucky Charms (The Cold Cereal Saga) (20 page)

“What?” said Emily.

“
What?
” said John. Out of the corner of Scott’s eye, he saw Harvey prick up his ears and start frantically scrawling on the back of his map.

“Like a … diplomatic mission,” said Scott. “If they’re all going to invade, it’s because Nimue’s been feeding them lies all these years. Lies like that the humans are responsible for their world dying. I’ll go visit the High Queen … Titania, right? And plead our case. Maybe I can just prevent the whole invasion and get everybody talking instead.”

“No,” said John. “No way. It’s too dangerous.” And when Scott gave him a look, he added, “Yes, I
am
pulling that. I am pulling exactly that.”

“Hold on now,” said Mick. “This could actually work. Scott’s part fairy, so he has ev’ry right to request an audience wi’ the queen. An’ if I go with ’im, an’ demand his safety as a member o’ the queen’s court? Then none can harm ’im. Them’s the rules.”

“I’ll go too,” said Polly. “Please? I wanna go.”

John sighed. “I can’t imagine how I’ll explain this to your mother next year if something goes wrong.”

“Yeah.” Merle coughed. “
This
is the part you’ll be at a loss to explain.”

“Okay,” said Emily. “Scott and Polly and Mick and Finchbriton go to the court of Titania. John and Merle rescue the Queen of England. My current projections show this rift is never going to get big enough for Biggs, so he stays here and takes care of whatever animals come through. I keep studying the rift, Erno studies … that piece of paper. You all get walkie-talkies souped up by Merle with fairy batteries, thanks to that gold coin Mick found. Fi?”

“I will protect Polly.”

“Ooh, better not, mate,” said Mick. “You know I like yeh, but a pixie in the court of the Fay? That’s an insult, that is.”

Fi sighed. “I will go with the men, then.”

“Happy to have you,” said John.

Emily called to the rabbit-man, who was still writing. “And what are you going to do, Harvey?”

“Nuthin’.”

“Right. I guess that’s it, then. Let’s all make ready.”

There was the scuffle and squeak of chairs as class was dismissed.

“Maybe this is a stupid idea,” Scott said to Mick. He had half expected everyone to talk him out of it, and now he felt like he was sitting on the edge of a cliff while all his friends said,
Go on, then, jump the motorcycle.

“Prob’ly. But it speaks well of yeh that you’re the first to think of tryin’ it.”

Harvey made a beeline for Scott and unfolded his map to show a scribble of handwritten notes. “I’ve made a litht of thingth you do that offend me.”

“Oh good.”

“One: you turn your clotheth inthide out.”

“What?” said Scott. “When have I done that?”

“When you took off your thocks that one time.”

“Yeh should listen to this,” said Mick. “Harv an’ I have been in your world awhile, so these kinds of things don’t bother us so much anymore. But the fairies o’ Pretannica will have certain hang-ups. The same fairies you’re meant to impress.”

“Fine,” said Scott. “What else?”

“Two,” said Harvey. “No ringing bellth.”

“Bells? Why would I ring a bell?”

“Tho don’t, then.”

“Three,” interrupted Mick. “Try not to give or receive any gifts. Or food or drink.”

“Got it. If they try to give me anything, I won’t take it.”

“Oh, you’ll
have
to take it,” said Mick. “Only thing worse than gettin’ a gift from the Good Folk is not acceptin’ one when it’s offered. Yeh want to end up belching flowers the rest o’ your life? Just try not to get offered anything.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Scott squeaked. This list was making him nervous.

“If it seems like any fairy’s abou’ to give yeh somethin’, change the subject. Create a diversion.”

“Like what?”

“
Don’t ring any bellth!
”

“Try singin’ somethin’,” Mick suggested. “They’ll like that. Just don’t be surprised if yeh start up a whole big musical number, like in a Disney movie. That can happen.”

“It’s contagiouth.”

“Like a yawn.”

“Remember …,” said Harvey. “Remember when Jack Muthtard thtarted up with that thong and danthe about thinging and danthing?”

“Do I.” Mick groaned. “Hard to know how to end something like that. Eventually everyone’s singin’ abou’ how we can’t stop singin’, an’ we’d be doin’ it still if the Milesians hadn’t invaded.”

“I’m going to lie down,” said Scott.

COMMERCIAL BREAK

CHAPTER 21

Then the big day came. Everyone was in a tizzy. Polly sat in the kitchen and tried to breathe calmly as the ship tipped around her. A cartoon was playing quietly on the tablet computer, a cartoon in which ordinary kids defeated the forces of darkness in extraordinary ways. Fi sat cross-legged on the table.

“So that’s the plan,” Polly whispered.

“An ignoble plan,” said Fi. “Surely we can do better. We’ve made promises—”

Just then the cartoon broke for a commercial. Three blue-skinned cartoon pixies were relaxing on a beach.

Polly and Fi watched in silence. Fi’s tiny eyes reflected the flickering screen dimly, like distant stars.

John appeared in the doorway. “Did that just say there’s Intellijuice in the Puftees now? That’s bad news.”

Neither Polly nor Fi answered.

“There are already reports of smarter kids, better test scores,” John added. “Have you heard? The news is reporting it like it’s all a joke, but a mob bought every last Goodco box from a grocer’s in Chelsea.”

The cartoon children crunched spoonfuls of cereal while the pixies tiptoed away.

John clucked his tongue. “Does anyone really
want
a grape-flavored cereal? You know what kind of fruit people never put on their corn flakes? Grapes.”

The commercial ended with a final image of the pixie brothers under glass. “Only
YOU
can help the pixie brothers escape from the jars of giants,” it said.

“Oh,” John added then, and cleared his throat. “Um. I’ll bet that makes you think about your … I’m sorry, Fi, I forgot.”

Fi stood and turned to Polly. “All right,” he said quietly. Then he slid down a chair leg and went off toward the basement.

Polly clicked off the cartoon. John looked adrift until Scott squeezed past him through the door.

“Hey! Did anyone tell you the latest?” John asked Scott as they both tried to move and eat their way through the kitchen. “The Goblin Queen got some questions about the British Museum event this morning and got so flustered she hissed at the minister of health!”

Scott smiled. “Nice to think about
them
being on the defensive for a change,” he said. “Maybe if they think their plan is falling apart, the Fay will be willing to talk to me.”

“Yes. Yes, break a leg with that. Really.”

“Yeah, you … you too,” Scott answered. Then they stared at each other a moment, having lost all momentum. Finally Scott turned and retreated down the basement steps. Polly followed him.

Mick and Finchbriton were already in Pretannica. So now they had a Pretannican mouse, who was burrowing in the wood chips of a little plastic hutch inside the wardrobe. And another fox (or maybe the same fox) was crouching in the corner of one of their wire cages, with Biggs unsuccessfully trying to feed it. Polly made kissy noises at it. Merle was down here too, apparently in conversation with Prince Fi. Emily was in radio contact with the leprechaun.

“I bought some sheep from a certain Robert Shepherd nearby,” said Mick through the radio. “Over.”

“With what money? Over.”

“Found some more fairy gold. Over.”

“That’s unethical,” Emily groused. “Fairy money is an illusion. Over.”

“Isn’t all money technic’ly an illusion? Over.”

“Oh, whatever. Just get them back here. Emily out. Biggs? We’re going to have sheep.”

“Yuh,” said Biggs, and he commenced to pounding metal stakes into the mortar of the walls and floor. The adder swayed along with the hammer blows.

Polly lost interest in the fox and crossed to the stairs.

“Don’t go far,” said Emily. “You leave soon.”

“I know.” She climbed and met Erno in the kitchen. “Where are you headed?” she asked him. He shrugged.

“Emily wants my help with animal wrangling or something. I dunno.”

“Do you wish you were going to Pretannica?”

“Does it matter?” asked Erno, looking out the kitchen window, which only faced an alley. “John and Merle and Fi don’t want kids along on their mission, you can tell. And I don’t have any fairy blood, so I’m not allowed in Queen Titania’s clubhouse.”

“Emily’s got Biggs for the animals, though,” Polly said. “Why aren’t you working on that clue? That’s important.”

Erno scoffed. “You’re the only one who thinks so.”

“Yeah, but it
has
to be, right? That Mr. Wilson left
so little
in this house. Just a couple chairs and a wardrobe and a jar of Nutella and
that piece of paper
.”

“
I know
!” said Erno. “Thank you! Finally!”

They stared at each other a moment.

“You know what? I
am
going to work on the clue,” said Erno. “Tell Emily I’m in the back bedroom if she really needs me.”

“Okay.” Polly followed him out into the stairwell, watched him shut himself up inside the back bedroom, then arched her neck to look up at the gap in the ceiling. A little aspect of the second floor could be seen at the top of the ruinous stairs. It wasn’t going to be the easiest throw, but she was the athletic one in the family. She took Harvey’s cell phone from her pocket, squared her shot, and threw—a perfect sky hook, something the WNBA was going to be interested in if she ever got her growth spurt. Then she sauntered back to the basement.

Everyone was accounted for except Erno—and Harvey, who wasn’t really expected to show anyway.

“So how are we doing this?” said John as he got into place near the octagon. “Everyone at once?”

“Should work,” said Emily. “The rift’s wide enough. It’s held at the same diameter for three days now. I calculate you have as much as two months in Pretannica before it gets too small for the tallest of you to return, but let’s not test that unless we have to, okay? Get home quickly.”

“Guys?” said Merle. “Fi has something to say.” He held up the little prince on his palm. Fi cleared his throat.

“I am sorry, my compatriots,” he said, “but I have decided not to go to Pretannica. I believe I am honor bound instead to make inquiries into the fortunes of my brothers.”

The basement was silent.

“Oh,” said Scott. “Right. Sorry, Fi, we’ve been so wrapped up in saving the queen—”

“There shall be no need for apologies among brothers-in-arms,” said Fi. “Truly the welfare of your English queen is paramount. She can knight a thousand soldiers to slay the Great Dragon. But I think I can no longer serve you well when my heart is cut in twain. Merlin, please set me down.”

Merle put Fi on the floor, and the pixie strode proudly, if slowly, across the basement floor.

“Good speech, right?” Polly whispered to Emily, next to her. Fi got to the stairs and paused.