CHAPTER TEN

WAITRESS

The diner was empty. I don’t mean empty as in no diners. It was devoid of tables, chairs, counters, napkins, cash registers, and waitresses. Shafts of light filtered in through smudged windows and danced on the bare dirt floor.

Alexander and Abby turned to leave, but the door wouldn’t open. They jiggled the handle, but it wasn’t about to budge. Trapped, Alexander panicked, while Abby remained calm.

“There’s an explanation for this.” Abby’s eyes peered around the café.

Alexander ignored her. Yeah, I’ve followed a girl with cooties to my doom, he thought. It escaped his mind that Abby followed him into the café, not vice versa. He was in no mood to take the blame.

An eerie voice spoke from behind them, “Table for two, my lovelies?”

The hair on Alexander’s arms bristled.

An ash-white overweight waitress stood holding menus in her colorless hands. Her straggly, thin gray hair hung on her head in splotches. She wore a see-through apron. In fact, Alex could see through the apron to the counter behind her. The apparition pointed to a table toward the back of the dining room. Suddenly, the empty room was now full of ghostly diners and looked even less inviting.

Specters of varying sizes and states of decomposition sat at tables, eagerly eating invisible food out of stained stainless steel bowls. One phantom patron shoved a wooden spoon into his mouth, evidently unaware he was headless. Another nonchalantly picked his hand from the bowl, reattached it to his bony wrist, and continued his lunch.

“We have a table in the back.” The ghostly hostess pointed to an empty table in the rear.

Alexander’s eyes widened. He felt his heart beating faster.

Abby held his hand like a vice grip. “We can’t stay.” She fumbled behind her back for the door handle.

“Nonsense. The two of you look famished,” insisted the ghoulish waitress. Her grin sent shivers down Alex’s spine.

“My friend’s on a diet.” He pointed to Abby. “A strict no-bugs diet and, well, this place has bugs.”

“Yup, a diet,” Abby chimed in.

“So, as you can see, although I’d love to stay, it would be rude to eat in front of my friend,” continued Alex, trying to sound confident and not too freaked out.

The ghost turned to the patrons at their tables and pointed. “They think they have a choice,” she giggled spookily. The room erupted in bone-chilling laughter.

The head of the waitress swiveled 180 degrees towards Alex and Abby, who were both pawing at the stubborn handle. Now her eyes were on fire and foam gushed from her mouth. “Table for two in the back, and this time I insist.”

Defeated, Alexander and Abby followed the waitress as she floated to a table in the corner of the café. Years of dust and smudges marred the tabletop, and the chairs fared no better. “Your waitress is Shelly. She will be here soon. May I get you something to drink while you wait?”

“We’ll be fine.” Alexander blew the dust from the table. It swirled around with the violence of a mini tornado before depositing back onto the table.

“Suit yourself, Dearie, but it’ll be a long wait. Sometimes Shelly doesn’t show up for work for months.”

“Water?” Abby whispered.

The ghost cackled. “Water, how cute. We don’t serve water. Two beers coming up.”

“No,” Alexander raised his hand to protest. The ghastly diners all stared. Some held their eyes in their hands and gawked as best they could. “I mean, we’re trying to cut down,” he clarified.

“Dearie, you might as well enjoy your stay. Nobody ever leaves here. They think they do.” A loud screeching sound followed by the rattle of chains echoed through the diner. Many of the diners grabbed their checks and exited. Others remained, unconcerned, as if the rattle of chains were commonplace in the restaurant.

“Oh look, you’re in luck. Shelly came to work today. I’ll bring your beers and the check. Drink them fast.” She floated away, but returned seconds later with two Styrofoam cups filled to the brim with brew.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said we couldn’t leave.”

“Right, you can’t.” The hostesses set the cups and check on the table.

“Why the to-go cup?” Alexander was more concerned about the cups than the beer inside.

“Trust me; it’s less messy this way. We only accept cash as payment.” The rattling chains grew louder.

“We, uh, have no—” began Alex.

“Tell you what,” interrupted the ethereal server. “It’s on the house.” She disappeared along with the remaining patrons, tables, and chairs.

Alexander and Abby huddled alone in the diner as the rattling of chains and a large menacing shadow inched nearer.

                                                                      

Malley and O’Toole returned as the last flashes of the sun’s brilliant rays faded into the western mountains. Using trees as a protective cover, they drifted from trunk to trunk. It could prove disastrous if ordinary townsfolk saw them. Since their invisibility cloaks were worthless, they had to be extra careful. Thank goodness it would soon be nightfall.

Store owners settled their businesses before locking up and rushing off to their homes. Daytime affairs concluded just as the doings of the evening began. Thus was the way of any small village. The cycle never changed. The day became night and night trudged slowly back into day. Not one villager was aware their lives changed. Not one person knew that a ghostly restaurant appeared out of nowhere, and an evil presence was in their midst.

Who knows, maybe they were used to evil. After all, they lived halfway down the valley, just close enough for King Boyce to notice them. Of course, the sight of two leprechauns in the park might have given them a clue that not all was right in their little corner of the town.

Boisterous voices echoed from the bars across the street from the unlit park. In stark contrast, the silence was the norm from the dimly lit cottages opposite of the park. O’Toole and Malley crouched behind large oak trees in the park centered between loud bars and the hushed quiet of the houses.

“Alexander,” O’Toole whispered from his hiding place, but the whisper fell flat, drowned out by the voices from the tavern.

“It’s of no use, O’Toole. We need to risk getting seen, or wait until pitch darkness.”

“I don’t see them,” O’Toole replied, twisting the tie string on his cloak.

“I’m sure they’re hiding. They’re safe. I can feel it in my bones.” Malley was unsure, despite his optimism. “Do you think we should’ve told the boy about the girl?”

“Tell him what? Tell him we’re hesitant to believe he is the one?” O’Toole bit his lip and peered from the trees to the place they left Abby and Alex. “Tell him we found a witch to take his place if he should fail?”

Malley drew circles on the ground with a small stick. “I guess not. We should’ve stayed near them.”

“And risk the future of our quest? Are you ready to give up what we have accomplished?”

Malley counted on his fingers. “Accomplished? In one day, we talked a young boy into going on a death-defying quest with us. He was almost arrested. And we hired a witch to tag along, just in case the boy fails. Some accomplishments,” he muttered.

O’Toole whispered for Alexander again, but the whisper could not drown out the gruff voices from the taverns.

“That about sums it up.” Malley scratched his beard with the stick.

“You forgot one thing,” O’Toole tied the drawstring on his cloak.

“What could I have possibly forgotten?” Malley as he pulled his cloak over his head.

“You forgot the part where we lost the boy that we swore to protect.” O’Toole kept an ever-present eye on their surroundings as they left the shelter of their hiding place.

CHAPTER NINE

ABBY

 Bright sunlight awoke Alexander from his nightmare. O’Toole told him not to sleep for more than twenty minutes, but he couldn’t help it. He fell into a deep slumber despite pinching himself. The sun hung over his head, which meant it was now noon. O’Toole and Malley were nowhere around. He stretched, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, happy his horrendous dream was just that—a dream.

He shook off the nightmare with a slight jerk of his head.

“Come out; come out, wherever you are.”

Alexander almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of a girl’s voice behind him.

“They’re not here,” she informed, “and neither is the promised food. Malley and the other one will be back by nightfall.”

He whirled around to find the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Until now, Alexander thought girls were gross… but this girl seemed different. She appeared to be his age, maybe a year or two older, and wore red shorts and a solid black hoody. A blonde curl poked out from the hood. Her blue eyes accented the freckles around her nose.

Alexander gawked at her.

The girl untied her hood, unfurling wavy blonde hair that fell to her waist as she approached. His face reddened, and he lost the ability to speak. She didn’t seem to care.

Once she was about eight inches from him, the girl offered Alexander her hand. His only previous contact was with girls was his demented sister and a few mean girls at his school. Normally, he’d react as if cooties were about to attack him. The girl’s smile grew broader, and her eyes twinkled, mesmerizing poor Alexander.

After a few seconds, she grabbed his hand and shook it. In a reflex he couldn’t quite control, Alexander jerked his hand away and wiped it on his shirt. Of course, he was embarrassed by his own actions. The girl laughed at the gesture, and then from out of nowhere grabbed Alex, wrapping her arms around him and giving him the biggest hug. She even kissed him on the cheek.

He melted.

Suddenly she shoved him away, knocking him on his behind. She stood with her hands on her hips, smiling her hypnotic smile, as Alex sat on the ground wondering what happened.

“Why did you do that?”

The girl sat next to him on his blanket without being asked, her legs crossed as her hair danced in the wind.

 “Because I could, and as a reminder. You might be the boss on this little adventure, but I can defeat you anytime I feel like it.” A saucy smile crept across her face.

“What adventure? Who are you?” Alexander inched away from the cute confrontational girl.

She twirled a strand of hair between her fingers. “I’m Abby. I’m thirteen, so don’t tease me. I know all about your adventure, and I’m going with you.”

Shocked, Alex crawled to a huge elm tree and sat back against its trunk. “I don’t know what  you’re talking about. I don’t need any help from a girl. You’ll only slow us down.”

She simply smirked.

“Who are you, again? Where are my friends? How do you know them?”

“Slow down. All questions will be answered by O’Toole or Malley.” Abby smiled and crawled over to the elm tree. Alex tried to avoid her eyes, but they captivated him. “I’m going, and that’s that.” She sat next to him and placed her arm around his neck as if they were the best of friends.

“But…”

She shushed him with a finger to his lips. “There are no buts in adventures. Are you hungry?”

Alex managed a weak nod.

“Good.” Abby stood and offered pull him up, but Alexander swatted her hand away. He assumed she’d withdraw it at the last minute and send him hurtling onto his backside. “Get used to it, Alex. We’re going to be the besties.” Abby smiled her signature smile and slapped Alex on the back.

“If you say so,” Alex replied with a mix of reluctance and curiosity.

“There’s a café across from the park. Let’s eat. And then we need to get you something new to wear.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now?” Alex demanded.

“Nothing, other than they’re rags, and you never visit the King wearing rags. He might kill you or something worse.” Abby ran to a nearby tree and picked up her backpack. “Are you coming? Or do I have to hug you again?”

Alexander wasn’t sure whether to nod or shake his head. He wasn’t that fond of hugs, but hers weren’t so bad.

As if she read his mind, she said, “Too bad, I’m a hugger,” and wrapped her arms around his neck again. Then she laughed and slugged him in the arm. “Let’s go eat.”

He kept a watchful eye on Abby and took one-step away every time he thought she was walking too close. They reached the end the park, and he pointed at a café directly across the street. “That looks okay to me.”

Abby glanced at the door with suspicion before she grabbed Alexander’s hand and held it like a vice grip. “I think we should find another place.”

Alexander, however, was starving and feeling cranky due to the lack of a breakfast. Still… the place had a large grease stain on the door. It looked foreboding. A still small voice within him screamed at the top of its voice, DON’T GO INSIDE THAT PLACE.

Being a teenage boy, his hunger overcame his good sense. He looked both ways and waited for a few horse-drawn carriages to pass by before crossing the street. Over the café door hung a square yellow Do Drop Inn sign with faded blue letters.

Alexander smiled and pointed. “See? Nothing to worry about.” He walked into the café.

Abby sighed and followed him.

It was their first mistake of the day.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE NIGHT WATCHMAN

Alexander and the leprechauns reached the rickety old gate at the edge of the yard, just as the moon rose over the eastern mountains. Turning left, they headed toward a new adventure.

The road twisted, forked, and then turned some more. Without the aid of the leprechauns, Alexander would have never seen this part of the valley. The view was breathtaking. Tiny dots of light flickered below, reminding him of lightning bugs.

The leprechauns paid no attention to any of this. They fastened their Invisibility Cloaks around their chins and trudged along in the early evening darkness. “A little faster, if you please, Alexander,” O’Toole glanced around the trees. “We have to be miles from here come sunrise.”

“I can still see you,” said Alexander.

“Well, if nothing else, the cloaks will keep us warm,” Malley responded. “We must hurry, Master Sighs. We don’t want to be caught by the night watchmen making their rounds—” 

“Right,” O’Toole interjected. “There’s no telling what they’ll do to you. They might even return you to your parents.” He smiled. “Imagine returning a child to parents who didn’t even know he’s missing. I, for one, would love to see that played out. But then, we’d have to start over again.”

                                                                 

Alex followed in the darkness of the waning night, marveling at the hundreds of house lights shining below. Still, it seemed he’d been walking forever. “How long will this take?” he asked.

“We must be there before the sun crests over the mountains,” explained O’Toole, “that is, if we’re not caught in the next hour or so.”

“There is a quiet park a few miles ahead. Maybe we could hide out there,” suggested Malley.

“Have you lost your mind?!” exclaimed O’Toole. “We must quicken our pace!”

By now, Alex was hungry and foot worn. He followed the leprechauns deeper into the valley, too tired to care.

“You there,” a gruff voice came from the darkness.

Alexander twirled around and spotted a face with a handlebar mustache sparkling in the light of a lantern.

“Yes, you there, boy. What are you doing out and about at this time in the night?” the man asked.

Alexander shook from fear. Where are my companions? he thought in a panic. I wish I had a real invisibility cloak!

“I’m not alone. My friends are here,” the boy managed in his most grown-up tone.

“Really?  I see only you. Judging from your attire,” the face pointed toward the mountains. “I can tell you’re from up there.” The man’s voice softened.

 Alexander hunched his shoulders and hung his head. He hoped his parents never noticed he was missing, which was likely the case.

“You’ll have to come with me to the station. You can stay there until we can find someone brave enough to return you to your home.” He placed the candle on the ground. “I’m going to cuff you. It’s nothing personal, just procedure.”

“Wait, you can’t cuff me,” Alexander shouted, hoping the leprechauns were still in earshot. “I’m not from the east,” he lied. “I’m from the west.” Another lie. “I’m headed home.” That was his third lie.

“I don’t know. It sounds fishy.” The man flashed a badge and took one step forward. “Explain why you’re out here alone and dressed in eastern rags.”

“I’m not alone. I’m here with my Boy Scout group. Say hello, guys.”

O’Toole and Malley’s rendition of scout voices floated in the air.

“It’s kind of late for any scout activities. And it doesn’t explain your disgusting eastern clothing.” The cop took one more step toward Alexander.

“Yes, it’s late,” Alexander stammered.

“We’re helping the boy earn his Midnight Hiking merit badge,” O’Toole said, still unseen.

“And as for the clothing, any dimwit can see it’s a costume for his school play,” Malley added.

“School play costume?” asked the guard, confused.

“Costume, school play, how hard can it be?” Malley was behind a tree. “As hiking takes absolutely no brains, we convinced our friend he could practice his part in the school play. It’s as simple as the nose on your face. Now, if you don’t mind, we are in a hurry.”

“Not so fast,” protested the night watch. “This is all so confusing. You’re not going anywhere until I am satisfied.”

O’Toole, stealthily darting behind another rock, said “Sorry, but I mistook you for a relevantly intelligent type. The lad is multi-tasking. Hike, practice, hike, practice, and so on. The reason for his garb should be apparent.”

“Oh, okay. I can see it now.” The man sighed. “Hey, wait just a minute. Why is it obvious?”

“Simple,” replied O’Toole. “The boy is going to a dress-rehearsal after his hike, and you, my kind sir, are holding up the theater production as we speak.”

“I’m sorry, young sir. What is the play you’re performing?” The man with the lantern was still suspicious.

“Why, he is the lead urchin lad in a yet-to-be-named play, of course.” O’Toole, adding as much flair as possible under the circumstances.

The guard clicked his heels together. “You’re free to go.”

                                                                 

“We must hurry,” Malley whispered to Alexander as the pristine yellow and gold beams of sunlight crested the top of the nearest roof.

Alexander’s lips curled into a frown as he willed a tear not to fall. “I messed up. Look, the sun is coming up. We didn’t make it to our destination. Will something eat us now, or will we melt or disintegrate, or something?”

Malley laughed. “It’s nothing so dramatic. We won’t melt, and we’re not on a creature’s menu—yet. But we might fade away from hunger.”

“Why can’t we rest beneath that tree?” Alexander pointed to a shade tree a short distance up the road.

“Did you miss the keyword?” said O’Toole, his feet wide apart and his arms folded. “Hunger. The keyword is hunger. We hid food in parks along the way, and we’re still a few miles away from a picnic basket. I suggest we hurry before something hungrier than us gets any ideas.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE PERMISSION SLIP

So far, these chapters don’t have much to do with Alexander’s quest, and I feel you deserve an explanation. Here it is: you’ll thank me later if you know about the bad guys before we jump headfirst into the adventure. Yes, there are very, terrible characters lurking in the chapters ahead.

“We must show the kid the documents provided by the Council,” O’Toole said in a whisper.

“I didn’t think humans could see anything the Council provides.” Malley gazed at Alexander through a knothole in the tattered fence where the leprechauns crouched. The fence was rotting in places and provided few places to hide.

“We have no other choice. He must see them before he’ll agree to this mission.”

Malley shook his head.

“Then, it’s agreed. We reappear to the child and show him what’s possible.”

A voice on the other side of the fence asked, “Show me what?”

Malley squeaked and placed his hand on his heart to see if it was still beating. “Alexander, someone should place a bell around your neck.”

“It isn’t wise up to sneak up on a leprechaun, just saying,” added O’Toole. “Meet us on the other side of your shed. We have something you need to see.”

The meeting of two leprechauns and one child has only taken place one other time in the annals of history, when Jack the Mellow met with Piney the Elder and Elmer the Wise, and we all know what happened then. No? Well, that is for another time. This story is about Alexander. If you want a history of the human-leprechaun relationship, I suggest you buy the History of Leprechauns.

                                                                       

 “One more time, and then we need to get down to business,” O’Toole said impatiently. He pulled the scroll from his vest pocket and tore it to shreds. The shreds pieced themselves together and became whole again, much to Alexander’s delight.

      “Again!” demanded Alexander. His eyes sparkled as O’Toole tore the permission slip in half again. Magically, the halves became a whole paper.

“Do you think I could try it?” asked the boy who assumed tearing paper and mending it would impress his classmates at school.

“No—”

Malley interjected. “We’ll teach you the trick once you sign the form.”

“Well, your mission sounds cool, but I’m running away the first chance I get.” Alexander grabbed the magic scroll, but O’Toole was too quick.

O’Toole stuffed the parchment into his vest pocket. “Why are you running away?”

Alexander crossed and stared in another direction. “None of your business.”

“Aren’t you tired of this stuff yet, kid?” Malley asked as he watched a butterfly dart in and out of the flowers along the side of the white shed. He could hardly hide his boredom. “Do you understand why we returned?”

Alexander nodded. “Yeah, something about snakes and witches.” His eyes fixed on the scroll in O’Toole’s pocket.

Malley rubbed his forehead in frustration. They’d been talking to the boy for the better half of an hour when Alexander’s brother walked into the backyard and looked right through Alexander as if he wasn’t there. He picked up his wooden sword and left without as much as a how-do-you-do.

“No, nothing about snakes or witches…” O’Toole stopped and looked at his friend for some assistance.

Malley swatted a few bees away. “What my friend means is, yes, there will be snakes, witches, and The Unspeakable Creatures. We promised you an adventure, and we keep our promises.”

Alexander’s eyes widened at the mention of unknown creatures, impressed that Malley was an expert on such things. Of course, Malley was not, but Alex wouldn’t know that until later.

Malley hushed O’Toole by picking up a broken sword and whacking on the shoulder. “The forest animals tend to leave leprechauns well enough alone. Shall we get to the meat of the matter?”

      Alex eyed him with suspicion mixed with curiosity.

      “You don’t want to be an average, everyday type of runaway. It’s so cliché and boring.” Malley crouched close to Alexander’s ear and whispered, “Might as well make it an adventure to remember, if your mind is made up to venture out on your own.”

Alexander plopped to the ground, shivered, and hugged his knees to his chest. The afternoon air was cold, and he’d rather be in his room planning where and how to run away from home. He wished his imaginary friend were around to help him decide what to do. “Th-th-th-the creatures usually leave leprechauns alone, but what about little boys?”

Malley looked as if the question hurt him. He blinked twice and rubbed his arm. “I have no idea. This is our only encounter with a boy since that day.” He rubbed his chin. “I suppose we’ll see.”

“Do they eat boys?” Alexander asked.

“We don’t know.” Malley held his finger to his lips. “But look on the bright side. We’ll most likely not make it that far. We do have to make it to Morgan first.”

“Who is Morgan,” asked Alexander.

“We are getting ahead of ourselves,” Malley continued. “O’Toole, have you forgotten about getting beyond the King and his minions?”

The older leprechaun shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody promised this would be easy. With great sacrifices comes great satisfaction. Do you know what you need to do?”

Alexander stared at the corner of the house.

“You’ve traumatized the child, and we didn’t even get the permission slip signed.” O’Toole said as he waved his hand in front of Alex. “We’ll get sued for sure. I hope you’re happy.”

Alexander stared at O’Toole before speaking. “I‘m supposed to get my parents to sign the permission slip, and I can’t tell them what it’s for.”

“Wrong. You can tell them the truth, but they’ll never believe you, trust me,” O’Toole stated.

“Tell me again, why am I doing this crazy mission?”

“Someone or something stole our unicorns. The Council drew your name from a hat. It will be fun,” he lied. The Council would never do such a thing. “You like to have fun, don’t you?”

“Right. A unicorn, snakes, witches, and fun—a boy couldn’t ask for anything more.” Alexander stood up and dusted off his trousers as he looked at the house. “I can’t even leave the yard without permission. Can’t one of you get my parents to sign this?”

“You forgot the unknown creatures and the King.” O’Toole slapped Alexander on the lower back as encouragement. “And no, the Council has stipulated we can’t get one of your parents to sign anything.”

“Hand me the permission slip. I’m ready.” Alex stuck out his hand.

O’Toole fished a new document from his pocket and handed it to the boy. Alexander threw his shoulders back and marched towards the back door as the afternoon sun was directly overhead.

                                                                 

He found his father exactly where he thought he’d be—in the kitchen tutoring his brother in the fine arts of swordplay footwork.

“No, no, no, it’s parry, parry, swish, swish, and then lunge.” His father jerked the wooden sword from his brother’s hand and showed him how to defeat a mop with a simple, parry, parry, swish, swish and lunge. “Now you do it exactly as I showed you.”

Alexander pitied the poor mop. It appeared to have taken the brunt of many practice sword fights. He wished the mop could fight back. With a fake smile, he walked to his father, eyeing his brother suspiciously. “Father, I have a permission slip for you to sign.”

His brother sneered and slapped his pretend sword into the palm of his hand. Father looked at the paper and returned it. “The paper is blank. What do you need permission for?”

“It’s not blank. It’s magical.”

Dad scratched his head as his brother took a menacing step closer. “Magical, huh? I don’t sign any documents written in invisible ink. There’s no telling what a magician can add to such a document. I could sign my life away, for all I know. Or conscript your brother into the Army.”

 Brother cringed and took three steps backward, tripping on a chair.

“I’ll ask you again. What do you need my permission for?”

“I’m going to go with some leprechauns and play with deadly snakes.” Alex leaned against the kitchen counter.

Dad raised an eyebrow.

“How about I’m going to the mountains to wrestle unknown creatures?” Alexander continued.

His father shook his head.

“We’re going to hang out at some evil mall.” That’s pushing the truth. All the leprechauns said was that maybe Morgan would eat him.

“Son, leprechauns don’t exist. Are you going to tell me the truth?”

Alexander sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “We are going on a field trip to the castle.”

“See, don’t you feel better? So, you’re going to go see how a malevolent dictatorship works—our tax money in action, so to speak.”

Alexander smiled and handed the pen to his father. He signed the paper and handed it back. Suddenly, from around the corner came the voice of his mother. She was in the den, forcing his sister to walk between chairs, balancing books on her head. He needed her signature too and headed toward the den.

Unfortunately, Alex ran smack dab into his brother, who mysteriously appeared at the doorway, clenching his teeth. “I know what you’re up to.”

Alexander cowered as he felt the splintery end of his brother’s wooden sword. “Up to?” he asked.

“Yes, you’re trying to take Father’s attention away from me. You’ve always been jealous of me. Admit it.”

“Well, to be truthful,” Alexander whispered in his brother’s ear, “I’m going away on a dangerous and long quest. I might die or something worse.”

A slight smile came across his brother’s lips. “Die? Well, in that case, have a nice trip.”

Alexander darted away from his brother and into the den. “Mom…”

His mother shushed him, and with the wave of her hand motioned him to come closer. She signed the permission paper without taking her watchful eyes from her daughter’s performance.

“What have I signed?” she asked, glancing down long enough for Alex’s sister to sneak out of the room.

“I’m going on a field trip,” explained Alex.

“Oh. Well, take some clean underwear with you. And… and… where has your sister disappeared to?” she demanded, scanning the den.

“I don’t know,” said Alex, shrugging.

“Go find her!” ordered his mother.

                                                                 

Alex got the signatures and now could run away now with a clear conscience. He didn’t care if he faced snakes or creatures, or even if witches ate him. All he knew was that his family wouldn’t miss him.

He ran into his sister in the hallway, holding THE HISTORY OF PAGEANTS in her hands, like a club. She growled at her brother like a rabid dog. Alexander thought the only thing missing might be a foamy mouth.

“I know what you’re up to, and it won’t work,” she sneered.

“You know about my quest?” Alexander asked.

“Quest, ha. I know you are trying to steal what is rightfully mine.” She hefted the book over her head.

“You want to be the one who gets to play with the snakes and get eaten by a witch?” He smiled. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Stop talking nonsense. I know you are trying to steal Mother’s love and attention away from me.”

“What? Steal attention? From you? I could never do that, Princess. Mother, would not allow it.”

 “I saw Mom signing something for you. She does nothing for you.”

Alexander shook the paper in her face. “Oh, you mean this?” Folding the document neatly, he placed it back into his pocket. “She doesn’t care about me, never has, and never will.” He sidestepped his sister and skipped down the walkway. He stopped long enough to pick up a broken sword on his way to the waiting leprechauns. “The paper is permission for me to go on a dangerous quest. I will most likely die a horrible death while I am gone.”

His sister yelled at him as he rounded the corner of the shack. “Die? Promise.”