Boots sniffed the air. “Up ahead,” he whispered.
She crept as quietly as she could, following the cat through electronics. The VCRs looked like black blotches. Anything could be hiding behind the TVs. Coming out of electronics, she heard a soft rumble.
She imagined monsters: drooling, bloodthirsty monsters.
Julie and Boots crept through patio furniture. Fast asleep, the magician was facedown on a patio table. His cheek was smushed against the glass next to the umbrella hole and his half-eaten lunch, and he was snoring—the soft rumble she’d heard was his snoring.
“That’s him?” Julie said. That was the magician? He was a kid. He looked high school age. Pimples and everything. He wore a Harry Potter wizard hat and a blue bathrobe with stars and moons on it. The hat still had a price tag.
“Shhh!” Boots said, but the magician didn’t wake.
“Come on,” she whispered. Dropping to hands and knees, she crawled closer. She hid behind a barbecue grill. Boots joined her. “Grandma said he keeps it in his mouth,” Julie whispered. Leaning around the grill, she peeked out at the kid. His mouth was shut. His nostrils flared with each snore.
How could she make him spit out the ring in his sleep? What would make someone spit in his sleep? Or how about sneeze? What would make him sneeze?
“Cat hair,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Boots said.
She grinned at Boots. “You can make him sneeze.”
“Um, let me think about that: magician, me. Uh, no. Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” she whispered. “You said you wanted to go home.”
He backed away. “It’s not that bad here. You heard the ogre—he missed parts of this place. Who knows? Maybe I gave up too early before. Maybe if I stick around, I will meet the love of my life. If I’m magician lunch meat, I’ll never know.”
She couldn’t believe he was talking like this. “What about Mom?”
“She’s a hero,” Boots said. “I’m just the hero’s companion.”
Julie shook her head. “You almost drowned, you flew on swans, you faced an ogre, you followed me in here, and now you want to back out?”
“This is where I draw the line,” he said. “Besides, maybe he’s not allergic to cat hair.”
“Okay, fine,” she said. She wasn’t going to waste time arguing with him. “What else makes people sneeze?”
“Dust,” he suggested. “Pepper?”
The magician had been eating a submarine sandwich from the food aisle. His hand rested in a soggy mass of shredded lettuce and ham remnants. She bet it had pepper.
She couldn’t waltz over to him and stick pepper in his nose without his noticing. He’d hear her. If Boots would do it . . . or an even smaller creature . . . Yes! “Wait here,” Julie whispered. “I have an idea.”
She pulled the ogre’s wand out of her back pocket. Taking a deep breath, she tapped her head with its tip. “From a girl to a mouse.”
Whoosh. She shot toward the floor, and the barbecue grill ballooned in front of her. Heavy and awkward, the wand fell out of her hands as her fingers curled into paws. Her back slouched as her bones shifted. Her skin itched as she sprouted fur. Her nose twitched, her whiskers moved, and she was suddenly assailed by more smells than she’d ever imagined existed. She swallowed back a cough, tried to cover her mouth with her front paws, and fell flat on her chin.
Paws scrabbling, she righted herself. Gingerly, she laid her tail straight out behind her. She looked down at herself. Wow, wait until she told Gillian about this. Gillian would love it. She’d say it was super-cool—and she’d be right, Julie thought. “Boots, look at me!” She lifted her head and twitched her whiskers.
Oh, my, he was huge. And feline.
Boots towered over her, lashing his tail. “I want Beef Feast for the self-restraint I am showing here.” His teeth glittered.
Julie bolted for the patio furniture. Her hind haunches waddled faster than her front, and she somersaulted over the linoleum. Adjusting herself, she zigzagged toward the magician’s table. Okay, here’s the plan, she thought as she ran: I climb up the table leg . . .
At the foot of the table leg, she looked up—and up and up. Okay, here’s the plan: I don’t climb up the table leg . . . She waddled to the magician’s robe. Oversized, it draped onto the floor in a puddle of terry cloth.
A mouse could climb this, she thought.
Before she lost her nerve, Julie dug her front paws into the cloth and scrabbled behind her with her hind claws. She started to climb. Memories flashed back at her: how she hated gym class, how she hated jungle gyms.