Into the Wild(46)

Julie started to run. Rounding the beanstalk, she raced down the cobblestones past the moss-covered library, past the overgrown Shell station, and past a downed helicopter. Leaving downtown, Julie plunged back into the thick of the woods as Goldilocks climbed high into the clouds.





Chapter Twenty

The Apple

Candy (lemon drops, Swedish fish, gummy bears, and Jolly Ranchers) dotted the roof, crystallized sugar coated the windows, and lollipops lined the shutters. The picnic tables were carved from Hostess cupcakes. Slowing, Julie stared at the candy cane fence and the Mallomar shrubbery of the former Dairy Hut. Without thinking, she licked her lips. She hadn’t eaten since—

She felt claws on her ankle. “Yow!”

“You can’t stop here,” Boots hissed.

Boots? How . . .

“Move! Move! If you stop, the story will start!”

She hurried past the gingerbread house. Had the witch seen them? She glanced back over her shoulder. Smoke curled out of the gumdrop chimney, but the door stayed shut. With no one nibbling, the witch had no cue to come outside.

As soon as the gingerbread house was behind them, Julie bent down and studied Boots. Was it him or the Wild? He didn’t seem to have the same puppet stiffness, and his eyes weren’t as flat black. He twitched his ears in annoyance. “What? Did I sprout an extra tail or something?”

Certainly sounded like Boots. But how had he found her so fast if the Wild hadn’t magicked him here? If the Wild had arranged for her to find Boots with the bikes, how did she know it wasn’t arranging this reunion         now? “How did you catch up with me?”

He displayed his claws. “Hitched a ride on a mobile pumpkin.”

Certainly acted like Boots.

“Quit looking at me like I’m possessed,” Boots said. “It’s just me.”

No way could the Wild imitate that tone. It was pure Boots. Tears popping into her eyes, she scooped him up. “Thought I’d lost you for a minute there. Only have one brother, you know.”

He squirmed. “Ack, don’t ruffle the fur.” She released him, and he leapt to the ground. “Your fault if you’d lost me. You ditched me back there.” She heard a note of real hurt in his voice.

She hadn’t meant to abandon him, not like he’d left her when he first went into the woods. “You were possessed,” she said. Maybe she should feel encouraged that the Wild had talked through Boots. The Wild clearly felt threatened—and that meant they were on the right track.

“Yeah, well, I’m feeling much better now.” He licked his fur flat. “Much better.” He called into the bushes: “Precious, you can come out.”

A cat, a white longhair, emerged from the bushes behind him. The cat was carrying a paper bag in her mouth.

Julie looked from Boots to “Precious” and back again. Had he done it? Had he found himself a girlfriend? Precious sat down and curled her tail around herself. “Hello,” the new cat said.

“Precious, this is Julie. Julie, meet the love of my life,” Boots said, nuzzling the white cat with his whiskers. “I found her in town while you were talking with Goldie.”

Wow, that was . . . fast. Love of his life? She must have been extremely charming to win him in the three minutes that Julie was talking to Goldie. Or was this how love worked in the Wild? Love at first sight is traditional in fairy tales, she thought. And Boots had desperately wanted to find love. The fact that Precious could talk was probably enough to win him.

“Nice to meet you,” Julie said. She tried to sound enthusiastic. Boots had finally gotten himself a girlfriend. Everything was working out—she had found Mom, Boots had found his girl-cat, and now they were on their way out of “happily”-ever-after land. “She can come with us,” Julie said. “Let’s go.”

The white cat nudged Boots. “Don’t be shy,” she said. “You said you wanted to give it to her.”

“Give me what?” Julie asked. How much did Boots know about Precious? Could they trust her? What if she was part of a story? Julie had never heard of a story with two talking cats, though.

He cleared his throat. “We brought you lunch.”

Oh. That was sweet. But she couldn’t stop for lunch. They were almost there! Her stomach rumbled in protest. She hadn’t eaten since she’d entered the woods. “We have to reach the motel . . .”

“I just . . . thought you might like it,” he said.

She stared at him for a second. Was this an apology? For Boots, food was probably the closest to an apology that she was going to get. “Really bothered you when the Wild took you over, didn’t it?”