Into the Wild(56)

Scowling fiercely, the magician blew on a pipe. In response, the river around them bubbled and swirled, turning brown with mud.

Hundreds of thousands of great oysters waddled slowly and laboriously onto the table toward Girl. She scooted to the center of the table as the shells flopped across the plates. “Seriously, you can stop now,” she said. “I’m not playing.” Row by row, the oysters opened up their shells and each spat a pearl at her feet.

“Princess!” the prince shouted. “Look at this!” He gestured toward the ceiling, and all the birds swooped down, dancing in spirals and twirls like magnificent acrobats.

“No, Princess, look at me!” the magician said. As the candles on the chandeliers detached and danced with the birds, the magician pointed at the muddy river. The water erupted. It shot toward the ceiling and burst through the plaster. Sunlight streamed through as the ceiling shattered and the palace dissolved around them.





Chapter Twenty-four

Midnight

Only the grandfather clock remained standing. All the castle walls were rubble. Screaming at each other, the prince threw feathers at the magician and the magician hurled frogs at the prince. The hands on the clock clicked: 2:55.

Rain fell on her face as she looked up at the clock. The time made no sense—it was night for the ball, morning when she woke, evening for the feast, and now afternoon? When was midnight? Shouldn’t she get a midnight? She had to be home by midnight, the fairy godmother had said. She wanted to go home. She didn’t want any more princes or magicians or mattresses or tests. If the clock struck midnight, would she learn where home was?

Climbing off the table, she waded through the water toward the clock. Boots shouted, “Don’t do it! Please!” Girl turned to see the cat race across the table and stop short of leaping into the water after her. “If you stop the Wild,” Boots said, “I’ll lose the love of my life.” Behind him, a white cat daintily ate from the feast.

Girl frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He hurried over to the other cat. “Isn’t she beautiful? Stylish and intelligent. She’s perfect for me, and the Wild said I could have her if you stay in your happily ever after.” Girl frowned at him. He wasn’t making sense. She turned back to the clock. Desperation in his voice, he said, “You of all people should know how hard it is to be one of a kind, how lonely it is to not belong. I have had this loneliness for hundreds of years, and the Wild offered me a chance to end it. Please, can’t you just be happy with this? Can’t this be your story?”

The words not belong lodged in her head. “I don’t belong here?” The words tasted true. She tried them again: “I don’t belong here.”

The queen slogged through the water toward her. “Nonsense,” she said flatly. “You are the princess, on the verge of your happily ever after. Isn’t that what you have always wanted? Isn’t this the right role for you?”

“I don’t know what I’ve always wanted,” she said sharply. “I don’t know who I am.” She turned to the cat. “But you do. Did I want to be a princess?”

“Yes,” Boots said, sinking back against the other cat. “Maybe.”

“I did?” On the other side of the table, the prince and the magician had drawn swords. Fiercely intent, they swung the swords in elaborate swooping arcs. The blades hissed through the air, missing each other by several feet—which ruined most of the effect of their fierce intent.

“Among other things,” Boots added, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him.

“Other things,” Girl repeated. “Tell me about the other things.”

The queen expanded her arms. “All you ever wanted is here,” she said. “Here you are admired and adored. Here you have servants to wait on your every whim. Balls to entertain you. Feasts to fill you. Room after room to call your own.”

“But not home,” she said. The trumpet player had spoken of home. She’d asked about her mother—had she found her? Girl didn’t know. Who was her mother? “What about my family? Where are they? I belong with them.” Marching to the clock, she felt along the sides for handholds. The wood was smooth, vertical two stories up to the clock face.

“You don’t remember them. You don’t even know them to miss them.” Continuing in a curiously flat tone, the queen said, “Why can’t you be content with what I can give you? Why should your lost past matter?”

The pendulum swayed in front of her. “It matters,” Girl said, not turning from the clock. “Family matters.” It had mattered to the trumpet player. “Who is my mother?” she asked. “Who’s my father? Do I have any brothers or sisters?”