“That’s some setup,” said Philby.
“I’m not saying it’s going to be easy,” Finn said. “And I know that we can make all sorts of arguments against it, but I also know that when you look at it from every side, as I have, it makes total sense. It may seem random, but it’s not. I promise.”
He had everyone’s undivided attention, especially as he lowered his voice so that it wouldn’t carry.
“The point is, Jess will tell you that she hasn’t completed the sketch. Amanda said she saw her go into kind of a trance when they were in Epcot. I think that’s because she can feel Wayne there. She dreamed about him later, but the inspiration for that dream came from what had happened at Epcot. Now they’ve both been told they can’t go back in any of the parks. Security will be watching for them: they’re on the list. They certainly can’t get in with us, at night—because we aren’t exactly ourselves then, are we? As it is, we’re going to need to get our DHIs from MK over to Epcot. And even if we figured out a way to get Jess and Amanda inside the center with us, since they’re human, they could be caught. If we’re chased, we can zap the remote—cross back over and be in our beds at home—like we did the other night. They can’t do that.”
“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Philby asked.
“Do you see any other choice?” Finn asked him right back.
“Will someone clue me in?” said Charlene.
“Yeah, me too,” said Willa.
Maybeck sat up and stared across the table at Finn intently. If anyone was going to make a fuss, it was going to be Maybeck. He nodded slowly. “Okay, I get it. I see where you’re coming from.”
“Well, I don’t!” Charlene announced.
All eyes found Finn as a moment of expectation overcame them all. The buzz of the conversation in the room swirled around them. Spoons clinked against dishes. As the door came open, sounds of traffic out on the street could be heard.
Finn leaned forward, as did everyone else. For a moment they were in a tight huddle.
Finn said, “I think it’s time we turn Amanda and Jess into DHIs.”
9
THE MAGIC KINGDOM closed at nine o’clock that night; Finn went to bed at nine-fifteen. So did Philby, Maybeck, Willa, and Charlene. Had their parents and guardians communicated, perhaps the plans of their children might have been revealed, perhaps someone would have stopped them. Instead, Finn said good night to his parents, who were currently caught up in an episode of Survivor, closed his bedroom door and, fully clothed, climbed between the sheets.
He’d long since learned that he couldn’t will himself asleep. If he tried to make it happen, he only prolonged his wakefulness. Philby had given him a book on self-hypnosis that included a series of relaxation techniques; Charlene had given every Kingdom Keeper A New History of the Roman Empire, a book so dense, so turgid, that no human being could read it for more than ten minutes without dozing off. Maybeck had recommended some songs to be downloaded to their iPods; he found them soothing and a gateway to sleep. Finn used a combination of all three: he listened to music while reading about the Romans and flexing his ankles and doing deep breathing exercises. He fell into a deep sleep ten minutes later.
* * *
The air smelled bitter, the result of the fireworks at the park’s closing. Finn found himself sitting on a low concrete retaining wall next to a life-size bronze statue of Mickey Mouse holding hands with Walt Disney. Beyond Walt and Mickey, Cinderella’s Castle was washed in a rich blue light, its spires stabbing the night sky. No matter how many times he visited, the magic here remained. For all the cynicism of his jealous friends at school who teased him about his now permanent connection to this place, he loved the Magic Kingdom and understood it would always be a part of him. “Fancy meeting you here.” Maybeck was sitting on the concrete walkway, his back against the metal fence. His eyes hid behind a pair of sunglasses. His dark clothing would help him blend in with the night and included a pair of black Converse basketball shoes. He looked cool, and that annoyed Finn. Maybeck couldn’t help himself—he was the kind of guy who didn’t ever try for cool, but always had it. Maybe it was the artist in him. Maybe it was that he didn’t have parents and he’d had to forge an identity for himself out of what his aunt offered. Maybe some kids understood stuff others didn’t and Maybeck was one of the ones who did. He had this thing about him, part attitude, part confidence, part selfish knuckleheadedness. Whatever it was, Finn would have given up a lot to understand it. To grasp it. There were times he disliked it, was revolted by it. There were other times, like now, when he coveted it.