Out of the Wild Read online

  Julie heard footsteps on the stairs. Clutching the box of mice, she ran out of the kitchen and through the living room. Mom appeared at the top of the stairs. Where was Dad? Was he still here? Had the Wild recaptured him? “Is Dad ...”

  “Julie,” Mom said. She was smiling so brightly that she seemed to gleam. She skipped down the stairs two at a time and then wrapped her arms around Julie. The box with the mice tumbled out of Julie’s hands.

  The box landed upside down. Hugging Mom, Julie placed her foot lightly on the box, holding it down. Over Mom’s shoulder, Julie saw Dad walk down the stairs. His hand rested on his sword hilt to keep the sword from bat-ting against the steps. He was smiling so broadly that his scars disappeared into his cheeks.

  And her mother, the unflappable Rapunzel, cried into Julie’s shoulder.

  Chapter Three

  The Wicked Witch

  In the garage, the prince circled the car once, twice, three times.

  “Think of it like a pumpkin coach,” Julie said, “but with invisible horses.” Fidgeting, she shot a look at the door to the kitchen and wished Mom would hurry up. Mom had called the Wishing Well Motel to warn Grandma that they were on their way. Once the initial shock had worn off, Mom had begun to raise all the same questions that Boots had asked. Dad hadn’t known any of the answers. So they were off to see Grandma. Maybe she knew what it meant that the Wild had released Dad. Smart idea, but if Mom stayed on the phone any longer, Julie was going to have to explain the internal combustion engine. And, really, the rest of the world. Where did she even begin? He’d missed so much. She opened the front passenger-side car door. “You can sit here if you want. Mom will be out soon.” She hoped. It was so hard to know what to say to him. She wanted to say everything at once. I missed you. I’m sorry I left you. Hello, I’m your daughter. Welcome home.

  Cautiously, Dad climbed in. His sword banged against the door. Contorting himself, he negotiated the point beneath the glove compartment. Volkswagens weren’t designed for broadswords. I should complain to the manufacturer, she thought. Next year’s model: suitable for heroic jaunts to dragons’ lairs or Wal-Marts. She nearly laughed out loud, but what if he thought she was laughing at him? Julie pointed to the seat belt. “See this? You pull it across you and put the silver part into that slot.” He pulled the seat belt out and then released it. It snapped back. “Pull it across you,” she said. This time, he stretched it across himself and successfully buckled it. “Good. You push the red button to—”

  He pushed the red button. The seat belt popped out. He grinned at her and rebuckled it. “It is a harness, is it not?” he said. “Like when one rides a dragon.”

  She grinned back at him. “Exactly,” she said, climbing into the backseat. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be too hard. All she had to do to explain modern technology was relate it to dragons and unicorns and fairy godmothers.

  Hurrying into the garage, Mom said, “Oh, you’re ready. Good.” She hit the automatic garage door opener, and the door rattled as it rolled up.

  The prince grabbed for his sword hilt and tried to stand. The seat belt locked into position, and the sword whacked the car door. “It’s okay!” Julie shouted. “Just a door! A magic door!”

  He settled down.

  Mom slid into the driver’s seat and handed the shoe box with the two blind mice to Julie. “Did Julie tell you where we’re going?” Mom asked Dad.

  Ahh, she hadn’t exactly gotten that far yet. Explaining the lawn mower, the beach chairs, and Gillian’s dancing bear had distracted them. “We’re going to Grandma’s motel,” Julie said. She wondered if this was going to be a problem. In their fairy tale, Dad and Grandma weren’t exactly friends. “You knew her as Dame Gothel, Rapunzel’s witch. But don’t worry—she’s not evil anymore.”

  The prince was about to respond, but then Mom put the car in reverse and backed out of the garage. Dad clutched the sides of his seat. Julie couldn’t help smiling. What was it like to see the world for the first time?

  Julie’s father leaned against the window with his palm pressed to the glass as they drove across town. All the streets were still damaged from their time as part of a fairy-tale forest. Potholes pockmarked the road, and telephone poles were askew. Dad had no way of knowing this wasn’t normal, Julie thought. It must all look equally strange to him. They passed Bigelow Nurseries, which had only recently reopened. The Wild had caused all of its flowers and other plants to sprout and spread, and it had taken a while to clear away the excess growth. Agway was missing its giant rooster sign, which had transformed into a witch’s house on chicken legs and wandered across town. It of course became inanimate again as soon as the Wild was defeated, but the sign was now stranded several miles from the store. Dunkin’ Donuts had a new drive-though to replace the one that had been destroyed by a fast-growing magic beanstalk . . . Julie’s wish in the well might have restored her life to normal, but it hadn’t turned back the clock or erased any consequences. The aftereffects of the Wild continued to linger. Glass slippers, poisoned apples, and spinning wheels littered the town. Gingerbread houses moldered in the open air. Spells and enchantments continued to cause otherwise ordinary people to catch flies with their tongues or dance until midnight.

  Mom slowed to a stop at a traffic light. Julie expected her to point out her beauty parlor, Rapunzel’s Hair Salon, which was across the street, next to CVS. But she just kept staring up at the light until it changed. Maybe Mom didn’t know what to say. Julie tried to imagine what this must be like for her. To Julie, it felt like looking at a sunset and then realizing the fire is actually a phoenix. Or like looking at steam from a manhole cover and knowing it’s really dragon smoke. Or like looking at the moon and imagining astronauts walking on it. It was both so utterly impossible and absolutely real at the same time. He was a dream that had walked out of their heads into daylight. Julie didn’t want to stop looking at him. If she did, he might vanish back into dreams again.

  As Mom turned into the parking lot of the Wishing Well Motel, Julie saw how hard she was clutching the steering wheel.

  “Mom, are you okay?” Julie asked.

  “Let’s get inside,” Mom said, “before anyone sees us.” She parked and left the car. As if standing guard, she surveyed the mostly empty parking lot.

  The prince unlatched his seat belt and then stared at the door. He ran his hands over the upholstery and the lock/unlock buttons. Pulling on her coat, Julie hopped out and opened the car door for him. “Thank you,” he said. Standing, he regarded the motel as Julie fetched the box of mice from the backseat. “This is where the wicked witch lives now?”

  The Wishing Well Motel had never been a five-star resort. To be completely honest, the best adjective to describe the twenty-room motel was “dumpy.” Teal and orange paint peeled like a sunburn. The sidewalk was fractured into concrete flagstones. The only feature less than thirty years old was the brand-new barbed wire fence that corralled the wishing well in the backyard. But still, Julie loved this place. She’d spent countless weekends and summers here. She opened her mouth to defend it, but before she could reply, the lobby door flew open. Bells jangled from the top of the door, and Grandma filled the doorway. Instantly, Dad’s hand clamped onto his sword hilt. Julie squeezed his other hand. “Not evil,” she reminded him.

  He shot a tight smile at her. “Habit.”

  “Bad habit,” she said.

  “For you, I will endeavor to break it.”

  She blushed, not sure how to respond. That sounded so . . . princely.

  Grandma shooed them inside. “Quickly, quickly!” She slammed the door shut behind them, flipped the sign to Closed, and yanked the shades down. Without taking her eyes off Grandma, Julie hung her coat next to Mom’s on the coatrack. Grandma was flushed, and her frizzed white hair danced around her head as if electrically charged.

  What was wrong? Julie wondered. She looked from Grandma to Mom and back to Grandma and felt as if she were missing something. Why was Grandma upset? Everything
was great now. Dad was here! He was free!

  Grandma’s housedress billowed out like a cape as she spun around to face them. Julie saw her take a deep, steadying breath. “You look . . . the same,” she said to the prince.

  He bowed slightly. Julie noticed that his hand still hovered near his sword hilt. He didn’t touch it, though. Point to Dad. “You look . . . less evil,” he said.

  “It’s the flowers,” Grandma said, gesturing at her dress. “You can’t look evil in a floral print. Stripes, maybe. Polka dots, definitely. But not flowers. Why are you here?”

  “Identification,” Mom said. She began to pace between the puke green pleather couches. “I told you on the phone. He needs a driver’s license, birth certificate, social security number . . .”

  Julie hadn’t thought about all that. Guess there were a few complications associated with a person popping out of nowhere. Who knew that miracles came with paperwork problems?

  Grandma waved Mom’s words away. Her eyes were fixed on Dad. She had, Julie noticed, not put in her tinted contact lenses. Without them, her natural eye color was red. It was like watching a mink size up its prey. “Why are you here in this world?”

  “Why are you?” he countered. Julie saw his hand wrap around his sword hilt. “You should have been defeated. Rapunzel should be free. Yet here she comes to you. What power do you still wield?”

  Whoa! Maybe they should have briefed him a little more thoroughly on the drive here. “Not evil, remember?” Julie whispered to Dad.

  Red eyes piercing, Grandma circled Dad. “You have your vision, but you also have the thorn scars. You do not remember how you escaped?”

  “I do not,” he said.

  “Why would it release you?” Grandma demanded. “It should be forcing you to complete scenes from fairy tales.”

  No fighting! This was supposed to be a happy reunion! Julie tried to step between Dad and Grandma and instead bumped into a coffee table. Decades-old magazines spilled onto the floor. “Maybe it was a trade,” she said. Reaching across the coffee table, Julie held the shoe box with the two mice out toward Grandma. “The Wild has the third mouse now. It didn’t lose anything by releasing the prince.” Honestly, it sounded like Grandma was blaming Dad—like his return was something suspicious, not something wonderful!

  “It should have kept both you and the mouse. It should have used the opportunity to grow. The Wild always wants to grow.” Grandma shook her head. “I don’t understand this, and I don’t trust this. After hundreds of years, the Wild doesn’t simply turn nice.” She glared at all of them, as if this mystery were their fault.

  “Yet I am meant to believe that you did,” the prince said.

  True, but Grandma had turned nice over several centuries. As of a few weeks ago, the Wild had wanted to take over the world. Julie knew that firsthand—she was, in fact, the only person she knew who had ever talked to the Wild directly—and could vouch that it wasn’t likely to turn nice anytime soon. The Wild had (briefly) possessed her brother Boots and spoken to her through him, as if he were a puppet. “Maybe Dad’s escape was an accident,” Julie said. “Or maybe . . .” What were the other theories Boots had mentioned? She hadn’t really been listening. “Maybe Dad did pull off an escape and just doesn’t remember how.”

  “All possible,” Mom said. She shot a smile at Julie. Julie could tell that she meant it to be a reassuring smile, but she just looked worried. “We can debate the cause later. Right now, we need to take care of the immediate danger—”

  Crash. Julie jumped as the lobby door was flung open. Dad drew his sword. Steel rang like a bell against the scabbard. Grandma crouched, hands ready to cast a spell. Mom thrust the shoe box onto a couch, shielding the mice.

  Cinderella’s fairy godmother, one of the motel guests, bustled through the door. “Snow’s seven need help! Rose’s thorns are out of control—Oh, my, it’s you! You’re out!” She bounded across the lobby and threw her arms around Dad’s neck. As she hugged him, she hopped up and down. Her beach-bag-sized purse knocked against her, and her cloak slipped off her shoulders, exposing fairy wings that fluttered as she bounced. “I can’t believe it! You’re here!”

  Dad held the sword behind him, careful not to hurt the bouncing fairy.

  “Do you remember me?” she asked, releasing him. She twirled in a circle and mimed tapping him with a wand. “Poof! You’re a pumpkin! Does that ring a bell?”

  He resheathed his sword and bowed. “Of course I remember you, Lady Fairy. It is an honor to see you again. Did you say someone is in distress?”

  The fairy godmother giggled. “‘Lady Fairy.’ I haven’t been called that in ages. You can call me Bobbi.” She waggled her eyebrows. “You can call me anytime.” She poked Zel. “You lucky, lucky ducky! What an unexpected treat!”

  “Exactly. Unexpected,” Mom said. “We need to make him real before anyone official notices his existence. It’s not a good time to simply appear.” Julie had never seen Mom look so worried. Lines creased her forehead. On anyone else, this would have been ordinary. On Mom, who (like the other fairy-tale characters) didn’t age, the wrinkles stood out stark on her pale forehead.

  “Am I not real?” Dad said.

  “We need to set him up with identification,” Mom continued. “And a history. We can’t let anyone know he came from the Wild.” Mom was right, Julie thought. A lot of people were on the lookout for strange things like a man suddenly springing into existence. Reporters and scientists had practically taken over the town. Northboro even had some bona fide tourists. If anyone decided to question Dad . . . Julie shivered. There was so much he didn’t know. He’d give away their secret in seconds. She was beginning to understand why Mom looked so stressed.

  Dad frowned. “Why can no one know that I am from the Wild? It is the truth.”

  “My dears, look no further! Help is here!” Bobbi said. She rooted through her purse. “Now, where did I put . . . Aha! Here it is!” She drew out a wand. Sparkles dripped off the tip of it like a Fourth of July sparkler. She waved it at the prince. “Bibbity—”

  “Do not humiliate yourself with that phrase,” Grandma said.

  “Oh, pooh, you’re no fun.” She stuck out her tongue at Grandma. Spinning toward the prince, she tapped him with the wand.

  Sparkles swirled around his body like a hundred fireflies, spiraling up to his hair and down around his feet. In an instant, he was bathed in glittery light. He held up his hand, studying it as the sparks darted around his fingers.

  Bobbi giggled and bounced up and down.

  When the glitter faded, Julie’s dad looked . . . normal. He wore khakis, a white oxford shirt, brown shoes, and a brown belt. Even his hair was trimmed and tamed. He reached for his hip. “My sword!”

  “You silly,” Bobbi said. “You don’t need that here. This is the suburbs.”

  “You stand out too much with it,” Mom said. She then turned to Grandma. “Next, we need proof of identification . . .”

  Softly, Dad said, “No.”

  Mom frowned, a delicate crease appearing between her eyebrows. Julie knew that look: Mom was struggling to keep her temper. Please, Julie thought, don’t fight with Dad. He just came back. He’s new here. He doesn’t know anything. He didn’t know what a driver’s license was. He hadn’t even known what a car was.

  A little louder, Dad said, “I am in a world I have never seen, five hundred years from anything I know. I come with you in your horseless coach to this witch’s lair and let spells be cast upon me. I do this because I trust you, because you are my love, and because you are here with my flesh and blood. But do not ask me to go defenseless into this new world. Do not ask this of me.”

  For the second time since Dad’s return, Julie saw her mother’s eyes glisten with tears. Mom was, she realized, close to breaking. Dad’s return—it wasn’t anything she was prepared for. Ever. Mom didn’t know what to do. And she was scared. But Dad was placing enormous trust in them, and they were stripping him of everything familiar. �
��Mom,” Julie said. Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Maybe . . . maybe he could disguise it somehow?”

  Eyes still over-bright, Mom continued to stare at Dad, though she spoke to Grandma, “Do you have a duffel bag? He can carry the sword in that, and it won’t look so conspicuous.”

  “Thank you,” the prince said, and bowed.

  “Don’t bow to me,” Mom said. “Please.” She reached out to touch him, but then she let her hand fall a few inches from his face.

  For a long minute, no one spoke.

  Julie wished they could rewind. Everything was so perfect in that moment when Dad had stood there in her room. Why couldn’t it have stayed exactly like that? Why couldn’t they just be together and be happy? Why did they have to be afraid of things that hadn’t happened yet and might never happen? People might never even notice Dad. He might blend in fine. Or all the police and scientists and government officials could lose interest in Northboro and leave, and then everything would go back to normal . . . better than normal.

  “Next we need a new identity for him,” Grandma said.

  Still only addressing his Rapunzel, Dad asked, “Why can I not be myself? It was enough for you before.”

  Mom’s mouth formed a small o. She swallowed visibly.

  Julie had to say something. She couldn’t let this continue. “It’s not you,” she said to Dad. “It’s just that the world doesn’t know fairy-tale characters are real. We have to keep it secret.”

  Eyes not leaving Mom, he reached out and took Mom’s hand in his. His hands swallowed hers. “You fought for freedom. How is it freedom to hide who you are? You are out of the Wild. You should not have to play a role anymore.”

  Mom dropped her gaze. “It’s . . . complicated,” she said.

  Julie winced. What was wrong with them? This was just getting worse and worse. She wanted to shake them both. True love, remember? You were apart, and now you’re together! Play nice!

  The prince released her hand. “Try small words and perhaps I will understand.”