Out of the Wild Page 5

  Dad yanked up on the broomstick handle, and they shot skyward, flipped upside down, and corkscrewed until they were upright again and beelining back to Times Square. It happened so quickly that Julie didn’t have time to scream.

  “There it is!” Dad cried.

  Sailing toward the sidewalk, they slowed until they skidded to a stop on the concrete. Pedestrians scattered around them. People pointed and shouted, and cameras flashed. With each flash, Dad’s arm shot up as if to deflect a blow or magic spell.

  Julie jumped off the broomstick. “Hide it,” she begged Dad. “Quickly.”

  Dad’s face had drained so pale that his thorn scars stood out like fresh wounds, but he stopped warding off the camera flashes for long enough to unzip the duffel bag and stuff the broomstick inside next to his sword.

  “Special effects,” Julie said loudly. “We’re rehearsing for a movie.”

  Before she finished speaking, Dad strode through the crowd as if he were passing through his own kingdom. Julie hurried after him. Could Dad even act ordinary if he wanted to? He bore as much resemblance to an ordinary person as a lion did to a house cat. Instantly, the crowd parted for him as if on instinct, perhaps because on some level, they recognized him for what he was, a fairy-tale-perfect prince. Or maybe, Julie thought, because they recognized him as the guy with the flying broomstick. Regardless, in seconds, Julie and Prince were in the center of Times Square.

  Near the TKTS ticket booth, the apple coach lay on its side like a wounded animal. The red-peel door hung open, and the front wheels rotated slowly, winding down. A crowd had gathered around it. Across the median strip, a TV crew filmed the coach. In the distance, Julie heard sirens.

  She didn’t see Sleeping Beauty, Bobbi, or the mice-turned-horses. “They’re gone,” Julie said, turning to Dad. “And we really, really need to leave too.”

  Suddenly, the pedestrians and tourists all gasped. Julie spun back around—

  The coach had vanished.

  In its place, she saw a circle of empty pavement. Or not quite empty pavement: an apple, an ordinary MacIntosh apple, lay in the center of Times Square. No fairy godmother, no sleeping princess, no horse-mice. Just one lonely piece of fruit.

  She heard someone in the crowd repeat what she’d said earlier: “Special effects. It’s for a movie.” The word movie traveled through the crowd. Cameras flashed, and this time Dad ignored them. With a heroically determined look on his face, he strode forward into the circle of empty pavement. All eyes turned toward him. Dozens more cameras and camera phones winked. Julie saw the TV news camera fix on him. “Dad, wait!”

  He bent and picked up something. Holding it aloft, he turned back to Julie with a triumphant smile. “She has left a clue!” Julie saw sunlight glint off one of Cinderella’s glass slippers.

  A glass slipper? Here? Why would there be a stray fairy-tale item in Manhattan? New York hadn’t been touched by the Wild. Okay, Sleeping Beauty had just been here, but what did a glass slipper have to do with her? It wasn’t part of her tale.

  A woman’s voice shouted, “It’s for a movie! Try on the shoe and you can be a star!” Who said that? The voice sounded familiar. Standing on tiptoes, Julie scanned the crowd looking for the speaker. Why had someone said that?

  Behind her, Julie heard another woman say, “Hey, honey, I’ll be your Cinderella.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. People pushed forward to watch. Others continued on their way. Julie was brushed aside, and for an instant, she lost sight of Dad. She squeezed through the crowd and burst out onto the sidewalk.

  In front of posters for Broadway shows, Dad knelt on one knee. Giggling, a woman in a purple overcoat kicked off her high-heeled shoe and wiggled her foot in Dad’s face. Her friends egged her on.

  Julie panicked. He couldn’t let anyone try on the shoe! That was a fairy-tale event! “Dad, no!” she said as he slipped the glass slipper over the woman’s toes.

  He’d done it.

  Right now, Julie realized, the Wild was growing.

  The shoe only fit over half her foot. The woman’s heel dangled out the back. “Just squeeze it in,” the woman said, laughing. Obligingly, Dad pushed. Around her, the woman’s friends laughed and applauded.

  “No, no, no!” Julie shouted. She jumped forward and yanked the shoe off the woman’s foot. With a cry, the woman toppled backward and landed on a pile of shopping bags. “Sorry!” Julie said, and then she threw the shoe as hard as she could. It arched through the air, glistening in the sun—and then smashed against the TKTS booth. It shattered, and shards sprayed into the crowd.

  Above, birds shrieked.

  Beaks and talons extended, a flock of pigeons dove toward Times Square. Someone yelled, and then the whole crowd was screaming and running as the birds plummeted down. Julie was shoved backward. Trying to reach Dad, she struggled against the crowd and saw the birds zero in on the woman in the purple coat. The woman swung her purse at them, and Dad drew his sword out of the duffel bag and sliced at the air over the woman’s head.

  The birds were behaving as if they were in the Cinderella story, Julie realized. Not the nice Disney version. They were acting out a scene from the original Brothers Grimm: they were trying to peck out the eyes of the “stepsister” who had tried to fake fitting into the shoe. But why? The Wild wasn’t controlling them. This wasn’t a fairy tale; this was real life. Why were the birds doing this? They were fueling the Wild even more!

  The woman screamed.

  “Run!” Julie shouted at her. “Cover your eyes and run!”

  Shielding her face, the woman scrambled to her feet. Car brakes screeched and horns blared as she barreled across the intersection. The birds swarmed after her, and Julie saw the news camera swing around, tracking her. She bolted into Toys “R” Us.

  The birds veered up right before impact with the door and, for an instant, they formed a black cloud against the sky. Across the street, Julie saw a kid jump out of a taxi and run toward her and her dad—the only person running toward them, not away.

  Dad sheathed his sword. “Jack comes,” he said, nodding at the figure.

  Jack?

  Panting, the kid waved, and Julie recognized him: Jack from the Jack and the Beanstalk fairy tale. Despite being over five hundred years old, he looked about eighteen. He had a fresh farm-boy face (shaggy blond hair that flopped into his eyes and freckles that dotted his nose), but he wore New York rebel kind of clothes (black leather coat that draped down to his ankles and dark jeans with rips at the knees). Julie saw a hint of a tattoo as he lifted his arm to wave—the green leaves of a beanstalk wound up his forearm. “Whoa, you’re free! Saw the coach on the news and came to see if any of us were in trouble. Never expected to see you here—either of you,” he said as he reached them. “Need refuge? Want to come to my place?”

  Across Times Square, a police siren blared. Dad tensed and spun, hand reaching into the duffel bag for his sword.

  “Yes!” Julie said to Jack. She grabbed Dad’s elbow. “Come on. Please!” They followed Jack back to a taxi.

  “Another car?” Dad said doubtfully.

  Julie saw police working their way through the crowd, questioning all the bystanders. “We can’t stay here,” she said. She slid in beside Jack. Clutching his duffel bag, Dad squeezed in next to her. Julie leaned across him and pulled the door shut. The sounds of Times Square faded to a muffled buzz.

  Dad twisted around to study the seat back. “Where is the harness?” He mimed a seat belt. Seat belt? He was worried about the seat belt? A woman had just been attacked by pigeons! He’d reenacted a fairy-tale scene, likely helping fuel the Wild! And all of it had been filmed!

  “Seat belt’s broken,” Jack said cheerfully. “Just don’t watch.” How did he manage to sound so normal? This was a disaster!

  Dad frowned. “Watch what?”

  The cab jumped out into traffic, and all three of them slid to the right. Julie was squashed against Jack. His coat was soft as cloth, and it smelled like plastic—fake
leather? And did she smell, um, a hint of cow manure? The driver veered around a pack of pedestrians, and Julie, Prince, and Jack all slid to the left. Within the duffel bag, the sword and broomstick thunked against the door. As they slid back to the center, Dad said, “We must rescue Sleeping Beauty . . .”

  Jack waved a hand to shush him. He nodded meaningfully at the driver.

  None of them spoke again as they careened through the streets of New York, but Julie’s brain wouldn’t quiet. The Wild was growing. The Wild had to be growing. One of the original fairy-tale characters had re-created a fairy-tale moment. And then the birds had done the same. Julie shuddered as she imagined the tangle of vines spilling out from her room and spreading through her house . . . There was no one home to stop it. Mom and Grandma were helpless gourds. Boots and Precious couldn’t wield pruning shears. How far would the Wild grow if left unchecked? Would it swallow her house? Would it spread to her street? They had to go back! Maybe Jack could help convince Dad. As soon as they were safely in Jack’s apartment, she’d tell him everything. He’d understand. He’d help.

  Maybe he’d even know why all this was happening. Why was there a glass slipper in the middle of Times Square? Was Dad right that it was some sort of clue? If so, what did it mean? It had to be connected to Bobbi and the apple coach. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe Bobbi had dropped it? Maybe it had fallen out of the coach? But why would it be in the coach in the first place?

  And where had the birds come from? Were they ordinary pigeons, or were they the original fairy-tale birds from Cinderella’s story? And either way, what had driven them to act out a scene from a fairy tale? The Wild didn’t control them here. They didn’t have to attack. It didn’t make sense! Nothing that had happened today made sense: Dad’s return from the Wild, Bobbi’s bizarre behavior, and now the birds’ strange attack . . . Were they connected or a coincidence?

  She wanted to ask out loud, but she didn’t dare, not when the taxi driver could hear her. So she sat in silence between Dad and Jack and listened to the honks, shouts, and screeches of the city as they left Times Square, the apple, and the shattered glass slipper far behind them.

  Chapter Five

  New Yorkers

  The taxi squealed up to a corner. Jack whipped out a few bills, told the driver to keep the change, and then all three of them scooted out of the cab. Julie checked out the street: no apple coach, no glass slipper, no news van, no police, no insane birds, no mob of prince-hungry women. Good. She glanced over at Dad.

  He was staring up at the thirty-story apartment high-rise with an odd expression on his face. Julie had an awful thought: what if he started shouting, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair”? Taking his elbow, she propelled him after Jack into the apartment building, past a doorman, and straight into an open elevator. The doors slid closed, and Julie sagged against a wall. Finally, safe.

  The elevator lurched, and Dad clutched at the walls.

  “Relax,” Jack said to him. “You only have five hundred years’ worth of technology to get used to. Did anyone tell you that men have walked on the moon? Oh, and have you tasted microwave popcorn? Muy delicioso.”

  Dad stared at the numbers as they lit up. “Everything is very . . .” He paused as if trying to find the polite word. The elevator jolted as it reached the eleventh floor. “Loud. Your world’s magic makes a lot of noise.”

  Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a good world, though. You’re in for a treat. Tonight we’re going to party until the cows come home.” He winked at Julie. “Kidding. The cow’s already home.”

  Julie couldn’t manage even a polite smile. “We can’t stay,” she said. “We have to get home.” Quickly, she told Jack everything that had happened: about the third blind mouse, Dad’s return, the thorns around Sleeping Beauty, Bobbi’s spell . . .

  “Pumpkins?” Jack burst out laughing. He had a rich, full laugh. “Now that is the best practical joke I’ve heard in a long time!”

  He thought it was a joke? Mom and Grandma were fruit! Plus Bobbi hadn’t acted like it was a joke. “I don’t think—” Before she could finish, the elevator door slid open, and Jack’s roommate Gina (the former giantess, now a mere six feet nine inches, thanks to one of Grandma’s spells) rushed forward with a cry. She lifted Prince out of the elevator into a bear hug. “We thought you were dead! This is unbelievable! Look at you! You’re here! Welcome to the world!” Setting him down, she bustled him into the apartment. “Come in, come in! The cow is making lunch. Do you mind vegetarian?”

  She hadn’t said hello to Julie or even so much as glanced at her. Feeling invisible, Julie stepped out of the elevator into the now-empty hall.

  “Don’t mind Gina,” Jack said, coming out of the elevator beside her. “It’s not every day that someone returns from the dead.” He squeezed her hand. Oh, wow, Jack was holding her hand! This cute, ancient, famous boy was holding her hand! She’d never had a boy hold her hand before. Okay, maybe for gym class in elementary school or something, but never in middle school . . . For an instant, all thoughts of pumpkins, glass slippers, and apple coaches were driven out of her mind. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll get it all sorted out. Your mom and grandma will be fine.” He smiled at her, a nice warm smile that felt like a hug. He’ll fix everything, Julie thought. Everything really will be fine.

  Feeling better, she stepped inside his apartment—and saw cows. Cow-print rug, cow-print couch, cow posters, cow plates on the coffee table, cow figurines on the bookshelf. Even the lamp was a ceramic cow. “We were aiming for classy,” Jack said. He raised his voice and called to the kitchen, “You can come out.” To Julie he said, “Meet my other roommate.”

  A cow stuck her head out of the kitchen.

  Jack lived with a cow? Well, that certainly fit the theme—and Jack’s fairy tale. He’d sold his cow for five magic beans. She guessed the cow had forgiven him. “Um, hi,” Julie said, trying not to stare. “Nice to meet you.”

  The cow nodded politely and said, “Moooo.”

  As the cow retreated back into the kitchen, Julie couldn’t help grinning. Everything about this apartment (and about Jack himself) felt friendly and warm and safe. Maybe things were going to be okay now. Dad would listen to Jack and Gina. They’d all return to Northboro, de-pumpkinize Mom and Grandma, and cut back the Wild before it grew too strong. It couldn’t have grown too much from just one, okay, two fairy-tale moments. And so what if a few tourists had photographed her and Dad in Times Square? No one knew their names or where they lived. A couple of photos by random strangers were no big deal. She shrugged out of her coat—and saw her face on TV.

  She froze. Oh, no. The coat fell out of her hands to lie limp on the floor.

  Across the room, Dad yanked his duffel bag away from Gina. “I am sorry, but I cannot ‘make myself comfortable.’ There is a damsel in distress!”

  “Oh, my, how distressing,” Gina said, laughing. Her laugh faded as she saw Dad’s expression. “But you’re serious!” She patted his shoulder. “I’m sure Rose isn’t really in danger. It must be a misunderstanding.”

  Julie wished she were misunderstanding what she was seeing. On NBC, reporters were interviewing witnesses who had seen the apple coach and the glass slipper and the birds . . . “Were Dad and I both on the news?” Julie cried. “Did everyone see us?”

  Buzz.

  “The horn summons us to battle!” Dad cried. Crouching, he reached for his sword.

  “It’s only a doorbell,” Gina said comfortingly. “Wow, you really are new to this world. You’ll get used to it. Just give it time.”

  The doorbell buzzed again.

  “Mooo!” the cow called from the kitchen.

  Jack opened the apartment door and in walked a second prince.

  He was very nearly a mirror image of Dad, except his cheeks were smooth and flawless—no thorn scars. He’d dyed his hair oil-slick black, and he wore a too-tight T-shirt and tight black jeans with strategically placed, factory-made rips. He loo
ked as if he’d spent hours trying to look as if he’d only spent five minutes getting dressed. Behind him waddled a short and plump woman in a shimmery chiffon blouse and a flare skirt. The plump woman shrieked at Dad, “Ooh, it’s you! I saw you on TV!” Julie winced. Guess they were both on the news.

  Dad bowed. “And it is you, the fairy who, once upon a time, saved Sleeping Beauty by transforming the curse of death into a spell of sleep.”

  She waved her hand. “Oh, old news. But you! Out of the Wild after all this time! However did you keep your sanity through the years?” She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh my goodness, how rude of me! I shouldn’t have assumed you are sane.”

  Rude was definitely the right word. She hadn’t so much as glanced at Julie. “He’s fine,” Julie snapped. Or maybe he wasn’t. He had left his true love behind as a pumpkin. “We just need to go home.” Once they were home, everything would be okay. The pumpkin spell would end at midnight, and Dad and Mom would be reunited. They’d chop back the Wild, and that would be it.

  Sleeping Beauty’s fairy spun around at Julie’s voice. “Ooh, you must be Julie! Look at you!” Rushing forward, she pinched Julie’s cheeks. Julie winced as the fairy squeezed and wiggled her face. Why did all fairies have to be so . . . perky? “Last time I saw you, you were a baby. I came to bestow a gift, but your mom said no.” She pouted, but then she flapped her hands excitedly. “Ooh, I could give you a gift now! I’ve only enchanted inanimate objects for the last century—you know, talking mirrors, bottomless purses, flying carpets . . . but don’t be alarmed, I’m sure I haven’t lost my touch. What would you like? Grace? Poise? Voice like an angel?”

  Could she turn back time? Erase memories? Or at least delete camera footage? Julie wasn’t sure what was going to upset Mom more: the fact that they’d left her as a pumpkin, that they’d fueled the Wild, or that they’d appeared on TV.

  “We would like,” Dad said, “your assistance in the matter of Sleeping Beauty. We are about to embark on her rescue.”