High atop Castellan Hall, the noon bell proudly clanged its proclamation that yet another year at Pickleberry High had reached an end. Spooked by the sudden jarring clamor, the pigeons nesting in the rickety steeple took to the sky in an explosion of feathers. They wheeled twice around the school grounds, peppering the scruffy lawns with their frantic shadows before settling in the long, splayed branches of the solitary oak standing guard over the deserted dooryard, through which a teenaged girl was desperately sprinting.
She was slender and reed like, with long, creamy-white hair that billowed behind her as she ran. The black velvet of her gown highlighted the pink blush dusting the features of her youthful face and emphasized the pale blue diamonds that were her eyes. Despite her frenzied pace, Katie Frost managed to carry herself with regal confidence to the school’s main doors, where she paused to straighten the dusty cap perched atop her head before plunging inside.
The tolling bell fell silent just as she entered the hallway outside the auditorium, where the senior class was gathering, eager for the end-of-semester graduation ceremony to begin. Katie noticed that her fellow students were wound as tight as watches, and she suppressed a smile of amusement as their fussing and flapping drew the attention of Mrs. Makarak, Pickleberry’s Mistress of Etiquette, who was busy waddling from group to group like a nervous old duck, shouting “adjust your caps, ladies,” and “straighten your collars, gentlemen” and bestowing last minute words of praise on students who were impeccably well-dressed.
Katie crossed her fingers and hoped that she did not draw the woman’s attention. After sprinting nearly three miles along dusty country roads in her hurry to get to school in time for the ceremony, her appearance was not exactly up to Mrs. Makarak’s rigid standards. But there was no avoiding the old woman’s hawk-like gaze, for no sooner had Katie slipped past her when the Mistress of Etiquette wheeled around and cried, “Just a moment, Miss Frost!”
Katie turned to see Mrs. Makarak storming toward her through the crush of students. The old woman looked deeply appalled, and when she reached Katie’s side, she jerked to a halt so quickly that Katie thought she could hear the old woman’s heels scraping on the floor.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Makarak declared as her wide, disbelieving eyes scrutinized the condition of Katie’s gown. “You look positively dreadful!”
“Yes, maam, I do,” stammered Katie. “And I have a perfectly good explanation…”
“There is no excuse for a shabby state of dress, Miss Frost,” Mrs. Makarak interrupted in a haughty tone. “None whatsoever.”
A sudden feeling of guilt washed over Katie, and her attempts to pat the grime from her sleeves proved utterly futile. She blushed as she offered Mrs. Makarak an apologetic smile, but the old woman’s expression grew darker.
“Didn’t you learn anything from my Formal Dress and Accoutrements class, Miss Frost?”
“Well, uh,” said Katie, unable to admit that she hadn’t. Along with the other girls, she had found the class boring and far too old-fashioned for her tastes. After all, who on earth paid attention to how they looked nowadays?
“Well, uh, sure I did.”
“Then surely you’ll remember the spell I taught you for removing stains from clothing.”
Katie rolled her eyes. Of course! The wishy-washy dry-cleaning spell! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? It was the only practical thing she had learned from the class all semester.
Her hands glowed an intense lemon yellow color as she summoned the spell and applied it to her gown. Almost instantly every particle of dust extracted itself from the dark fabric and streamed to the floor.
“Very good,” Mrs. Makarak said, nodding tersely. “Now remember your posture, dear. Gullymumps slouch, young girls do not.” She turned, shouted “Mister Jeffins, please lower your sleeves!” and resumed her tour of terror along the hallway.
Katie let out a sigh as she picked her way through the milling students. She was nearly to the auditorium doors when a petite, violet-skinned Banshee with short, spiky black hair swung out of line to intercept her. She wore a look that seemed trapped halfway between impatience and annoyance, which wasn’t at all unusual, given the fact that it was an expression that Chani Vambrace wore quite often.
The two boys standing behind her, however, seemed relieved that Katie had finally arrived. Hercule Higgins was tall, brawny, and devastatingly handsome. His sandy hair and blue eyes contrasted sharply with the rich, caramel-color of his skin. Gazing at him too long made Katie’s knees knock uncontrollably. In his broad shadow lurked Ignatious Droog, ever with a grin of amusement on his face. His lanky frame, pale skin, and hunched shoulders made him look alarmingly unhealthy, but his black, darting, and attentive eyes betrayed that he was anything but.
“Where have you been?” Chani demanded as she yanked Katie into line behind her.
“I was halfway to school this morning when I remembered that I forgot my cap,” said Katie. “I had to run all the way back home to get it.”
“You nearly missed the ceremony, you know.”
“She made it on time, didn’t she?” grumbled Hercule as he folded his muscular arms in front of him. “So quit your nagging.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, pig farmer,” Chani said, shooting him a withered look.
“Chani, be nice,” said Katie. “Now is not the time to provoke Hercule into another fight. Remember the contest.
You don’t want to jinx yourself, do you?”
Droog sniggered. “Don’t be silly, Katie,” he said. “You forget who you’re talking to. Chani’s already jinxed, isn’t she? I mean, whoever heard of a Banshee who couldn’t wail?”
“Drool,” sighed Chani, purposefully mispronouncing his name, “you wouldn’t know a jinx if it boxed your ears and pulled your underpants over your head.”
“And don’t pick on her,” added Katie in a stern tone. “You know perfectly well why she can’t wail.”
“We’re not going to go into that ‘birth defect’ business again, are we?” said Hercule, stifling a bored yawn with a mighty fist. “The more I hear about it, the more I think she’s just one big defect.”
Chani balled her fists and shook them under his nose. “Ooh!” she said through clenched teeth. “I’d really love to turn you into a slugroach so I could crush you beneath my foot!”
Hercule bristled at the comment. “I’d like to see you try,” he growled.
Katie stepped between them, eager to defuse their bantering before it escalated into an all-out argument. “Honestly!” she said. “Can’t you two give it a rest for just one day?”
“No!” Chani and Hercule exclaimed in unison.
Katie sighed. “I don’t understand it. Why do you bother hanging out together when you detest each other so much?”
Neither of them made an effort to answer her. Instead, their faces colored, and they glanced away as if embarrassed.
The auditorium doors sprang open with a resounding boom, and Mistress Shrew, Principal Abercrombie’s reedy assistant, swept into the hall. She stared at the milling students down the long slope of her rat-like nose, which twitched and wrinkled as if she were detecting a strong odor that she detested. “Form a line, all of you. Two-by-two,” she commanded. “When your names are called, you will enter the auditorium and march to the stage via the center isle. When you find your seat, sit in it. And be silent. Do I make myself understood?”
“Yes, Mistress Shrew,” the class replied as one.
Principal Abercrombie’s voice echoed from the auditorium as she called the first pair of students inside. A rousing crackle of applause followed as their families celebrated. Katie clutched Chani’s hand in tense excitement as the line shuffled ever closer to the door. When at last Principal Abercrombie called their names, the two of them strode side by side into the auditorium wearing proud smiles.
The slightly hypnotic Banshee cheers of the Vambrace family greeted them as they swept down the aisle. No one, however, applauded Katie.
“Why aren’t your parents here?” Chani whispered as they climbed the stairs to the stage.
“They probably forgot,” Katie muttered, grinding out the words between her teeth.
“Forgot?” Chani said in a stunned voice. “But this is your graduation day!”
“Yes, it is,” said Katie bluntly. “And I refuse to make a big deal of their absence. You’re here, and so are Hercule and Droog. That’s all that matters to me.”
“This is your stepmother’s doing,” Chani growled. “She chose not to come on purpose!”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t want her here anyway,” Katie answered.
When the entire senior class sat assembled on stage, the wizened and reverential Principal Abercrombie cleared her throat. Immediately, the buzzing crowd of parents fell silent.
“On behalf of the faculty and staff of Pickleberry High School,” Abercrombie began in a wispy voice that grew stronger as she continued to speak. “I would like to thank the parents of our graduating students for attending today’s commencement.”
Applause rippled through the audience and slowly sputtered to an end.
Abercrombie smiled, adjusted her spectacles, and continued with her speech. “It is a time-honored tradition here at Pickleberry for students departing the senior grade to compete in a once-in-a-lifetime contest for acceptance into one of the four most exclusive colleges in Odyssey: Derring-Do University, where the bold are trained to become mighty heroes; the College of Villainy, which molds the self-serving into dastardly villains; the Sidekick and Henchman Institute, where the stalwart are educated in the ways of faithful companionship; and, lastly, Damsel Academy, which instructs the prudish in the fine art of distress.”
The auditorium erupted with cheers. Katie shared an eager look with Chani. Becoming a hero was all that she ever wanted, and now that the opportunity was within her grasp, she could barely contain her excitement.
Principal Abercrombie raised her hands, and an expectant hush settled over the proceedings. “Before leaving the stage this afternoon,” she continued, “each student will be presented with an official application engraved with a single question, which he or she is expected to answer and submit for consideration before the end of the first week of summer.”
She turned and faced the gathered students with a wry smile. “Only a select few, out of the many thousands of applicants across the great country of Odyssey, will be accepted into the four colleges that I have heretofore named. That is why I caution each and every one of you to carefully consider your response to the question on your cards. Once an answer is given, it cannot be withdrawn. To aid you in this task, I ask you to consider our motto here at Pickleberry: ‘Honesty is a policy of Truth.’ If you answer honestly, and in concert with your deepest desires, you may very well find yourself holding an acceptance notice at the end of summer. Before I turn you to this task, I would like to add that Pickleberry has long enjoyed the reputation of being among only a handful of schools that has consistently produced students capable of winning the contest—do not disappoint us.”
Abercrombie smiled at the seniors in fond appreciation, and then, in a quiet, but expectant voice, announced that it was now time for them to receive their registration cards. She clapped her hands together softly, and a flock of dazzling white doves burst into the auditorium through the open windows, bearing small white envelopes, which they carried to the stage and dropped in the laps of the delighted seniors.
Katie grinned proudly as she studied the ornate envelope she had long dreamed of possessing. Across its face the name “Katie Aloora Frost” was written elegantly in green letters that resembled tiny vines, among which six wasp-sized silver dragons darted and dashed in a rollicking game of tag. Katie’s thoughts swelled with such dreams of adventures in far off lands, of encountering all sorts of strange creatures eager to deprive her of her life, and of leading the charge against great hosts in epic battles, she barely realized that the graduation ceremony had ended.
“On to better things!” Droog declared as the four of them tramped down the school steps to the Great Lawn, where the crowd of parents was gathering.
“For once, Drool, you’ve said something I agree with,” Chani said. She removed her application from her pocket and laid it upon her palm. “Hey Katie, watch this.”
Katie gasped as the envelope sprang into the air and flittered back and forth in front of her face, surrounded by a sparkling halo of magick.
“You’ve finally worked out the levitation spell!” Katie said, breathless with excitement.
“I’ve been practicing for weeks,” Chani said, “but I finally realized how to do it during Abercrombie’s speech.” The envelope flopped back into her hand. “I’ll teach you how to do it on our next sleep-over.”
“Someday, I’m going to learn how to use magick,” said Droog longingly.
“Forget it, Droog,” said Katie. “The last man who attempted to use magick wound up wearing his insides on his outside.”
“In Droog’s case, that would be an improvement,” chuckled Hercule. Katie found a joyous satisfaction in studying his profile. When his gaze swept over her, she smiled, but not at his joke.
“But men can learn to use magick,” Droog pointed out.
“If they open themselves to the subtle energies of the Source, yes they can,” Katie said. “But in order to do that, men have to be willing to allow the Source to act through them. In the three thousand years since magick was created, too many men have sought to force the Source to act against its nature, and they all died as a result.”
“Which is why it’s not a good idea for men to use magick,” Chani added.
A group of boys crowded past them, loudly inviting Hercule and Droog to join them in a quick game of socky sack. Hercule excused himself gruffly and stalked off. Droog, as always, slithered after him.
“So, what are you going to do now?” Chani asked, rounding on Katie.
“Go home, I suppose,” Katie replied with a shrug. “I have chores to do.”
“Chores?” Chani cried. “But this is your graduation day! You need to celebrate! Why don’t you come with me? My family is taking me to the Ugly Mug for lunch. We can celebrate our graduation together. What do you say?”
“My parents will be angry if I don’t turn up for chores,” Katie said, regretfully.
“Stuff your parents,” Chani muttered. “If they didn’t have the decency to show up for your graduation, then you shouldn’t have to show up for chores. I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
Katie smiled. “I know you wouldn’t,” she said, noting the look of irritation on Chani’s face. “Run along and have fun,” she said. “I’ll chime you tonight. Same time?”
“All right,” Chani agreed, though grudgingly. She knew better than to argue with Katie when her mind was made up. She joined her family at the edge of the Lawn, gave Katie a final wave, and was gone.
Katie turned toward Beggarville Road and home, wondering what on earth she had done to deserve parents who could not spare so much as an hour—a measly little hour!— to see their daughter graduate. This was nothing new, of course. Over the years they had managed to miss every important event that mattered to her: the jiggleball tourneys, the school plays, the burble band concerts. Although she had long since given up on being angry with them for not being there, a deep irritation had taken root within her, and it was this irritation that simmered to the surface of her thoughts as she strolled down the road. What did she have to do to make her parents appreciate her?
“Hey Katie!” a voice called out from behind.
Startled from her thoughts, Katie turned and was surprised to see Hercule jogging towards her, red-faced. “What are you doing here?” she said.
“I wanted to walk you home,” he replied breathlessly.
“I’m flattered, Hercule. Thank you,” she said. “But isn’t it a little out of your way?”
“Only by a few miles,” he replied, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of a tightly muscled arm.
“Your home is on the opposite side of the valley,” Katie said.
“You don’t say,” he said, feigning surprise.
Katie gave him a coy smile and continued walking.
“Hey, let me see your envelope for a second,” Hercule said. He handed his to Katie, who noticed that it was creased in a thousand places from being crammed in his back pocket. On the front, a mounted knight in crinkled orange armor was attempting to poke a hairy-faced goblin with a jousting lance.
“Cool,” she said appreciatively.
“Yours is way better than mine,” Hercule said, watching her dragons turn cartwheels along the bottom edge of the envelope. “The contest committee really went overboard this year, didn’t they? I can remember my older brother receiving an envelope that mimicked his facial expressions. It was pretty dull next to these.” He handed the envelope back to Katie and stuffed his own deep into his pocket.
An awkward silence fell between them. They followed the road as it wound its way through the countryside and into the refreshing shade of a towering forest. Katie stared down the tunnel of closely-knit boughs to the iris of light at its farthest end, where just beyond sat her house amid its yard of wildflowers and tumbling vines.
Feeling a sudden urge to tarry, she crossed to a large tree stump jutting from the shoulder of the road, and sat upon it. Her chores, she decided, could wait. After all, it was not everyday that Hercule Higgins wished to escort her home.
Stooping, she tapped her shadow with a finger and watched it peel itself from its bed of clover and spring to attention. It hovered over her—a dark, featureless blot against the vibrant green backdrop of the forest, awaiting instructions.
“Tell father I’ll be home in a few hours,” Katie said. In response her shadow nodded, sketched a bow, turned, and jogged down the road toward home. Hercule whistled in awe as he watched it disappear into the forest.
“Shadow mail,” Katie explained almost bashfully.
“I’m beginning to see why Droog wants to learn magick,” said Hercule. “That sort of trick can come in handy.”
They spent the better portion of the afternoon reminiscing about their time at Pickleberry and discussing their plans for the summer. And as the shadows began to lengthen, Katie directed the conversation to a topic closest to her heart.
“So, have you decided what college you’re going to apply for?”
“The Sidekick and Henchman Institute,” Hercule replied, an easy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I want to be a sidekick.”
Intense astonishment touched Katie’s face. “You? A sidekick?” she said. “I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it.”
“It’s true,” he said. “I come from a long line of sidekicks. None of them were famous, mind, but they were steadfast. At any rate, it’s a family tradition that I mean to continue.”
“But you have the potential to be a great hero, Hercule!” Katie declared. “You’re everything that a hero should be: strong, dependable, ruggedly handsome…”
“This is true,” he said, a grin springing to his face.
“…and arrogant,” added Katie, wryly. “Why would you want to be anything but a hero?”
Hercule sighed and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “My heart just isn’t in it,” he answered truthfully.
“Well, this certainly is a surprise,” Katie said, feeling stunned. “And what of Droog? Does he know?”
“Of course,” Hercule said. “Ol’ Drooly’s my best friend, after all. He thinks it’s a great idea, seeing as how he’s hoping to attend the Institute with me.”
Katie blinked in wonderment. “For all his bragging about how villainous the Droog family is, you would think he’d want to be a villain himself.”
“Ignatious Droog a villain?” Hercule said, laughing as if sincerely amused. “He’s too cowardly for that. Being a henchman suits him perfectly. Henchmen are cowards, after all.”
A wry but indulgent glint flashed in Katie’s eyes. “Well, if I become a hero, Hercule, I can only hope to have a sidekick as constant as you.”
He turned to face her. “Would you make me wait until the end of college to be your sidekick?” he asked in a wonderful low voice, soft and clear and extremely self-conscious.
Katie blinked in bafflement. “I don’t understand what you mean,” she said.
He sucked in a hesitant breath and released it in one powerful rush. “I’ve wanted to say something for a long time, and now that I’ve worked up the courage, I’m just going to go ahead and say it: I’m stuck on you, Katie.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He glowed with sudden confidence, and repeated himself. “I’m stuck on you, and have been ever since the day you almost ran me down in your father’s hay wagon four summers ago. And seeing as how we may be attending college together, well, I thought I’d ask if you’d like to be my heartfriend.”
Katie’s knees began to knock. “Har…har…heartfriend?”
“Yeah. You know, as in going steady.”
Katie rolled her eyes at him. “I know what you mean, Hercule,” she said drolly. She stood and paced. Within her mind, the future she had spent a lifetime dreaming took a sudden and surprising sidestep to the edge of her thoughts to make room for the intriguing possibility of having Hercule for a heartfriend. An avalanche of emotion swept over her, and to her amazement, she found herself toying with the idea of agreeing to his proposal. After all, how long had she secretly liked him? Nearly as long as he had liked her, surely. But even as her mouth opened to respond, her dreams came rushing back to fill their rightful place, and like a six-armed gullygrup, they nudged, pushed, prodded, shoved, elbowed, and thrust these intruding thoughts to the back of her mind and locked them in a box that shuddered wildly and refused to remain still.
“So, what do you say?” Hercule asked. His voice brought reality crashing back like a thunderclap.
Katie hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. “It’s kind of you to ask, Hercule,” she said, choosing her words carefully. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him, for he was a good friend, noble and kind—the way all friends should be. “And you need to know,” she continued, “that I like you, too. I nearly ran you over that day because you distracted me…in a pleasant sort of way.”
Hercule’s brow wrinkled with intense recollection. “Yes, I remember your terrified, wide-eyed stare as you swept past me,” he said with a wry upturn of his mouth.
“Don’t make fun of me,” she said shyly. “I’m trying…”
“…to let me down easy, I know,” he said. “I appreciate that.”
Katie felt her face redden with embarrassment. “All I ever wanted to be was a hero, Hercule,” she explained. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever been certain of.”
His gentle and contemplative gaze forced her voice to falter. “I understand,” he said. Standing, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. “All I ever wanted to be was your heartfriend. Everything else just wasn’t a consideration.”
Katie teetered on the tips of her toes as she strained to kiss his cheek. “That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she said.
He took her by the arm and escorted her the rest of the way home. As they paused at the edge of the forest within view of her house, he sighed and said, “I guess I’ll be seeing you.”
Katie opened her mouth to reply, but he turned his back on her before any of her words could form, slipped off the road into the forest, and within seconds, was gone.
Copyright © 2008 by Kevin Scott Munnings
“The Book of All Things” ISBN-13: 978-1-4276-1874-0
All Rights Reserved
