Juniper Berry (8 page)

Her parents escorted her up the steps and to the movie house. Just inside the entrance, dozens of microphones were thrust in Juniper's face. Her audience wanted a statement.

Juniper took a step forward. She looked back to her parents, who nodded and smiled, their eyes filled with nothing but love. The microphones extended farther. The crowd quieted. Juniper, nearly in tears, craned her neck forward and talked through a Cheshire-cat smile. “This is what I always wanted.”

And with that, the faces vanished, the light dimmed, and Juniper and Giles were back where they started. All around them were blank walls, an empty shell of a room.

The door creaked open.

In the faint torchlight, Skeksyl awaited. “So, are we ready to negotiate?”

Chapter 9

W
HEN JUNIPER AND GILES
returned to the cavernous room, two chairs were added to the table and, like the table, they were made from hand-hewn tree limbs. On the table surface were four shrunken balloons neatly aligned in a short row. Neptune, perched upon his master's chair, gave careful watch over the deflated latex.

Skeksyl walked eagerly to his chair, his staff thumping the ground with each slinky stride, and took his seat on the far side of the table. With a wave of a gaunt hand, he suggested Juniper and Giles join him, which, after only slight hesitation, they did.

When all were seated as comfortably as the chairs would allow, Skeksyl began in that grating fey voice of his. “What did you think of the experience? Thrilling, no?”

“Unbelievable!” Giles shouted.

Like a pendulum, Skeksyl's bony finger swayed, negating the jubilant comment. “No, no, no. Very believable. As believable as anything else you've ever seen. It sits waiting for you, Giles; it sits on the very edge of your reality. Now all you have to do is give it a push. Send it on over. Make it so.”

Neptune, now on Skeksyl's shoulder, squawked and fluttered his wings without taking flight, a mad mascot. The gesture made it seem as if he were applauding Giles.

“How?” Giles asked. He inched to the edge of his seat.

“First, you choose who you want to be. You have seen but a glimpse of what I can offer you. One aspect of millions. So easily the two of you can possess such gifts for yourselves.” He turned to Giles, fingernails digging into the table hard enough to leave marks. The wood came up in curls as he dragged his hand back. “Giles, you were satisfied with what you saw, were you not?”

Giles nodded.

“Well, what would you like? Who do you want to be?”

“I want to be an astronaut.” Giles made a quick glance toward Juniper. “I want to leave Earth behind and see space. Like in that room.”

Instantly, Juniper saw all the pain Giles suffered, all the taunts at school, the bullying, the isolation, the desertion of his parents. He really did plan on leaving everything behind.

“Of course. And you will. Boy, I can guarantee it. You will discover worlds others have never dreamed of. There are places that will see you as their king, places with populations you can crush beneath your feet. There are planets so mesmerizing you will completely forget about this insignificant one. No longer will you be neglected and ignored. You, Giles, are destined for far greater things.”

Skeksyl giggled wildly, and the shadows flickered as if joining him.

“Oh, I can give it to you. All that and more. But an astronaut? Now? At your age? That particular gift would be of no use to you. You are still far too young to be allowed such privileges in that world of yours. A shame, really. The imagination of the young is nothing to be dismissed—if only I could get my hands on those in charge. Alas, for that aspiration you must return to me when you come of age. Another handful of years or so. By then you will be ready for that tremendous journey. You will reach the stars, I promise you. Of course, I'm sure we'll have had many exchanges by then, preparing you step-by-step. But, tell me, what can I do for you now? What do you want changed immediately? This very day.”

“It can be anything?”

“Anything.”
Skeksyl's smile grew as he stretched the word into a multitude of syllables.

Giles looked down into his lap where his small hands were neatly folded. He raised them and looked at his palms, his thin wrists, his sticklike arms. Without glancing back up, he said, “I want to be strong. I don't want to be pushed around. Everyone laughs at me. If I'm going to stick around here for a while, I don't want to be made fun of anymore. I want to be able to stand up to them.”

“Giles,” Juniper said, “you don't need that, you—” but Neptune screeched a deafening screech, drowning out her words.

“Ah, strength,” Skeksyl said, his fingers dancing across the wood table. “Juniper, you do not know what horrors and torments this boy experiences. Just look at that black eye. You don't want to be a target anymore, Giles, and I don't blame you. Strength is an admirable trait to possess. Wars are won with strength. Mountains climbed. Beasts felled. There are no weak heroes, are there?” With a finger he gestured to Giles, who turned his head toward the blackness beneath Skeksyl's hood, from where his voice emanated. “People admire strength. Girls admire strength.”

“He's still young. He'll grow,” Juniper interrupted. But it struck her how small her voice sounded.

“Grow? When?” Skeksyl asked her. “How soon? How can you be so sure his body won't fail him? Alas, Giles, it is always so simple for someone to say from afar. Especially a pretty girl. You live with this plague, not her. Look at you. Shriveled, weak. Ridiculed daily. I can change all that. And I can do it now.”

“Please,” Giles uttered. He looked at Skeksyl, at the shadows on the wall—anywhere but at Juniper.

“Certainly, my boy.” Skeksyl clapped his hands, and Juniper was surprised not to hear an echo. Down here, every sound but his vexing voice died a quick death. He lifted two of the balloons by his dark and sharp fingernails, a red one and a blue one, and placed them directly in front of Giles. “Which one would you like?”

Timidly, Giles pointed to the blue balloon.

“Of course. The color blue is a favorite of yours, is it not?”

Giles nodded.

“I had a feeling.”

From within his cloak, Skeksyl procured a quill. It was a black feathered quill, as if plucked from the wing of his pet raven. He spun it between two fingers, rolling it back and forth as he licked his lips. On the blue balloon, with the perfect penmanship of a master calligrapher, he wrote the word “strength.” Placing the quill down, he brought the latex to his lips and blew the balloon whole, tying it into a knot and attaching a string, all in a flash, all with incredible ease. When finished, he picked the quill back up and offered it to Giles. His hand trembled; both their hands did. “All you have to do is sign your name on my balloon. Sign your name on the red balloon and blow it up with the fresh, youthful breath from your lungs,” he squealed in his warped singsong voice.

“That's it? That's all I have to do?”

“That is all.”

Giles barely hesitated. He snatched the quill from Skeksyl's quaking hand and awkwardly signed his name.

“Now fill it,” Skeksyl repeated. “Blow it up big.”

Giles picked up the red balloon and finally turned to Juniper.

“You don't have to,” she mouthed.

He looked at her pleadingly for a moment, then brought the balloon to his lips. Juniper turned away and closed her eyes.

In a few large breaths, the balloon was full.

Instantly Skeksyl snatched it from him. He knotted it, tied the string, and wrapped it several times around his emaciated hand, squeezing it tight as if it were about to blow away in a vicious storm. Exhilarated, he beamed a broad smile from within his hood. His chest heaved, he nearly panted. “Now listen closely. When you get home you open that balloon. Don't let any of the air escape unless it is down your throat. You must inhale it all or it won't work. Do you understand?”

Giles nodded.

“Good. Very good. The world will be yours soon enough. Whenever there is something that troubles you, whenever you find something in your way, don't panic. There are ways to overcome. There is nothing simpler.”

Slowly, he turned his attention to Juniper. “And now for you, Juniper. What would you like, hmm? I have made actors and dancers, politicians and athletes, scientists and philosophers. What do you want, what does your soul ache for?”

“I'm happy the way I am.”

Skeksyl's laugh sounded like a banshee's shriek. “Noble, indeed, but I have yet to meet a person happy with what they were given. Even the most adored and idolized have their desires. As you grow you will see how quickly the world can leave a person behind. It can beat you down. It can be brutal. There is no easy path in life. None at all. Except . . .”

The walls flashed their images, and Juniper found herself staring into them. A single image blazed through her head, the same jubilant scene she had witnessed in that empty room just moments ago. She was with her parents and they were happy. The three of them laughed and smiled like the family they had once been. A lump grew in her throat.

Averting her gaze, Juniper clenched her hands together. “It's . . . it's nothing like Giles's wish.”

“It doesn't have to be. You and Giles are different. Each person's dream is their own glorious universe. Dreams do come true, but only for those who know how to seize them. That's why it is so rare. Most can't do it without help, without certain assistance and manipulation. I can show you the way.”

She knew she should keep her mouth closed, but the temptation had already crept in. Her parents might not ever return to being the mother and father she remembered. In the end, even her own life might not become what she wanted it to be. Just eleven years into it and already it wasn't what she hoped for. No friends, no family. She wanted someone to share her stories with; she wanted to feel how she believed a child should feel. None of that had happened, and she couldn't be sure this would ever change.

Yet, this promise, this was something. It was too late to change the past, but her future was wide open. There was still a chance to bring her family back together the way it was when they put on her plays, and perhaps this was it. And so she spoke.

“I want to be a writer.”

Skeksyl jumped up. “Read all over the world! Your words recited and lived by! Your name remembered for lifetimes! My dear, the worlds Giles visits you will see just as clearly. They will live in your head. This locked-up world will come alive for you. And, unlike Giles, we can start you out young, this very day. With such a head start you can become the youngest writer to ever pen a film, your name up in lights. Surely your parents couldn't ignore that, could they?”

The shadows danced more wildly now. Skeksyl turned, taking them in. When he faced Juniper again, he was smiling with understanding. “The family business. You can create roles for both your mother and father. You can be the one responsible for their next awards. How proud they will be of you. A true family, inseparable. They will return to you because you will finally be what they always wanted you to be. Soon people all over the world will love you for what you will give them. And with power like that, you can live whatever life you desire. You want to be a writer? I can help you become the greatest to ever live.”

Juniper now knew the truth. Skeksyl had given her parents exactly what they wanted; they achieved all their dreams. There was no going back for them; Juniper knew this. But now there was a way she might be able to come along as well.

But was that why she was here? She could hardly remember anymore.

Skeksyl folded his hands atop one another as if to keep them still. “Do we have a deal? Is this what you want? Tell me and I'll make it so.”

There was no doubt the temptation was great. It was all she ever wanted. She could reunite with her parents and, as long as she could breathe, the wishes would be granted. Suddenly she saw it all before her, all her dreams, everything she could ever want, carried in a balloon.

But if her parents made their deals, why didn't they seem happy? Or maybe they actually were happy, maybe their happiness was different from hers, like what she witnessed in that room floating past the stars, whether they were real or fake: It's all relative; it's perspective. Happiness is happiness. If she didn't have her binoculars, there would have been no signs that they weren't really in space. She could have made herself believe it, couldn't she? What was real? What was truth? What was happiness? She wasn't sure anymore. Could it be different for everybody?

She glanced at the balloon Giles clutched so tightly. What was in those balloons anyway? What was floating around in that magical air? She had seen what such a gift did going down her parents' throats, and it frightened her, even if they returned to the tree for more. It was doing something to them, something horrible. That was real, that was the truth.

“No,” she said in an unwavering voice.

“No? What do you mean, ‘no'? I'm offering you a future of dreams. Do you know how many people would do anything to be in the position you are in right now?” Skeksyl's hands shook once more.

“I said, ‘No.'” She sounded strong, but inside she was coming apart. Was she giving up on her parents? The thought terrified her.

Skeksyl sat back, calming. “I see. You're not convinced. Not yet. How about another venture into that room, hmm? It can show you anything, everything.”

“It wouldn't matter.” Juniper shook her head and glanced down at her binoculars.
When I look through them I see the truth
, she had told Giles, and she believed that. Going back in, she knew she would only see an empty room.

Skeksyl followed her gaze. In a flash, his staff shot out, hooked her binoculars, and lifted them from around her neck. The strap slid down the staff and the binoculars fell into his opened hands. “Oh, Juniper, you think this is the answer?” he asked, holding them up. “You think spying through this will tell you everything you need to know about life, about people? The only truth is the one we create. It's the rest that is a dream. You can break everything down, analyze it all you want, inspect, investigate; it doesn't matter. You won't
belong
. Wake up, Juniper! The facts are fiction, the truth is fantasy. You think your binoculars bring the world to you? You foolish girl. They keep you out. Like a spectator, you watch from a distance, and as long as you watch you'll never participate. Give up trying to make sense of it all. It isn't what lies deep down that matters but, rather, what you show to the world. Don't you understand, the world wants to be fooled. Flash the colors! Make a fuss! Puff your chest! Give them the show, Juniper. It's all they want, and they'll eat it up ravenously. There's nothing beneath the surface, nothing hidden or out of sight; everything you need to know is all right before you. What is there to understand but how much you're missing? That is all you can learn from such devices. Nothing more. This . . .” He held the binoculars high. “This is your weakness.” He gave the binoculars back to Juniper, and already they looked foolish in her little hands.