Of Giants and Ice (Ever Afters, The) (23 page)

Lena picked up the hourglass reverentially.

“I trust you know what will happen if you exceed the time limit and thus deviate from the Tales before you,” Rumpel said, and Lena nodded, her mouth set in a determined line.

I started to ask what would happen, especially since the Tale already seemed different from the traditional one, but Rumpel obviously wasn’t ready for questions.

“The Tale itself is pretty straightforward,” said the dwarf. “You’ll need to gain entry to the giant’s home and convince his wife to hide you. I would recommend not using your real names when
you introduce yourself. Then find a means to enter and exit the house undetected. You will have to enter the house at least three times to gather all the items. After supper, the giant will count his coins before he falls asleep. To make sure the giant stays asleep, many Jacks have used slumberwort. You must steal the coins before retreating to a safe distance to make camp for the night. Each of you will have a carryall pack, so transporting these objects should be no trouble. Did you get all that?”

Lena scribbled furiously. Over her shoulder, I read, “Carryall x 3.” Then she flipped the page and looked up, pencil poised.

The dwarf smiled proudly. “On the second day, you’ll repeat the process in order to steal the hen who lays golden eggs. You’ll need to figure out a way to make sure it stays quiet. A word of advice: if you decide to duct-tape the beak closed, make sure you don’t cover its nostrils. We’ve lost more hens that way.”

Chase snickered.

Rumpel ignored him. “On the third day, go back to steal the singing harp. Then you’ll need to climb down as quick as you can and chop down the beanstalk. Simple enough. Any questions?”

Lena dotted an
i
with relish and flipped another page. “Yes. How many pounds of slumberwort would we need to knock out a giant?”

“Very good, Lena,” said the dwarf. “At least three pounds. Possibly five. Giants vary in size as much as any species. Ellie will give you some if you ask her.”

“What about the beanstalk?” I asked. “I thought it was supposed to grow overnight. Why did it take a whole weekend?”

“That doesn’t matter. The beanstalk has never grown out of a book before either. A carton of ice cream once, and a crashed car another time.” Rumpel sounded so impatient that I kind of wished
that I hadn’t asked. “You’re getting caught up in the details. The previous versions are more like guidelines. Be prepared for the unexpected. In the last Beanstalk Tale, the Jack found a golden Walkman instead of a harp.”

“So we should be looking for a golden iPod?” I said incredulously.

“Would that be human- or giant-size?” Lena said, pencil hovering.

“My dear, if I knew what you would find, I would have told you,” the dwarf said. “There is only so much the book tells us at the beginning of a Tale.”

That made me wish that Rapunzel had come into the library. She seemed to know more than she could tell us.

“I have a question,” Chase said. “Have there been any Failed Tales in the history of Jack and the Beanstalk?”

I saw “Lena LaMarelle” carved in bubble letters on the Wall again, but I pushed the image to the very back of my mind. I wouldn’t let that happen. That was my first responsibility as her Companion.

“None recently,” said the dwarf dismissively, “but there was one casualty. About fifteen years ago, when the Jack took four and a half days, the giant caught one of the Companions. Cooked the boy in a . . . let me see . . .” Rumpel put on his glasses and skimmed the orange book open beside him. “Human pot pie.”

I gulped.

Lena took a few more notes, and Chase peered over her shoulder. “‘Don’t let giants eat anyone,’” he read. “I don’t think you actually need to write that down.” It might have been the very first time in my life that I agreed with Chase.

“Ah,” said the dwarf, “here’s Ellie with the packs. Now you can all leave my library. Good luck to you, Lena.”

The carryalls that Ellie had brought looked just like normal backpacks, maybe a little small and old-fashioned, and all the same shade of faded green. When Ellie helped us into them, it didn’t feel any heavier than mine did when I packed all my math and social studies textbooks.

“You’ve got sleeping bags in here, plenty of food for five days. Water, toothpaste, and toothbrushes—the usual,” Ellie said as she led us back to the courtyard. “You have the hourglass, Lena?”

Lena nodded, showing it to her. “Slumberwort?”

Ellie smiled. “Come this way.” She knocked on the wall seven times, and a white door appeared under her fist. “Every Tale is allowed to pick one item from the storeroom, but the Director won’t let us give it to you unless you ask for it. Doesn’t want us to be accused of playing favorites,” she said as she and Lena disappeared inside.

Chase reached into a steel-studded trunk against the wall and pulled out his sword belt, slinging it around his waist easily.

I saw mine in there too. It was even heavier than I remembered, and when I buckled it on, my sore muscles protested. Chase watched me, looking like he was going to say something.

“What?” I said defensively.

“Nothing,” Chase said, too quickly.

“No, really—what were you going to say?” If he was going to remind me how much I sucked, I was going to remind him what a bad idea it would be to go without any weapon at all.

“Rory, please.” Lena emerged from the storeroom, rezipping her pack, and I bit my tongue. “This is going to be a long trip,” Lena told Ellie, digging through the chest for her own sword.

“Chase, I’m sure your dad will be disappointed that he left so early this morning,” Ellie said with a knowing look in her eye. “He wouldn’t want to miss this.”

“Will you tell him for me?” Chase asked eagerly.

“My mom. Amy.” I’d completely forgotten about them. “They’ll worry—”

Ellie smiled kindly. “We
have
handled parents before.”

Privately, I wondered if she had met a parent as overprotective as Mom. Ellie was completely underestimating the level of freak-out that would happen if I didn’t show when Amy came to pick me up. I tried to estimate how much trouble I would be in when I got home, but the more rebellious side of me—the same side of me that had hung up on Dad the week before—didn’t care much. I didn’t even care that I would have to explain everything as soon as I got back. Mom would make me move anyway.
She
was the reason I wouldn’t be able to stick around long enough to have my own Tale.
Let Mom worry,
I thought stubbornly as we followed Ellie down the hall. I would face the consequences later—
after
I had my adventure.

“Have a
big
time, kids.” Ellie opened the door, laughing a little. “This is one small step for Lena, and one
giant
leap for sixth grade–kind.”

Lena and I winced, but Chase said, “That was nothing. She was holding herself back.”

Once we stepped outside, every head in the courtyard turned our way, and it grew so still that you could hear the waves lapping the lakeshore and the leaves rustling in the Tree of Hope. Suddenly, it felt very formal and very serious. I looked at the grass, feeling my face heat up, and placed my steps carefully. I promised myself that I wouldn’t trip and embarrass Lena before we even left EAS.

Someone had moved the podium across the courtyard to a spot just beside the beanstalk. The Director stood behind it, Mr. Swallow and Sarah Thumb still perched on her shoulder. Rapunzel and the
Frog Prince had joined them. I wondered if Rapunzel had forgotten to tell us something.

When we stopped in front of the podium, the Director looked at us for a long moment. I’m pretty sure she did this for dramatic effect.

“Lena, Rory, and Chase,” she said finally, “the time has come for you to venture out into the Fey realm to complete Lena’s Tale. We wish you luck, courage, and cunning on your journey.” She gestured at the beanstalk. “Lena, you may proceed.”

Lena stepped hesitantly up to the base of the beanstalk. She took a second to turn the hourglass attached to her backpack, and then she started to climb.

Climb,
I realized with a sick jolt. How could I have forgotten that part of the Tale?

“Go, Lena! We love you!” Jenny called, and when Lena looked down to wave, George whistled.

She climbed ten feet, twenty feet, fifty. Nausea made me sway woozily, and my palms started to sweat. I was going to have to climb soon too.

“I was wondering when you were going to realize how high up we were going,” Chase told me. “Don’t think about the height. Think about the next branch, and
don’t
look down,” he added with a cocky little smile.

I glared at him as he ran to the beanstalk and started to climb, faster than Lena was going, like it was a race. “Show-off,” I muttered.

“So little.” The Frog Prince patted my head, and knowing that my turn was next, I just looked up, numb with dread. “So determined.”

I didn’t
feel
determined. I felt like backing out. All my plans for
being the best Companion ever wouldn’t mean anything if I was too scared to even climb the beanstalk.

“Henry,
please
,” said the Director, exasperated like she’d expected something like this. “I’ll make you go stand with the students.”

There were too many reasons for me
not
to go: Lena wouldn’t have invited me if she knew I was moving. Mom would worry like crazy. I was afraid of heights.

“But don’t you think they get younger every year?” The Frog Prince leaned on his cane until he blocked me from the Director’s sight, and Rapunzel stepped closer to me. With one eye on the beanstalk, I distantly suspected that I was watching a diversion. “I do. She’s such a wee one, that Rory—has so much responsibility already.”

In fact, I only had one reason for going: I wanted to get to do something before I had to leave all this behind. That wasn’t good enough.

I glanced toward Lena’s brother, a second away from slinging off my backpack and sending him in my place.

“
You
must go,” whispered Rapunzel, emphasizing the first word so much that she must’ve known what I was planning.

I stopped looking for George. To be completely honest, I was really relieved she said something. I wanted to go too much to be that noble.

“That’s it,” the Director said impatiently. “Henry, I must ask you to leave the podium.”

Scowling and muttering to himself about how Mildred Grubb had no respect for the elderly, the Frog Prince hobbled pathetically away, making a big show of it. He also moved
very slowly
, his patched and frayed purple bunny slippers shuffling along the ground.

“Be kinder to Chase,” Rapunzel said so quietly that only I could hear. “His heart is good, but his upbringing was not the best. In truth, he needs your friendship even more than Lena.”

I didn’t
want
to be friends with Chase. If that was the future Rapunzel saw, she was losing her touch.

“You’ll need to follow him through the letter,” Rapunzel added.

“You mean,
to
the letter?” I was definitely not going to do that.

Rapunzel shook her head. “
Through
the letter.”

That didn’t make any more sense than what she had said before.

Sighing, I started toward the beanstalk. If I was going, I needed to hurry. I didn’t want to find out what Chase would say if he got too much of a head start and I arrived hours behind the others.

As I walked past, Rapunzel grabbed my pack and stuffed something inside. “You’ll need this. The young will lie in the dark. Hold this to your mouth and whistle softly, and it will give you light.”

The Director had noticed. From the suspicious look on her face, I guessed that Rapunzel was definitely acting out of character for this Tale. “Okay,” I said uncertainly as Rapunzel zipped my pack closed and let me go. “Thanks.”

The leaves on the beanstalk were as long as I was tall, and the stems at the bottom were rubbery but sturdy. I took a deep breath and grabbed one right above my head.

“Rory!”

I looked back.

“Falling is the fastest way down,” Rapunzel said earnestly, like this was helpful information.

I gulped. I didn’t need to hear that.

Apparently, the Director thought so too. Alarmed, she added
quickly, “However, we would much prefer you to return with all your bones intact. Good luck, Rory.”

I was only one foot off the ground. I stared up at the spot where the beanstalk disappeared into the clouds, guessing I had at least a mile to go.

I tried not to think about it and began to climb.

thought I did pretty well—for the first part of the climb anyway.