Xander and the Lost Island of Monsters (31 page)

Peyton straightens his spine. The hair on his head sticks up even bigger now, as if it grew a couple of inches, too. “That's right. Call me Unstoppable now. Can that be my nickname?”

“I thought Birdbrain was your nickname.” Jinx offers him a little smile, like an olive branch.

Peyton snorts. “Birdbrain, Monkey Girl, and Peach Boy. Yes. Lamest superhero names ever!” He holds out his hand for a fist bump, and Jinx returns it. Inu lets out a happy bark, and at that moment, I know we're all going to be okay.

“Now I have to do one more thing. I hope it won't scare you. Though I doubt, at this point, anything will.” Dad unbuttons one of the side pockets in his cargo pants. He takes out a small ivory whistle, shaped like a catfish, with whiskers and all. He jerks his head toward the galley. “Pull up anchor and go down below.”

“Why?” I ask.

“You'll see.” He wraps a length of rope around his waist and secures it to the cabin. “Xander, you can stay here if you like.”

The others go below, and Jinx closes the hatch. The ship drifts out toward the open ocean. Away from volcanoes and snow women and oni.

Dad wraps rope around my waist, too, and then he hands me the whistle.

I blow it.

It sounds like I'm blowing it underwater, or it's filled with water. I try it again. “Is it working?”

Dad nods and takes it back. “Careful. Not too much.”

“Nothing happened.” I look over the ship's rail.

Something big and white swims up under the water. Bigger than the biggest whale I've ever seen or imagined.

A round
O
of a mouth peeks out, surrounded by whiskers as long as Christmas trees. It's a giant catfish.

“Namazu,”
Dad whispers.

It looks at Dad with its great rolling eyes. It seems to be waiting. Dad nods at it.
“Saki ni ike.”
Go ahead.

It dives under and then begins swimming around us.

Faster and faster and faster, in circles that start out big and then get gradually smaller.

The ship spins.

We're being pulled into a whirlpool.

Dad grips my hand and smiles at me. Oddly. I'm not scared at all. Not with Dad by my side.

“Tadaima,”
I say softly. Because we're going home.

W
e sail in as close as we can, then swim to shore. Not a bad thing, considering how stinky we are at this point. And the swim seems like a piece of cake this time. It's harder for Dad, who's still weak. Once he emerges from the waves, panting from the exertion, he looks at me and says one word: “Home.”

Home looks the same as when we left. There's still a new beach, and our house is still kind of wrecked. I'm relieved to be here in one piece, but my stomach shudders. How are things going to get back to normal? I hope Obāchan's okay. But if anyone could survive the apocalypse, she could.

It's twilight. In the distance, a half-moon hangs in the sky, and crickets are chirping. I guess it's about seven thirty; the days are getting longer as we get closer to summer. It's not too hot and not too cold, the kind of temperature where you could wear either shorts or jeans.

“How long have we been gone?” Peyton stands up and scratches his head. His wings are completely gone now. There are just two small welts on his back, as if he's healing from a couple of scratches. He rolls his shoulders, and I know he's remembering his wings.

“It's still the same night as our chicken dinner,” Dad answers. “Time moves slower here.”

“How long were you with the oni?” I ask him. “I mean, how long did it feel like?”

He shakes his head. “Too long, Xan. Too long. Let's go up to the house.” But first Dad turns to face the water. He closes his eyes, puts his hands together, and bows, the way they do in Japan. “Good-bye, ocean.” Dad waves at it. “Go back to where you belong.”

I turn to take one last look at the ship.

It's gone.

The sea rapidly shrinks, the water pulling back from shore until the pine trees that were underneath stand up again. As far as I can see, there's a forest of fluffy pipe cleaners.

Hallelujah! I'll never dis this town again for as long as I live.

We walk up to the house, Inu bounding and barking ahead of us. My sword bounces against my back. “Do you want this thing back?” I ask my father.

“No, you earned it. I'm the mentor now, Xan. Not the true Momotaro.” He ruffles my hair. “Your grandfather would be so proud of you.”

“What does it mean? The Sword of…what was it, Jinx?” I swivel my head to look at her.

She pushes her hair out of her face. “The Sword of Yumenushi.”

Dad nods. “Loosely translated, it means
Dreamer of a Dream
.”

“Dreamer of a Dream,” I repeat. I have to say, that fits. “That's what I do.”

“Indeed.” Dad laughs. “But your training's only just begun.”

I inhale. “Well, it can't be a whole lot worse than what we just went through, can it?”

Dad smiles but doesn't answer.

“I'm thinking that's a
Yes, it can be worse
, then. Fan-tastic.” I jostle him playfully and he jostles me back.

Peyton moans. “All I want is a bag of hamburgers and a Dr Pepper Double Gulp.”

Jinx puts her hand on her stomach in empathy. “Can it be from In-N-Out Burger? I haven't had In-N-Out in forever.”

“Good idea!” Peyton holds out his fist for Jinx to bump. “Milk shakes, too!”

Jinx hesitates, then holds out her fist for Peyton. He taps it gently.

“That can be arranged.” Dad puts his arm around Jinx's shoulders.

A black SUV rumbles up the driveway. It's Peyton's dad. Mr. Phasis gets out of the car almost before it stops. We all freeze.

“Peyton!” Mr. Phasis slams the car door. “Where have you been? You skipped practice and didn't breathe a word to anyone. The coach was worried sick, and so were we.”

Peyton sucks in a breath, lets it out again.

I want to answer for my friend, tell Mr. Phasis,
Do you know what we have
just done
?
But my father puts his hand on my shoulder, whispers in my ear, “This is up to Peyton, Xander.”

Mr. Phasis's impressive eyebrows furrow together. “Son, I'm speaking to you. Get over here right now. Hello, Akira. Sorry about this. I hope he was no trouble.”

“Peyton is always a pleasure to have around,” my father answers serenely. “He helped us tremendously.”

Mr. Phasis peers more closely at us, at our filthy clothes. “What were you guys doing? Yard work?”

“Yes.” Peyton finds his voice. It's loud and strong, stronger than I've ever heard it in the presence of his father. “Dad, I did skip practice. Xander's dad needed me. I'm sorry I didn't let the coach and Mom know.”

Mr. Phasis bobs his head. Hmmm. I never noticed it, but he looks like a bird, too, sort of. He opens the car door. “We'll finish talking about this at home, Peyton. Get in.”

Peyton holds up his hand. “But I have something to tell you first.”

Mr. Phasis pulls back his head. “I just said, we'll talk at home.”

“No!” Peyton's hands ball into fists. “No. I…I need you to listen to me right now, or I'm not going anywhere.”

Mr. Phasis waits, his small bird eyes round and surprised.

My friend spreads out his hands. “I'm not you.”

Mr. Phasis shakes his head, puzzled. “I know you're not me.”

“No.” Peyton takes a step forward. “No, you don't. I am not you and I'll never be you. I don't like playing sports every waking second of my life. I don't want to be in the military.”

Mr. Phasis blinks, and he seems to sag a little. “You never said—”

“You never let me talk!” Peyton reaches his father. He's nearly the same height. “It's always
Yes, sir
and
No, sir
and
How can I help you, sir?
You literally never want to hear what I have to say!” Peyton's voice breaks. “I just want you to listen to me for once.”

“I'm listening,” Peyton's father says quietly, and something in his face softens. “Let's go on home, son, and we can talk all you like. I promise I'm listening.”

Peyton nods once, tightly. He turns and waves at us and we wave back.

Jinx was right. We're home, but we're not the same as we were before.

Peyton's dad backs the car down the driveway, and we turn to our house.

I
nu sprints up the back deck stairs, bellowing.

“Obāchan!” I yell. I break into a run. “I got Dad!” I expect her to come out on the porch, or at least look out the window like usual, but she doesn't.

Woof, woof!
Inu gallops into the house and I hear Obāchan's surprised, delighted laugh.

“Down, Inu!” my grandmother commands. “Stay down. Sit.”

I run up the stairs, Jinx right behind me, and Dad pulling up the rear.

We go inside. Inu's wagging his tail so hard his whole body's wiggling. He jumps back and forth and side to side, barking, whining, licking someone's face. Not my grandmother's face.

There's a woman here, in blue jeans, with a blue scarf tied around her head, and a dust-cloth in her hand. A house cleaner, I guess. But now the house doesn't look like there was ever an earthquake. The damage must have disappeared, like the ocean did.

Inu's jumping up on her, more excited than I've ever seen him. She laughs, a sound like glass bells, and pushes him down. “Sit, boy.”

To my amazement, he sits. I wonder why Inu likes this stranger so much. She wipes the dog slobber off her cheeks with the cloth.

“Tadaima!”
Dad says.

The cleaning woman straightens up and removes the cloth so we can see her face. When she looks at my father, she takes on a funny expression. Hope and fear mixed together.
“Okaeri,”
she says.

What? She speaks Japanese?

She seems familiar to me. Her cheeks are a ruddy red, like a ripening apple, with a smattering of freckles. Her hair is curly and reddish blond. Her eyes, the color of glaciers with some green mixed in, brim with tears.

“Akira.” She breathes my father's name and leans against the table for strength.

Dad lets out a cry and runs to her. He hugs her hard, as though he never wants to let go. “Shea,” he says. Then, shockingly, he dips her and kisses her. Right on the mouth. Jinx makes a gagging noise. But I freeze.

I want to run away, too, but I also want to stay, and I want to cry and yell and laugh, all at the same time.

I recognize her now.

My mother has come home.

Coming in Spring 2017

XANDER AND THE DREAM THIEF

MARGARET DILLOWAY
has been a writer ever since she learned how to write. In high school she was a California Arts Scholar in Creative Writing and she won a National Council of Teachers of English writing award. She practiced writing in a variety of forms, by being a theater critic and contributing editor for two weekly newspapers, doing technical writing, and writing plays, before publishing three critically acclaimed books for adults:
How to Be an American Housewife
,
The Care and Handling of Roses with Thorns
, and
Sisters of Heart and Snow.
Her research for this book included a trip to Japan and a samurai sword-fighting class. Margaret lives in Southern California with her husband, three children, and a goldendoodle named Gatsby. For more information, visit
www.margaretdilloway.com
. You can also follow her on Twitter
@mdilloway
.