The Farthest-Most Corner of the Baseball Field

  They cross back under the banner. Henry’s heart pounds like a tumbling boulder, and his legs cramp and knot. But then, he hears the footsteps. Back behind him, heavy boots hit the stones of the town square. Henry looks over his shoulder. Oh, it’s horrible. The drivers of those trucks are coming, the men with the scary faces and the mutton-chop sideburns. They’re following Mr. Reese, giving chase same as he is, coming closer and closer, too, the gap between those men and the children shrinking with each step.

  They are back on that mountain road, but this small group of escaping children and one dog are easy to see. “We’re in full sight! We’re in full sight, Henry!” Pirate Girl yells, and she’s right. They’re in full sight of everyone, not just the men and Mr. Reese and Needleman, but Vlad himself. If he spots them running from his fair, he’ll surely turn them into piles of clay or sparrows or garden statues.

  There’s a single, terrible place that will give them a chance to hide.

  Of course, it is also a most dangerous place. Exceedingly, terribly dangerous. It’s dark in there. And endless. And immense. And full of trees that whisper, and creeks that gush. The dampest gloom might swallow you up. And if you’re there at night, well, good luck to you.

  “The forest! Head into the forest,” Henry shouts.

  CHAPTER 29

  Henry Uses His Skills

  Immediately, the boughs of the trees wrap around the children like an enormous cloak. The sky disappears. Above them, there are only the needles of pine trees dripping dew, and on all sides, the branches of evergreens drop sticky sap onto their skin. At the children’s feet, the ground is so thick with brush and ferns and prickles that they can barely move forward. Even Button is having a hard time making her way over fallen logs and through thorns and brambles. Everywhere they look, there is only forest and forest and more forest.

  The way they came—it’s gone. Henry wishes he had his lucky marble, but that’s gone, too.

  “We’re going to get lost, if we’re not already,” Apollo says. Rocco’s head sticks out of Apollo’s pocket. He’s looking around with his bulgy lizard eyes, and his lizard tongue flicks in and out.

  “Shh,” Henry says. They can still hear the voices of Vlad’s men in the far-off distance. Plus, he’s trying to remember all the things he knows from his Ranger Scout Handbook, sixth edition. What to do if lost in a forest: Remain calm. Find shelter. Make a fire. Locate a water source.

  “I wish I had my saber,” Pirate Girl says. “But I do have this.”

  What she pulls out of her pocket next . . . Well, it fills Henry with astonishment and gratitude and awe.

  It’s another watch.

  But not just another watch—it’s the Tellzall 9-in-1 Timepiece of Adventure, with a glow-in-the-dark compass, weather forecaster, signalling device, and the world’s smallest ballpoint pen.

  The Tellzall 9-in-1 Timepiece of Adventure

  “Wow,” Henry says. “That’s incredible.” Pirate Girl and her pockets—they just continue to be full of surprises. She seems to be what every Ranger Scout aspires to be: prepared for anything.

  Pirate Girl holds the instrument in the flat of her hands, determining their direction. “If we want to head south, we keep going straight.”

  “Are you sure?” Apollo says. “I could swear we’re going in circles.”

  “It’s getting dark, too,” Jo says.

  “Dark,” Rocco repeats.

  “And cold,” Jo says. She rubs her arms.

  “Cold,” Rocco repeats again. And not because he’s being a bratty little brother, but because he’s a scared and tired naked lizard.

  “We go straight,” Pirate Girl says. Then she checks the time. “It’s just after five o’clock.”

  Apollo swats an insect on his neck. “We have some daylight left. The sun sets at seven ten in the northern climates this time of year.”

  “There is much less light, though, in this place.” Jo peers up at the trees. “It’s hard to see already.”

  “We better hurry,” Apollo says.

  They step up and around fallen trees and rotting stumps, make their way through thick thimbleberry and snakeroot, shagbark and hornbeam. Jo’s toe catches on a rock, and she stumbles forward, grabbing at a branch of prickly ash. “Ouch!” she cries, rubbing her hand on her shorts.

  “Hurrying is not happening,” Pirate Girl says.

  “Maybe we should find a safe place to stay for the night before it gets too dark to find one,” Henry says.

  “Stay for the night?” Apollo’s eyes go wide.

  “Getting back down the mountain this way won’t be like taking the road. We have to navigate. And there’s no way we’ll be able to find our way after the sun goes down. Vlad’s men won’t see us, but we won’t see us, either,” Pirate Girl says.

  “That would definitely be the worst thing,” Henry says. “Let’s keep walking south until we find a clearing to make camp.” Now that Henry remembers page 136 of his handbook, more and more is coming back to him. The perfect campsite, for instance. It’s open. It’s gently sloped, so that any rainwater might drain downward. It’s near a water source, and has shelter from the prevailing winds, with trees to the west and north but not directly overhead.

  It’s strange, but for a moment, even with the darkening forest surrounding him, Henry feels the quiet confidence that knowledge brings. Knowledge is even better than luck, you see. And he feels that little flame again, too. That flicker of courage. That warm, bright light of his own true self. He remembers what his grandfather said: I learned—as we all do in terrible times—who I really am. Henry wonders if this is what he meant.

  “Follow me,” Pirate Girl says, and they follow. There’s the snap and crack underfoot, and they must duck under low branches and maneuver through more and more thick underbrush. It looks the same in every direction. A clearing of any kind doesn’t even seem possible. There are so many trees above and around that uneasiness edges in. Are they all trees? Regular, normal, silent trees?

  “Water,” Jo says. “I hear water.”

  They stop. Button is panting hard, and Henry is thirsty, too. Apollo has squishy envelopes of juice in his pack, but Henry knows that a water source is crucial in the wilderness.

  “Rushing water,” Henry says. “This way.”

  They fight their way forward, stepping over some things and climbing under other things and freeing themselves from the jabby spines that grab at their sleeves and scratch the bare skin of their legs.

  But Henry can see it: a little wedge of sky. It’s the golden yellow of twilight.

  And there it is—the almost-perfect campsite that his handbook describes. An open area of grassy moss, sheltered by a ring of trees, right near a fast-moving creek. Henry suddenly feels exhausted. All of the day has caught up to him. Or maybe all of his life so far.

  “Where will we sleep?” Jo asks.

  “We’ll make a shelter out of my tarp, won’t we, Henry?” Pirate Girl asks.

  “You have a tarp?”

  She takes a small square of plastic from her pants pocket and unfolds it. It’s a wide, paint-splattered tarp with splotches of yellow and red.

  A Paint-Spattered Tarp with Splotches of Yellow and Red

  “My father used it to paint the garage,” she says.

  A feeling so large rushes in that Henry has no words for it. Pirate Girl and her scout readiness . . . She’s made him speechless with admiration and respect. “Wow,” he says again. It’s all he can manage, but it’s enough. She beams. He can see the sparkle of pride even in that dimming light.

  “Well, it looks like we’re going to have Monster Munchies and Salt-Freckled Zappers for dinner,” Apollo says.

  CHAPTER 30

  A Long, Dark Night

  It could be worse. In fact, for Henry, it often has been worse, much worse, under his own roof. Here, no one is shouting at him. No one’s big mean face is in his. It’s almost peaceful. Overhead, there’s a tarp splattered with yellow and red, fastened to homemade pegs that Henry carved using a sapling and Pirate Girl’s knife. And in front of them, there’s a small fire with rocks around it that Henry built himself, and lit himself, using a rock, the file of Pirate Girl’s knife, and a bit of her red pirate handkerchief that he tore off with his teeth. He tied Apollo’s backpack up into a tree, too, so that no animals could reach their food source.

  The fire spits sparks and crackles and glows a cozy, hot orange. Button lies across Henry’s feet as the best dogs do. In the vast sky stretched out before them, the stars twinkle.

  But what’s most wonderful and magical is that Henry isn’t lonely. He sits shoulder to shoulder with Pirate Girl, Apollo, and Jo under that tarp canopy. It gives him the best feeling ever, one that starts at his toes and fills him through and through.

  Still, it’s dark now.

  It’s dark, and there are dark, foresty sounds, strange noises, and weird shufflings in the nearby brush. There are the eerie calls of who-knows-what animal. The children edge closer to one another, warming their hands by the little fire. Creatures are likely peering at them with their glowing night eyes. It’s even more frightening to imagine Needleman popping out as they sit together in those deep, shadowy woods.

  “My mom is going to be so worried,” Jo says. It’s just like her to be concerned about other people, Henry thinks. Jo’s eyes glimmer with the flames, and a tiny sliver of moonlight catches her hair.

  “Our parents will be worried, too,” Apollo says, though Rocco has long been asleep in one of Apollo’s shoes, on a bed of grass that Jo tucked inside.

  “What I’d give for a cheeseburger right about now,” Pirate Girl says.

  “Or a delicious bowl of Sturgeon Soufflé,” Apollo adds.

  “Or something from my mother’s restaurant,” Jo says. “A Monte Cristo sandwich. A lovely dish of clams casino. Salmon à la Chambord.”

  “Well, there are two last Yummers Without Cheese we can all share.” Apollo hands them around.

  Henry’s cheeks are rosy from the fire. In spite of his small shoulders and bony knees and terrible circumstances, he has something important to say. “I know that Rocco is still a naked lizard. But we were all very brave today.”

  Salmon à la Chambord

  “Especially you, Pirate Girl, hanging off the edge of that cage.” Jo gives Pirate Girl’s shoulder a squeeze.

  “It was no big deal.” Pirate Girl shrugs. “But you, Jo. You were as fearless as Manuela Sáenz when she stopped the assassination of Simón Bolívar with her very own body.” Pirate Girl remembers Jo’s oral report, too.

  “Apollo, you helped Rocco at our most horrible moment,” Jo says.

  “But it was Henry who kept encouraging all of us to go on,” Apollo says. “You were prepared and loyal and lifesaving, Henry.”

  Henry smiles. He isn’t used to getting compliments, and this is the highest Ranger Scout compliment you can get. His happiness is like a giant balloon lifting up. “We’ve been . . . spell breakers, even if we haven’t broken a spell,” he says.

  “Spell breakers,” they all say at the same time, as if they’re at a dinner, making a toast with fancy glasses of a bubbling drink, instead of sitting under a wedge of tarp, scared out of their wits.

  They’re quiet again. There’s the rustling and snapping and cracking of the forest at night. Odd chirps. The cry of animals about to be eaten. They inch closer together. All that blackness out there makes every dark thought crawl in.

  “When we shook Vlad’s hand . . . ,” Jo remembers with a shiver.

  “I felt badness going through my whole body,” Apollo says. Henry looks at Apollo, and when he does, he gets that same feeling of doom he had when Apollo rode through the shadow in Huge Meadow. Apollo’s words make Henry feel terrible, like something awful is coming, but it’s only regular Apollo.

  “We shouldn’t talk about this now, right before we go to sleep,” Jo says.

  “There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep out here,” Apollo says. “It’s too creepy and dark.”

  Jo pulls her knees to her chest, sets her cheek on them. “I just don’t think I can keep my eyes open a moment longer. Fighting evil and nearly losing your life are really tiring.”

  “I’m keeping my eyes open all night,” Apollo says.

  Before Henry knows it, though, Apollo’s head has drooped, and then he curls up like a croissant. Now only Henry and Pirate Girl are still awake. He remembers her holding on to that cage, her hands gripping with all her might, her face shiny with tears. It jabs his heart all over again.

  “It was a big deal, Pirate Girl, hanging off the edge of that cage,” he whispers, so as not to wake the others. “I don’t know how you did it. You hardly seemed scared at all.”

  She looks at him. Her eyes are two bright planets in the firelight. “I was scared. I just held on anyway.”

  Before he even thinks it through, Henry says, “I’m scared all the time. And I just hold on anyway.”

  The words hang in the darkness for every owl and bullfrog and nightjar to see, and Henry gets that horrible, deep embarrassment, the one that makes him sure he’s just wrecked everything. Oh why oh why oh why did he tell her that? But Pirate Girl only takes his hand. “I guess that makes us especially brave. I’m glad we’re friends, Henry.”

  Friends. Friends! He can hardly believe it. He confessed a terrible truth, and he’s still sitting here in one piece, and now he has a friend!

  “Me too,” Henry says. The me and too hold hands and dance in a circle together. What an astonishing day it’s been.

  Soon, Pirate Girl drifts off. Everyone, even Button, is slumped and drowsing. But Henry is still awake. He tries to relax but can’t. He listens to the burbling creek and pretends that it’s the lovely tones of an accordion. He tries to think up all of the varieties of fish he can, and then names all of the important rivers of the world: the Amazon, the Yangtze, the Nile.

  The Nile

  Wow, it’s dark. So dark that it’s almost like the moon has disappeared. He feels the thud of an ache, and he wonders if he’ll ever see his grandfather again. When you’re the only one awake in the middle of the night, you have thoughts like this. And when you’re the only one awake in the middle of the night in a deep forest, you hear every shivery sound and have every shivery thought. You see, the problem is, Henry is used to keeping one ear open for angry footsteps. He’s used to not entirely sleeping when danger is all around. So he does the job he knows. He stays alert. He worries for the world. He listens carefully. He looks around for anything that might harm them.

  And that’s when he sees it. Something the opposite of harm, something calm and beautiful—a rock. The most beautiful rock in the world maybe. Henry can see its beauty even in that darkness. It glows with the same luminescence of the moon above him, which he now realizes hasn’t disappeared after all. He reaches for that rock, and holds it in his palm. The rock is even better than his lost lucky marble, because if knowledge is better than luck, then this glow is better than both. The glow is a reminder of the things you fear you’ve lost but will never lose—the moon, and light, and love.

  He rubs it with his thumb to calm his nerves. The glow is almost warm. He’s thankful for every small, smooth, beautiful thing that brings comfort. He finally falls into a dream.

  Every dream of Henry’s, though, is a dream where a part of him is still watchful. And that’s why it is Henry and Henry alone who hears that crack of a branch in the early hours of dawn, when it is still dark but the sun is just beginning to lift. It’s that hour when raccoons stumble home after a night out, and snakes make their final nocturnal slithers back to their caves, and bats swoop and grab at every last insect.

  When the children, every single one of them except for Henry, continue to sleep peacefully, forgetting all about the danger they’re in.

  CHAPTER 31

  The Worst Morning Ever

  Henry suddenly stirs. He sits up. He has that terrible waking-up feeling one gets after a very bad day, when the memory of where you are and what has happened hits you with a sickening blast. He’s in a forest. Apollo and Pirate Girl and Jo and Rocco and even Button are asleep around him. His neck feels like it’s been stomped on by an especially large and cranky rhino.

  An Especially Large and Cranky Rhino

  Did he hear something? He thought he heard something. A crack. The crack of a branch.

  Henry listens.

  No. A bird chirps. The nearby creek rushes. Rocks under the creek water tumble.

  Wait.

  Wait just a minute.

  The slightest rustle.

  How he knows it’s a bad rustle, well, who can say. He just does. Henry understands danger. It flows through his blood and grows along with his bones. And now his whole body fills with a sense of emergency. Button also knows, because an instinct for peril is handed down to every animal from the ones who came before. She startles awake, too. Her ears fold back. A low growl starts in her throat.

  Henry shakes his friends. “Guys. Guys! Wake up,” he whispers. Pirate Girl stretches and blinks. Apollo rouses and sits. Henry grabs a sleepy Rocco from the shoe and hides him in his shirt. Jo opens her eyes and stares straight ahead and sucks in her breath.