Far Far Away by Tom McNeal Read Free Book Online Page B

got the how,” murmured Maddy Saxon, the one with the smoldering eyes and scarred cheek, “and now he wants the why.”
    She and Marjory Falls sat on the floor, leaning back to back with their legs in front of them. When I slipped past Maddy Saxon, she said, “Whoa! Did you just feel that weird draft of warm air?” and Marjory said, “Oh! Sorry,” which, for reasons I did not understand, sent them into laughter.
    “The why is very simple,” Ginger said, and her smile had slyness in it. “We saw the light on and wanted to talk to you. Is that so bad?”
    Studies
, I said into Jeremy’s ear.
Examinations
.
    But Jeremy said, “Talk to me about what?”
    “We’re going on a night mission,” Ginger said, “and we thought you might want to come along.”
    No, Jeremy, you do not
.
    “You need to get out more,” Ginger said, “I mean, it’s a little sad, you sitting up here in the attic”—she paused—“talking to yourself when you could be out on a night mission.” She grinned at him. “Speaking metaphorically here, Jeremy, I can hardly see your life through all the dust and cobwebs.”
    Metaphor
, I said.
From meta—beyond—and pherein—to bear. To bear beyond! It is one of your vocabulary words. Words that we need to study!
    “What kind of night mission?” Jeremy asked. He was ignoring me completely!
    “The most fabulous kind,” Ginger said. “We’re going to perform a zounds-worthy act of
derring-do
. We’ve got it all planned out”—she fixed her golden eyes on him—“but we kind of need your help.” She leaned forward, bringing the scent of cinnamon with her. “And you’re already dressed for the occasion.”
    It was true that Jeremy was also wearing dark clothes, but what did that signify? Nothing whatsoever!
    Your studies!
I shouted.
The vocabulary! The classical roots!
    “I don’t know,” Jeremy said.
    Maddy Saxon cast a meaningful look at Ginger.
“Told you.”
    “Maybe Jeremy is going to read himself a fairy tale and put himself to bed,” Marjory said. She pulled a book from the shelves, and when she read its title aloud—
“The Big Book of Fairy Tales”
—Jeremy’s face clouded.
    “Could you put that back?” he said. “It was my mother’s.”
    Marjory did put it back, but she at once pulled out anotherand read the title aloud:
“Told Under the Green Umbrella: Favorite Fairy Tales and Legends.”
She looked up at Jeremy with dancing ink-black eyes. “Is everything up here a fairy tale?”
    Jeremy’s face flushed red. “Not all of them,” he murmured.
    The girl turned the pages to the first story. “ ‘The Frog King,’ ” she said, and then in a singsongy voice began to read, “Once upon a time, when wishes still came true—” but Jeremy suddenly cut her off.
    “Okay,” he said.
    His manner was stiff and serious. The girls all looked at him.
    “Okay what?” Ginger asked.
    “Okay, I’ll go with you.”
    This time it was Ginger who cast a meaningful look at the other girls, after which she leaned forward and gave Jeremy’s arm a gentle squeeze.
    One after another, they crept down the ladder from the attic, not that they needed to—nothing could be heard over the din of Mr. Johnson’s television. Jeremy took the key from around his neck and locked the bookstore behind him.
    Do not do this, Jeremy
, I said.
Please do not do this
.
    But my warning was like a hand raised to stop the wind.

    Away the girls went, all dressed in black, rushing ahead like rampant shadows, with Jeremy chasing behind. The girls slippedthrough backyards, cut across bare lots, vaulted fences, slid between buildings, loped along alleys. Upon reaching a collection of rubbish bins in the alley between the bakery and the baker’s house, they stopped and waited for Jeremy to catch up. When at last he did, he bent at the waist, taking in great gulps of air.
    “You should join the track team,” Ginger genially chided. “It’s good cross-training for night missions.”
    “Or,”