Linus said, “Snow cones. Ice with flavored syrup as a topping.”
David turned toward him with wide eyes. “They ruined ice? The most perfect thing in all the world?” He bared his teeth. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all. Ha, ha, just kidding.” Then, under his breath, “Mostly.”
“No snow cones, then,” Arthur said. “Noted.”
They pulled into the village, turning on the main road that led toward the docks. The sidewalks were packed with people, some in swim clothes, others in shorts and flowery shirts. They stopped in front of store windows, looking at colorful pottery, mosaics created from sea glass, square blocks of freshly made fudge. Kids dug through bins of saltwater taffy, skin pink and crusty from the sun and surf. Others sat at tables in front of restaurants that sold fresh seafood, sipping from clear drinks with sprigs of mint floating on top.
Arthur was about to ask what David thought when the yeti stiffened, back straight, shoulders rigid. “How?” he said, sounding stunned.
“What is it?” Linus asked.
“Those people,” he said. “They’re…”
Arthur followed his gaze as the truck came to a stop at one of two traffic lights in all of Marsyas. There, standing on the corner, was a family. Two burly women, hands clasped between them. Three children, all appearing under the age of ten. Each of them—children included—had a single large eye in the center of their forehead.
“Cyclopes,” Helen said. “I had a chance to meet them yesterday.” The light changed, and she drove through the intersection, the truck rumbling around them. “Lovely family. Heard about our little town from some friends and decided to see it for themselves.”
David turned toward her slowly. “But … they’re just … walking around. Like everyone else.”
“Why shouldn’t they?” Helen asked, not unkindly. “They are entitled to go on vacation, same as anyone.”
David shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. They’re here. And no one is yelling at them to cover up and hide. No one is telling them they don’t belong.”
“Because they do,” Linus said. “This place is different, David. It’s unlike anywhere else you’ve been. Why, a few weeks ago, we had a lovely family of dryads come to the village. Tree people, wouldn’t you know. They came and toured the island, wanting to see what Phee had grown in her time there.”
“The forest sprite?” David asked.
“Yes,” Linus said with a chuckle. “Never seen Phee so excited. She tried to act aloof, but we could all see she was proud people wanted to come and see her trees, especially beings as important as dryads.” He cleared his throat. “But we won’t have you thinking it’s always been like this.”
“He’s right,” Helen said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “A year ago, Marsyas was no different from anywhere else. Awash in propaganda, and people either too afraid to speak up, or who actually believed what they were being told. Myself included.”
“But you’re not like that anymore,” David said.
“No. I’m not.” She glanced slyly at Linus and Arthur. “You could say I had my bubble popped. I’m grateful for it, because as mayor, I want Marsyas to be a place for all, no matter who you are. Some people didn’t like it—oh, would you look at that? Seems as if the new owner of the ice cream parlor has changed the sign—but I reminded them that there was a great, wide world out there, and I invited them to go see it.”
“I think you told Norman to take a long walk off a short pier,” Linus reminded her. “Though in much more colorful language.”
“And I regret nothing,” Helen said. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“We’re building something, David,” Arthur said. “The more people—magical and not—who hear that this town will welcome them with open arms, the better off we’ll all be.”
I dream of such a place, he thought as they drove toward the sea.
“How do we get there?” David asked as they came to a stop near a long dock stretching out onto the water. In the distance, the island rose, the trees thick and reaching toward the sky. Arthur felt the pull of it, knowing who and what awaited them. Though it had only been three days, it was the longest he’d been away since coming back. He itched to feel the sand beneath his feet, the cacophonous sound of a house filled with wild youth.
“Could take the ferry,” Linus said. “I’m sure Merle would be delighted to see us.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Helen said. “But no, no ferry. Why inflict Merle on someone if we don’t have to? I figured we could give David a different sort of experience in traveling to the island.”
And with that, she gunned the engine.
Linus gripped Arthur’s hand tightly. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“What are we doing?” David asked. “How are we—”
The truck shot forward, jumping a small curb, Arthur nearly biting his tongue. David shrieked, and for a moment, Arthur thought he was afraid. But before he could tell him he had nothing to fear, David raised his fists above his head, pumping the air. “Yes!” he cried, leaning forward as far as his seatbelt would allow, putting his hands flat on the dashboard. “Into the water? This is so awesome!”
They hit the dock, the wood rattling under the tires, causing them all to jump in their seats, David’s head nearly hitting the roof. As the end of the dock approached, Helen picked up speed, the engine wheezing painfully. David raised his arms again as if he were on a roller coaster approaching the first drop.
“I LOVE BEING ALIVE!” David bellowed with unrestrained glee as the truck launched off the edge of the dock. A moment of weightlessness, all their rears lifting from their seats. Instead of being swallowed up by the sea, the truck landed with a jarring crash on a hard surface that crackled against the tires.
Arthur looked over to find both David and Linus with their eyes squeezed shut. Linus opened his first. “I’ll never get used to that.”
“Did we die?” David asked, eyes still firmly closed. “I don’t feel dead, but I don’t know what that’s supposed to feel like.”
“You’re not,” Arthur said. “Look.”
David opened his eyes (first the left, then the right) and gasped at the long yellowish-white road that stretched out before them, crusty but solid. Helen turned the windshield wipers on as seawater splashed against the windows.
“What is it?” David asked.
“That’s my lady, Zoe,” Helen said, the pride evident. “Who you’ll meet soon enough. She’s an island sprite. Took the salt from the ocean and made a road for you.”
“Why?”
“Because she wanted to,” Arthur said. How strange the feeling of longing was when the object of such desires was right there in front of him. The island, and all that came with it. “It’s her way of welcoming you home.”
“Home,” David whispered, and laughed as he rolled down the window. Leaning his head out, he closed his eyes, hair trailing behind him as the sea splashed his face.
