“I’m sure it was an accident,” Arthur said, stroking his tail. “After all, you didn’t know that when you sneezed you’d light the table on fire. No one was hurt?”
Theodore shook his head, followed by a stream of short, pointed clicks.
Linus snorted. “Then it was good Chauncey was there to ink all over the fire and put it out.”
David once again made his existence known, leaning around Linus, eyes wide as he stared up at Theodore. “You can talk to him?” he asked breathlessly.
“Of course,” Linus said. “We all can. It takes a bit to get the hang of it, but if I can learn, you can too. He is what’s known as receptively bilingual, meaning he has his own language, and can understand what we say, but doesn’t speak the same way.”
“Like this?” David asked. He stepped out from behind Linus, arms raised, claws sliding out half an inch. Beginning to growl and snarl, he stomped around them. Theodore’s talons dug into Arthur’s shoulder as he wiggled from side to side.
“Oh dear,” Linus said gravely. “David, what you just said could be interpreted in two different ways, depending upon inflection. You either asked Theodore to be your friend, or you challenged him to a duel on a Wednesday evening using only bananas and a feather boa as weapons.”
“I did what?” David cried. “But—but it’s Wednesday now. And the sun is going to be setting soon!”
“And here we are without a banana or feather boa in sight,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “However, I think Theodore will agree that having a new friend is better than dueling someone.”
Theodore, for his part, said that he would like to do both, if that were possible, explaining that he’d never been in a duel before. When Arthur reminded him that they did not, in fact, have any available bananas, Theodore turned his head toward the others still gathered in front of the house and asked a question.
“Bananas?” Lucy called, brow furrowed. “Hold on.” His lifted his hands, face scrunched in concentration. A second later, he held a bushel of yellow fruit in his hands. “Hurray, I did things!”
Talia leaned over to inspect. “Those are plantains, not bananas.”
“Crap,” Lucy muttered. “Stupid plantains, always looking like bananas.” He threw them up in the air, and the fruit winked out of existence.
“What the what,” David said. “You have magic banana powers?”
“Yes,” Sal said, eyes alight with mirth. “That’s exactly right. Lucy has magic banana powers.”
“He’s a magic banana boy,” Phee agreed. “Can’t really do much aside from making sure we have our daily intake of fiber.”
“Which helps us poop,” Chauncey added.
Lucy’s eyes filled with a malevolent red. “I am not a magic banana boy! I do not care about your poops! I am Lucifer.” The red in his eyes grew, and the sun seemed to dim, as if a heavy cloud had passed in front of it. “I am the snake in the garden, the personification of dark temptation. I am the night, and all my enemies will bow before me or perish!” He cackled evilly, but seeing as how he was only seven, “evil” was, perhaps, a bit of a misnomer. It was more of a squeaky giggle, followed by the stomping of feet.
“You’re such a drama queen,” Talia muttered, and just like that, the sun’s rays burst around them, causing them all to blink.
Before Arthur could admonish Lucy for dimming the sun—again—David blurted, “Are you really going to fight Jesus in hand-to-hand combat in the final battle for all our souls, or is that just something someone made up?”
For the first time since Arthur could remember—perhaps the first time ever—Lucy was speechless, his mouth hanging open, the red in his eyes fading until all that was left was green. He sputtered nonsensically, and Arthur knew he needed to step in before Lucy recovered. Whatever he might say probably wouldn’t help—
Lucy beat him to it. He relaxed, cool as ice. “Yeah, probably,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “I know karate, so it won’t be a fair fight. What’s he going to do? Make more fish and bread?” He pressed his hands against his cheeks, eyes wide. “Oh, Jesus, no, anything but that. Gasp! Are you turning water into wine? Curse you, street magician!”
“Back ten minutes and we’re already blaspheming,” Linus said, as Helen and Zoe laughed, trying to keep each other upright. “It’s good to be home.”
“He’s not going to fight Jesus,” Talia said. “Last night, Lucy stubbed his toe and cried until Zoe kissed it, so all Jesus has to do is wait for that, and the fight is over.”
“It was gushing blood,” Lucy retorted. “We almost had to amputate, but then Zoe said she already promised Linus we had all of our toes still. I never get to do anything fun.”
“He’s not going to fight Jesus,” Linus told David. “Some people make up stories to frighten others. Nothing more than a flight of fancy.”
“Can I say something now?” Chauncey demanded. “I’ve been politely waiting my turn.”
“Go ahead,” Arthur said.
“Hi!” Chauncey said, waving a tentacle at David. Then he said, “That’s it. You may continue.”
“That is Chauncey,” Linus told David. “He’s a bellhop, one of the best there is.”
“Hi, Chauncey,” David mumbled.
“He knows my name,” Chauncey whispered excitedly.
“Next to him is Talia,” Arthur said. “She’s our resident expert in all things garden-related.”
Talia waved at him. “I like burying things, like seeds and people who cross me.”
“Then there is Phee,” Linus said. “A forest sprite responsible for many of the trees you saw on our trip in.”
“Hi, David,” she said, her wings shimmering in the sunlight. “Do you like the sign?”
David nodded tightly. “No one’s ever made something like that for me before.”
“We make them all the time,” Phee said. “Next time, you can help us, if you want.”
“And last but certainly not least,” Arthur said, “Sal, one of the most gifted writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading.”
Sal smiled a little ruefully. “He likes to talk us up. You’ll get used to it. Welcome, David. It feels like we’ve been waiting to meet you forever.”
