“Fine,” Miss Marblemaw said, a version of her sticky-sweet smile returning, setting the teacup on the desk. “When called upon, I will ask that you provide your name, age, species, and one thing you like about living on the island, and one thing you dislike. I expect complete and total honesty. You will not speak until called upon.”
Linus scowled at her. “That’s not—”
“Tut, tut!” she trilled. “I don’t believe I called on Mr. Baker, but here he is, talking. You do not get a courtesy point.”
“Ooh,” the children said.
“Species?” Arthur asked, voice hard. “What does that have to do with anything? Surely you’ve studied whatever DICOMY passes off as files these days.”
“Be that as it may,” Miss Marblemaw said, “it is better if we hear it directly from the subjects to ensure there are no … delusions of what is or what isn’t. Children, line up in front of me, single file.”
No one moved.
“That was not a request!” she said in a maddeningly cheerful voice. “When I ask you to do something, I expect it to be done without hesitation.”
Arthur nodded at the children, and they rose from their desks as one, forming a line as Miss Marblemaw had instructed.
Talia was first. She stepped forward, the tip of her cap flopped over. “My name is Talia. I’m two hundred and sixty-four years old. I am a garden gnome, one of the most talented who has ever existed.”
“Being braggadocious is unbecoming of a lady,” Miss Marblemaw said. “We must show humility, especially when in the company of our elders.”
Talia frowned. “But you said we needed to be honest. I am one of the most talented garden gnomes. Have you seen my garden?”
“I’m allergic,” Miss Marblemaw said dismissively. “Pollen is the bane of my existence. On to the rest. One thing you like, and one thing you dislike. Quickly.”
“I love pollen,” Talia said, stroking her beard. “And I dislike anyone who doesn’t appreciate growth.”
“Growth is important,” Miss Marblemaw said, not quite understanding the minutiae of Gnomish insults. “It’s a reward for learning. Next, please!”
Theodore stumbled forward, chirping loudly as he eyed her, head cocked. He spread his wings as he continued to chatter. The children—including David, flipping through his translation text—burst into laughter, and Linus clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes bulging. Arthur kept his expression carefully blank, though he thought, These children. These remarkable children.
When Theodore finished (having told Miss Marblemaw that her eyes looked like shiny buttons and that he was planning on taking them for his hoard, and no, she absolutely was not invited to see said hoard), Miss Marblemaw appeared bewildered. “What did it say?”
“He said he’s a wyvern,” Sal said coolly. “That he’s not quite sure of his age. And that he likes pollen as well, and dislikes people who say one thing to try and win people over, and then stab them in the back.”
“Does that happen often here?” said Miss Marblemaw, furiously writing on her clipboard.
Theodore chirped again. Not until today.
“Nope,” Sal said. “It’s hypothetical.”
“I’m Chauncey,” the boy-blob said, oozing forward. “Ten years young. I seem to be a mixture of octopus, sea cucumber, and probably a bunch of other miracles. But! There’s something much more important that we should discuss.”
Miss Marblemaw leaned forward, eyes dancing. “Yes? Speak plainly, child. You have nothing to worry about because I’m here now. I promise I’ll make sure you are safe and—”
“I’m speaking, of course, about a financial investment opportunity.” He spread his tentacles wide. “Imagine: me in charge of a sixty-room hotel sitting on the beach complete with all the amenities your heart could desire. Massages! Fine dining! Live music! Your very own Chauncey-approved robe that you get to keep! But wait. There’s more!” His eyes widened dramatically. “Your sixteen-carat diamond necklace was stolen from your hotel room? Have no fear! In addition to being the owner, manager, and bellhop, I will also promise my detective services to help solve any mystery! And this can all be yours if you make a monetary commitment that you will see tripled within two years. How much can I put you down for? The more zeroes, the bigger the hero!”
“Nothing,” Miss Marblemaw said. “I don’t believe in encouraging that which can never be. It’s cruel.”
“Interesting,” Arthur said. “Seeing as how he’s already one of the best bellhops in the known universe.” He winked at Chauncey. “A great man once said stories of imagination upset those without one. I, for one, can’t wait to see the hotel. Find me later, and we’ll discuss my own financial contribution.” Everyone ignored Miss Marblemaw’s pointed harrumph.
Sal’s turn. He stepped forward, staring at Miss Marblemaw, barely blinking. Opening his mouth to speak, he paused. Suddenly, he smiled, eyes lighting up.
It did not take Arthur long to see what Sal had: there, crawling on the collar of Miss Marblemaw’s coat, a small tan-and-yellow scorpion. He stepped forward, about to warn her, but Miss Marblemaw spoke first. “Are you going to talk?” she asked Sal. “Or just stand there staring at me like you’ve lost all common sense? I don’t have all day.”
Sal arched an eyebrow. “You do, though. You have two weeks.”
She lowered the clipboard, unaware of the hitchhiker she’d picked up at some point, crawling slowly toward her face, which had taken on a stunned expression that looked practiced. She brought a hand to her throat. “Are you…” The hand dropped. “Are you being smart with me?”
Sal nodded. “Yes. Because I am smart.”
“Or is it that you just don’t know any better?” Miss Marblemaw countered. “You are a child, which means you—”
“Beelzebub!” Lucy cried happily. “What are you doing up there, you silly goose?”
“Sacrilege,” Miss Marblemaw breathed. Then, in a much louder voice, “Who are you attempting to summon? I knew I should have brought holy water to—”
The scorpion’s tail reared back, but before it could strike, Miss Marblemaw’s hand flashed up, the handkerchief once again clutched in her fist. She covered the scorpion, pulling her hand back as she jerked her head away. As she held up the handkerchief, Arthur could see tiny tan insect legs twitching.
And then Miss Marblemaw closed her fist, crushing the scorpion with an audible crunch.
Silence.
“Island life,” Miss Marblemaw said, turning and walking toward the desk in the front. She tilted her handkerchief over the top of the bin. The scorpion’s corpse fell inside. It barely made a sound when it hit the bottom. “I suppose you run the risk of encountering…” She glanced at her audience. “… local wildlife when you’re this far from civilization. But that’s the trade-off, isn’t it? All that fresh air.”
“That was my scorpion!” Lucy said, outraged.
Miss Marblemaw glanced at him dismissively. “It was your scorpion. Now it’s nothing. If you truly cared about it, you would have done whatever you could to ensure its safety. An important lesson on how life works. On to other matters. You must be Lucifer.”
