If You’re Reading This, It’s Too Late (22 page)

It also had a large tag bearing the words:

sock♥roach
®

a
twin♥hearts
™ inc. original

by romi and montana

“They come in twelve colors — plus rainbow,” said Montana (or was it Romi?). “If you do everything we tell you, we’ll give you one of each — before they’re even in stores!”

“Really? That would be so awesome!” said Amber, strapping the sock♥roach® to her wrist.

Not to be outdone, Romi (or was it Montana?) took a heart-shaped cupcake out of a pink box. “Here, eat this — it’s from our new chain of twin♥hearts
^TM
bakeries!” she said, tracing the heart and trademark signs in the air with her finger.

Montana (or was it Romi?) gasped. “No! Don’t give that to her — she’s too fat!”

Amber looked down at her stomach in alarm — nobody had ever called her fat before.

“Oh, that’s just baby fat,” said Romi (or was it Montana?). She sniffed the cupcake, inhaling with a look of rapture. Then put it under Amber’s nose. “Doesn’t it smell good? Here — eat!”

“No, don’t!” said Montana (or was it Romi?), pulling Romi’s (or was it Montana’s?) arm away from Amber. “She’ll turn into a
pig
!”

“Don’t be silly — eat!” said Romi (or was it Montana?), thrusting the cupcake back under Amber’s nose.

“No!” Montana (or was it Romi?) tugged on Amber’s arm to keep her away from her sister. “Just think
oink! I’m turning into a pig!
That’s what I do whenever I’m about to eat something. It’s, like, my anti-eating mantra.”

“C’mon, one little cupcake never hurt anybody — eat!” Romi (or was it Montana?) tugged on Amber’s other arm, to bring her closer to the cupcake.

“Oink!” Montana (or was it Romi?) tugged the other arm again.

“Eat!” Romi (or was it Montana?) tugged back.

“Oink!” Tug.

“Eat!” Tug.

“Oink, I mean, oww . . . stop!” said Amber, whose face, pink with pain, was beginning to look decidedly piggish.

But the sisters, caught up in their battle, ignored her cry.

“Oink!” Tug.

“Eat!” Tug.

“Oink!” This time, instead of tugging, Montana (or was it Romi?) grabbed the cupcake — but not in time to keep Romi (or was it Montana?) from shoving it into Amber’s helpless mouth.

As the relieved Amber chewed, the two skeletal sisters fell silent and stared at her like starving wolves eyeing a plump chicken. Nobody watching would have been surprised to see them pounce and sink their teeth into her neck.

“It’s really good — don’t you guys want some?” asked Amber, her mouth full.

“NO!” they both yelled in unison.

“Are you
kidding
?!” asked Romi (or was it Montana?).

“We don’t
eat
!” said Montana (or was it Romi?), as if the very idea were preposterous.

“We just like to watch,” said Romi (or was it Montana?).

“Here, do you want another?” asked Montana (or was it Romi?), picking another cupcake out of the box. Her eyes glazed, she seemed to have forgotten all about her fears of Amber getting fat.

“Girls — control yourselves! Have you forgotten why we’re here?”

Ms. Mauvais had emerged onto the deck from the cabin below. No longer in her nautical outfit, she was resplendent in gold and she lit up her surroundings as if she were a kind of human beacon.

“You must be Amber,” she said, training her icy blue eyes on the dazzled girl. “I’m Ms. Mauvais. I’ve heard so much about you.”

As if possessed, Amber dropped to her knees and bowed.

“Really, darling — that’s not necessary.” Ms. Mauvais gestured dismissively with her golden-gloved hand.

“Are you . . . a queen?” Amber asked, trembling.

“Ha! No, not . . . at the moment.” Ms. Mauvais made a chilly, tinkling sound that might have been a laugh. “But you are very shrewd — something tells me you’ll go far.”

She stepped forward and stroked Amber’s bowed head as if she were rewarding a little lapdog. “I have a very special job for you, Amber. . . . How would you like to go to a concert?”

F
rom the beginning, there’d been a flaw in Cass’s plan: how to get to the Magic Museum once they were home? Their parents would never allow them to go so soon after returning.

Luckily, Cass’s mother had decided to visit her sister while Cass was away (mainly, Cass thought, so her mother would have an excuse to leave Sebastian in a kennel for the weekend) and the house was empty when Cass’s grandfathers dropped off the young campers.

Cass’s mother wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours. Time enough to get to the museum and back — hopefully. Max-Ernest and Yo-Yoji could call their parents when they got back to Cass’s house, pretending they’d only just arrived from the mountains.

“Bye!” / “Thanks!” / “Later!”

They waved good-bye and waited to hear Grandpa Wayne’s truck disappear down the road. Then they let themselves out of the house, leaving all the backpacks except one — the one that wobbled back and forth all on its own.

“City buses don’t have seat belts, either,” Max-Ernest noted when they mounted the bus. “Why do you think that is?”

“Funny, I feel totally strapped in, even without a seat belt,” said a muffled voice. “You know, just because somebody spends most of his life underground doesn’t mean he likes being stuffed inside a backpack for hours and hours!”

“Shh,” said Cass. “It’s just a little while longer.”

“Hey, look at her,” whispered Yo-Yoji, pointing to a rather heavyset (which is a polite way of saying
fat
) and hirsute (which is a polite way of saying
bearded
) woman sitting on the bus.

“Don’t point — it’s rude,” said Cass.

But all three kids had trouble resisting looking at the Bearded Lady. And in fact, whenever one of them accidentally caught her eye, she winked as if she were used to being looked at — and didn’t mind at all.

When they got onto the second bus, our friends had to try even harder not to stare:

Up front behind the driver sat two little people (which is a polite way of saying
midgets
), one male, one female, wearing a tuxedo and a ball gown, respectively.

Behind them sat a man who looked perfectly normal, except that his shirtsleeves hung rather loosely (which is a polite of way of saying
he had no arms
). When the Bearded Lady walked onto the bus, the Armless Man smiled and waved at her with his bare foot — which she then shook exactly as you would shake a hand.

Eerily (or was it just coincidentally?), when Cass and Max-Ernest and Yo-Yoji all transferred to the next bus, so, too, did this motley group of bus riders.

“Are they following us?” whispered Max-Ernest nervously.

“I dunno, just act . . . normal,” whispered Cass.

Yo-Yoji laughed. “That’ll be the day.”

On this, the third and last bus, they joined several other unique (which is a polite way of saying
peculiar
) passengers, including three colorfully costumed comedians (which is a polite way of saying
clowns
) and one strong (which is a polite way of saying
bald, mustachioed, and wearing a leopard-skin leotard
) man.

“It’s like the circus is coming to town — aren’t they supposed to be on a train or something?” whispered Max-Ernest, thinking of the pictures they’d seen on the wall of the Magic Museum.

“Where do you think they’re going?” asked Yo-Yoji.

They didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

As soon as they got off the bus, they found themselves in the middle of a noisy crowd of carnies (which is an
im
polite of way of referring to
carnival workers and circus performers
) moving en masse in the direction of the Magic Museum.

Over the entrance to the museum hung a bright striped banner:

THE OLE TIME TRAVELING CIRCUS REUNION

WELCOME, FREAKY FRIENDS AND KOOKY COMRADES!

“Hey! Can you can guys go a little easier on me?” asked the homunculus from inside the backpack as it bounced down the stairs that led to the museum’s front door. “And why don’t I smell the crown roast? Are you sure this is the right place?”

“We’re not inside yet,” said Cass. “Just be quiet until we let you out —”

The crowd had gathered in the big room that housed the collection of automata — which, it must be said, looked comparatively harmless next to some of the museum’s new inhabitants.

At the far end of the room stood a very old (which, in this case, is a polite way of saying
doddering
) man in a top hat and a red coat holding a large ring and a bullwhip — a Lion Tamer? Beside him was a silver-studded (which is a polite way of saying
pierced all over
) and fully illustrated (which is a polite way of saying
tattooed up to his eyeballs
) man juggling bowling pins.

Behind them, Pietro — now wearing a necktie rather than his woodworker’s apron — sat on a riser, smiling at the sight of so many old friends. Mr. Wallace sat next to him, a pained expression on his face.

The Lion Tamer spoke, quavering, into a cone-shaped megaphone.

“Hello, dear friends! Our esteemed colleague, Pietro, has brought us here . . . because . . . because . . .” His voice cracked as he struggled to remember. “Because he wants us all to . . . to do a reunion show, that’s it!” He scratched the side of his head. “Odd to call it that, though, considering we just performed last night. . . .”

“You mean, fifty years ago last night!” the Illustrated Man corrected, tossing the bowling pins into the crowd. The Strong Man caught them and started juggling without missing a beat.

The Illustrated Man grabbed the megaphone: “C’mon — let’s show the world what the Circus was like before it was just another way to sell hotel rooms in Las Vegas!”

The carnies all cheered. “Right on!” “Hooray for the Ballyhoo!” “Vegas sucks!” “Long live the Circus!”

“We are freaks and geeks, and we’re not going away quietly!” shouted the illustrated man. “We are nuts and we are proud of it!”

More cheers. “Yay, Freaks!” “Go, Nuts!” “Down with normal people!”

Our young heroes watched from the middle of the crowd, sandwiched between a chess-playing automaton and a heavily whiskered clown in a hobo outfit. They were trying to move toward the
Gateway to the Invisible,
but it was too tight.

“No grub in this joint, huh?” asked the clown loudly. “What are they thinking? A guy’s gotta eat!”

“Um, uh . . .” Cass panicked.

The three kids looked as one at Max-Ernest’s backpack. But the homunculus didn’t appear to be listening.

“Excuse me, do you folks mind coming with me?” Lily beckoned from the side of the room.

Cass braced herself as they squirmed through the crowd: this was the moment she’d been dreading.

“Hi, Lily,” said Cass when they reached her. “This is our friend — he’s been, um, helping us.” She nervously indicated Yo-Yoji.

Lily nodded. “Hello, Yoji. It’s been a long time.”

While Cass and Max-Ernest gaped in astonishment, Yo-Yoji bowed as deeply as he could in the packed room. “Master Wei.”

“You’ve been practicing, I trust?”

Yo-Yoji shook his head sheepishly. “Just, uh, the guitar.”

Lily looked at him with clear disapproval. “You know what my father always said —”

“Practice makes permanent, I know. I’m sorry.”

Surprised, relieved, and deeply confused, Cass and Max-Ernest glanced back and forth from each other to the boy they thought they knew.

“Yoji was one of my most talented students. It only seemed natural to ask him to help in our cause,” Lily explained a few minutes later. “I hope he has been more responsible in keeping up his Terces duties than his violin.”

They were all standing in the sawdust of the basement workshop, safe for the moment from the crowd upstairs. It was the same group as last time — with the addition of Yo-Yoji and the subtraction of Owen, who was away on secret Terces business.

“Well, we found the homunculus, didn’t we?” said Yo-Yoji, unable to resist defending himself.

Pietro smiled at the kids. “You have all done better than I dared to hope. If only all my projects went so well.” He gestured to the old tree-growing vase, totally disassembled on the table in front of him.

Cass’s ears flushed with pride. The news about Yo-Yoji was disconcerting — very — but Pietro’s words were exactly what she’d been longing for.

“I didn’t believe it was possible, but we met him — he’s real! How ’bout that?” said Max-Ernest excitedly.

“So where are you keeping the homunculus now?” Lily asked them.

“He’s here. We brought him with us,” said Cass.

The adults looked at the kids in alarm.

“I don’t understand — where is he?” asked Mr. Wallace, looking around anxiously as if the homunculus might be locked up in one of the trick cabinets. “A creature like that — he’s dangerous. A thing of evil. Do you have him tied up?”

“He’s not like that,” said Cass. “He’s really kind of nice once you get to know him.”

“Except for the fact that he’s a cannibal,” said Max-Ernest.

“But not in a bad way,” said Cass. “Here — meet him yourself —”