The Battle for the Castle (4 page)

William ran through the rest of the story as fast as he could. He told about shrinking Mrs. Phillips after Sir Simon came alive and the journey he took through the forest to Sir Simon's castle to help reclaim his kingdom from Alastor, the evil wizard who turned people to lead.

“I was the one who got Alastor in the end,” William
said. He liked telling Jason that part of the story. “I knocked him over with a tumbling run.”

But Jason was thinking of something else. “Didn't anybody miss you guys while you were gone?”

“That's the weird thing,” William said. “If you go because you want to go, time stops in your world.”

“But Mrs. Phillips didn't want to go. You did it to her.”

“I know,” William said with a sigh. “She lost that first week. She said she didn't mind. It made her feel younger.”

For a while it was so quiet in the attic that William could hear the car horns on Riveredge Lane. He snuck a look at his friend. Any minute now Jason would check his watch.

“Hey, Jason,” William said quietly. “We could go back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I could zap you and you could zap me. We could go see them all. Sir Simon, Tolliver, the whole gang.”

Jason stared at him. “Do you think it would work?”

“Why not? It worked last time. And the token's still doing its thing.”

Jason finally did look at his watch. “Jeez, I've got to go. Dad's going to be really mad. He thinks I've been goofing off lately.” He stood up, but he didn't move.

“We could take our bikes,” William said.

“But it didn't work on the chair.”

“It would work if we were sitting on them. I was wearing my backpack last time and it shrank along with me. And once we got to Sir Simon's, you could train for as long as you wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don't you get it? Time stops for you here, right?” William said. “So you could get in hours and hours of training that your father wouldn't ever know about. He'd be completely blown away when you got back. You could be
his
coach.”

Jason sat down again with a bump. “You're right,” he said. “I never thought about it that way. You sure nobody would know we were gone? And we'd get back at the same time we left?”

William shrugged. “That's what happened last time. When I walked downstairs with Mrs. Phillips, the clock said four-fifteen. Same minute on the same day that I left.”

“That's too bad,” Jason said with a grin. “There are a couple of tests coming up I'd just as soon skip.”

“Me too,” William said. “And a gymnastics meet.”

“We'd have to pack some extra food and stuff,” Jason said. “I'm definitely not eating any mice. And my tool kit and my stopwatch. We'll have to make a list.”

William grinned. Good old Jason. He loved to make lists.

“All right!” Jason shouted and punched the air with his fist. “Wouldn't Dad be psyched if I came back with bulging muscles and a one-minute mile?”

Something crashed in the back of the attic and they both jumped at the noise.

“What was that?” Jason asked.

“Alastor,” William whispered in a low, threatening voice. “The evil wizard has returned.”

“Hey, cut it out,” Jason said. “It's just the cat. This place is giving me the creeps.”

“You find the cat while I hide the token.”

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Jason called in a low pleading voice as he crept back into the darkest corner of the attic. “No more shrinking. We promise.”

William slipped the token into its box and this time he hid it in the armory. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jason. It was just that he wanted to be the only one who knew where it was. At least for now.

“Hey,” Jason called. “I think your mother was right. The cat's sitting in front of a hole, swishing her tail back and forth.”

“William, are you up there?” his mother called from the bottom of the steps.

“We're coming, Mom.”

“You forgot to turn down that soup, William. It burned.”

“Oh, gosh, sorry.” He put his finger to his lips
when Jason reappeared with the cat cradled in his arms. “I forgot.”

“William, I could kill you. I knew you weren't listening to me. You never do.”

“You know, Jason found a hole up here in the baseboard. Looks like we got mice or rats or something.”

“I told your father that I heard scratching noises up there. But he doesn't listen to me either. The two of you are just the same,” she said, stomping down the back hallway.

“We definitely need to get out of here,” William said with a grin.

“Are you sure we can get back?” Jason asked. “I mean there's no way we'd get stuck in Sir Simon's time?”

“Not as long as we have the token,” William said. “You changing your mind?”

“Nope,” Jason said in a firm voice. The cat began to squirm in his arms and he tightened his hold on her. “When do you want to go?”

“Next Thursday,” William said. “After school.”

William had his bike halfway up the attic steps when he heard the kitchen door slam. Good. Jason could help him. William had already brought up his backpack filled with food and the binoculars and a flashlight, but the bike was a real pain. The stupid handlebars kept swinging around and hitting him in the chin, and twice the pedal had gotten hooked in the handle of a bucket sitting on the stairs.

“Jason?” he called.

“William.”

Blast. It was his father. Why was he home so early? William's mind raced. He'd told the coach he was sick. Maybe she'd called his father's office.

“William, where are you?” his father called again. It sounded as if he were still down in the kitchen.

The bike was getting heavier by the minute. William couldn't stand on the steps forever.

“Nowhere, Dad. Not home. Go away,” he whispered. “Please.” He heard his father's footsteps coming up the stairs toward the attic door.

William was trapped, halfway up and halfway down. The door opened and his father's face appeared at the bottom of the steps.

“Hi, Dad,” William said lamely. “What are you doing home so early?”

“I was checking on a construction site near the gym so I stopped by to watch your practice. Coach said you'd gone home with a headache.”

William felt like melting through the floor.

“How're you feeling?”

“Much better,” William said.

“It looks that way. It also looks like you could use some help here.”

“That's okay, Dad. I've almost got it.”

William bent his knees, hoisted the bike to his shoulder, and dragged it up one more step.

“I'll take the back half,” said his father.

He lifted the rear wheel so quickly that William stumbled up the steps and almost fell into the courtyard of the castle.

“That's great, Dad. Thanks. Jason's coming over. He's going to teach me some basic maintenance. You know, greasing the hubs and stuff.”

“Seems like the garage would be a better place to do that,” said his father as he got down on his hands and knees and peered through the main gateway of the castle.

“Yeah, well, we thought—”

“Remember when I built the moat for this?” his father asked.

“Yeah, Dad, it's great.” Phew, William thought, let's talk about moats.

“Mind if I raise the drawbridge?”

“No.” William knelt beside him. “Help yourself. You know I don't really play with this castle anymore. I'm too old for it now. After all, I turned twelve last week.”

“Twelve is twelve.”

What does that mean? William thought. But his father didn't explain. He seemed to be concentrating on the miniature lever that raised and lowered the drawbridge.

“Twelve is too old to play with stuff like this,” William said.

His father pinched the tiny chain between his thumb and forefinger and slowly raised the portcullis. “Twelve is too old and forty-two is just the right age,” he said with a grin. “Where's that one knight you used to have?”

“He's gone,” William said. “He marched off one day to do battle against an evil wizard.”

“Did he win?”

“Yes. With a little help from a friend.”

William glanced at his father. They often had these weird, sideways conversations. Why aren't you like Jason's father? he wanted to say. Why don't you coach me in something?

“Dad, I'm going to quit gymnastics soon. I'm sick of it. Why did you make me do it in the first place? It's a wimpy sport.”

“Did I make you do it?” his father asked. “I don't remember that. You and Mrs. Phillips came up with the idea because you were small and wiry the way a gymnast is supposed to be. You still are.”

“I don't like it,” William said. “I'm too short.”

“For what?”

“For anything. Basketball. Jumping. Life.”

His father lifted one roof section, peered around, and set it back in place. “I never heard of anybody being too short for life,” he said thoughtfully.

William groaned. His father didn't even argue right. He always got off the point. He should say things like, “Son, I don't care what you say, I want you to do such and such,” and “Don't you speak to me like that, son, or you'll be in big trouble.” That's what Jason's father would say.

“I hear somebody downstairs,” his father said. “You don't suppose it's Jason do you?”

“I guess so,” William said.

“He's making a terrible racket.”

When William got downstairs, he found Jason with his bike halfway up the kitchen steps. He was swearing and muttering under his breath.

“You should have used the front staircase,” William said as he clattered down to help him. “That's what I did. It's wider.”

“The stupid pedal keeps whacking me in the leg. Now that I'm up this far, I'm not going down again.”

William took the handlebars and backed up the steps while Jason wrestled with the bottom half of the bike. William's father met them in the upstairs hallway.

“Oh, gee, hi, Mr. Lawrence,” Jason said, shooting a look of surprise at William.

“Hello, Jason. Perhaps you two should consider starting a bicycle-moving business. Of course I don't know if you'd find enough people who'd be interested in having their bicycles hauled around their houses.” He held open the attic door. “However, it's a possibility. You know, in the winter. Boys, take my bike up to the attic, will you? Now that it's snowing, I think it's time to put it up on blocks.”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Yes, William?”

“You're talking a lot.”

“Yes, William.”

As the boys made their way up to the attic, Mr. Lawrence
watched from below. “I'm going to head back to work. See you later, boys.”

“Yeah,” William said. “Bye, Dad.” As he watched his father's back disappear, he had a sudden urge to run after him and clap him on the shoulder or something. Just for a minute. Just when he remembered he wouldn't be seeing him for a while. But he didn't do it. Jason was watching.

“Your father's weird,” Jason said.

“I know. But at least he didn't hassle us about the bikes. My mother would have killed me.”

“Yeah, mine too.” Jason moved his bike over so that it faced the castle entrance. “I've got to go down and get the rest of my stuff.”

“What stuff?” William asked.

“My bike gear. And some food. I'm not taking any chances. Roasted mice or fried bugs are not good for muscle building.”

“Lots of protein,” William called after him.

When Jason came back, he was loaded down with both panniers and a backpack.

“Hey, Jason, that's too much stuff. You don't need all that.”

“I sure do. Look, I'll show you.” He opened the backpack and turned it upside down on the floor. “This handy little kit's got a spoke wrench and a six-piece hex wrench set. Dad just got it for me. Then I brought
a pump and a spare tube, extra cables, spokes, and a chain tool.” As Jason described each item, he held it up for William to look at. William groaned. At this rate they'd never get out of the attic.

“And gel gloves,” Jason went on. “They're great for long distance. Your hands don't get sore. And my stopwatch.”

William put up his hands. “All right, enough. I give up. I just hope the token works with all these things. Last time it was just me and the backpack.”

“You mean the token has a weight limit the way they do on airplanes?” Jason asked. He grinned.

“I don't know.” William shrugged. “Maybe it'll get worn out and lose its power. Then it won't be able to bring us back again.”

“You worry too much,” Jason said. They glared at each other. William was the first to look away. They hadn't talked about the trains. The news had spread at school that William hadn't jumped them. Nobody said anything, but all week he felt as if the other kids were looking at him and whispering behind his back.

“I'm not worried,” William said in a loud voice. “But I brought practical things like a flashlight and matches and binoculars and peanut butter. And some chicken for dinner. Hope my mother doesn't notice it's gone.”

“Okay, how do we do this?” Jason asked.

“I'll zap you first. Then I'll hand you the token and you do it to me. My father has already lowered the drawbridge. Let's get moving before somebody else decides to come home from the office.”

Jason hooked on the panniers, put on his helmet and his backpack, and then walked his bike up to the edge of the moat.

William took the token from its hiding place and held it out. “You ready?” he asked.

“I guess so. Have I got everything?”

William smiled. “It looks that way. Unless of course you want to take the attic along with you.”