The Book of Joby (21 page)

Joby reveled in the warm spring air that caressed his arms and played through his hair as he biked home from that confining compound for the last time until the unimaginably distant month of September. School was finally over, which meant not only three months of freedom, but the final count-down to his birthday too! In three days he would be ten years old! Double digits at last! And as if all that weren’t enough, Mrs. Nelson had given him a letter for his parents, which, from her smile, he knew must say something good. Joby hadn’t felt this happy since Christmas, when he’d gone into the living room to find his brand-new bike beside the tree, metal-flake red, with twenty-one gears!

His old bike had gone to Jamie Lindwald when they’d let him into the Roundtable in March. Jamie had never talked again about what his parents had done to him, and Joby had known better than to ask. But Jamie had gone without a shirt out at the tournament field recently, and no trace remained of the ugly scars Joby and Benjamin had seen.

By now the Roundtable was completely famous. There were
sixth-graders
who wanted to be knights! Even teachers came quietly to Joby, Ben, or Laura with suggestions about who could use a lift or a helping hand. Johnny Mayhew had come back to the Roundtable eventually, despite Laura’s knighthood, and become fast friends with Jamie. All in all, it had been an amazing year. Joby pumped his bike pedals fiercely, howling like a wolf, and laughing at the sun, unable to contain the giddy joy that powered through his body. He was free! Free at last!

“Hit me,” said the Creator.

“Again?”
Gabe exclaimed. “You
must
be over by now.”

“We’re gambling,” the Creator chided. “Pressing My luck’s the whole point.”

Gabriel dealt his Master a sixth card, and the Creator laid His hand down,
revealing a ten, a two, a four, a three, and
two
aces, “Twenty-one,” He grinned, “again.”

Gabe shook his head in amazement. “I must confess, Lord, it’s reassuring to see Your luck run so strong.”

“You don’t, you know.”

“Don’t what?”

“Have to confess.”

Gabriel looked confused.

“Never mind,” the Creator said.

“Lucifer’s done
nothing
for
months
!” Gabriel murmured. “It’s making me rather nervous. What can he be up to?”

“Little Joby could teach
you
a thing or two about keeping your goat, Gabe.”

“My what, Lord?”

“Your goat. You seem so anxious lately.”

“Master,” Gabriel dared at last to ask, “did we not betray Your ‘hidden ace’ to Lucifer?”

“Is
that
what’s been eating you?” The Creator smiled. “Well, you needn’t have worried. There is no silver bullet concealed anywhere in Joby. There never was. So we can hardly have betrayed it to Lucifer, can we.”

“But . . . I thought—I mean,
Lucifer
clearly thought . . .”

“If I were hiding aces, Gabe, I wouldn’t hide them in Joby anyway.” He picked up the cards and began to shuffle them. “First place that old boar would look, isn’t it?”

“Then . . . forgive me, Lord, but, the child does seem terribly vulnerable. If there’s nothing more waiting in reserve, how can You be certain Lucifer won’t win?”

“Of course he might win, Gabe. The fellow’s an ass, but he’s not an idiot. In fact,” the Creator sighed, “I’d say he’s already got the game he’s been playing with poor Joby pretty well sewn up.”

Gabriel could not hide his shock. “You think he’s
won,
Lord?”

“Lucifer often wins the games he plays,” the Creator mused soberly. “You know that, Gabe. Thank heaven he so rarely plays the right ones.”

Gabriel had not been the only one puzzling over the Creator’s game since that afternoon in the library. Realizing later that sneaking up on his “omniscient” foe had been far too easy, Lucifer’s gloating had quickly turned to apprehension. The Creator must have
wanted
to be overheard, which could
mean only one thing: there must be a trap hidden somewhere in this discovery, waiting to snap shut on Lucifer’s overconfident fingers, just as it had so many times before. Well, he wasn’t falling for it this time.

That these children, though unaware of it themselves,
were
Camelot’s tragic trio returned to the wheel was undoubtedly true. Tricky as He might be, the Creator did not lie outright. Not ever. But Lucifer’s oppressor had never had any qualms about
withholding
the truth. So what
hadn’t
He let slip? Lucifer had no intention of rushing blindly ahead until he knew. Beyond Williamson’s surveillance, and Lindwald’s carefully monitored infiltration, Lucifer had called all activity to an immediate halt.

Kallaystra had complained rather stridently about lost momentum, but Lucifer had just insisted that allowing the boy and his family this brief hiatus would ultimately work even more to Hell’s advantage. What was more demoralizing, after all, than lost hope resurrected—then dashed—again? Kallaystra had received these reassurances with cool skepticism, as had most of the others. To Lucifer’s satisfaction, she had clearly not failed to betray their “little secret” to nearly everyone in Hell. Flocks of his usually uncooperative demonic siblings had been paying him deferential visits for months now, just to see if there were anything he might need. Each time, Lucifer had mentioned the wager as if reluctant to burden them, but they’d invariably insisted on helping.

Now, of course, all those recruits were whining about having to cool their heels, but Lucifer would endure such complaint five times over before being rushed into some disastrous blunder. His second shot at Camelot’s charming little trio would wait until all the trip wires had been discerned. This time they’d find no refuge in
technicalities.

Humming softly as she rinsed lettuce and red bell peppers, Miriam glanced up through the kitchen window at a world awash in sunlit greens and blues. There was fruit already swelling on those tiny peach trees Frank had planted two summers before. Once again, she reveled in summer’s arrival.

Her nightmares had finally ceased just before Christmas, though it had taken her months to trust their absence. Frank seemed less anxious too these days. With the drier weather, construction had begun on the shopping mall, and kudos on Frank’s design were pouring in from both his partners and the client, which made her husband charmingly impossible to live with. Joby’s grades had been better that spring than ever before, and she could not remember the last time she’d had to ask him to pick up his things or do his
chores. Thinking back, it was hard to understand now what she’d been so upset about all winter.

As she laid the salad things out to dry and went to finish dressing the chicken, she heard Joby burst through the front door.

“Mom?”

“I’m in here, honey!”

He came running across the dining room, and into the kitchen. “I got a letter from Mrs. Nelson!” He bounded over and thrust an envelope at her. “It’s for you and Dad.”

She opened it and scanned the page.

“Out loud!”
Joby protested. “Please,” he quickly amended.

“ ‘Dear Mr. and Mrs. Peterson,’ ” she read, “ ‘I just want to say that your son’s unflagging desire to learn and improve this year has been an example to all of his classmates. His wonderful imagination and delight in life have enlivened our class again and again. His Roundtable club has instilled a sense of excitement about helping others throughout the entire school. My only regret is having to relinquish the privilege of being his teacher next year to Miss Meyer. I have never seen Joby’s like, and I am convinced that Joby will grow up to do great things. You must be very proud. Sincerely, Alice Nelson.’

“Oh, Joby!” Miriam said, bending down to fold him in her arms. “I
am
proud of you! Your father will walk on air when he reads this.” She pulled back for a better look at her marvelous child. “I think you’re just
perfect
!” she said. This seemed to please Joby so much that she said it again, playfully pulling his giggling face around by the ears. “You’re my
perfect little boy,
Joby!” She kissed his forehead, and let him go.

“Yahooo!”
Joby cheered, running from the kitchen with his book bag. “I’m gonna go wash my hands for dinner! . . . It’s
summer
!” he shouted.
“Yahooooooo!”

As Miriam’s fine chicken dinner drew to an end, Frank leaned back and asked with studied nonchalance, “So, Joby, given any thought to your birthday plans this year?”

His son looked up blankly. “Gee. I forgot all about it.” Then he grinned slyly, and Frank couldn’t help laughing.

“Like hell you did.” Frank chuckled. “Let’s hear it. What are we doing this year?”

Joby’s smile became gleeful. “I wanna go see the little
monsters
!”

Frank was nonplussed, and saw that Miriam looked just as confounded.

“Tide pools!”
Joby said. “Mrs. Nelson says all those animals we studied live right at the beach in tide pools. I wanna go see ’em!”

Ah!
Frank remembered hearing Joby talk about sea creatures before. In fact, he had seen library books about marine life lying around the house all year. His brows climbed slightly. His son, the marine biologist? That’s when he noticed Miriam’s strange smile. “Miriam? What’s that look about?” he asked.

“Oh . . . I was just remembering some tide pools I saw once when I was not much older than Joby. I found a
huge
starfish there—at least twenty legs.”