The Giants Decide to Help
“No. Not Jack. My name’s William,” William said, stumbling back from the giants. His heart raced. If they found out he was also “Jack”, they would be positive that he’d poisoned Mr. G on purpose. This was what the giant cooking class was for—making a connection with the giants. William gasped for breath. “There were beans in the soup that Mr. G ate, so I wanted to know, are beans not okay for giants? I think he ate bean soup here before and never had any troubles, but I can’t remember and now I can’t ask him—” He was babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“Depends on the beans,” the closest giant cut in.
“Do you want to see one?” William fished a couple of beans out of the bucket and put them on the patio.
A giant came and picked them up with his handkerchief. All the giants inspected them.
“Well, you can't tell by looking at them,” they all said.
“Can’t tell what?” William asked.
“You know what?” the one with the handkerchief said, “Don't put the beans in. We'll test them for you and then we'll let you know, because some beans are not good for giants.”
“No beans at all?” William asked, stricken. He’d cooked bean soup for Mr. G before. “Wait—these beans come from Mr. G’s farm. That’s why the bucket is so big. He wouldn’t have eaten them if they weren’t safe. He grew them himself.”
A giant leaned down and inspected Mr. G’s bucket. He lifted up the giant-sized handle on the side of the bucket. “Okay, but I still don’t want beans.”
“No beans is fine,” William said, even though it wasn’t. Doubts raced through his head. What if he hadn’t soaked the beans long enough before cooking them? Or soaked them too long? He could make potato soup today and bean soup tomorrow, but testing one soup at a time was way too slow with Reggie lying outside in the rain.
“We can make potato soup,” William said, “but that’s not the soup Reggie ate.” But the giants didn’t budge.
“No beans for us, thanks,” one said. The others shook their heads and made we-pass-on-the-beans motions with their huge hands.
While the potato soup cooked, the giants discussed the beans and how to test them. They tapped the beans, compared colors, sizes, and patterns, and held them up to their ears. Listening for Mexican jumping beans? Basically, they did everything to the beans except what William needed them to do: Taste them.
Finally, they reached a decision.
“Let’s plant them.”
They scooped up William’s soup beans by the handful and put them in their pockets.
“Take the bucket,” William offered. It was giant-sized.
“Thanks,” said two of the giants. They emptied their bulging pockets back into the bucket, and the pair of them walked off with it.
Behind William, a small voice asked, “What are you doing with those giants?”
He spun around—Cordelia, Jens and Bea were all out here. William made shooing motions with his hands. If any more giants fell over after eating soup, he didn’t want his siblings to get the blame, but they didn’t take the hint.
“Go inside, Bea,” William said. “I mean it.” Jens and Cordelia were too close to his own age to do what he said, especially in their current not-talking-to-William mood.
Bea stepped forward and curtsied. William would never tell her, but it was pretty cute how she did that.
One of the giants asked, “Who's that?”
“It's my sister, Princess Bea.” William meant “don’t mess with her.”
“She's kind of small for a princess,” said the same giant.
“They're all kind of small,” said another.
“You can knock it off with the remarks.” William didn’t want the giants’ focus on his littlest sister. “Are we doing the rest of this Cooking for Giants Demo or not?” Then he could have kicked himself for offering them a choice.
“So that’s what you’re doing,” Cordelia said, behind him. “Need any help?”
The giants heads swiveled towards each other. From down here, William couldn’t see their expressions. Did those glances mean: “Eat these Marigold royals for lunch”? William pulled Bea gently back towards the castle, but she wasn’t having it.
“I didn’t peel this for nothing,” a giant said, holding up his potato.
“As long as we don’t cook any giants,” joked another.
Bea’s eyes got huge. Before William could stop her, she came out with, “No worries. We don’t have a big enough pot.”
William picked up his little sister and ran for the kitchen door. Jens and Cordelia were right behind him. He heard their feet slamming on the patio.
“Put me down!” Bea shrieked. “They liked my joke!”
Oh. William turned casually around just as the giants’ rumbling—it’s laughter—stopped. All seven giants had leaned down and were looking at them. He felt . . . small. He whispered to Bea, “They look worried. They didn’t think your joke was funny.”
“Did too!” Bea said, sliding down William’s side until she could stand up. “They look worried, because you hurt their feelings.”
“She’s right,” Cordelia said, taking a step back towards the giants.
Bea was right. It was clear in the pinched lips of the nearest giant, the raised chin of another, the spark of hurt in the huge eyes of the next, a grimace aimed at the ground, and a huge hand pressed against a giant chest to stop the pain of rejection. He’d hurt all of their feelings.
“You blew that one,” Jens said, under his breath, right at William’s shoulder.
“Yeah.” How had he missed the signs?
Being misunderstood because you came from somewhere else was something he should have caught. Everyone in the Marigold family understood that. Now he’d probably insulted them. He pasted on a smile and gave the giants a weak wave. They waved back, but their uncertainty was spelled out in extra large in their bodies.
“You thought we wouldn’t like the princess’ joke?” a giant asked, a reproachful twist to his mouth. “You probably thought we were going to eat somebody.”
“I shouldn’t have jump to the wrong conclusion.” William’s face burned like he’d held it over a boiling pot of water. He’d gotten spooked and acted like the giants were dangerous, because they looked different. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
After a tense moment, the nearest giant smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”
Then they were all smiling.
“Um, do any of you giants have allergies?” Cordelia asked in a voice that was much too loud, then added, more softly, for William, “Mr. G didn’t.”
“You mean he doesn’t have allergies,” William corrected. Mr. G was not dead.
The giants launched into a loud discussion.
“Who has allergies?”
“Do you?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t have allergies either—”
Under cover of the giants’ loud voices, William asked Cordelia, “But how do you know?”
“I asked him. We’re supposed to ask all the new customers.”
“Glad you did.” William gave Cordelia a nod of appreciation, then realized why she’d asked the question. “You mean, if these giants get . . . sick, we could still be in the dark about Mr. G?”
“Yeah,” Cordelia said. “And more sick giants on our hands.”
“I know,” William said, softly. “But if it’s safe for them, maybe we can leave the Marigold Kingdom in our lifetimes. How else are we going to figure out how to wake Mr. G up?”
Cordelia made a shrugging motion with her head that meant she was willing to try. William turned back to the giants.
To make himself heard, William shouted, “Hey, can you raise your hand if you have allergies?”
The giants fell silent, and no hands were raised.
“Wait,” said a giant. “Traver and Shale aren’t back yet. Do they have allergies?”
“Nah—I’ve known them since I was little.”
“Okay, that makes it easy,” William said. “Mr. G didn’t have any either. He’s been eating soup here for a long time and never had any troubles—”
A giant cleared his throat and drowned William out. “I’m only allergic to Jack,” the giant said, with a grim smile that silenced all questions about how anyone could be allergic to a person.
Jack? William’s heart jumped into his throat. He had to keep this secret. Admitting his artist name now would only confuse everyone. His mouth went dry.
“How can you be allergic to Jack?” he asked, hoping that the answer wouldn’t have anything to do with Jack being eaten.
“Never eat anything cooked by Jack. Even his comic strips are dangerous,” agreed the giant next to him.
Cordelia coughed and William glared at her. His artist name was another reason to keep his siblings out of this. His family was in on the secret.
“We’re all allergic to Jack—” another one said and two other giants did a complicated handshake that ended with matching slaps on their backs.
Reckless raw power.
William’s heart pounded. At the first mention of “Jack”, the gentle giant personas had vanished, unmasking these huge strangers. He breathed, willing his body’s fight or flight instinct to simmer down.
“We need to know that food at the Royal Marigold Restaurant is safe for all giants,” he said in a voice that got steadier as he spoke.
“Giant-safe—” said a giant.
Another gave a giant thumbs-up.
“That’s why we’re picketing—” another began.
“Equal Rights for Giants!”
“Excuse me!” William shouted and raised his hand, before things got out of hand. “I need to do some research to find a cure for Mr. G, you know, go to the library, and look it up. And I need to go check on Mr. G in the Magenta Kingdom.”
The giants frowned, but they quieted down.
“Where's the library?” asked one.
“Cochem Kingdom,” said Cordelia. “The Palace Agricultural Library is the biggest library in the Seven Kingdoms. Hugh Ancry is the librarian. He’ll know how to find the right information. He always knows.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” said the nearest giant, poking William in the chest.
William stumbled backwards. That was probably supposed to be a gentle prod, but William’s body went to red alert.
“You’re staying right here,” the giant said. “I can go check on Mr. G.”
“Got it.” William swallowed and surreptitiously rubbed the spot on his chest with his palm. That plan had had a short life. It wasn’t like William could outrun seven giants.
Another giant muttered something that sounded like “he must want to get arrested”. That didn’t make any sense. Nobody got arrested for taking someone to the hospital. William must have heard wrong.
“Will he talk to me? Your librarian?” asked another giant.
“What do you mean will he talk to you?” William asked.
“I mean, will they just tell me he's not there?” the giant said.
“Hmm,” said William. Cochem Kingdom should welcome visiting giants. The Seven Kingdoms was a friendly place. But the librarian, Hugh Ancry, was known for getting so deep into a book that he forgot where he was. William could help with that.
“The librarian in Cochem Kingdom can be a little absent-minded. I’ll send a message to tell him you’re coming. What’s your name?” William held his breath, in case asking for a giant’s name was rude.
“Bite,” the giant said.
Bite? . . . Bite you? You bite me? The giant didn’t add anything more.
“Excuse me?”
“My name’s Bite,” the giant repeated, with an eye roll that showed he knew what William had been thinking. “Short for Trilobite,” he added, in a fossil-dry tone.
“Uh.” William couldn’t pull off a casual, not-worrying-about-getting-bitten-by-a-giant attitude that quickly.
The other giants smirked, clearly enjoying William’s struggle.
“I’ll write to Hugh," William said, heading for the main castle, babbling as he went, trying to bury the awkwardness under a pile of words. "Maybe I'll even ask him a few questions and then he can talk to you about the answers, or at least start pulling up the books. You know, getting them together--”
William turned his back on the giants and sprinted into the castle and up to the dovecote to send the message. He hoped Hugh Ancry had a few good books about giant medicine that explained how to wake up a sleeping giant.
“Message sent!” William called out his bedroom window. When he came back down to the patio, he picked up a spoon and tasted the burning hot soup. His eyes watered, his scalded tongue felt like popcorn and his tastebuds were done for the day, but he didn’t spit the soup out of his mouth.
When he could speak again, he called out to the giants, “It was a little too hot. But pretty good, even without the beans. Want to try?”
“Hmm.”
“Uh—”
“No, thanks.”