Terry and I hurry to the garbage dump and start climbing.
“I love the dump,” says Terry. “You never know what you’re going to find.”
“Well, I hope we find Mr. Big Nose’s grandchildren,” I say. “That’s what we’re here for, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” says Terry. “I forgot. Hey, look what I found! It’s a medal! It says WORLD’S GREATEST DA.”
“What’s a DA?” I say.
“I don’t know,” says Terry, putting it around his neck, “but whatever it is, I’m the greatest one in the world!”
“Congratulations, Terry,” I say, “but you’ll be a dead DA if we don’t find those kids.”
“Good point, Andy,” says Terry. “Alice! Albert! Where are you?”
I see a little face peering out of the garbage.
“Terry!” I call. “I’ve found the baby!”
I reach into the garbage, grab hold of the baby, and pull it toward me.
But it’s not the baby! It’s a telephone with a cute little face.
“That’s not the baby!” says Terry.
“Well, I know that now!” I say. “But it looked like the baby when it was buried in garbage and all I could see was its cute little face.”
“Never mind,” says Terry. “Look on the bright side: at least now you’ve got a telephone with a cute little face.”
“Yes,” I say, “and when you pull it along, its eyes go up and down, see?”
“That is SO cool!” says Terry.
“And listen to that,” I say. “It rings, too.”
“I think you should answer it,” says Terry.
I pick up the receiver.
“Hello, is that Andy?” says a voice.
“Yes,” I say. “Who is this?”
“It’s Mrs. Big Nose here,” says the voice. “It’s intermission at the opera, and I just thought I’d check in and see how the children are. Everything going well?”
“Um … good,” I say. “Really good. Really, really, really good.”
“Can I talk to them?” says Mrs. Big Nose.
“Well … er … um … no,” I say. “Not right at the moment.”
“No?” she says. “Why not?”
“Well … because … um … we’re sort of playing hide-and-seek, and it’s their turn to hide.”
“Oh, lovely,” says Mrs. Big Nose. “I won’t disturb them, then. I know how much they love their hide-and-seek. Sounds like you boys are doing a great job. Here’s a little hint for you—their favorite place to hide is in wardrobes. Good-bye.”
She hangs up.
“Who was that?” says Terry.
“Mrs. Big Nose,” I say. “She was just calling to see how the kids were, and she said their favorite place to hide is in wardrobes.”
“Look!” says Terry. “There’s a wardrobe at the top of the garbage pile. Come on!”
We scramble up to the top of the pile as fast as we can. There’s laughter coming from inside the wardrobe.
“They’re definitely in there!” says Terry.
“Found you!” I say, flinging the doors of the wardrobe wide-open. Except we haven’t, because they’re not here. The wardrobe is empty.
“I can’t see them,” says Terry, “but I can still hear them. That’s weird.”
“I think I know what’s going on here,” I say. “This is no ordinary wardrobe. This is a storybook wardrobe. It’s most likely one of those portals to another world—like the wardrobe that leads to Narnia in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.”
“I love portals!” says Terry, climbing into the wardrobe. “Come on!”
I follow Terry into the storybook wardrobe, pulling my new phone with the cute little face behind me.
“Wow, this place is bananas!” says Terry.
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s not like Narnia at all. It’s more like BAnarnia!”
“You’re right about that,” says Terry. “There are flying toasters and walking cars. And, look, there’s Alice and Albert and the baby—they’re riding … well, I don’t know what they’re called … but they’re riding them.”
“Come here!” I yell. “And get off those whatever-they-ares. Terry and I will be in big trouble if anything happens to you!”
“But we’re having fun!” Alice yells back.
“Yeah!” calls Albert. “Try and catch us!”
“Goo-goo gah-gah!” says the baby as they speed off into the distance.
Terry and I each grab a whatever-they’re-called and take off after them.
The kids are right. Riding these things is fun. Until we all come to the edge of a big cliff, that is.
Our whatever-you-call-thems stop … but we don’t. We are flung forward over the edge.
We all fall down …
