“Oh,” said Wylder.
“I swear this sludge does not happen in the real comic,” said Addy.
Vim’s lips puckered in a silent whistle.
“SHE’S REALLY SOMETHING,” he whispered.
Addy punched him in the side. “You’re being creepy, Uncle Vim. Stop drooling.”
Wylder couldn’t help noticing all the Nevinses on the train. Short Nevinses and tall ones. Bow-legged, pigeon-toed and curly-haired Nevinses; pimply Nevinses, and Nevinses with extra teeth. All different, but all clearly the same boy. Every Nevins had an evil glint in his eye, and every one was ready to play a prank. One had a bucket of paint and another carried matches; a third tossed a stone in the air and caught it, while a fourth swung from a chandelier. A platoon of impish boys. Wylder was glad he wasn’t a nervous old lady.
He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but it was only Addy.
“We have to get my jeans,” she whispered.
“Right.”
She pointed at the stateroom door.
“From in there?” he asked, wincing at the thought of Flynn and Isadora locked lip to lip.
They peeked around the corner of the door. The lovers were still at it. Her hat had fallen off, and he was running his fingers through her hair. A blue jewel glittered in her ear.
“The Tooting Sapphire,” whispered Wylder.
Addy pointed at a tangled piece of denim in the corner of the stateroom.
“There,” she said. “Sneak in. Stay low and quiet. The lovebirds won’t even notice you.”
“Me? They’re your jeans.”
She glared at him.
Uncle Vim sighed. “ISN’T SHE BEAUTIFUL?”
Addy transferred her glare to her uncle and thrust her bag at Wylder. “Hold this.”
Addy crawled back nearly to the door and then stood up and leapt the last few feet. She sagged against the wall of the corridor, giggling in a very un-Addy-like way. She tied the legs of her jeans around her waist in a big knot.
“I did it!” she said. “Whoa! Look out!”
Wylder turned to find a little squirt of a Nevins trying to squeeze past him into the stateroom. He looked only about eight, and he had a fistful of firecrackers. Wylder flung Addy’s bag back at her and grabbed Nevins by the collar.
“Hey!” the boy squealed. “Let me go!”
The lovers didn’t even pause in their smooching. Wylder yanked the kid out of the doorway and pushed him down the corridor. He glimpsed his hero stroking Isadora’s face, and as he crept away from the stateroom door, he almost gasped out loud. In the hallway was another version of Flynn and Isadora—and they were kissing too! This Flynn had only one hand. He held Isadora awkwardly, but she didn’t seem to mind. She kissed his nose.
“Darling, I love you!” she said.
“I love you more.” He kissed her ear. No sapphire this time.
“No, I love you more!”
“It’s smooching time!” He drew her to him.
Yuck!
“Please tell me the story doesn’t end that way,” Wylder said to Uncle Vim. “With the two of them together?”
“Come on, come on!” Addy was at his side. “Get the comic. Ready, Uncle Vim? To the gator pool!”
Maybe there was something to be said for bossiness, Wylder decided. Bossiness got things done.
And then …
POP! POP! POP!
Nevins! Lighting firecrackers and tossing them!
POP! One landed in a lady’s floppy hat. She did a squirming dance, hitting herself on the head.
Another went into the open mouth of one of Lickpenny’s robots.
BRAHHWP! It sounded like a gigantic belch.
The next firecracker bounced off the ceiling and right into Wylder’s back pocket.
The pocket with the comic book …