“Come on,” Becca whispered to a shaking Rufus. He was trembling so hard, the table that hid them shook, too.
It seemed there was a new (and only) food he didn’t like: tomatoes.
“New plan!” Sam said, running back to the table as Becca helped Romeo and Rufus out from under it. “Mercutio’s jumping around like a baboon on five espressos. I can’t catch him, let alone talk to him. Oh, and when I say new plan, I mean that we need one, not that I have one.”
“Not to worry!” Becca said. “I have one, and her name is Juliet.”
Sam turned to look at the war queen Juliet had become.
“Really?” he said. “Is your plan to wait until she knocks down a wall so we can run through it?”
“No,” Becca said. “My plan is that you can convince her to help us get away, and in the process, you can say something about how great Romeo is. Then we can start them talking!”
“Hey, Becca-breath! That’s not bad, especially from a fifth grader like you,” Sam said. “But what will we do with Romeo? I think we need to talk to her before she meets him.”
Juliet’s Instead-Stix whip cracked over the party.
“I’m okay hiding under the table until it’s safe,” Romeo said, and flung himself back under the buffet table.
“That settles that,” Becca said. “Let’s go!”
Sam led the way, hiding behind tables, statues, pillars, and decorations to get to Juliet near the main staircase. She was taking a short tomato juice break.
“Hey, Juliet?” Sam said.
Juliet whipped around, her eyes narrowed and her Instead-Stix raised. Her moon dress was shredded in places, and one sleeve was hanging by a single thread. Half her crescent-moon mask had been torn off, and the other half was barely on her face. But when she saw it was Sam, her face melted into a goopy grin. “Hellooooo,” she cooed.
“Uh, hi,” Sam said. “Great party, we’re really enjoying it.”
Juliet pouted. “It would have been better without those Montague fiends.”
“Maybe,” Sam said. “But I heard that Romeo came here to try to stop Mercutio.”
Juliet’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Becca joined in. “And now we really need to get out of here. Right, Sam?”
“Sam,” Juliet said, smiling at him. “What a lovely name.”
She picked up one of her Instead-Stix from the floor. “I’m afraid I’m not ready to leave just yet. I refuse to let this ambush ruin my party. It’ll ruin my family’s reputation!”
“Reputation?” Becca said. “What does reputation matter if—”
“What Becca means, er, sweet potato peel,” Sam interrupted, “is that I got into a little argument with Tybalt. I don’t think he likes your, um, Sammy Cakes much. In fact, he pretty much promised to shish-kebab me if he ever saw me again. So I really need your help.”
Becca clutched her stomach. Throwing up now wouldn’t help anything, even if Juliet was fluttering her eyelashes like a nervous butterfly.
“Samikins, don’t you worry about a thing!” She grabbed his hand and began to pull him after her. “Just follow me.”
For a girl in a ball gown, she was surprisingly fast. Becca thought that if she went to Greenfield Elementary School, she’d have no trouble getting on the track team—or any other sports team, by the easy way she dragged Sam after her.
As they ran up one of the broad marble staircases, Becca glanced back. Tybalt was slicing and dicing tomatoes with gusto. They were going to make it!
But at that moment, a red lollipop, probably tomato flavored, whizzed by Rufus’s nose.
WOOF! WOOF!
Tybalt looked their way.
“Go!” Becca yelled. “He spotted us!”
Juliet took them through another doorway and up a smaller staircase, but Becca could hear Tybalt’s footsteps echoing behind them, each one louder than the last.
Juliet flung open a big wooden door. As soon as they were all inside, she slammed it behind them, just missing Becca’s tail feathers. The lock clicked shut.
Everything in the room was soft, bright reds, pinks, and purples. There were so many throw pillows and little blankets, it was hard to tell that the chairs and desks in the room weren’t all tiny beds.
“Is this your room?” Becca asked, trying to picture the warrior girl she’d witnessed downstairs in this flouncy space.
“It is,” Juliet said. “Nurse chose the decorations. She thought it’d make me more proper.”
KNOCK KNOCK!
“OPEN UP!” Tybalt shouted. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE!”
“Just a moment, cousin,” Juliet called. Silently, she pointed to a pair of glass doors across the room. Becca and Sam darted through them and onto a balcony. There was just enough space for them to huddle in the corner without being seen from the room. And as long as Rufus was quiet, they would be fine.
Becca looked at her panting dog and wished she’d thought to bring Floppy Bear, Rufus’s favorite toy. Then again, it wasn’t like they had had time to do any planning before this trip.
She heard the door open, and a moment later a tidal wave of clashing flowers, mosses, and unidentifiable scents assaulted her nostrils. Quickly she covered Rufus’s schnoz. It wasn’t fair for him to have to deal with Tybalt’s cologne again. After all, he wasn’t the one who’d read the book!
“What’s up?” they heard Juliet ask.
“I thought I saw those scentless scumbags enter your room,” Tybalt snarled.
“Are you sure your cologne is safe to wear, Tybalt? It might be making you see things.”
“I saw what I saw. There are Montagues in this room!” A strange swishing sound followed his words, and Becca couldn’t quite place what it was.
Remember my comment about sharp, pointy swords?
Becca wished she didn’t know what it was. Sam’s fists clenched at his sides to stop his arms from shaking.
Juliet snorted. “I would never be friends with a Montague. I’ve never even spoken to one before!”
There was a huge pause. “Well, maybe they aren’t Montagues, but they work for them—and that’s almost as bad.”
“I saw some suspicious-looking people,” Juliet said. “But they ran off toward the East Wing, I think.”
“Bunch of unperfumed, sparrow-brained, crumbly-castled cheese thieves!” Tybalt fumed.
“Put on some more cologne,” Juliet suggested. “That always calms you down.”
“It doesn’t anymore,” Tybalt said. “A key ingredient in my signature scent was the delicate smell of fresh-baked pizza dough. But since the Montagues stole our dough recipe, I’ve had nothing to work with but flowers and tomato juice.” He sighed. “The current cologne just isn’t the same. See?”
There was a soft spritzing sound, and suddenly the fumes increased tenfold. Rufus let out a small whine.
“What was that?” Tybalt asked.
Becca quickly scratched Rufus behind the ears. Immediately the dog relaxed, leaning into her hand, his eyes closed in bliss.
“Just a bird,” Juliet said. “The nightingale, probably.”
“Maybe we should have a look,” Tybalt replied.
The footsteps started again.
Becca and Sam looked at each other, eyes wide. There was nowhere to go but over the edge!
Ahem! If only Becca and Sam had seen countless action movies in which the heroes boldly dangle from a ledge for dear life when it seems all hope is lost …
Becca and Sam looked at each other and made a silent decision. Then, Sam grabbed Rufus, and all three of them swung over the stone railing.
Becca grasped Sam’s ankle. It wasn’t a long, long way, but if she fell, she’d still get some pretty nasty bruises. Trying to remember Kyle’s illustration of Mal and Cal Worthy hanging off an ice cliff, Becca braced her legs on the wall to help support her weight, and Sam adjusted his grip on Rufus.
“Shouldn’t you be off looking for the intruders?” Juliet said loudly from inside the room.
“I am,” Tybalt said.
The perfume got more intense as Tybalt’s party boots clicked on the tiled balcony.
“He’s on the balcony!” Sam hissed. His head was barely below balcony level, and he had to duck to keep it out of sight.
“Get down and don’t move!” Becca whisper-called back. “If we’re still, he might not notice us.”
She was sure the pounding of her heart would give them away. Her grip weakened. Sweat rolled down her forehead. But worst of all, Rufus’s nose began to twitch.…
“I guess it was a bird,” Tybalt finally said. The click-clacks retreated into the room, and then they heard the door slam shut.
“That was close,” Sam said. “Let’s get off of here before Ruf—”
ACH-WOOF!!!!!!
The shock of Rufus’s sneeze propelled Sam right off the wall, and as he fell, his whirling arms took Becca with him.
So it wasn’t pointy swords that would be the end of the story—just good old-fashioned gravity.