Becca lay on her back in the middle of a pile of straw, gasping for breath. She felt like she had been put in a tumble dryer and then pushed down a hill—a hill that happened to be the home of twenty scarecrows.
“Ppphuf!” she cried, spitting hay out of her mouth. “Ppphuf! Pphuf! Pphurf! Blech!”
The blech was in response to Rufus’s long pink tongue slurping across her face. He seemed thrilled that Becca was finally carrying sticks in her mouth.
She must have fallen asleep standing up and then toppled into the packing straw from the crate. That was the only explanation.
Next to her, Sam groaned.
Becca had to admit it was a little weird that he’d fallen asleep at the same time, too.
Carefully she sat up and took a look around. She leaped to her feet.
The room was gone.
Kyle’s house was gone.
The whole neighborhood was gone.
In its place was a town square of old brick and cobblestones that looked like it belonged thousands of miles and at least five centuries away. Women in poufy dresses and men in tights walked in and out of stalls with signs that said things like FINEST BLACKSMYTHE, GIORGIO’S SHOE COTTAGE, and SALE! YE OLDE NEWE TOMATOES, BUY’ST ONE, GET’ST ONE FREE!
The straw she’d fallen into was part of a hay display according to the sign next to her, which read, FRESH HAY? YAY OR NAY? SURVEY OUR HAY DISPLAY ALL DAY!
“What happened?!” Becca asked as Sam sat up. His jaw dropped open as quickly as if someone had tied a bowling ball to it.
“Uh,” he said, “uh, uh…”
“This better not be another one of your pranks!” Becca warned. “Because I really don’t have time for it! The library closes at five on Tuesdays!”
Sam shook his head. “It’s not! I promise!”
And he looked so worried, Becca actually believed him.
Sam reached for Rufus’s collar, and Becca started to chew her thumbnail again. The last thing she remembered was the book coming toward her, its covers snapping like the jaws of a crocodile. But a book couldn’t actually have eaten them … right?
Becca felt someone bump into her shoulder.
“You!” someone snarled. “Do you bite your thumb at me?”
Turning, she came face-to-face with a man dressed all in red except for a white lace ruff around his neck that made it look as if his head were being served on a plate.
Becca quickly removed her thumb. “Uh, no. I’m just biting my nails. I’ve been trying to break the habit.”
The man frowned. “That sounds just like something a Montague would say!”
“A what-a-gyoo?” she asked.
The next second, the man reached to his side and withdrew a long saber. “Stand and draw, villain! En garde!”
Suddenly Becca was looking at the wrong end of a very angry steel blade.
Around them, the noise of the market dropped away as everyone turned to watch.
“Hey!” Sam said. “What are you doing?”
Woof! Woof! Rufus barked.
Before the man could reply, a new voice shouted, “Do you quarrel, sir?”
Too scared to move her head, Becca jammed her eyeballs to the side, trying to see the new speaker. A man in a blue shirt walked up to them—he also had his saber out.
“Do you quarrel?” Red Shirt asked.
“No, I asked first,” Blue Shirt responded, “so you have to answer first!”
“No, you do!”
“Excuse me,” Becca said, keeping an eye on both their sabers. “I don’t think any of you are a squirrel.”
Both men looked at her in surprise.
“I didn’t ask if he was a squirrel,” Blue said. “I asked if this Capulet was quarreling!”
“Quarreling means arguing,” Sam whispered loudly to Becca as he took a step back from the saber points. “And they were definitely arguing.”
“See?” Blue looked triumphantly at Red. “You were quarreling—and now you’ll pay for it!”
It was as if his words were a light switch.
One moment, the entire market was still, everyone going about their business, and the next, everyone in the town square drew out their weapons.
Before anyone got another word out, the whole town erupted into a colossal brawl, blue versus red, and in moments the shouts and clashing metal had Becca’s ears ringing.
Becca looked at Sam.
Sam looked at Becca.
And for the first time in their lives, they agreed on something:
“RUN!”