Chapter Fifty-Seven

The Puffin’s Plan

Outside the slit of a window, the sky turned gray, then black. The Moon rose huge and bright. Tomorrow she’d be full. She was pulling me like she pulled the tides.

I was still awake, sunk in despair, when dawn broke. There was a flutter of wings. I sat up as the puffin landed on the sill.

“You find—?” I gulped, unable to say the rest.

The puffin nodded. “Find. Fly far, far, far.” She tucked her head to her shoulder, shy and proud. “Big Moon, selkies here.”

The full Moon—that was tonight! Energy surged through me. My clan was coming! They were coming back for me!

The puffin tossed her beak to the west. “You go, cliff-foot, there.”

I pointed to the door. In the simplest words I could find, I told the puffin about the twisting halls, and how the people kept bringing me back, and I’d need time to find the stairs.

We talked and talked. The sun was rising. Footsteps passed outside the door. They’d be bringing in the breakfast tray soon and we still didn’t have a plan. If only I could just walk out the door!

My shoulders slumped. “They chase me,” I said again.

But this time the puffin lifted her head, an idea sparking in her eyes. “No,” she said. “They chase me.”

She told me what she was going to do. I didn’t want her to take such a risk. But she smoothed her feathers with her beak, gathering herself, and then she flapped away.

It felt like a lifetime until she landed back on the sill.

“Me find,” she said. “Big hole. Good big. Now?”

But in the daytime, the halls were full of people. To have any chance, we’d need to wait until dark.

“No. Night,” I said. I prayed no one would come to take me away before then.

The door began to open and the puffin flew off, bravely carrying all my hopes with her.

Now everything depended on timing. There was a whole day to get through. I startled whenever footsteps passed the door. The lower the sun sank in the sky, the tighter my chest grew.

They brought dinner. I forced myself to take a bite and pushed the rest around on the plate. The sun went down. The sky turned deep blue, then black. The stars came out.

I’d already crawled under the covers, eyes shut tight, when two men came in to fix the sheets and tubes. They left, shutting the door behind them.

A moment later there was a rustling at my window. “Now?” asked the puffin.

I sat up. “No. Wait.”

We waited until the bustle in the halls quieted and the footsteps stopped. I carefully tugged off the tape and pulled the tube from my arm. Then I crept to the door and opened it a crack, peering out. The hall was empty.

I turned to the puffin. “Now!”

She flew off. I heard her grunt; she must be squeezing through the bigger window she’d found. I watched, my heart pounding, as she came strutting down the hall. I poked my head out the door and waved to show her which room was mine.

The puffin stopped and nodded. She took a few running steps, flapped her wings—and then she was flying! She buzzed up and down the hall, squawking and grunting so loudly, her cries rang off the walls.

A woman poked her head around the corner. Her eyes widened in surprise. “A puffin!” she exclaimed.

The puffin flapped down to a counter and pretended to preen. The woman came sneaking up—and the puffin flew off in a wild zigzag. She careened onto tables, scattering papers and boxes and pens across the floor.

“Help me!” called the woman, laughing. Other people came running and then they stopped, pointing in amazement.

The puffin landed on a cart. A man grabbed a sheet and crept over. The puffin waited until he was close—so close!—and then she took off again. She flew right by my door, glancing at me with what I could have sworn was a smile. Then she turned and went zooming back over their heads and down the hall. A ribbon of people ran after her, arms outstretched, laughing and calling.

The hall was empty.

I stepped out quietly and closed the door behind me. Then I ran in the opposite direction, searching for the stairs.

Halls branched off halls, like colonies of coral, and every hall was lined with doors, but none of them looked right. I turned corner after corner. The sounds of the puffin’s call and running feet faded, and then they began to grow louder again. “Catch it!” they were crying, and the puffin was squawking in birdtalk, “Aran! Go! Fast!”—and then there was the door with the little window, and I ripped it open and there were the stairs.

I ran down two steps at a time. At the bottom was another door. I cracked it open—

“Welcome!” boomed a deep voice. “We weren’t expecting you yet.”

I almost leaped out of my skin.

The voice kept booming, “Yes, yes, come in, Dr. Donahoe. And you must be Penelope.” I shrank back against the wall. Footsteps, and then, “Normally we’d wait until morning, but in this situation we can make an exception. The elevator is this way.”

I held my breath. I heard a door open and close.

I flung the door open and flew across the spare, echoing room. Bam! My outstretched hands struck the metal bar and the glass door flew open into the night. Fresh air hit my face and my feet were pounding down a walkway, and then down the middle of a road.

Buildings crammed tight on both sides, their windows dark. Another road crossed the first and I skidded to a stop, looking for the puffin.

She wasn’t there.

She was supposed to come show me the way! I whirled around. She was flying out from behind the building, flapping with all her might. But as I watched, she slowed, fluttering. Did she hear something?

“Come!” I called in birdtalk, as loudly as I dared.

She turned and flew back in the other direction, disappearing around the corner.

Light was blazing from the windows. People were running into the big room and toward the glass doors. I couldn’t wait any longer. I’d have to find my own way to the cliff.