Part Two

Chapter Eight

Sam

“How did you get in there, Sam?” Mason asked. The Little Free Library door muffled her voice, but Sam could still hear her confusion and frustration. “And WHY?”

Water speckled the outside of the plexiglass, and a few drips streaked the inside. The muggy scent of damp books and unfinished wood made Sam sniffle. He had no answers for Mason.

He pushed the door open with his foot as gently as he could. But his chest and face contorted as a sneeze jolted him, and he kicked. The hinge he’d pushed so carefully back into place the day before gave way. The wood-and-plexiglass door clattered onto the tulips.

“Are you okay?” Now Mason sounded concerned. Nearby, a Weedwhacker roared.

Last fall, Mason would have held out a hand as she asked the question. Then she might have helped free Sam, shaking her head and laughing at his predicament. They would have made it into a big prank to play on others later. Sam might have even told her about the goblins.

But today, Mason didn’t bend to pick up the door from the tulips or offer Sam a hand.

Sam began squirming his way out of the library without her help, relaxing his shoulder where it was wedged by his ear, then wriggling forward.

“I was doing a structural check,” he explained. Anita used phrases like that a lot. “Making sure it’s stable.” He unbent his elbows and knees, then squeezed himself from the library. When his feet were firmly on the ground, he replaced the books that had fallen out with him and picked up the library door.

Mason watched Sam brush tulip pollen off the hinges. “That structure looks even less stable than before. And yesterday, you said you were checking usage patterns.” She scuffed the ground with her shoe. “Something’s weird.”

Couldn’t agree with you more, Mason. “It’s complicated. Why are you spying on me?” Sam didn’t want to give her any reasons to complain to her dad or anyone else.

“I’m not!” Mason growled. “I’m taking care of the Little Free Library. And I was worried about you. Remember our summer assignment?” Mason’s voice pitched higher with the question. “We’re partners? Which I thought might be okay eventually, but if you keep breaking the library, we’re probably going to fail.”

Sam had nearly forgotten their summer project. He pressed the library’s door back into place again. The screws held, mostly, but he’d need nails and wood glue from his stepmom’s toolbox to really fix the hinges.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m not breaking it. I’m making sure it doesn’t fall down. I’d say that’s a major part of taking care of the library.”

Mason watched Sam doubtfully as he swung the purple door with its gingerbread trim open and shut.

“See? Fixed.” He turned to look at her, hoping she believed him.

From her expression, it was clear she didn’t. He looked away—down to the pile of books in her arms. Sam saw Easy Algebra on one spine. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Sal and Gabi Break the Universe. And a Star Wars book. The whole pile was topped with green and yellow three-by-five cards. She’d lettered her recommendations neatly in silver pen and outlined the titles with star stickers.

He was glad she was holding up her part of the assignment, but he wished she’d do it far away from the goblin portal. He made a face without thinking. “A math book?”

Mason shifted her gaze to the books in her arms, frowning. “I brought these because I liked them. I thought someone else would too.” She didn’t look at him when she asked, “Sam, are you feeling okay? You seem—I don’t know, maybe . . . smaller.”

The Weedwhacker started up again and Sam jumped. She was asking too many questions. He had to distract her, at least until he uncompressed from the pookah magic. But he wasn’t about to tell her about the world on the other side of the library.

The best way to proceed, Sam decided, was to make Mason mad again. “You might like math books, but who else will?”

Even though this was for a good cause—getting the rest of his words back—Sam felt terrible when Mason’s expression knotted up. “Hey, Mason, I’m _______” Ugghhhhh. He still couldn’t say it.

This made her even madder. “You’re what, Sam? You’re wrecking our summer project and the library. Mrs. Lockheart’s going to be furious. Ms. Malloy too. And no half-hearted apology is going to fix it.”

Sam remembered what Mason had said months ago. You always say ____, but you don’t mean it. He had been using apology words pretty recklessly, especially with his friend. And now one wasn’t there when he really needed it.

“I’m not—it’s not me—Mason, wait—I’m _____.”

But she didn’t wait. She stomped down the sidewalk toward her house, with most of her books still in her arms. Sam sat down in the grass next to the tulips, a lump in his throat, and stared up at the oak tree.

The big, cement-filled knot on the tree trunk stared back. It held no answers. Had the marshbogs and Tolver and the magic compass really happened? Sam stared at the purple library, then at the oak tree, trying to convince himself that he’d imagined it. If he had, he wouldn’t have to get the dictionary pages for Tolver.

But his arms ached from being pulled through the library, and he still held Bella’s word ribbon. His pants were muddy, and he had a corner of the paper cover from The Vanderbeekers stuck to his shirt. And he was still a little smaller than usual, having just ridden a pookah through a Little Free Library, where he normally wouldn’t fit at all.

How long had he been gone? The sun sparkled morning light through the leaves of the big oak. Mason had been dressed for baseball practice. It was definitely the weekend from the sound of the Weedwhackers. The hours Sam had spent in the marshbogs seemed to have gotten compressed just like he had.

But it had to have happened.

Mason was a long way down the sidewalk now, her brown legs moving fast, her curly hair swinging furiously in its ponytail. She slowed only when the door to her house opened and her dad came out, followed by Coach Lockheart. The two carried a large, gray canvas bag between them marked MT. CLOUD ATHLETICS. There were so many bats, balls, and gloves inside the bag that it took two people to carry it.

Mason gave her dad a hug, spoke for a moment, then went inside. Dr. McGargee waved at Sam.

Had she told him how mean I’d been to her? Or that I was acting weird? Sam really hoped not. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to get out of trouble, though he did. It was that he wished he hadn’t said all those things.

Dr. McGargee wore a blue-and-white Mount Cloud team shirt. As he and Coach Lockheart got closer to where he was sitting, Sam could hear them talking, even over the sound of his heart, which was pounding pretty hard.

“Catcher, definitely,” Coach Lockheart said. Followed by a name Sam couldn’t hear.

Dr. McGargee asked, “What about infield?” They were discussing player assignments, not Sam’s behavior. Mason was hoping to play catcher this year. Maybe Mason had asked what she’d be playing.

Sam got to his feet, picking purple paint chips from his shirt. He tried to position himself in front of the Little Free Library in a way that kept Coach Lockheart from seeing the loose, badly repaired door.

For a moment, being in trouble and not allowed to play baseball at the start of summer felt like the most unfair thing in the world to Sam. But then he remembered what Tolver had told him about the prospectors and about them forcing boglins and city goblins to work on their ships. Some things were much more unfair than others.

He’d take his punishment and do what was needed to fix things. Even if that meant helping Tolver with his goblin shopping list. Then he’d have his words back and his parents would let him play.

“Hello, Sam,” Mrs. Lockheart strolled past, eyeing her tulips. Sam jumped. He’d been so focused on his coaches, who were still far down the sidewalk. “What are you up to?” She was carrying a pitcher of iced tea.

“Ms. Malloy asked the class to take care of Mount Cloud’s Little Free Libraries this summer and make sure they’re well stocked,” Sam replied.

She squinted at him, glanced at her tulips, which he was not stepping on, and then smiled. “What a good idea! I’ll admit, I was worried you were bothering my flowers again, Sam. Someone certainly is. But helping care for the community is exactly what neighbors should be doing. Now, I’m going to bring Ms. Malloy this tea because she said she wasn’t feeling well. It’s been so hot.”

Sam worried. Ms. Malloy had seemed very upset yesterday. He really wanted to talk to her too. But he couldn’t, not with Mrs. Lockheart right there. So Sam nodded hearty agreement. “That’s really nice, Mrs. Lockheart.” Then he eased the door open and began rearranging the books. He added the one Mason had left on the sidewalk, Easy Algebra, while watching Mrs. Lockheart out of the corner of his eye. Mrs. Lockheart carried the iced tea up to Ms. Malloy’s front door, then disappeared inside.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief once she was gone.

“Coming to practice, Sam?” Dr. McGargee said, right behind him. Sam turned and the library door nearly fell off again. “My parents say I can’t, not until I _______. Fix some things.” Mason hadn’t told them anything.

Coach Lockheart frowned. “We have our first game tomorrow, Sam.”

Boy, do I ever know that, Sam thought. The game was against Blue Lake, and afterward, there would be a picnic to kick off the season. His stomach growled just thinking about barbecue and burgers. Sam kicked at the dirt nervously, still avoiding the tulips. Why hadn’t Nana and Tolver just left him and his words alone? But then Sam wouldn’t know about the whole world inside the Little Free Library. And he wouldn’t be able to help return Ms. Malloy’s words or stop the goblins from stealing more. And he couldn’t have gotten Bella’s word back, either.

No, Sam was right where he needed to be. He straightened up. “Once I do fix things, I’m looking forward to playing,” he finally told his coaches.

Dr. McGargee smiled. “That’s the right attitude! How about you come help pick up practice bats and retrieve balls when you can? We’d hate to lose you.”

“If you help out at practice today, you can come to the picnic tomorrow.” Coach Lockheart grinned. “Maybe we can convince your parents it’s community service. You were a big help getting the cotton candy machine working last year.” His eyes twinkled. He knew Sam’s parents well.

Helping out at the field was the perfect opportunity to get most of the items on Tolver’s list: the dictionary pages. The school had dictionaries. And it was right next to the baseball field.

All of Sam’s problems were about to be solved. “Thanks, Coach! I’ll ask my parents.” He might have said that a little too brightly. Coach Lockheart raised his eyebrows. “After I finish taking care of the library,” he added.

“Good job, Sam. Mason’s excited about the summer project too,” Dr. McGargee said.

“And we’re grateful to have the help.” Coach Lockheart patted Sam on the shoulder. “The library’s important for the neighborhood. And lately, someone’s been coming through at night and knocking it around.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it for you, Coach,” Sam said, still gripping the plexiglass-and-wood door tightly.

As soon as his coaches had crossed the street, Sam let out a huge sigh of relief and closed the Little Free Library door. It wobbled on its hinges. Good thing Mrs. Lockheart was still at Ms. Malloy’s.

What he wouldn’t give for a tool belt like Tolver’s. Or even some tape. Sam pressed harder. Finally the hinges bit, and the door looked steadier for now. Then he ran across the street to his house, shouting, “Bella!”

Sam couldn’t wait to give Bella her word back.

As he climbed the stairs to the porch, Sam recited Tolver’s list in his head: dictionary pages and the pig.

Oh no. The pig.

Sam slammed through the porch door, sped past Bella—who was at the breakfast nook drawing fat horses in pink and yellow crayon—and hit the stairs two at a time.

It seemed like there were a lot of stairs this morning. Finally Sam got to the top and pushed his door open. Or, at least, he tried to push his door open.

The door oinked at him.

“Tham.” Bella stood right behind him, holding out the horse drawing. “I drew you this.” Sam could see very well now that those weren’t horses at all. They were pigs.

“Hi, Bell, what a great picture! Where’d you learn how to draw these?” He forced himself to wait to give her word back until he’d dealt with the pig.

His door wouldn’t open, and the more he pushed, the more high-pitched squealing came from the other side. Sam’s sister tilted her head at his door and then down at her shoes.

“I peeked. It’s so cute. What’s its name?”

By now, Sam was pretty sure the regular-size pookah behind his door wasn’t as cute as it used to be. He groaned. “Bellaaaaa.”

“Sam? Everything all right?” His stepmom called from the other bedroom.

Bella’s lower lip wobbled, so Sam waved her closer. “Shhhh, Bell, please.”

“Can I pet it?”

“Bella, it’s . . . for school. I’m watching it for Ms. Malloy. It can’t get too excited or bothered. And it has to calm down so I can go to baseball practice this afternoon. Coach asked me special. Can you help me?”

Slowly, Bella nodded. “Did you catch the fairies?”

“Yeah. But they’re—”

Her face lit up. “I knew you would.”

Sam was about to give Bella the ribbon when his stepmom called him again. “Sam?”

“Just finishing a project! Once we’re done, can I—” Sam tried to figure out the best way to ask his stepmom if he could go to the baseball practice. His door rattled once in its frame and then stilled. He panicked. What was he going to say?

Then Bella’s voice carried over the soft snuffling of the pig trying to get its snout under the door. “Tham wants to go watch the practice today, Mom. Dr. McGargee asked him to help. I want to go too.”

Sam’s dad came to the foot of the stairs. “But what about Ms. Malloy? Did you deliver the cards?”

Sam leaned against his bedroom door. “Not yet. I’ve been out working on the Little Free Library. But I’ll do that on my way to the field.”

Bella nodded. “I’ll help.”

Sam and Bella stared down the stairs, and his stepmom squeezed his dad’s hand.

“All right. But just help. No playing,” Mr. Culver said.

“And you’ll keep an eye on Bella,” Anita added.

Bella looked up at Sam expectantly. “I bet they want to have a lunch date,” she giggled.

Anita laughed. “That’s not a bad idea!”

Sam didn’t mind helping watch Bella. Especially if it got him to the baseball field and distracted everyone away from his bedroom door and the white pig right behind it.

They would go to the field, find the things on Tolver’s list, and then he’d drop everything off at the Little Free Library tonight. The pookah would go back to the marshbogs, and he’d have his words back. And maybe Ms. Malloy’s words too. Then he wouldn’t have to go back to school on Monday. He could play baseball for the rest of the summer. “Sounds like a perfect plan!” Sam said as cheerfully as possible.

“While you’re there, check if the McGargees are planning on coming to the picnic tomorrow,” his stepmom said. “Mason’s grandmother passed away, Sam. You’ll want to tell her you’re sorry about that also. I already sent flowers.”

For one really sharp breath, Sam wished he’d heard her say that two days ago. But he couldn’t get upset now. “I heard. I’ll tell her as soon as I can.”

“Please don’t tease Mason today, all right?” Anita said. “They have enough going on.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Sam put the No Trespassing sign on his door, hoping it would keep people out. “Hey, Bella,” he whispered. “Do I look smaller to you?”

She tilted her head, swaying back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Nope! You look the same as always.”

That was a relief. Better still, the pookah in his room seemed to be quieting down. “Put some shoes on and we can go, okay?”

Sam grabbed a tote bag with the logo of his dad’s company from the downstairs closet. The same closet he and Bella had checked for passages to Narnia last year. They’d never thought to check the Little Free Library.

How Bella would love the world he’d found. But Sam didn’t want her trying to go through the library, so he couldn’t tell her everything. Just a little bit about the pookah and the trade he’d made. Sam needed to be super careful.

When he came back into the kitchen, he grabbed three reusable water bottles, filled them from the fridge, and put those in the bag. Bella was taking forever to find shoes. Sam’s stepmother was humming as she made cheesy meatball subs for his dad. She didn’t cook a lot because she worked so much, but when she did, the whole house smelled delicious.

Jealous that he wouldn’t get a submarine sandwich, Sam took a deep, flavor-filled breath. His stepmom grinned.

“Food is a great way to tell people you care about them, right?” She held out a piece of cheese to Sam. “Letters are too. I’m glad you’re taking the ones you made to Ms. Malloy and to Mason today. May I see them?”

He’d nearly forgotten about the cards! Sam reached in the pocket of his shorts and pulled them out. His stepmom’s smile faded as she saw the crumpled papers in his hands. They were blank.

The carefully cut words Bella had helped Sam with were gone.

What had happened?

“Oh, not again.” The boglins! They must have stolen the words, even as Sam was helping them. Ms. Malloy was right; they couldn’t be trusted.

Goblins. Why couldn’t the library have been a portal to a baseball game?

“Sam, really. You said you’d done it.” His stepmom was frowning now. “This isn’t some big joke. You have to fix this.”

“I will. I promise.”

“When?” His stepmom’s frown deepened. “We’ll give you a week until the Mets game at the stadium. That’s it. And I’m not sure we should let you go to the practice this afternoon or tomorrow’s game, either.”

“Please—” At least he could still say please. “I’ll have everything fixed soon. Before the game, for sure.” He could sort things out fast. Sam knew he could.

But his stepmom didn’t look so sure.

Bella bounced back into the kitchen. She was wearing one of Sam’s old Sesame Street shirts. She handed him two ponytail holders. “Will you fix my hair?”

Sam grumbled. Bella doesn’t understand hurrying at all. Trying to be gentle, Sam pulled her curly hair back into two pigtails, the way she liked.

His stepmom’s expression softened while he did it, and she nodded when he’d finished. “That’s a wonderful big brother you’ve got, Isabella.”

“I know.” Bella grinned. She took Sam’s hand. “Come on Tham, let’s go.”

He opened the door for both of them, and as she scooted through, he whispered, “I did it, Bella. I got your word back.”

Once they were in the yard, she skidded to a stop and held out her other hand expectantly.

He gave her the glittering word. It whispered softly as Bella held the ribbon up to the light. Sparkles from the fabric caught the sun and threw patterns across her cheeks. She squinted at it. “What do I do now?”

Tolver had given Sam only a few instructions. “Eat it fast, so you can’t lose it.”

A teenager biked past them, ringing a bell. Bella twisted back and forth on her tiptoes. “Tham?” She said after a moment of quiet. “I heard what mom said about you being out of chances. Maybe you should have it instead. You need it.” She held the ribbon out to him.

Sam stopped walking. He watched light sparkle in the word ribbon. It really was magic. But he shook his head. “It’s your word, Bella. Go on.”

She played with it as they neared the Little Free Library, then pointed. “Sam! Look!” The box looked as if a small storm had hit it. The door hung off its hinges, worse than before, and books were toppled everywhere. Gingerbread trim ringed the post and littered what remained of the tulips.

“I just fixed this! What had happened in the past half hour?” Sam touched the door. Did Tolver follow me through? Wasn’t it enough that he’d stolen the words right off the cards? Why did he have to follow me back for more?

He looked everywhere—in the oak tree, beneath the hedge— for the boglins, but there weren’t any to find. “This is bad. So bad,” he whispered. “I’m in so much trouble.”

Bella waited quietly while Sam straightened the books again. This time the door wouldn’t stay on at all. He rested his head against the Little Free Library in frustration.

“This will help,” his little sister said, very seriously. She held the ribbon out once more, like a promise.

That word, Sam knew, might fix things with Mason and at school too, probably. But not for Bella, or with the boglins. And if Sam couldn’t fix things with the boglins, he’d never get his own words back. Any of them. He wouldn’t be able to convince the creatures to stop stealing from his friends and teachers, or from Bella, again.

And, even more important, this word wasn’t his. It belonged to his sister.

“No, Bella. You need it.”

“Okay.” She popped the ribbon in her mouth like he’d told her. “It’s sweet.” She laughed. The ribbon sat on her tongue, like gum.

“Bella, chew it.”

She nodded and chewed very seriously, then opened her mouth again. Gone. “Thorr— Look! I can say it! Thorry!” She began to skip. “Thorry, thorry, tho—”

Sam stopped her right there on the street, in front of Mrs. Lockheart’s perfectly manicured hedge and the wrecked Little Free Library. “Just be careful, okay? Only say it when you really need to. That way it won’t get stolen again.”

“Can they do that?” She looked worried.

“I’ll make sure they don’t,” Sam said.

“Okay.” She hugged him tight, and for a moment, Sam felt like everything was right in the world.

Then there was a squawk from Ms. Malloy’s front porch, like an outraged bird. Mrs. Lockheart had caught sight of the library—or what was left of it.