Chapter Twenty – Two

Sam

“What we wanted to do with the scoreboards was give people a way to see the Mount Cloud teamwork on display. I’m happy to announce that, instead of the parents’ association or the school board paying for it, my agency will be picking up the tab.”

Sam sat up. He didn’t know that was the plan. It sounded like a good idea.

About half the room clapped when Mr. Culver finished. Then he cleared his throat and said, “I had intended to speak about neighborhood beautification, but my partners and I feel it best to wait. Suffice it to say that a bit of confusion here is my own fault, and we would appreciate time to make it right.”

The other half of the adults in the room grumbled. Coach Lockheart stood. “I’d like a chance to speak.”

“This doesn’t sound good,” Mason whispered from behind Sam.

Sam thought of the cookout and the arguments.

“Maybe,” Sam whispered back. “Give my dad a chance. He’s really good with words.”

But Mr. Lockheart got up on stage, staring straight at Sam’s dad. “And, I’d like an apology from you, on behalf of your firm.”

Sam leaned forward as his dad turned pale.

In the wings, the prospectors’ machine powered up with a sound like a leaf blower. The static from it raised the hair on Sam’s arms. He got up from his seat and climbed to the stage too, coming to stop near the boxes of papers.

“It’s okay, Dad,” he said. “I can help too.”

“Sam,” Coach Lockheart said. “You can’t be up here. We have video of you on my security camera. You and your friends destroyed my library. You are a danger to Mount Cloud.”

Sam stared at his shoes. Coach wasn’t wrong—he just didn’t know what kind of danger.

Then Sam raised his chin. The whole neighborhood watched him from the auditorium seats. There was Mrs. Lockheart looking like she’d just sucked on a lemon. There was Gina, rolling her eyes at Sam and trying to whisper to Mason.

But then there was Mason shushing Gina. She gave Sam a giant thumbs-up.

Deep breath, Sam. You can do this.

“Coach, my dad was just trying to help. He’s not to blame for the misprinted flyers or what happened to your library.” Sam untied the word ribbon from around his wrist and held it tight.

“You shouldn’t feel pushed to replace your library with something more standard,” Sam’s dad said. “It’s an asset to the town.”

Coach Lockheart nodded. “I still want an apology. From both of you.”

The hum from the prospectors’ machine grew even louder. Sam could hear Julius whispering near the stage and the captains hushing him. It dawned on Sam that it wasn’t entirely the pull of old essays attracting the goblins. It was that they hoped Sam and his dad would waste more words to escape the neighborhood’s anger, but without being sincere.

Well, if that’s what they want, Sam thought, I’ll give it to them. The word ribbon whispered as he put it in his mouth and chewed once. It tasted sawdusty.

Then he stepped forward. “It’s important for me to say right now how much I’m . . .” and he dropped his voice to a whisper. The goblin smell became overwhelming as prospectors drew closer. They were almost standing on the trapdoor.

“What did you say, Sam? Speak up!” Dr. Vane said.

Sam thought of baseball players striking out, of puppies and chocolate. His eyes actually got teary; he was trying so hard to be insincere. And that was the hardest part, because Sam really did feel bad. But feeling bad would destroy the trap. He had to fake this better than he’d ever done before.

The sound of the machine grew louder. Sam felt a gust of foul-smelling air on his cheek, like one of the goblin captains was breathing down his neck.

“With all my heart—” Sam said, ending in a whisper again. The prospectors’ machine was right by his ear now, and he felt the trap under the stage creak. He stepped away from the platform. Tolver gave him a thumbs-up from just offstage. They were all there, even the captains. “I apologi—”

With the feeling of a tooth coming loose, Sam could see the word begin to slip from between his lips: a faded, glittering ribbon. And then he bit down.

The machine hummed louder, working hard to pull the word from between Sam’s teeth. The goblins crowded closer, all clustered on the trapdoor. Tolver disappeared below.

And Sam took two steps forward.

Suddenly, with a huge thunk, the trapdoor dropped. Sam hadn’t moved far enough away, and he fought to keep his balance at the trap’s edge.

His dad grasped his arm and held on as the papers and the goblins all tumbled into the basement. Julius screeched, “Not my machine!” Then came a sound like a broken piano. Sam heard more scuffling, and then a lid slammed.

“Got them!” Mason yelled.

Sam slurped his word back quickly. Bella was right, it did taste sweet.

Nana climbed on top of the crate and poked a hand from the orchestra pit. She passed a glittering ribbon to Sam’s dad. Mr. Culver took it and chewed it.

“What’s going on?” Coach Lockheart called when the dust cleared. “Is everyone all right?”

“We are,” Sam’s dad said. “And I am sorry for the confusion. We’ll work hard to communicate with you and won’t make any plans without consulting with the community beforehand.”

Coach Lockheart smiled, his shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted to hear.”

They shook hands, and the meeting concluded without a hitch.

No one noticed when Dr. Vane slipped from the auditorium, except for the boglins and Sam.

Compared to the crowded air-conditioned auditorium and the dusty stage, the hallway outside was steamy and hot.

Dr. Vane strode the corridor, phone in hand, muttering, “I don’t even know how to contact you.”

“I’ll take care of this one, Sam,” Nana said. But when Tolver and Gilfillan emerged from the side door, Nana held up her hand. “Wait just a moment.”

She turned to Tolver and passed him the oak branch. Then she whispered in his ear and gave him a slip of paper. The younger boglin’s eyes widened.

Nana took Gilfillan’s leash, and they pulled the crate filled with prospectors out the side door. The box rocked on the cart they’d stolen from backstage.

Tolver raised the oak switch and pointed it at Principal Vane.

“Wait!” Sam held out his hand. “You can’t take his words.”

“Even though he was going to take yours?” Tolver looked outraged.

Sam knew that it might have felt fair to get even, just like with teasing. But this wasn’t about getting even. “He’s not a very good principal, but no one should have their words stolen.”

“But he was working with the prospectors, who are headed back to the marsh to work off some debts.” Tolver whistled. “Oh, I know! Do you think we should take your principal back to the marsh too?”

“No, I don’t think that’s any better,” Sam said.

While Tolver narrowed his eyes, thinking, Dr. Vane, in his perfect suit, spotted Sam. “Oh hello, Sam! I was just . . . gathering my thoughts.” He looked so uncomfortable.

Sam stayed silent.

Dr. Vane shifted from one foot to the other. “You, ahhh, heard about the machine?”

Sam nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. He raised an eyebrow.

“I just want people to use words properly,” the principal said. “Like you—if you would only—” He raised his hands. “Well, the truth is, wasted words are valuable! Businessmen wanted all the hot air generated in this school. And they promised to help me make this school a model of propriety.”

“Why would you do that?” Ms. Malloy came up behind Sam and Tolver. “Students need to be able to experiment. They learn that words have value over time. You can’t force it.”

“She really is the best teacher,” Tolver whispered. Sam nodded enthusiastic agreement.

“Because, dear Ms. Malloy,” Dr. Vane said. “It’s too slow a process. Why wait, when we can streamline? It’s called progress.”

The auditorium doors opened, and neighbors began to emerge. The meeting was finished.

“I’ve heard enough,” Tolver said. He cleared his throat and waved the oak switch. Then he said, loudly, “Begone!”

Instead of stealing Dr. Vane’s words, the switch sent puffs of tiny silver wings toward the principal.

The fancy suit and the star bow tie began to unravel. The principal squeaked and tried to slap the wings away, but they followed him.

Sam looked on, amazed. “Tolver, you did it! You did magic!”

Tolver had disappeared before the adults could notice him. “I did,” he whispered.

By the time the last board member had emerged from the cool auditorium and into the heat of the hallway, Dr. Vane had run down the hall and out the double doors of the school. He made it to the parking lot, clutching the remains of his coat and trying to cover the holes in his pants, where his striped underwear showed.

“What in the world,” said a school board member, looking at the retreating principal, not at Sam.

“Sam!” Bella burst through the auditorium door as they walked back down the hall. “You did it! You said it!” She ran up to hug her brother. “And the goblins didn’t steal the word!”

Looking down at his little sister, Sam swallowed. The taste of the apology leaving his mouth was still there on his lips. He’d almost lost the words he’d fought so hard for. It would have been worth it, but it was scary—even though he hadn’t actually risked the word.

“I didn’t really say it,” Sam admitted.

Bella looked confused.

“It was kind of a trick,” Mason said. “Sam almost said it, but he bit down on the last syllable. So the goblins technically couldn’t take it.” She half smiled at Sam. “Pretty smart.”

Sam grinned. “Thanks.”

His sister scuffed her shoe on the linoleum. “Oh, okay. But when do you think it will be safe to say the whole thing?”

Sam scuffed the floor with a sneaker. “I’m working on it.” Bella squeezed his hand.

“Bella!” Mason picked her up and swung her around. “You said ‘s’!”

She looked delighted. “I did!”

After the community meeting let out, neighbors left the building, still talking, as Sam and Bella walked back down the aisle into the auditorium.

Mrs. Lockheart had found Anita. She was smiling. “Can we try another potluck tonight at the park? The last one didn’t end so well. And we have a lot to celebrate. I’ll bring brownies.” Anita smiled and agreed.

Sam’s dad came out of the auditorium and patted Sam on the shoulder. “The city—our client—has agreed to work with neighborhoods to teach people how to establish their own beautification standards creatively. And they’ve asked the Lockhearts to help!”

That sounded fantastic.

“Plus, the community unanimously approved the scoreboard! And,” Coach Lockheart said, with Ms. Malloy standing next to him, “Ms. Malloy explained what’s been happening, or tried to. In any case, she advocated strongly for you to return to the team. Would you be willing to stay in the outfield another year and help me keep fixing the library for as long as it needs it?”

Sam smiled. “Okay, coach!” He hoped the library wouldn’t need much fixing.

As his parents headed home to get ice cream for the dessert potluck and the Lockhearts strolled toward the park with Ms. Malloy to set up the tables, Mason and Bella and Sam walked together down the sidewalk.

When they got close enough, they noticed the flowers around the Little Free Library, which their parents had replanted the night before, were already trampled.

“Oh, great,” Sam said. “So much for Mrs. Lockheart not being angry with me.”

“Nope, this time it was my fault, Sam.” Tolver appeared, grinning. He picked the yellow petal of a tulip off his heel. “I’ll help you fix it. We’re just sending the last of them over now.”

Beside him, Gilfillan and Starflake pulled sleds made from pieces of The Declension. Crates on each sled contained many prospectors each, from the sound inside. When Tolver gave the signal, each pig leapt into the Little Free Library and, with a pop, disappeared.

“What will happen to them?” Mason asked.

“They’ll have to repay their transport home, to start with. Gilfillan and Starflake are very expensive. No more fancy prospector ships for a long time.” Tolver chuckled. “Meantime, Nana and I will try to teach everyone in Felicity and the marshbogs how to use printed words—which don’t permanently leave those who write them. Ms. Malloy was right. There were a lot of careless words in the basement! We can compress them so they’ll last us for a while.”

Mason crossed her arms and smiled at the green boy with the silver hair as he climbed into the Little Free Library behind the pigs. “So no more stealing?”

Tolver gave Sam and Mason a mostly convincing thumbs-up. “You know it! We don’t steal from our friends!” Then he disappeared.

In the shade of the big tulip poplar tree at the park, as neighbors began to arrive with plates of dessert, Sam gathered his thoughts.

There might still be goblins in the trees. He might have miscounted the number of crates Tolver and Nana and the pookahs had taken back over.

And others might return sometime for the word hogs. Sam couldn’t seal up all the Little Free Libraries and post office boxes to keep word-stealing goblins out.

But Nana had said words were magic. That they were some of the last magic left in the world. Sam believed her. And Bella was right to be disappointed that he hadn’t actually apologized at the meeting. It had been a good trick, but he hadn’t finished what he’d promised to do yet. Not the way he wanted to. He kicked at the dirt. Glanced up at the branches of the tree still bent funny from the crash of The Plumbline.

“What are you waiting for, Sam?” Mason called from a picnic bench. “Get some ice cream!”

Words had mattered to Coach Lockheart. When Sam’s dad apologized, the meeting went better. And even if she hadn’t said so, Sam knew they mattered to Mason too.

“We’ll see,” she’d said when he’d asked her to be friends again. And then “definitely” when he’d asked her about working together. Could he risk being honest now? His hands stuck in his pockets, Sam walked over to the picnic table where Mason sat.

“What?” she raised her eyebrows.

“So, it doesn’t matter anymore if a goblin steals my words,” Sam finally said. “And I’m not doing this to get out of trouble. I just want you to know.”

“Know what,” Mason said. She put down her spoon.

“I’m truly sorry,” Sam said quietly. His cheeks went red again, but he decided he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be invisible. Not while he was saying important things. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I got too caught up in the teasing, and I won’t do it again. I know how important your grandmother was to you.”

Mason’s face lit up, and her eyes got sad all at the same time. “Thank you, Sam. She was really wonderful.” She slid over on the bench to make room for him. “Do you think we’ll see them again? The goblins, I mean?”

“Maybe. Maybe we should go into goblin-removal services as a summer job.”

“Maybe we should.” She elbowed him. “I’ll consider it if you’ll teach me how to fly one of those word hogs.”

That night, Sam ate two brownies topped with ice cream. He, Mason, Bella, and Mason’s sister, Spot, caught fireflies in the park. Ms. Malloy told his parents that Principal Vane had left the district and that Sam was no longer in trouble at school. To celebrate, they all sat in Sam’s backyard and watched Ghostbusters IV, singing along with the music until Mrs. Lockheart yelled at them to be quiet.

And the next morning, Sam put on his navy-and-white Mount Cloud jersey and went to play baseball.