Ridge and I had just exited the amusement park when a large black pickup truck swerved onto the sidewalk to cut us off.
My first thought was that it was the FBI responding to the strange report of killer teddy bears. But the Universe would have shielded innocent bystanders from the bizarre truth. I don’t know what park-goers thought was happening. Maybe the Universe made it seem like a strong wind was blowing the stuffed animals around.
My second thought was that Ridge and I were about to get abducted by whoever was in the truck. But then the window rolled down and my jaw dropped at seeing someone I recognized.
It was Tina!
“You two need a ride somewhere?” she asked. Her pink feather boa was gone, but otherwise she seemed unchanged.
I felt instantly relieved to see her, though I still remembered the betrayal I’d felt when she left us in the boxcar. “I thought you were on Thackary’s team now.”
“I tried that out,” she answered. “That guy’s a jerk.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Ridge mumbled.
“Did you save his life?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Tina answered. “And now I really don’t want to. Vale and I met up with the Anderthons at Super-Fun-Happy Place, but Thackary wouldn’t even let us come near.” She gestured over her shoulder. “Climb in.”
Vale was in the passenger seat, but the cab was extended, so Ridge and I climbed into the backseats.
“Where’s Thackary now?” I asked, as Tina reversed and then sped across the parking lot.
“Still in the park, I think,” said Tina. I hated the thought of that despicable man on the loose in an amusement park full of kids.
“We lost him,” said Vale. “We were buried under an army of stuffed bears. By the time we got free, Thackary and his son were gone.”
“Ah,” Ridge said. “You met the bears.”
“And the man with the pink mustache,” Tina said. “The cotton candy was just out of reach, and I had to wish to grab it.” She stuck out her tongue at me. I thought she was being rude until I saw that her tongue was bright green.
Same wish, same consequence. The Universe was rarely fair, but it had given us equal treatment today.
“Same thing happened to my tongue.” I stuck it out, even though she couldn’t see it with my helmet on. “I tried a couple of tactics, but in the end I had to wish for it directly.”
“What about Jathon?” Ridge asked. “Do you think he got the cotton candy?”
Vale nodded. “They were still working on it when we left. He even had his genie outside of her jar. Her name is Scree.”
“What kind of a name is Scree?” I asked. “I thought genies were named after the location where their jars were first discovered.” I glanced at Ridge, aware of how he had bent that rule.
“That’s right,” said Vale. “Her jar must have been discovered on a slope of scree.”
“I thought scree was the sound a bird makes,” Ridge said.
“No,” answered Vale. “Scree is another word for a bunch of loose rock.”
“Why didn’t they name her Gravel?” I asked. “And while we’re on the topic, what exactly is a vale?”
“It’s basically a valley,” she answered. “But vale had a better ring to it.”
Hmm. Like Ridge versus Kitchen.
“Jathon and his genie are bent on protecting Thackary so he can get to the Undiscovered Genie jar,” said Vale.
“Which makes me wonder,” said Tina. “Where are we going?”
“You’re the driver,” I pointed out. “Which is actually superillegal. And do I even need to ask where you got the truck?”
“I earned this truck, along with the know-how to drive it.” Tina paused.
“And the consequence . . . ?” I pressed.
Tina scowled. “Now every time someone says my name I have to clap my hands.”
“That’s interesting . . .” Ridge said. Then he couldn’t help but add, “Tina.”
She lifted her hands from the steering wheel ever so briefly so she could clap them together once. I chuckled, and suddenly, my socks felt very wet. I glanced down to notice that Tina’s clap had also caused my left shoelace to come untied.
“Not funny, Ridge,” Tina said. “I have to put up with this for a year.” Forcing her to clap had been sort of funny, but now I had wet feet, paying the consequence for my laughter.
“Thanks for getting the truck,” I said, tying my shoelace.
“It wasn’t the only thing we got,” she answered. Vale reached under the seat, withdrew an item, and passed it back to me.
“My backpack!” I cried, taking the bag and peering inside. I saw a bunch of smashed sandwiches, a couple of empty water bottles, and a very important peanut butter jar.
“Thackary didn’t give it up willingly,” Tina said. “But my wolf insisted.” She smiled slightly. “Consider it my apology for leaving the way we did.”
“Apology accepted.” I rolled the magic peanut butter jar in my hands.
A white car blew past us. As per my consequence, I dropped the jar, my hand darting up and clanging against my helmet as I saluted through the window.
“Did you wish for that?” Vale asked.
“This old thing?” I knocked on the side of the helmet. “It was actually a consequence. But it’s already saved me from at least one head injury. And with a twelve-year-old driving, I might be glad I have it on.”
“We’re not going to crash,” Tina said. “That was part of my wish. And this thing won’t run out of gas, either. But I really don’t know where we’re going.”
“Don’t look at me,” I said.
“You don’t know what was on the next page of the notebook?” Tina asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“Oh, I get it,” I said, a hint of annoyance in my voice. “You’re wondering why I didn’t accept another big consequence to find out what was written on the third missing page.”
“How else are we supposed to know where to go?” Vale asked.
“Tina!” I pointed out. She clapped. My shoelace came untied.
“Don’t put this on me!” she called back. “I got us this truck! You figure out where we have to go.”
“Why don’t you just rock, paper, scissors?” Ridge suggested.
I shot him a frustrated glance. The last time hadn’t gone so well for me. You remember. I ended up with only one arm.
“Yeah,” Tina said. “Rock, paper, scissors.” She held out her fist to prove that she could play the game while driving.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
Tina beat me again. Her rock crushed my scissors, causing me to sit back in defeat, my backward pants wrinkling in half a dozen uncomfortable places. Pouting, I glanced out the window and saluted another passing white car.
“What are you waiting for?” Vale asked. “We could be driving in the wrong direction. The sooner you make the wish, the better chance we have at beating Thackary and Jathon.”
Vale was right. Begrudgingly, I turned to Ridge. “I wish to know what was on the third missing page of Thackary Anderthon’s notebook.”
I felt my hourglass watch click out, but I didn’t even bother looking down at it. I was getting better at gauging thirty seconds.
“If you want to know what was on that third page,” said Ridge, “then you won’t be able to tell left from right for the next year.”
“Left and right,” I said, gesturing left, then right, as if to prove that I currently knew the difference. I thought of all the times those directions were helpful. Like when monster rockmen were going to pound your friend and you shout, “On your left!” Or when evil stuffed bears are swarming, and you yell, “Look out to the right!” There would be none of that if I accepted the consequence.
“That’s a tough one,” Ridge said.
“If you accept it, we’re never taking directions from you,” Vale added.
“We have to know what was on that page,” Tina stressed. And I knew she was right.
“I’ll take it,” I said. “Bazang.” And as knowledge of left and right departed from my brain, knowledge of what was on the third page of the notebook entered it.
“Okay,” I said, holding out my hands. “We have to go to Lake Michigan.” At the mention of a state name, I jumped out of my seat, hitting the top of my head on the roof of the truck. Luckily, my knight’s helmet prevented any harm, although my neck was growing tired of holding it up.
“What’s in Lake Michigan?” Tina asked. I jumped again, this time ducking so my helmet didn’t hit.
“There’s a red fishing boat with a yellow flag,” I said. “We have to dive under the boat and touch the bottom of the lake.”
“Lake Michigan . . .” Tina mused. I jumped again.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Vale asked.
“Ace took a consequence,” said Ridge. “Every time he hears the name of a state, he has to jump.”
“So that’s why he jumps when I say Michigan?” Tina said.
I jumped. “Not funny, Tina,” I said.
She clapped. My shoelace came untied.
We drove in silence for a moment, afraid to say anything that would spark a reaction from the other. Then Tina struck up where we’d left off. “Lake . . . M,” she said. “I’m guessing that’s in the state with the same M name?” I was grateful for her careful phrasing.
Thinking back to my geography lessons in school, I remembered that Lake Michigan was one of the Great Lakes. “I think it’s by Chicago,” I said.
“So at least we’re driving in the right direction,” said Tina.
“How far is it?” asked Ridge.
Tina glanced at me in the rearview mirror and raised her eyebrows to indicate that she didn’t know. “We’ll have to check a map at a gas station,” I said. “Chicago’s probably not that far.”