HUH? TOMMY Bowman didn’t know why his parents said yes. They usually said no—unless, of course, it was to chores. To chores, they said yes, each and every time. But to come back to school, at night, on short notice, and drop him off without going through their usual checklist. Unbelievable. Just the other day, he’d wanted to ride his bike up to the regional park only two miles away. His parents had made him wear a watch, a helmet, a walkie-talkie, and a cell phone in case the walkie-talkie’s battery died. Almost a teenager and they treat me like I’m seven.
As his parents drove away, Tommy glanced back over his shoulder at the looming menace of the school. Thurgood Marshall Middle was all columns, statues, white stone, and red brick. Stained and weathered over many years, the façade looked more like a police station from Gotham City than a middle school.
An engine growled, tires squealed, and Tommy whipped back around. He watched as a sleek black sports car pulled into the parking lot and stopped directly under the streetlight by the curb just thirty feet away. Like most twelve-year-olds, he loved sports cars—and he couldn’t wait to see which one of his classmates got out of that car. One of the rich kids probably, Tommy thought. Coming to the meeting to steal the show. Give all the answers. Tommy stared at the car and waited . . . and waited. No one got out. All Tommy could see was the blazing orb of the streetlight’s reflection in a sea of dark-tinted glass. The longer Tommy waited, the more uncomfortable he felt. A chill slithering up his back, Tommy rushed inside the school building.
There was no one in the main hallway or in the front office. His sneakers squeaked on the newly waxed floor as he looked around. Tommy glanced at his watch. He wasn’t really early, so where was everybody? He rocked back and forth on his feet, wondering if the meeting had been cancelled and no one had told him. That would figure, he thought. But he hoped he was wrong. Mrs. Galdarro, the librarian, had selected Tommy personally to be a part of the group. He still didn’t know why, but it felt good to be asked.
Tommy had always thought of himself as a rather unremarkable boy. Few teachers ever seemed to take notice of him. He just floated through their classes with straight Bs and an occasional A. Tommy wasn’t a bad kid, the sort who would leave a handful of centipedes in the teacher’s desk drawer. Nor was he an exceptionally good kid, prim and proper, whose precocious nature drew all sorts of attention from his teachers. In fact, the only meaningful thing Tommy could ever remember a teacher saying to him directly was, “Oh my, what a wonderful head of curly hair you have.”
Yep, that’s me, Tommy thought. Curly hair and unremarkable.
And yet Mrs. Galdarro had still noticed him. “Tommy Bowman, please see me after the bell,” she had said.
Tommy had wondered what he had done wrong, so he was more than a little surprised when Mrs. Galdarro said, “You have talent, Mr. Bowman. Extraordinary talent, yes. One of the reasons I came here to Thurgood Marshall Middle School is to spot talent. And I see that you have it.”
That had made Tommy wonder if the years had finally caught up with Mrs. Galdarro. Though, honestly, Tommy wasn’t sure why he thought she was old. Her hair was not gray. Her skin was not wrinkled. But there was something about the depth of her green eyes and the richness of her voice that spoke of many years and a long history.
“I’d like to invite you to a meeting here in the library,” Mrs. Galdarro had continued. “Tonight at eight. This is an important meeting, Tommy. Only for those with talents like yours. And there will be cookies, delicious cookies. But better still . . . everyone who comes will receive a gift. Don’t be late.”
Well, Tommy thought, even if she is a bit cracked in the head, it still felt good to be noticed by someone. And everyone liked gifts, especially Tommy. With that in mind, he decided he’d better at least check the library to make sure the meeting was indeed cancelled. He certainly wasn’t in any hurry to go back outside.
Not that being in the school after dark was all that pleasant, either. Half the school’s lights were off or dimmed. The halls became shadowy corridors. The empty classrooms . . . pitch-black caves. And the windows . . . dark eyes whose stare Tommy could not escape. No cookies, no gift could be worth this.
Then Tommy heard a squeaking sound, and Mr. Charlie, one of the school’s custodians, appeared wheeling a cart out from the eighth-grade hallway. But Mr. Charlie didn’t say a word. He just grinned at Tommy and stared. Even in the shadowy hall, Tommy could see Mr. Charlie’s eyes. He had dark skin but very unusual dark blue eyes. They almost looked purple.
Mr. Charlie winked and rolled his cart toward the cafeteria. Soon, his cheery whistle floated back from the hall, that and the squeak of his cart. Everyone knew that Mr. Charlie had a few screws loose, but he was very nice and he smiled a lot. As a matter of fact, he always said good morning to Tommy.
Tommy hesitantly walked down the half-lit hall. Something small darted out from under one of the classroom doors. Tommy swerved to the right side of the hall. Get a grip, Bowman! he chastised himself. It’s only a spider. The quarter-sized, brown and black arachnid stopped about two feet from Tommy’s left foot. A myriad of tiny black eyes stared up at Tommy. Small or not, Tommy didn’t like spiders. He lifted his foot to squash it, but it skittered back under the classroom door.
Tommy hastened up the hall to the school’s library. He turned the corner, walked out into the cavernous book-filled room, and called out, “Hello?” There was no one there. He reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone and flipped it open.
He never dialed.
There was a book that caught his eye from across the room.
The room was full of books, of course. But, in the exact center of the third shelf of the middle bookcase on the far wall, one book stood out. It was as if a bright spotlight shined upon its golden binding, and all the other books dimmed.
Tommy put his cell phone away, dropped his backpack on the floor, and strode slowly over to the bookcase. When he touched the book and felt it slide into his palm, he had a strange nostalgic feeling, as if he were about to open an old family photo album. He could almost smell the years of memories on the pages.
He turned the book and held it so that he could see its title. The History of Berinfell. And beneath it, in smaller script: The Chronicles of the Elf Lords and Their Kin.
From behind came a powerful voice: “Well done!” Tommy spun around, and there was Mrs. Galdarro. Only . . . she looked different. Gone was her normal librarian garb: the plaid skirt, ruffled cuffed blouse, and thick glasses. Instead she wore a long, dark hooded robe. It might have been deep purple or blue. In the shadows, it was hard to tell, but it was not black. Embroidery that bordered the hood and the sleeves shimmered, even in the dark.
“Mrs. Galdarro?” Tommy looked at her.
“Yes, lad.” She lowered the hood, gave a warm smile, and nodded. “. . . and I say again, well done! You found your gift . . . or, perhaps I should say, it found you.”
Tommy looked down at the book and back up to the librarian.
“All who come to the meeting get a gift,” said Mrs. Galdarro. “Isn’t that what I told you, Tommy?”
Tommy nodded again.
“The book you hold . . . is your gift. Though I must confess, it is not a right regular gift since it was yours to begin with.”
“I don’t understand,” Tommy said, feeling like he might have blown a fuse in his brain.
“Of course you don’t, my boy,” Mrs. Galdarro replied. “I know that it is all very sudden and confusing for you. Why don’t you come sit down?” She gestured to the round table on her right. Upon it lay a platter laden with piles and piles of cookies.
Tommy wondered how Mrs. Galdarro entered the library and put the tray on the table without him noticing. He shrugged. He wasn’t about to turn his nose up at the cookies. Still hugging his book to his chest, he took a seat. Mrs. Galdarro sat across the table from him, and the cookies waited between them. He looked at her, the question forming on his lips.
“Go ahead, Tommy, have one.”
Tommy picked one up. “It’s still warm.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Just took them out of the oven.”
The smell was delightful, sweet and fruity and something else Tommy couldn’t quite put his finger on. Tommy took a bite, a big one, and began to chew. The flavor was so rich, so intense that it seemed to melt into his tongue as he chewed. Tommy took another bite and mumbled, “These are . . . mmph . . . these are . . . mm, mmph, delicious. I’ve never had anything like it.”
“No,” said Mrs. Galdarro, “I don’t imagine you have.”
Tommy was into his third cookie when it finally dawned on him that none of the other kids had shown up yet. “Mrs. Galdarro . . . um, where are the other kids?”
“Let me put it as simply and directly as I can. You are the only one in this . . . this meeting—for now—though others will come in due time. This gift is yours to explore. Oh, I do wish I could be with you when you read page 17. Yes, yes, and page 77 is wondrous, too. And I mustn’t forget page 140 . . . ah, those were amazing days.”
Tommy stuffed another cookie in his mouth and, forgetting his manners, mumbled, “Sounds like a cool story.”
Mrs. Galdarro smiled. And for a moment she was lost in deep thought, staring beyond Tommy.
“Mrs. Galdarro?”
She blinked and looked back at Tommy once more. “Ah, yes, it is a cool story . . . but not yet finished.” She paused. “Now, lad, listen to me. Reading this book will be quite an experience. Unsettling at first, I should imagine. Just remember, you will be safe. If it becomes too much, you simply close the book.”
“Uh . . . okay.” Tommy had read creepy books before. No way this elf book was going to scare him. “No problem.”
The librarian raised an eyebrow. “I wonder.”
“So are we going to meet at lunch to talk about the book? I mean, how much do I have to read? I’m not going to get quizzed on this, am I?”
“When the time is right,” she replied, “we will indeed sit and talk about this special book. You have a birthday coming up, don’t you, Tommy?”
“Ah, next month . . . November twelfth, why?”
“That’s what they told you, is it? Of course, they wouldn’t know, would they. Hmm.”
“What who told me? Wouldn’t know . . . huh?”
“Let’s just say”—she paused and consulted a small notebook—“let’s say we’ll need to talk again in two weeks.”
“Okay,” said Tommy. “I’ll read as much as I can by then.”
“So clear now,” Mrs. Galdarro muttered to herself. Tommy felt like she was staring at the side of his head. “This is a new haircut, isn’t it, Tommy? Last year in sixth grade, you wore your hair long, over your ears.”
“Yes, ma’am. My mom got tired of it and made me cut it off.”
“Hmm, that was fortunate,” she said. “I might not have noticed otherwise.”
“What?”
“Nothing at all, Tommy.”
“Oh.”
Mrs. Galdarro stood up. “This meeting is hereby adjourned. Your parents should be here to pick you up soon.”
“Over? Already?”
“Yes, dear boy. I called them and suggested they come right back. Wouldn’t want you stuck here with the bad weather coming in, you know.”
“But I kind of liked being here. It kind of . . . well . . . feels like being at my grandma’s house.”
“I understand,” she replied kindly. “Why don’t you take a few more cookies with you?”
“Okay!” Tommy selected three of the largest cookies and then looked down at his new book. “So this book is for me? I can keep it, right?”
“As long as you live,” she replied. “It’s a gift. Now I think it is time—”
“Mrs. Galdarro?”
“Yes?”
“Do you still think I have talent?”
“I don’t think, Tommy, I know.”
“Why me?” he asked finally.
“Read, dear boy,” she replied as she walked with him from the library into the hall. “The book holds all the answers . . . even to the questions you have yet to ask. Now go. Your parents will be along shortly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Galdarro. For the book, the cookies, and . . .”
“You are quite welcome, lad.” She put up her hood once more. Tommy started to walk away.
“Tommy,” Mrs. Galdarro called to him, “there is one more thing. When you come to the section called ‘Red Dusk,’ page 277 I believe, wait until daylight to read it.” Muted thunder rumbled outside. The few lights that were on flickered.
Tommy didn’t know what to make of that. Red Dusk. He gave a half wave and walked up the hall toward the main office. As he turned the corner toward the school’s front doors, he could still hear Mr. Charlie whistling a tune from somewhere in the quiet school.
As soon as Tommy left the building, he realized the thunder had not been an empty threat. Great waving sheets of rain rode gusts of howling wind. Tommy wiped a few spattered raindrops out of his eyes and immediately knelt on the sidewalk beneath the awning. He didn’t want anything to happen to the unusual book Mrs. Galdarro had given him. He unslung his backpack and swiftly put the gift inside. He stood and swung the backpack up over his shoulder and took a bite of one of his cookies. Then he looked out into the school’s parking lot and stopped chewing.
The black sports car was still there, parked under the same streetlight by the curb, and leaning against the side of the car was a tall man. A curtain of rain fell between them, and the man wore a wide-brimmed hat, so Tommy could not see the man’s features. The collar of his dark gray trench coat was turned up, his hands were buried in the coat’s deep pockets, and he stood very still and seemed content to wait. Rainwater ran off the brim of his hat and down his shoulders.
Tommy didn’t see his parents’ car anywhere in the school’s parking lot. He felt panic rising up inside like a bubble. Though the strange man made no movement toward him at all, Tommy felt such an overwhelming sense of impending doom that his knees started to buckle.
Suddenly, the man in the dark gray coat stood up straight as if he’d just been startled awake. He spun around before Tommy could see his face, clawed at the car door, got it open, and leaped in. The sports car roared to life, fishtailed once on the wet pavement, and sped out of the parking lot.
“Good riddance, Mobius,” came a musical voice from behind. Tommy wheeled around and found Mr. Charlie standing by the door right behind him. He held a mop in one hand. His smile was broad . . . almost triumphant.
“Do you know that guy?” Tommy asked the school custodian.
“I’ze just came to make sure you was safe,” said Mr. Charlie.
“But that man—”
“I didn’ see no man.” Mr. Charlie turned to go back inside. “Looks like your folks is here,” he said over his shoulder as he and his mop disappeared back into the school.