Chapter 3
A year ago, when she learned that Maria might become her stepmother, Winnie had felt betrayed. Nobody was allowed to replace her real mom. If that wasn’t bad enough, Maria had a son, ending her reign as an only child. How could she still be Dad’s number one with all these extra people in the family?
Then she met Mikey, so small, so vulnerable. If anyone needed a warrior’s protection, it was that sweet boy. From their first meeting, Mikey had instantly accepted her as his champion. He didn’t just trust Winnie—he believed in her. She couldn’t help but love him.
Now he was gone. Winnie knew he would be. That’s what usually happened whenever she had something too good to be true. She lost it.
Positive thoughts, positive thoughts. She glanced up and down the beach, hoping to spot him. Her little brother had to be on land. Please, God, don’t let Mikey be in the water.
But he wouldn’t be, would he? He had said bad things were in the sea.
“I told Mikey to stay right there.” Kip’s Cockney voice sounded shrill.
Her hand tightened around her locket. “Yeah, little kids always do what they’re told.”
“Windemere!”
Dad’s voice shot an electric charge of guilt through her. Not now. Why did he call her now? She had to find her brother first.
“Mikey’s gotta be nearby,” Kip mumbled.
Dad called again.
Panic gripped her. How was she supposed to hide what she’d done with Dad standing on the porch, watching? “Just a sec,” she called back.
“Now!”
Winnie jumped. Dad never shouted.
“Keep looking,” she said and jogged to her beach house. She stopped just outside the closed porch door. Dad’s penetrating stare blazed at her through his glasses and the screen.
“Uh, Dad? I think we…I think I lost Mikey.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I know you did. Come inside.”
Her stomach flopped over. Did that mean she was already too late? “Don’t we, I mean, shouldn’t we look? I don’t think he went far.”
“He’s with Maria. She took him with her to the store.”
Relief splashed over her. Everything was fine after all. She called to Kip, letting him know that Mikey was safe. The boy’s narrow face broke into a wide grin. He waved, gathered his things, and loped away.
“Inside.” Dad opened the screen door.
His serious tone ended her good feelings. She joined him on the porch, her head bowed.
“Maria was out here, sweeping,” he said in a quiet voice. He rarely raised it when he got mad. “She saw you abandon Mikey.”
Her head snapped up. She bit her tongue to keep from shrieking a denial. Kimber, her best friend, had daily screaming matches with her parents. The whole family blurted words so cruel they made her shudder. In Winnie’s home, she and her dad knew better. Nobody lived long enough to shout cruel words at them.
With a steady voice she said, “I didn’t abandon him.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. “You left Mikey alone. Maria’s furious and rightfully so. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about this.” She opened her hand, revealing her gold locket and chain. “That guy, that Kip, took it. I didn’t even feel it go.”
She could still picture his smart-aleck face. What could she do but grab her locket and run? Her mom’s picture was inside. Five years, seven months, three weeks, and four days had passed since her mom died. Winnie still missed her.
Dad gently lifted the locket from her palm.
“Open it.” When he saw the picture inside, he’d understand. Even though he’d remarried, she knew he missed Mom too.
“I know what’s inside.” He turned the locket over. “ ‘Warrior,’ ” he read from the inscription etched onto the back.
She lowered her eyes. Mom had been the true warrior. Toward the end, as she fought for each breath, she had still been able to keep every promise she made. Even her last words had been the truth. “I’ll always love you and Daddy,” she’d said. “I’m going to go to sleep now. I’m sorry, but I probably won’t wake up.”
“I was with her when she had the locket engraved.”
Dad’s voice intruded on her memory, jerking Winnie back to the porch.
“She wanted it to say, ‘To my little warrior,’ but there wasn’t enough room.”
“That’s what she called me.” But he already knew.
“We’re both warriors,” her mom had told her. “Just because I lost my war doesn’t mean you should give up the fight. Always remember that.” Winnie had promised she would. That was why she lived by her own warrior code.
Dad handed the locket back. “Doesn’t a warrior protect her people?”
“Yes.” That was rule one of her code.
“Were you protecting Mikey by leaving him alone at the water?”
Anger surged through her, but she refused to let it show. “Mikey would never go in. He won’t even dip a toe in unless somebody holds his hand. Everybody knows that.”
Bad things are in the sea. She didn’t add that part but knew Mikey believed it.
“Not the point, Win. Maria wants to talk to you when she gets back. If she decides to punish you for your lapse, I’ll stand by it.”
Winnie already hated that she’d accidentally left Mikey alone. Did she really need a nonparent to punish her? She kept that injustice to herself, clenched her teeth, and marched to her room. She didn’t slam her door. She didn’t even close it. She stood at her mirror to return her locket to its rightful place around her neck. The chain’s simple mechanism should have taken two seconds to connect. Her fingers trembled so badly she tried five times before the two ends finally attached.
With her locket resting safely under her T-shirt, she moved to her window. It overlooked dunes, seagrass, and an expanse of sky. The tall grass, swaying in the breeze, had a calming effect. Her mind drifted toward nothingness. She didn’t know how long she stared out the window. Long enough to forget she hadn’t closed her door. Long enough for Maria to return.
“Clive sent you to your room?” Her voice sounded impressed.
Winnie twisted around. Her stepmother stood in the open doorway.
Be civil. For Dad. “Come on in.”
Maria entered, carrying an oversized, individually wrapped chocolate chip cookie. She held it out. “Compliments of Mikey. He said you needed this to, and I’m quoting here, ‘build up your strength.’ ”
Chocolate chip cookies were Winnie’s weakness, especially the big, soft, gooey kind. She leaned forward, accepting it. “Thanks.” She unwrapped it. “I didn’t really do anything wrong.” She took a bite.
Maria’s dark eyes flared. “It could’ve been disastrous. Can’t you see that?”
Winnie didn’t want to see it. She wanted to be right. At the same time, she didn’t want to give the intruder any parental ideas, like grounding her. She kept her mouth shut, except to take another bite of that delectable cookie. The chocolate chips melted on her tongue. At least her mouth felt happy.
To stall for time to answer, she pointed at her chewing mouth. She hoped her stepmother recognized the universal sign for I’d love to respond, but it’s rude to speak with my mouth full.
Maria put a hand on her hip and waited.
Winnie kept chewing. “This is so good. Seriously.” She took one more big bite.
“For what it’s worth, Mikey doesn’t think I should be angry about what happened.”
Good ole Mikey.
“He insisted he knew I was watching, which made him safe all along. He also said someone stole your mother?”
“Somebody did, but I got her back.” She set the cookie on her bureau, wiped her hands on her shorts, then pulled her locket from under her shirt. “My mom’s picture. Want to see it?”
Her stepmother agreed, which surprised her. She thought she’d run away from it.
Maria examined the smiling photo for a full minute. “Remember how you felt when you thought your locket was gone?”
She nodded and gave Mom’s photo one last loving look before closing the locket again.
“Then you know how I felt when I saw you leave Mikey by himself,” Maria said gently.
Winnie’s shoulders slumped. She did know. “It’ll never happen again. I promise.”
Maria peered deeply into her eyes. “Can I trust you to take good care of him if I go to dinner with your father tonight?”
Winnie gave a solemn nod. “I took babysitter training at the Y last summer.” Her promise, as a warrior, to protect Mikey went unsaid.
“Good.” Maria swept out of the room.
Three hours later, Maria, dressed for the night out and surrounded by a cloud of sweet perfume, called to Mikey in a high-pitched voice, “Kiss-kiss.”
Mikey stopped playing with his “people” long enough for a hug. He returned to his game with red lipstick smudging his cheek.
Dad leaned over Winnie. “I know you’ll be responsible.” He kissed the top of her head, then followed Maria out.
After a mac and cheese dinner with Mikey, Winnie lay sprawled across the love seat with a bag of microwaved popcorn and a paperback by Agatha Christie. Her little brother sat on the floor, mumbling softly to his toys.
The sound of rain spattering on the roof gave the beach house a cozy feel. An unexpected clap of thunder made her jump. She looked at Mikey who peered warily at the ceiling.
“Kip is camping on the beach.”
“Is that what he told you?”
He shook his head. “I’m fey.”
She puffed out a breath of air. “Why do you say stuff like that? You don’t even know what fey means.”
He gave her a superior look. “Otherworldly.”
Lightning briefly lit the night sky. Another crack of thunder followed.
“I hope nothing bad happens to him.”
She snorted. “It won’t.”
Okay, secretly, she thought Kip’s Cockney voice sounded cute. It also reminded her of a street urchin from the Dickens novel she’d read in English class.
Heavier rain pummeled the roof.
“Since he’s magic,” Mikey said, “when he goes through the time tear…”
She closed her book. “I hate ruining it for you, but nobody’s magic, especially Kip. And time tears are only part of your game.”
He dropped his toys into his bag. “Remember that wall you hit this morning? That was a doorway to my world.”
“You’re forgetting that I stayed right here.”
“That’s because portals rise with the sun. It couldn’t transport you because most of it was above you.” He carried his bag to the love seat.
Winnie sat up to make room. “Whatever.” She reopened her book.
“Bunches of worlds exist next to each other, like a layer cake on its side.”
“First bedspreads, now layer cakes. Maria’s right. You have a wild imagination.”
“Instead,” he said over the loud rain, “instead of calling it Frama-12, you could call my world Layer-12 or Frame-12. Your world is Frame-11. We’re side by side. That’s why Maggenta sent me here.”
She pretended to read.
“Windy. It was never a game. It was practice. My true name is General Takka.”
“Buddy, you were born right here like everybody else.”
“My essence traveled here, not my form.” He slapped his chest. “I came to this world to grow inside the vessel we call Mikey.”
“Is this a new twist to the game?”
He folded his arms and scowled.
Outside, a cloud dumped a vat of water over the roof. A minute later, the rain eased up. His annoyance seemed to lessen with it. He let out a deep breath. “Ages ago, one of your species visited Frama-12.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do tell.”
“He wasn’t just powerful. He was craftier than anyone in my world. The council believes our only hope to defeat the lurk in is to have someone just like him lead our army. Except someone not as deceitful.”
Thunder grumbled in the distance as the storm rolled away.
“Gotta give you props, bud. You’re a storytelling genius.”
He shook his head. “It’s not a story. It’s a prophecy. The lurk in plan to march through a time tear to invade this world. Since I was already a general, I volunteered to grow inside a human vessel and learn your wily ways.”
She laughed. “Wily ways? I love it!”
“I was supposed to return to my world in human form and lead Queen Bogen’s army against the lurkin. But this form”—he pointed at himself—“was supposed to be older.”
She couldn’t help grinning. “Most little kids want to get older so they can drive. You’re the only person I know who wants to grow up for a game. And speaking of your game, I have nightmares about your lurk in attacking the castle.”
He gaped at her. “The lurk in attacked the castle?”
“I only dreamed they did because that’s the only game we ever play together.”
“Tell me about your dream. Please, please?” He pressed his hands together, like a typical little kid eager for a story.
She grabbed a handful of popcorn. “It starts off in a castle, and a tiny bald jester starts singing.” She popped the puffy kernels into her mouth.
He dipped his hand in the popcorn bag. “Sounds like Polo.”
She almost choked. “How’d you know his name? And don’t say you’re fey again.”
“You’re not having nightmares. I think your mind has been traveling to Frama-12 in your sleep. Time is different over there.” He still looked like Mikey, but his voice deepened. “Since your mind has already been to Frama-12, you’ll know where you are when your body goes there.”
“How am I getting there? You just said the time tear is in the sky.”
“It’ll rise out of the ground one more time before it mends.”
She didn’t want to believe, but that wall she’d hit seemed real. So did the lurk in dreams. Get serious. It’s just a game.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop wondering. One question stayed with her all the way to cookies and milk time. She had to ask. “Are lurk in giant spiders?”
Mikey/Takka shrugged. “I only know they’ll attack when the sea is smooth.”
“And I agreed to fight them.” Of course, back when she made that promise, she’d believed they were playing a game.
He bobbed his head up and down. “ ’Cause you’re a warrior.”
She couldn’t argue that. What if her recurring dream really was a premonition? “In my dream I saw little knights in armor.”
“I told you the mel-yew were small.”
“If that’s supposed to be your army, they’re too weak. I knocked one over with a push.”
“You have to convince the queen to strengthen her forces. Just like we played.”
“But in our games, I always played the queen.”
He smiled. “You were a really good queen. You’ll make an even better general.”
She looked away. What if he truly was an alien from another world trapped inside a kid’s body? No wonder he’d made that weird comment about cosmic bedspreads.
Mikey lifted his glass of milk. Somewhere between taking a swallow and returning the glass to the table, he became a little boy again. His milk mustache definitely made him seem more kid than general. Winnie still shivered. The kid might be right.