The Otherworldlies (29 page)

Fern was unable to let go of the subject.

“So you don’t know what happened to her?”

“No, I don’t,” Mrs. McAllister said.

“But what does that make me?”

“Even more extraordinary,” the Commander said sympathetically.

“What if I become evil like Vlad?”

“You’ll never be like him. People choose to be like that.”

“What if all of a sudden I start sucking people’s blood? Am I a Rollen or am I really a Blout?” Fern asked.

“You’re a McAllister,” the Commander said. She paused.

“Blouts, Rollens, Hermes, Poseidons, Otherworldlies—who knows what any of those words really mean, anyway? They’re just words. You know what? Vampires are just as guilty as Normals. Everything has got to have a label attached to it. There are some things that can’t be categorized.”

Both the Commander and Fern let smiles creep across their faces. Fern had a thousand questions she still wanted to ask. Was her mother a true Blout? Why did she change? Why did she move up north? Fern realized that the questions she most wanted answered were the ones furthest out of reach.

After a long pause, the Commander continued. “I’m not going to pretend to know what it’s like to be you, with the prophecy and your special talents and all this Unusual Otherworldly business. But you saved lives today. Special powers or not, you stood up to someone when you could have done otherwise and you did it all on your own with no help, using your own inner strength.” Mrs. McAllister had an earnest look on her face as she turned to Fern and looked her daughter in the eye. “Fern, I’m so very proud of you. Each day that passes, I grow more and more thankful that Phoebe chose me. To be able to watch you grow up in front of my eyes, well, it’s a privilege.”

Fern’s eyes pooled.

The Commander breathed a sigh of relief. She had finally said to Fern what she’d wanted to. Fern noticed the shoe box on her mother’s lap for the first time. Mrs. McAllister picked up the shoe box.

“This shoe box has almost every letter Phoebe and I wrote to each other. Like I said, I lost touch with her near the end, but I want you to have it, Fern. I don’t know how to make things right; I can only express how sorry I am for keeping your past from you.” Mrs. McAllister held out the shoe box. Fern reached forward and took it, handling it gingerly, as if it were a ticking time bomb.

“You might be bored to tears. They’re all about our daily lives, checking in and all that. But they’re yours to keep.”

“Thank you,” Fern said.

“You must be exhausted.”

“Not too much. I slept a whole day straight,” Fern said.

“Sure, but I doubt saving the world from evil is easy work.” Mrs. McAllister let out puzzled laughter. “Now there’s a sentence no mother has probably ever said to her daughter before.” Mrs. McAllister got up and gave Fern a dry kiss on the forehead. “I guess they don’t call you Unusual for nothing,” she said with a half smile. “I hate to bring this up, but Headmaster Mooney called about scheduling your second Saturday school.”

“Oh no,” Fern said, realizing that she only had a month in which to complete both.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. We had a talk and he’ll give you an extension to serve it, but do try not to make him upset again. I don’t know how long I can use scare tactics with him.”

“Okay,” Fern said, glad that her mother had talked to Headmaster Mooney. She may have recently found her own inner strength, but even her inner strength had its limits. Just weeks ago, Fern had served her first Saturday school and the word
Otherworldly
wasn’t yet a part of her vocabulary. Fern marveled at how much had happened since then. Mrs. McAllister got up to leave.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for the letters.”

“Good night, Fern.”

“Good night,” Fern replied.

Mrs. McAllister closed the door behind her.

Fern opened the shoe box and took out the first letter, which was wrinkled and brittle to the touch. She folded it out in front of her. Her eyes stared at the first line:
Dear Phoebe.

Her eyes drooped and her head felt heavy. She put the letter back in the shoe box and closed the lid.

Fern no longer wanted to be alone.

Creeping down the hall, avoiding the spots where the floor squeaked under the carpet, she slipped into Sam’s room. He was already fast asleep, exhausted after spending a full day awake, waiting for Fern to regain consciousness. His noisy breathing was enough. Fern curled up on the floor at the foot of her brother’s bed and closed her eyes. Byron, keeping watch as ever, told Fern “Good night” as he lay down next to her.

She would read the letters tomorrow.

Although Fern fell fast asleep, leaving behind the worries and troubles of the last few days, for many, the workday was just starting. Hiding in the shadows of the McAllister’s large jacaranda tree, Mr. Joseph Bing, having transmorphed into a wild parrot once again, stood watch on a low hanging branch. He was tired, but he would stay there as long as necessary to make sure Fern was completely safe. Five blocks away, on the other side of Ortega Highway, May and Mike Lin sat at their kitchen table, hard at work drafting an internal memo entitled “The First Confirmed Case: Fern McAllister and the Unusual Eleven.” The memo was to be disseminated to every member of the Alliance Assembly in the morning. A few miles away, in his office just around the corner from Mission San Juan Capistrano, Mr. Alistair Kimble pored over the detailed educational plans he was drawing up, running through every single potential danger Fern would face in the coming weeks, months, and years.

Meanwhile, in a makeshift crisis center down the road, Chief Kenneth Quagmire was calling to order an emergency meeting with members of the Assembly, who were deciding what kind of facility could possibly hope to contain someone as dangerous as Vlad, once he thawed out. Many people had grave concerns. After all, the Reformatory had never housed a criminal as powerful as Vlad. Despite the challenge, Chief Quagmire was basking in the positive publicity Vlad’s capture had brought to his office. In fact, Kenneth Quagmire had never been more popular with his Rollen constituency.

At exactly the same time, fifty miles to the south and half a mile underground, Chuffy Merced III, first assistant to the chief of the Vampire Alliance, had just received the good news from Telemus. Smiling to himself, he hobbled over to the cupboard in his drab room and poured himself a dark red drink from his secret bottle, toasting the news that his friend Fern McAllister had saved the day after all.

I
’m fortunate to have been surrounded by remarkable people as I wrote
The Otherworldlies
. In particular, I would like to thank, first and foremost, John and Clare Kogler, the best cheerleaders a girl could ask for; Kristy Cole and Leigh Meredith for being huge nerds and reading draft after draft; Bradford Lyman for being an ideal sounding board; Marnie Podos for providing the soundtrack; Bob and Janice Wilhelm and Mike and Charlene Immell for their unwavering support; Lisa Hart for her skill with a camera; Fred Hargadon for his general incorrigibility; Sarah Sevier for stepping in; Clare Hutton, my tireless editor; and Anne Coxon, whom I could hear whispering in my ear while I wrote.

About the Author

JENNIFER ANNE KOGLER
is also the author of RUBY TUESDAY, which started as her senior thesis at Princeton University. Born and raised in California, she is the youngest sibling to six brothers and a sister and currently attends Stanford Law School.

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Also by Jennifer Anne Kogler

Ruby Tuesday

Credits

Jacket art © 2008 by Margaret Malandruccolo/MergeLeft Reps
Jacket design by Jennifer Heuer

Copyright

The Otherworldlies

Copyright © 2008 by Jennifer Anne Kogler

Epigraph from
The Phantom Tollbooth
by Norton Juster and illustrated by Jules Feiffer, copyright © 1961, renewed 1989 by Norton Juster; illustrations copyright © 1961, renewed 1989 by Jules Feiffer. Used by permission of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc.

Quotes from
Lord of the Flies
by William Golding, copyright 1954, renewed © 1982 by William Gerald Golding. Used by permission of G.P. Putnam’s Sons, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN 978-0-06-073959-1 (trade bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-06-073960-7 (lib. bdg.)

EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780061903816

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