The Wikkeling (16 page)

But the alphabet was irregular. The rules all had exceptions, and some of the exceptions even had exceptions. The alphabet was like the Old City. The pitched roof of Henrietta's house, for instance, was an exception to the rule of flat roofs. Maybe Henrietta's house should be remodeled to have a flat roof, and maybe the alphabet should be remodeled so all the
A
s sounded like the
A
in
apple
.

But if Henrietta's house had a flat roof, this story wouldn't have happened. Mister Lady would not have been able to sneak in. Mysterious jars would not be hidden away among strange artifacts. There would be no windows looking into
the past. The alphabet's different
A
s had caused Gary some problems, but the attic was giving him the time he needed to sort them out.

With occasional guidance from Henrietta, Gary and Rose sounded out the text of the description of the quaverly (a word in which the
A
sounds like the
A
in “
Safe
”). Here's what they read:

A beach-dwelling, nocturnal Carnivore, Quaverly live in Schools of up to one hundred thousand individuals. Roosting and sleeping during the Day under driftwood logs, suspended by a chitinous Hook, this placid Creature drops from its roost at night to the Sand, and enters tidal pools and shallows to provender upon Shrimp, Sand Fleas, and other small Fauna.

Though edible, Quaverly is rarely prepared owing to its bitter Taste, want of Meat, and nearly imperturbable Hide. However, its Abundance has made it useful to Humans in times of severe Lack—especially in Wintertime, when its Population swells after the Autumnal mating season.
—Henrift

They didn't figure it all out at once. Even Henrietta had to use the dictionary here and there for words like
chitinous
(hard, like a beetle shell) and
provender
(to feed). When they finished, Gary slumped. “That was the hardest thing I've ever done.”

“Way harder than what we read in school,” said Henrietta.

Rose peered at the page. “What's that?” she asked, pointing to the word “Henrift” at the very end.

“That's the name of the person who wrote this entry,” said Henrietta. “Look here.” She flipped to the front of the book. “See,
Aristotle Alcott
, that's the
A.A.
at the end of some of the entries. I wonder if this
Henrift
is the same one from History in school.”

“I can't believe they wrote this whole thing out by
hand
,” said Gary.

“My grandfather said it was made before people typed. He has a newer
Bestiary
, too. It's old, but not this old. It's typed, and it's longer, because they'd learned more.”

“It's weird, as we flipped through,” said Gary. “I've never heard of any of the animals.”

They looked again, skimming past the illustrations. The diversity of pictured life was fascinating: mesmer vole, airship whale, springer, tail fox, candlefly, statium, pulchritude hound, pif, greater pif, paf. . . .

“I guess they're all extinct,” said Henrietta. “That's what my grandfather said about wild housecats, too.”

As if on cue, Mister Lady took a brief experimental swipe at the quaverly in the jar, as if to ascertain whether or not it might be chased.

“I think Mister Lady is a girl,” Rose said abruptly.

Henrietta and Gary agreed, though they weren't sure why.

At school, the lessons slowly progressed day to day and the Competency Exam grew inexorably nearer. Gary continued to cheat as always, and so maintained his position at the top of the class. Henrietta never cheated, but she found her work
improving considerably, even though school seemed more awful and boring than ever. She wasn't sure why she was doing better. Partly, it was that she didn't want to miss her bus after school, because she could go into the attic with her friends. Partly it was because she was feeling happier than she had in a long time.

And partly, it was because her reading skills were improving. Every day, she learned new words, and encountered more difficult sentences, and she waded through them with increasing expertise. In fact, she was becoming quite an excellent reader, and she had an excellent memory for new words, which seemed to stick in her head like flies to flypaper. She was ensnaring herself a superlative vocabulary.

After school on the day before the Competency Exam, while Henrietta ducked around with Rose behind the book cases collecting cobwebs, they ran across a book whose title caught Henrietta's eye:
Early Town
. She slid it from the shelf and returned to the couch, laying her harvest of webs next to Mister Lady. She opened the book and turned to the title page.

EARLY TOWN:

A Book of Records Including Maps and Services

The next page, printed in black, blue, and red ink, folded out to become twice as wide as the book. The legend at the top read C
ITY
M
AP
. Henrietta had never seen a map before, except in the movie
Watch Out for Pirates
, when some buccaneers had used one to find buried treasure.

Gary and Rose looked over Henrietta's shoulder at the folded-out page. Mister Lady approached as well, curious as she always was whenever anyone read something. She often peered over their shoulders while they waded through the old books, and Henrietta had begun to wonder about it—maybe the cat really could read.

“What is it?” Gary asked.

“A map,” said Henrietta.

“Like in
Watch Out for Pirates
?”

“But not a treasure map,” said Henrietta. “Just a regular map. It shows how the city used to be.”

“I don't get it,” said Gary.

“Pretend we're floating over the buildings,” said Henrietta. She pointed at a straight red line. “This is a road.”

“And that's a river,” said Rose, pointing to a meandering blue line.

“And the squares are buildings?” said Gary. “We don't really need these anymore I guess, since your car or your phone just tells you.”

“This seems kind of better, though,” said Henrietta.

“It seems complicated,” said Gary.

“But when your car tells you, you don't really know where you're going.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Gary. “If the phone says ‘turn left' . . . I can see how a map is better.”

“Also, I like how it looks,” said Henrietta. “It's like a painting.”

“If I found it in the trash, I'd definitely keep it,” said Gary.

“It doesn't show what's here now,” said Rose.

“It's what used to be, back then, I bet,” said Henrietta, gesturing out the attic windows.

It took some puzzling out because the map contained many streets, houses, and streams. Labels for everything were crammed in at different angles, but they eventually found a street with the same name as theirs:
Boardwalk
. Strangely, it was right at the far left edge of the map, like it was the last street, period.

“It looks like we're on the edge of the world,” said Henrietta. “I wonder what's beyond it.”

“The Addition,” said Rose.

“But why isn't it on here?”

“It wasn't built yet.”

For a few moments the children contemplated the fact that the city they lived in, every building and every street, hadn't always existed.

“I want to know everything that happened between then and now,” said Gary.

“I wonder how long ago it was,” said Henrietta.

“If any of those people are still alive,” said Rose.

The three of them walked to the windows and looked down at the narrow brick road. At the moment, the boulevard was nearly empty. Two young men sat on the edge of the giant stump, arguing earnestly and passing a steaming thermos back and forth between them.

“They should see their street now,” said Gary. “I wonder if they'd like it.”

“Maybe some of them
have
seen it both ways,” said Henrietta. “Like my grandparents.”

“I want to tell those people not to chop down the trees,” said Gary. He looked out at the soaring boughs and wished he could somehow prevent them from disappearing. The leaves were full of the gold and red of autumn, and some had fallen in stiff breezes and littered the ground, skittering here and there along the bricks and across the great stump.

“Hey, look!” said Henrietta, pointing high into the branches of one of the trees. “There!” She kept pointing, following the form as it moved from branch to branch within the deep orange foliage. Because of its orange fur, it was tough to see. “It's . . . I think it's a wild housecat!”

Suddenly, from behind them, Mister Lady leaped down from the couch. Before Henrietta could turn, the cat was beside them, pressing her front paws against the windowsill. Her green eyes were wide.

“I see it!” said Gary.

“Me too,” said Rose.

The cat was huge, a tabby even larger than Mister Lady. It left the shadows for a moment to run across a thick branch right by the windows. As it passed, Mister Lady let out a long, plaintive meow. She pawed at the glass, but the tabby neither saw nor heard her. In another instant it reentered the shadows of the heavy foliage, and disappeared as it leaped effortlessly on its long legs from one tree to another and continued down the boulevard.

Mister Lady stared after it, her eyes seeking this way and that for another glimpse. Finally she turned and walked back to the couch. Her limp was nearly gone now, but her gait was slow, dejected.

“I think she really is from out there,” said Gary.

“I wonder how much longer she'll stay here,” said Henrietta. “She's almost better.” This was a tough thought, because none of the three wanted to lose Mister Lady, who was as much a part of their shared friendship as anyone.

They looked down as a few more schoolchildren ran by, chasing after leaves and playing. Seeing them turned Henrietta's thoughts back toward class. “Gary, do you think you'll cheat on the Competency Exam tomorrow?” she asked.

“I'm just not good enough yet to do it on my own,” he replied. “What if I got Finished? I'd never see you guys again. Say, do
you
want to cheat?” he asked. “I could help you.”