Between Two Ends by David Ward

too. He was about to lose his head!”
    Yeats looked around the room and thought of the books, the history and stories, and all the glorious worlds he had read since he was little. His father had stood in the same place twenty years ago. But he was not alone back then. And the story was chosen by Shari. The result of that wish had left old Mr. Sutcliff unstable, his father in a lifelong depression, and his family on the brink of splitting.
    Yeats scowled. He knew what he had to wish for. But before he said the words he needed answers to a few questions.
    â€œIf I asked, could you take me to Shari?” he asked.
    â€œAye,” said Bones.
    â€œAnd if I could convince her to go with me, would the spell be broken and she could return?”
    The pirates regarded each other. Finally Bones shrugged and said, “If she wants to come back here with her whole heart … then yes.”
    Yeats leaned eagerly forward.
    â€œBut it gets muddy in the story world, lad,” Bones added. “It will be hard to think clearly as ye do now. Especially for the girl. She’s been in for a long time! Her memory will be like a cloudy soup.”
    Yeats squeezed his eyes shut. “Is there a chance I could get stuck in there too?”
    â€œAye,” they said together.
    â€œI don’t like the sound of that,” said Yeats.
    â€œâ€™Course ye don’t,” jeered Skin. “Ye be as lily-livered as yer father.”
    Yeats turned red and scowled as fiercely as any pirate. “Say that again, Skinny, and I’ll chase your boogers up your nose with your own sword.”
    Skin hopped up from his sitting position and swung his sword. “I’ll kill him! Davy Jones, I don’t care. Just let me kill him.”
    Bones thrust his finger at Yeats. “Say yer sorry!”
    â€œNo!”
    â€œThis isn’t going to help yer father. Say it!”
    Yeats pounded the top of the shelf, bouncing Skin off balance.
    â€œSorry,” Yeats said through gritted teeth. “Sorry,” he said again. “But don’t you ever call my dad a coward.”
    Skin regarded him closely for a moment before putting away his sword.
“A
sword up the nose, eh? Very pirate-like. Might use it meself.”
    Yeats took a deep breath and regained his composure. “Will you help me if I get stuck?”
    â€œWhy should we?” Bones retorted. “Not like we owe ye or yer father anything! The codfish! Hauled me off to the garden when the girl didn’t come back. Demanded more wishes to go back and get her.”
    The sudden image of his father as a frightened boy filled Yeats with rage. “You didn’t help him?He needed you! That’s disgusting, even for a pirate.”
    â€œI’ve been eating garden dirt for twenty years,” Bones retorted. “I suppose I paid for it by being marooned.”
    â€œWell, if you’re so hostile to my father, then why are you answering my questions?” Yeats shot back.
    â€œWe have to,” answered Skin sulkily. “There’s a certain rotting fairness built in to the magic. Gives ye yer chance. Questions come before the wish.”
    Yeats rubbed a hand over his eyes. He had to think. The magic of the house was beyond reckoning; it tore down his defenses and left him numb. No wonder his father was depressed! He had to live in the logical world of the university while knowing what had happened in this room defied common sense.
    But at least his father was not crazy.
    The pirate’s gravelly voice broke into his thoughts. “So, lad. It’s up to ye. I’ve been away for twenty years and have lots to do. Let’s get on with it. Time to make a wish.”

lthough it was his first time in the library, Yeats felt a strong connection to the place. He was loath to make his wish and leave. In the library, his father, mother, and even Gran were only a shout away. And it didn’t help knowing that one other person who