Between Two Ends by David Ward Page B

bubbling green sea. “What is it?”
    â€œWords,” puffed Bones.
    â€œWe’re rowing through words?” Yeats exclaimed. He caught sight of black shapes rolling through the water. And to think that his father had traveled in the same boat!
    â€œâ€™Course!” Skin cranked hard on the tiller. “Small print. It’s an old book!”
    â€œI don’t understand,” said Yeats.
    â€œWe be skimmin’ pages,” said the pirate. “We haven’t committed yet. When we commit to a chapter then ye’ll smell the sea. Then we’ll weigh anchor and ye can talk to the girl.”
    Odysseus’s claws were fully embedded in Yeats’s sock. Yeats untangled the cat and put him on his lap. The book, he noted, was gone.
    â€œThat’s the second time that mangy beast hascome for a ride.” Bones pointed to the cat. “He came with the girl and yer father too. Seems he can’t grow old till the young lass comes back.”
    â€œNo wonder Dad was surprised to see you!” Yeats said to Odysseus. “You must be the world’s oldest cat!”
    Mist poured over the bow and brushed past Yeats’s face in whimpers and whispers.
    Yeats swatted at the clouds. “What is that?”
    â€œEchoes from the story world,” Bones answered. “Ye’ll hear more of it. We’re just past the introduction.” He leaned into the oars with practiced ease, his muscles bulging under his shirt. Skin sang an old chantey:
    â€œSo swab the decks and reef the sails!
    Hold ye hats and mind the gale.
    We’re off to San Francisco!”
    His singing voice was gravelly, just as Yeats imagined it would be, yet also strong and wild. His peg leg scraped against the bottom of the boat with each swell. Yeats was certain, bookends or no, they were capable of handling themselves in a fight.
    A few minutes later Yeats’s skin tingled and a thrilling sensation rippled through his body. He sucked in the musty breeze and instantly felt brave and strong like a warrior.
    â€œHurrah!” he shouted. Seconds later he cowered on all fours, terrified to look over the side. “What is happening to me?” Yeats gasped.
    â€œIt’s normal for a first voyage!” Bones assured him. Yeats clutched Odysseus. Bones rested his oars. “We’re passing through Chapter One. Ye be sensing all the emotions. Be thankful we aren’t traveling too far.”
    Yeats felt his strength returning. Suddenly, without knowing why, he cupped his hands around his mouth and burst into the national anthem. His voice did not sound anything like Skin’s, but he didn’t mind. He sensed hundreds of people watching his performance and he put his arms out to them.
    Skin snorted and Yeats felt silly. The feelings kept roaring through him. Panic struck his heart like a fist.
    â€œWhen will this stop?” he gasped.
    â€œFight it,” said Skin.
    â€œHow?” he groaned.
    â€œThink of one thing and the rest will go.”
    â€œOne thing, one thing,” he muttered as the panic rose. Yeats grabbed his necklace. The marble was smooth and cool and when the bell tinkled he thought of his father’s concerned face. “I am here for Dad,” he murmured. “I’m on a rescue mission.” He squeezed his eyes shut. A wave of terror washed over him. Just then, a monster welled up in his mind, but he pushed it back with the words, “I’m going to rescue Shari and bring her back.” The panic subsided, melting away as quickly as it had come.
    Yeats shuddered. He needed to stay focused. Talking seemed to help. “How do we break the spell?” he asked. “How do we get Shari to remember who she is?”
    â€œWe?” Skin frowned. “Not
we
. Ye.”
    Bones growled, “I told ye that in the library! We’re finished with our end of the bargain soon as we weigh anchor. Enough questions!”
    Yeats shook off a wave