don’t do that.”
“Please. You’re all over each other.”
They entered Duvall’s macabre classroom, wallpapered with vials of slime, frames of gray bones, and the moaning of rot. Above their heads, thousands of tiny glass tubes and flasks swayed and clanked together, harmonizing a symphony that sounded vaguely familiar. Carnival of the Animals , Alex’s mind told her. The lopsided office door opened, and Duvall stuck out her head of raggedy hair. She grinned upward at the field of glass and jerked her arms around to direct the music.
Alex slid into a desk next to the aquarium, pretending she didn’t feel left out when Skye and Duvall began their usual gossiping. Duvall never asked Alex for her observations, only Skye. How in the world did Skye know that the trees had a lousy night? How did she know that the fountain mist in the vestibule needed to be refreshed? How did she know that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred in the courtyard that morning?
Many times Alex attempted to interrupt their ridiculous conversations, but before she could form words, Duvall stomped her foot and Alex’s thoughts flattened against the ground of her mind.
Duvall snapped her knobby fingers. “Alex, did Skye get a chance to look at Sephi’s letters?”
Skye retracted and crinkled her nose. “Oh, I sure did.”
“What’s wrong?”
Skye shuddered. “The second I touched that devil box, it snapped at me like a guard dog.”
Alex swore she heard the box snarl that day. “Skye cowered in the corner and cried.”
“I don’t like that thing. I think you should bury it and never look at it again.”
“Cobwebs!” For Duvall, this was a curse word. She pushed up the sleeves of her layers of wool to reveal deathly skinny arms. “I’m not responsible for the personalities of my creations, but the box served its purpose. It kept Sephi’s treasures safe.”
Skye moaned. “Please tell me that what you have in mind for us this morning has nothing to do with those letters.”
“You’re in luck. The task I have for you is simple. Travel down the river and to the edge of our boundaries on the western side of the city. Remember the tree with the bark that coils and twists like ribbons?”
This didn’t sound simple to Alex. The new workshops would begin in a few hours, and she didn’t want to exert all of her energy playing go-fetch.
“You know which one I speak of?”
“Yes,” Skye replied.
“I need some of the bark.”
“How much?” Before Skye even finished the question, Duvall was handing her a burlap sack.
“Fill it, please.” She handed another one to Alex.
“That’s a big—”
Skye shushed her. “I’ve seen the tree before. The banana slugs love it. Are you making more Thymoserum?”
A box waited on the floor by their feet. Duvall used her mind to transfer multiple vials from the ceiling into the box. “It isn’t for my own personal use. No matter the level of intelligence and study in the Broderick Division of Science, they still don’t make Thymoserum as effectively as I do. They don’t appreciate the diligence of doing something by hand nor do they understand the temperament of botanicals and the attitudes of minerals.”
With that, she shooed them away.
Alex struggled to keep up with Skye. She felt frazzled, and it showed. No matter how hard she concentrated, she kept looking down at mismatched clothes, and her hair fell annoyingly in front of her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Skye asked. “Is it the Eskers kids?”
They would be there today. Alex couldn’t avoid them during workshops.
“Stop worrying. You’re making the air shake. There’s nothing harmful about those kids except for overeagerness and botched ambition.”
Alex wished she could believe that. She reminded herself that considering Skye’s lack of consciousness during the Eskers battle and beating last spring, she didn’t carry the same traumatic memories as Alex.
“Have you seen them since the
“Please. You’re all over each other.”
They entered Duvall’s macabre classroom, wallpapered with vials of slime, frames of gray bones, and the moaning of rot. Above their heads, thousands of tiny glass tubes and flasks swayed and clanked together, harmonizing a symphony that sounded vaguely familiar. Carnival of the Animals , Alex’s mind told her. The lopsided office door opened, and Duvall stuck out her head of raggedy hair. She grinned upward at the field of glass and jerked her arms around to direct the music.
Alex slid into a desk next to the aquarium, pretending she didn’t feel left out when Skye and Duvall began their usual gossiping. Duvall never asked Alex for her observations, only Skye. How in the world did Skye know that the trees had a lousy night? How did she know that the fountain mist in the vestibule needed to be refreshed? How did she know that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred in the courtyard that morning?
Many times Alex attempted to interrupt their ridiculous conversations, but before she could form words, Duvall stomped her foot and Alex’s thoughts flattened against the ground of her mind.
Duvall snapped her knobby fingers. “Alex, did Skye get a chance to look at Sephi’s letters?”
Skye retracted and crinkled her nose. “Oh, I sure did.”
“What’s wrong?”
Skye shuddered. “The second I touched that devil box, it snapped at me like a guard dog.”
Alex swore she heard the box snarl that day. “Skye cowered in the corner and cried.”
“I don’t like that thing. I think you should bury it and never look at it again.”
“Cobwebs!” For Duvall, this was a curse word. She pushed up the sleeves of her layers of wool to reveal deathly skinny arms. “I’m not responsible for the personalities of my creations, but the box served its purpose. It kept Sephi’s treasures safe.”
Skye moaned. “Please tell me that what you have in mind for us this morning has nothing to do with those letters.”
“You’re in luck. The task I have for you is simple. Travel down the river and to the edge of our boundaries on the western side of the city. Remember the tree with the bark that coils and twists like ribbons?”
This didn’t sound simple to Alex. The new workshops would begin in a few hours, and she didn’t want to exert all of her energy playing go-fetch.
“You know which one I speak of?”
“Yes,” Skye replied.
“I need some of the bark.”
“How much?” Before Skye even finished the question, Duvall was handing her a burlap sack.
“Fill it, please.” She handed another one to Alex.
“That’s a big—”
Skye shushed her. “I’ve seen the tree before. The banana slugs love it. Are you making more Thymoserum?”
A box waited on the floor by their feet. Duvall used her mind to transfer multiple vials from the ceiling into the box. “It isn’t for my own personal use. No matter the level of intelligence and study in the Broderick Division of Science, they still don’t make Thymoserum as effectively as I do. They don’t appreciate the diligence of doing something by hand nor do they understand the temperament of botanicals and the attitudes of minerals.”
With that, she shooed them away.
Alex struggled to keep up with Skye. She felt frazzled, and it showed. No matter how hard she concentrated, she kept looking down at mismatched clothes, and her hair fell annoyingly in front of her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Skye asked. “Is it the Eskers kids?”
They would be there today. Alex couldn’t avoid them during workshops.
“Stop worrying. You’re making the air shake. There’s nothing harmful about those kids except for overeagerness and botched ambition.”
Alex wished she could believe that. She reminded herself that considering Skye’s lack of consciousness during the Eskers battle and beating last spring, she didn’t carry the same traumatic memories as Alex.
“Have you seen them since the
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