The Slippery Map by N. E. Bode Page A

Ringet was trying desperately not to say what he was going to say next but he couldn’t help himself—“why didn’t you mark the spot on the Slippery Map when you got out? Why didn’t you?”
    Slippery Map? Oyster’s cheeks and ears went hot.
    â€œYou were supposed to take the baby through the Slippery Map and then leave him there safely,” Ringet went on, “and mark it when you got back. It was what his parents wanted!”
    Oyster’s mind had snagged on the word parents . How could he be the boy they were looking for? Maybe slippery maps weren’t as unusual as he’d thought. After all, there had been an entire room filled with them. “Stop it, Ringet! Stop it!” Hopps said. “We’ve got real work to do if this is the boy.”
    â€œI don’t have parents,” Oyster explained. “I was rejected. I’m a reject.”
    Hopps said, “What’s your full name?”
    Oyster wasn’t sure he should answer any questions now. He didn’t want to be belched back into the dentist’s office and the clutches of Mrs. Fishback. Plus, Alvin Peterly hadn’t answered any questions unless hewas given chocolate. And Oyster could smell the chocolate now. He propped himself up on his elbows and took a deep breath. He could smell the scent of the pink chocolate he’d plucked off of the broom handle. He could see the vats that Alvin had been talking about. Their rims were crusted in caramel and different shades of chocolate: blues, greens, pinks, and reds, and one filled with bright silver icing.
    â€œHe’s stopped answering,” Ringet said.
    Leatherbelly waddled off to the corner, walked in circles, and whined.
    â€œI don’t know what that beast is,” Ringet said, looking at the dog. “Did you see any of them when you were there?”
    Hopps shook his head. “Don’t get too close,” he said, and then he turned his attention back to Oyster. “What’s your full name again?”
    Oyster decided he could ask questions just as easily as answer them. He had plenty of questions. “Where am I?”
    Ringet was pleased that Oyster was responding, and bounced a little up and down. One of his legs didn’t work properly, though, and so it was a rigid bounce that set him off-kilter. He had to catch his balance. “You’re in the storage room of The Figgy Shop!” Ringet said. “It’s Happy Fig Day! Don’t you hear it?” Ringet pointed to the door.
    A bright slice of light slipped into the room underneathit, and now Oyster could hear people shouting, “Two pounds four!” and “I was next!” There were bells being rung and whistles and singing and drums.
    â€œOnly celebration us Perths are allowed, you see,” Ringet explained.
    â€œPerths?” Oyster asked. “What are Perths?”
    â€œWe’re Perths! That’s what,” Ringet said. “Hopps chose to keep trying, even on Happy Fig Day. At least this way all of the noise and commotion of the celebration blocks out any shouting in here. Any screaming and whatnot. Sometimes they scream, you know.”
    â€œWho screams?” Oyster was alarmed.
    Hopps didn’t let Ringet go on explaining things. “You’re in Boneland, just west of the Pinch-Eye Mountains, about three miles to the Bridge to Nowhere and beyond that….” He paused.
    â€œDon’t,” Ringet said. “There’s no need to discuss it now.”
    â€œI answered your question; now you answer mine,” Hopps said. “What was your name…one more time?”
    â€œOyster R. Motel,” Oyster said. He pointed to Leatherbelly, who looked completely dazed and dizzy now from walking in circles. “That’s Leatherbelly. And you”—he pointed to the chubby one—“are Ringet. And you”—he pointed to the angry one—“are Hopps. I heard you two talking