"But now that I think of it, I do remember finding a pen on the ground last week. Let's see." Joanne was enjoying this so much that she actually nipped open the top of her backpack and began rummaging around. "Let's see, here—"She came up with something. Silver barrel, grooved — and Nita went hot again, not with embarrassment this time. "It's mine!"
"Come and get it, then," Joanne said, dropping her backpack, keeping her smile, holding the pen back a little.
And a spark of white light seemed to light on the end of the pen as Joanne held it up, and then both were gone with a pop and a breath of air. Joanne spun to see who Had plucked the pen out of her fingers, then whirled on Nita again. Nita smiled and held out her hands, empty. Joanne was not amused. She stepped in close, and Nita took a few hurried steps back, unable to stop grinning even though she knew she was going to get hit. Heads were turning all around the schoolyard at the prospect of a night. "Callahan," Joanne hissed, "you're in for it now!"
The eight-thirty bell went off so suddenly they both jumped. Joanne stared at Nita for a long long moment, then turned and went to pick up her backpack. "Why hurry things?" she said, straightening. "Callahan, if I were you, I'd sleep here tonight. Because when you try to leave—"
And he walked off toward the doors. Nita stood where she was, still shaking, but with amazement and triumph as much as with fear. Kit came up beside her when Joanne was gone, and Fred appeared, a bright point between them. "u were great!" Kit said.
"I m gonna get killed tonight," Nita said, but she couldn't be terrified about it just yet. "Fred, have you got it?"
The point of light was flickering, and there was something about the way it did so that made Nita wonder if something was wrong. (Yes,) Fred said, the thought coming with a faint queasy feeling to it. (And that's the problem.)
"Are you okay?" Kit said. "Where'd it go?"
(I swallowed it,) Fred said, sounding genuinely miserable now.
"But that was what you were going to do," Nita said, puzzled. "Catch it in your own energy-field, you said, make a little pocket and hold it there."
(I know. But my fields aren't working the way they should. Maybe it's this gravity, I'm not used to any gravity but my own. I think it went down the wrong way.) "Oh, brother," Kit said.
"Well," Nita said, "at least Joanne hasn't got it. When we go to the Advisories tonight, maybe they can help us get it out."
Fred made a small thought-noise somewhere between a burp and a squeak. Nita and Kit looked up at him, concerned — and then both jumped back hurriedly from something that went bang! down by their feet.
They stared at the ground. Sitting there on the packed dirt was a small portable color TV, brand new.
"Uh, Fred—" Kit said.
Fred was looking down at the TV with embarrassment verging on shame. (I emitted it,) he said. Nita stared at him. "But I thought white holes only emitted little things. Subatomic particles. Nothing so big — or so orderly."
(I wanted to visit an orderly place,) Fred said miserably. (See what it got me!) "Hiccups," Kit muttered. "Fred, I think you'd better stay outside until we're finished for the day. We'll go straight to the Advisories' from here."
"Joanne permitting," Nita said. "Kit, we've got to go in."
(I'll meet you here,) Fred said. The mournful thought was followed by another burp/squeak, and another bang! and four volumes of an encyclopedia were sitting on the ground next to the TV. Kit and Nita hurried for the doors, sweating. Apparently wizardry had more drawbacks than the book had indicated…
Lunch wasn't calm, but it was interesting, due to the thirty teachers, assistant principal, principal, and school superintendent who were all out on the athletic field, along with most of the students. They were walking around looking at the furniture, vacuum cleaners, computer components, books, knickknacks, motorcycles, typewriters, art supplies, stoves, sculptures, lumber, and many other odd things that had since morning been appearing one after another in the field. No one knew what to make of any of it, or what to do; and though Kit and Nita felt sure they would be connected with the situation somehow, no one accused them of anything.
They met again at the schoolyard door at three, pausing just inside it while Nita peered out to see if Joanne was waiting. She was, and eight of her friends were with her, talking and laughing among themselves. "Kit," Nita said quietly, "we've got problems." He looked. "And this is the only door we can use."
Something went bang! out in the field, and Nita, looking out again, saw heads turn among Joanne's group. Without a moment's pause every one of the girls headed off toward the field in a hurry, leaving Joanne to glare at the school door for a moment. Then she took off after the others. Kit and Nita glanced at each other. "I get this feeling …" Kit said. "Let's go."
They waited until Joanne was out of sight and then leaned cautiously out of the door, looking around. Fred was suddenly there, wobbling in the air. He made a feeling of greeting at them; he seemed tired, but cheerful, at least for the moment.
Nita glanced over her shoulder to see what had drawn the attention of Joanne and her group—and drew in a sharp breath at the sight of the shiny silver Learjet. "Fred," she said, "you did that on purpose!"
She felt him look back too, and his cheerfulness drowned out his weariness and queasiness for a moment. (I felt you wondering whether to come out, so I exerted myself a little. What was that thing?)
"We'll explain later; right now we should run. Fred, thank you!" (You're most welcome. Just help me stop this!) "Can you hold it in for a few blocks?" (What's a block?)
They ran down Rose Avenue, and Fred paced them. Every now and then a little of Fred's hiccup-noise would squeak out, and he would fall behind them, controlling it while they ran on ahead. Then he would catch up again. The last time he did it, they paused and waited for him. Twenty-seven Hundred Rose had a high poplar hedge with one opening for the walk up to the house, and neither of them felt like going any farther without Fred. (Well?) he said, when he caught up. (Now what?)
Nita and Kit looked at each other. "I don't care if they are wizards," Nita said, "I want to peek in and have a look before I just walk in there. I've heard too many stories about this place—"
(Look,) Fred said in great discomfort, (I've got to—)
Evidently there was a limit on how long a white hole in Fred's condition hold it in. The sound of Fred's hiccup was so much louder than usual "at Nita and Kit crowded back away from him in near-panic. The bang!
Ended like the beginning of a fireworks display, and when its echoes faded, Powder-blue Mercedes-Benz was sitting half on, half off the sidewalk. (% gnaester hurts,) Fred said.
"Let's peek," Nita said, turned, and pushed a little way through the hedge. She wanted to be sure there were no monsters or skeletons hanging from trees or anything else uncanny going on in the yard before she went in. What she did not expect was the amiable face of an enormous black-and- white English sheepdog, which first slurped her face energetically, then grabbed her right arm in gentle but insistent teeth and pulled her straight through the hedge.
"Kit!" she almost screamed, and then remembered not to because Crazy Swale or whoever else lived here might hear her. Her cry came out as sort of a grunt. She heard Kit come right through the bushes behind her as the sheep-dog dragged her along through the yard. There was nothing spooky about the place at all — the house was big, a two-story affair, but normal-looking, all warm wood and shingles. The yard was grassy, with a landscaped garden as pretty as one of her father's. One side of the house had wide glass patio doors opening on a roofed-over terrace. Potted plants hung down and there was even a big square masonry tank, a fishpond — Nita caught a glimpse of some-thing coppery swimming as the sheepdog dragged her past it to the terrace doors. It was at that point that the dog let go her arm and began barking noisily, and Nita began thinking seriously of running for it.