“Not exactly,” Delilah says. “Because this time we know it’s coming.”
I look up at her. “And you think you can stop it?”
Edgar is the one who answers. “I thinkwecan,” he replies.
I know what he is going to say before he even says it. And I am holding my breath, hoping that if Edgar plans to bring his mother into the book permanently, he also means to join her.
Because then I get to leave.
We listen as Edgar outlines his plan: if Jessamyn enters the book, she will automatically heal. Just like it made Jules’s hairbegin to turn blond and Frump become a dog again, the story will do what it has to do to make her fit the role of Queen Maureen—who is blissfully, absolutely healthy.
“But you scoured the pages,” Orville points out, “and you only found that single star biscuit when you were looking for an escape.”
“We may not need another portal,” Edgar explains. “My mother swears she didn’t write that intentionally into the book. She said it was just a wish that happened to be in the right place at the right time, basically.”
“It’s a puzzle,” Delilah says. “We only have to figure out what all the swaps had in common.”
“The first was Edgar and I. We didn’t have any special shortcut, unless one counts the revised plot.” I glance at Delilah. “And since you and I were never able to get me free using Rapscullio’s easel or ripping the pages or writing me out of the plot, we know there must have been some key point that made the difference.”
“An equal trade,” Orville says. “A body for a body. Oliver, you couldn’t leave the story no matter how badly Delilah wanted you to—because there was no one to take your place.”
“Right. But both Edgar and Oliver were willing to make the switch. When Seraphima came out of the book,” Delilah points out, “Jules got dragged in unwillingly.”
“Maybe the wishing doesn’t have to be two-sided,” Orville suggests.
“Then why wouldn’t I have been able to get out on my own?” I ask. “Why didn’t a stranger get sucked in?”
“I was the only one reading the book,” Delilah points out. “And I did it in secret, because I was so embarrassed to be reading a kids’ story.”
“Which meant that there wasn’t any male near you who could be pulled into the story in my place,” I finish.
Socks whinnies faintly. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he asks, “but why did Humphrey wind up here?”
“He was with us when the book was open,” I say. “We were all watching Orville cast the wishing spell on Frump.”
Orville nods. “What this tells us is that for permanence’s sake, the story wants a replacement similar enough to the original character to be able to mold them in the same image.”
“Then how come when I wished to be with Oliver all those times, I didn’t accidentally switch places with Seraphima?” Delilah asks.
Before any of us can respond, Humphrey wanders to the far corner of the page and begins to lift his leg. “No!” I shout. “For heaven’s sake, Humphrey, we don’t do that here! There are rules in this world.”
Humphrey’s ears droop. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pack my things and go. Actually, I don’t have any things. I’ll just go. . . .”
“Wait,” Orville says, his eyes gleaming. “You’re on to something there, my boy. Therearerules in this world. And we must play by them, as I’ve said before. Yet in a story, anything is possible. So the wish must originatehere.”
I try to make a mental list of everything we’ve covered so far: If two people switch and only one of them has consented, there has to be an aid involved—a cookie, a portal, a spell, a magic lip gloss. If, on the other hand, two people want to switch, havinggiven mutual consent, that can happen without any physical shortcut. All it takes is the power of the wish.
I look up at Edgar. “Your mother talked to me. But did she believe you when you told her you lived inside this book for four months?”
“I don’t think so,” Edgar admits. “She thought I was making it all up. She thoughtyouwere a hallucination.”
“If she could be convinced, then from what Orville’s saying, all it would take for us to swap places would be for you, me, your mother, and Queen Maureen to want it desperately.”
Edgar shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen. She already thinks her mind is playing tricks on her.”
“Then you must find another one of your special tricks,” Orville says.
We all fall silent, because we know how much harder that is than it seems. I glance up at Edgar and see the defeat written across his features. I think of Frump and how many times each day I wish he were still here: to laugh with me when Socks gets stuck in a mud bog, to marvel as the sunset paints the beach, to help me finish off one of Queen Maureen’s lemon tarts. Edgar has already given up, I realize. He has already started to say goodbye.
