“My point exactly,” Frump says. “Which is why I think we need to amp up the action a bit. The next time this book is opened, let’s leap off the page.”
“Good luck with that,”I mutter.
“What was that, Oliver?”
I cough. “Just a tickle in my throat.”
“Right. As I was saying—mermaids, creepier! I want these kids to have nightmares! And trolls, make sure you slam Oliver to the ground when he crosses the bridge. And Rapscullio, when you’ve got him dangling sixty feet off the ground—”
“Hey, wait a minute!” I interrupt. “What about me?”
“Seems to me you’re doing just fine.” Seraphima sniffs. “WhereasIhaven’t spoken a single word indays.…”
“There’s a silver lining,” I murmur.
“You’re absolutely right,” Frump agrees, so eager to support Seraphima that he yelps. “With a voice as pure as yours, Princess, you should speak constantly….”
But he might as well be talking to thin air. Seraphima completely ignores Frump, instead settling down besideme on the sand and running her fingers up my arm in a tickle. “Ollie,” she purrs. “I really miss you. How about we go to page sixty and practice the kiss?”
“I promised, uh, to help Maureen in the kitchen,” I say.
She sighs. “Suit yourself.” Then she looks up at Frump. “Are we about done here? Because I really need a nap. Beauty sleep, you know.”
“If you’ll allow me to say so, milady, nothing could make you any more beautiful than you already are,” Frump replies.
Kyrie, the mermaid, rolls her eyes. “For goodness’ sake, Frump, you’re making me seasick.” One of the great ironies of this book is that the mermaids, in real life, don’t have a boy-crazy bone in their bodies.
“All right, then!” Frump barks. “We all know what we’ve got to do to engage the Reader. I highly recommend using this off time to practice, so that we’re in top-notch performance shape by the time the story is in play again.”
He hops down lightly from his stump as the characters scatter. “Oh, Princess? Princess Seraphima? If you need someone to stand in for Oliver on page sixty, I’m happy to volunteer….”
She turns around and points a finger at him. “Stay. Good boy.”
With his tail between his legs, Frump shuffles off the beach. I am about to head after him, to try to lift hisspirits—or at least to get him to abandon a ridiculous crush on a woman with the mental resources of a brick—when Captain Crabbe slaps me hard on the back. “Ahoy, Oliver. Did I hear you say that Maureen’s cooking again? Dare I hope it’s the pineapple upside-down cake? I’m happy to cut it into slices.”
He draws his rapier from its sheath. The steel gleams, but not as brightly as his smile. Guess that’s what happens when you floss daily.
Flossing daily.
Putting braces on dragons.
Moonlighting as a dentist instead of a pirate.
I take one look at Captain Crabbe and realize that this man might actually understand why I so desperately want to get out of the story. “Captain,” I say, “how about you and I take a little walk?”
***
“Leave the story?” Captain Crabbe says, stopping dead in his tracks. The fairies, which have been accompanying us, swarm about his face like large mosquitoes. “I could never!”
“But imagine—somewhere, in another world, you might have your own orthodontics practice. You could fit retainers all day long, without ever having to stop to rig a mainsail or blow a cannon!” I offer him my widest, most hopeful smile.
He looks, for a moment, like he’s considering this option. Then he says, “You know, that eyetooth on the left is just a little crooked. I can fix that….”
I sigh, frustrated. “What if I told you I’d made contact with… the outside?”
Glint crosses her tiny arms. “Sounds like someone’s been daydreaming again….”
I swat at her. “Who asked you, anyway?”
