Chapters (38)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
“JOLIE MADEMOISELLE. BONJOUR, BONJOUR, CHERIE.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Maren’s heart danced a cha-cha in her chest. “Go find her and say, ‘You’ll never, ever wake until you let them go.’ Tell the jolie mademoiselle that, and then we’ll be able to save Gran-Gran.” Maren pushed the safety pin all the way up, and it left her fingers. “Hurry!”
“YOU’LL NEVER, NEVER, NEVER, NEVER WAKE.” Henri’s screech faded as he flapped away. “TES POCHES SONT PLEINES DE NOUILLES.”
Exhausted, but fizzing with tiny bubbles of hope, Maren dropped back down onto the dusty block. There was nothing to do now but wait.
Twenty-Nine
Twenty minutes later, the trapdoor flew open. A slender hand reached into the gloom, and Maren took it. With surprising strength, Obscura hoisted her up and she tumbled onto the stage. The ballerina’s eyes were closed—she was fully asleep—but she turned and ran to the back corner of the stage. She wore one untied pointe shoe, and the other foot was bare. With a yelp of fear, she began to leap across the stage, her feet flying ten times as fast as normal. She let out a tiny snore as she rounded the front of the stage, leapt over Maren, and waved frantically at the orchestra pit.
“Slow it down! I can’t keep up,” she panted as she lunged and whirled. “Somebody tell the conductor.”
Biting her lip to keep from laughing, Maren stepped out of the way. This was phase one of the nightmare she’d made. Henri had been successful in his mission.
“NEVER, EVER WAKE!” The parrot soared into the room, clutching a crushed and very dead killer moth-bee in his claws. He landed on the table and began munching on the insect.
“You wonderful, beautiful bird,” whispered Maren.
“I did…let…her…go!” Obscura forced the words out between frenzied jumps. “Wait, what’s happening?” She came to a screeching halt, then tapped her right foot. Then her left foot began to shuffle. “No one told me there was tap in this solo!” she wailed as her feet skipped faster and faster in a terrible, messy approximation of tap dancing.
This time Maren couldn’t hold back her laughter. A thread from the stitching of an old tap shoe had been her secret ingredient. “Have you let Amos and Lishta go yet?” she said, forcing sternness into her voice.
The ribbons of Obscura’s pointe shoe flapped as she kick-ball-changed. “I just need the conductor to slow down the music. I can’t, I can’t!”
“Where are your keys?” said Maren.
Obscura’s hand went to a chain around her neck, but then she shook her head. “You can’t have them.”
“Well then, you’ll never, ever wake,” sang Maren, edging closer. It was just about time for phase two of the nightmare. “Ooh, what’s that in the wings?”