Story Thieves by James Riley
She reached out and pinched him as hard as she could, letting out some of her annoyance. He gasped and yanked his arm away, then gave her a dirty look. “You could have just said no!”
She shrugged. “So remember what we were talking about? How we’re never going to speak of this again?”
“How can you do this?” he asked her. “How . . . how can you just jump into books? They’re words on paper.”
She sighed. “They are, but right now, so are you. If you can be quiet, I’ll show you what I do. But no shouting or anything this time, okay?”
He nodded, and she grabbed his arm, and again, jumped them both right out of the book into the library, just a bit more gently this time. She let go of his arm, held up her hand for him to see, then slowly pushed it into Through the Looking Glass.
As her fingers touched the page, they melted and re-formed, becoming various words like “knuckles” and “fingernail” and “thumb,” all describing whatever part they’d been. Those words then spread over the page like brownie batter, absorbing right into the book. Finally, she just shoved her arm in up to the shoulder.
“I’m wriggling my fingers at you right now in Wonderland,” she told him.
Owen laughed oddly, then made a weird face and fell backward to the floor, unconscious.
Bethany sighed, shaking her head. “Alien invasions and rocking-horse-flies are fine, but this, you faint at?”
CHAPTER 3
Owen woke up to his mother calling him and immediately pushed himself upright, looking around quickly for ray guns or white rabbits or something.
Unfortunately, there was nothing but a cleaned-up children’s section.
No. No no no! Had he dreamed all of that? Did that mean that he really was still stuck in real life? AGH!
“Owen?” his mother shouted again. “What’s taking you so long?”
“Sorry, I was just reading!” he shouted back to her, then grabbed his Kiel Gnomenfoot book and ran to the front of the library, getting more and more depressed with every step. No! It had to be real! If it was real, then that meant there was more to life than boring classes and boring chores after school and boring everything else. Bethany jumping into books was the opposite of boring, and therefore it had to be real, if life was going to be fair at all!
Owen spent that night staring at the ceiling, waiting to sleep and not even feeling a sliver tired. Would Bethany be in school tomorrow? Would she deny it all? Had he just made it all up? And if not, how did she do it? What did she do in books . . . just explore, or did she mostly go for eating fictional candy? Who had she met? Did she have autographs?
Sometime during the night he must have fallen asleep, because his alarm pulled him out of dreams of Bethany introducing him to Aslan the lion as the people of Narnia cheered. Owen slapped the alarm off, then leaped out of bed, wide awake despite getting almost no sleep.
His mother asked him if everything was okay as he almost choked on his breakfast, and then he raced out the door, easily twenty minutes early for the bus. When it finally came, Owen sat alone in the very first seat, his legs shaking from nervousness and excitement the entire way.
He pushed his way off the bus as fast as he could and speed-walked to class, so he wouldn’t get in trouble for running. Once there, he took his seat and waited, the first one to show up.
Other kids filed in, none looking that happy to be there, and more than a few gave him an odd look as he sat at his desk, grinning in anticipation. He couldn’t help it, though. Bethany would be there soon, and then he’d get his answers. It had to be real. It just made so much more sense than math and school and chores!
Mr. Barberry stepped in, and the bell rang a second later with no sign of Bethany. Owen almost slapped his desk in frustration. Where was—
And then Bethany slid in the door, right behind Mr. Barberry. She edged along the side of the room and quickly took her seat, sitting down just as Mr. Barberry turned around to start class, completely missing the fact that she was late.
Owen glanced over his shoulder at her as subtly as he could, but Bethany had her eyes locked on the front of the room, where Mr. Barberry had started talking about geography.
Owen groaned. So, what, he’d have to wait till lunch now to talk to her? Life was both boring and very, very cruel.
What followed were the worst three hours that Owen had ever experienced, like Christmas Eve, the night before vacation, and waiting for the new Kiel Gnomenfoot to come out all rolled into one. Minute by minute rolled by, and Owen was so frustrated, he didn’t even bother daydreaming. Instead, he threw looks back at Bethany, who seemed to be paying more attention to Mr. Barberry than anyone had ever before, in all of history.
Finally the lunch bell rang, and Owen had to hold himself down, letting the rest of the class leave before him. Bethany seemed to be waiting too, but seeing that he wasn’t going anywhere, she quickly got up and left, ignoring him when he called out her name as she passed.
Owen paused, psyched himself up, then walked out directly behind her, following her to the cafeteria. She sat down alone at a table with her paper bag lunch, and he sat down right across from her, completely lunchless.
“Hi!” he said, grinning widely.
She sighed loud enough to be sure he heard and gave him a dirty look. “What?”
“What are you reading?” he asked, pointing at the book next to her lunch tray.
She flipped the book over even as he asked about it. “None of your business.”
“Is it any good?”
She made an annoyed growling noise. “Owen. Tell me what you want.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Are you going to blackmail me or something? Turn me in to the library police? All unless I jump you into a book and steal you a time machine or something?”
That threw him. “Blackmail? . . . A time machine? Where would you get that?”
She glared at him. “From The Time Machine. It’s a book, and the title kinda gives it away.”
“Oh right!” he said. “But no, I just came over here because, honestly, I thought I might have imagined the whole thing. But you saying it happened makes me feel so much better.” He grinned again.
She stared at him, openmouthed, then rolled her eyes. “This is what I get for not letting you talk first.”
“So how does it work?” Owen whispered, looking around to make sure no one else was watching or listening.
“How does what work?” she asked, looking tired of this whole conversation.
“You doing . . . whatever it is that you do? With the finger waving in Wonderland? And bringing us into War of the Worlds?”
She glanced around. “Can we not talk about this here, in the middle of the cafeteria? Everyone’s staring at us.”
Owen glanced in the direction she nodded in, but saw no one looking at them. He turned back and realized she’d been about to make a run for it. “Nice try!” he said, standing up too. “We can go somewhere else, but you’re not running away into a book or something. Not without me!”
“Is that a threat?” she demanded, giving him a cold glare.
“No?” he said, his confusion making his smile fade. “I just . . . You can’t know how amazing this is, how it makes up for everything. I knew that there was something like this out there, because if there wasn’t, then life is just dental floss and vegetables and word problems. That can’t be everything. Deep down, I think we all know there has to be more. So for books to be real? To know they’re out there, all my favorite characters? That would make it all worth it!”
She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m an idiot for even talking to you. But if I tell you about it, will you promise to never tell anyone else?”
Owen crossed his heart, and she rolled her eyes again. “Not good enough?” he asked. “How about, I solemnly swear that I am up to no good—”
“Don’t Marauder’s Map me,” she told him. “I’ll talk to you at the library tonight. Until then, you don’t speak to me, look at
Owen beamed and stood up to go get food, too excited to eat but knowing he’d better, since he might need his strength. There’d have to be dragons, whatever story they’d visit tonight. And magic. And spaceships, and aliens who weren’t allergic to human colds, and flying squirrels, and volcanoes, and superspies, probably, and everything else he couldn’t even imagine right now.
All this time, his favorite books hadn’t been lying. All you had to do was wait long enough, last through enough boring lessons on fractions, live through enough chores and homework and evil stepmothers, and eventually you found something . . . better. A fairy godmother, a dying alien with a power ring, or a doorway to a magical world.
And Owen’s doorway just happened to be a girl named Bethany.
The rest of the day went by in a blur, mostly because Owen didn’t even bother trying to pay attention. Instead, he went through all his favorite books in his head, trying to pinpoint which one they should go into first.
Obviously, Harry Potter would be near the top of the list. Not even to Hogwarts, just to Ollivanders for a wand. That’d be perfect. Next, The Lightning Thief. And The Graveyard Book, and a trip to Fablehaven, and—
And then Owen stopped short, right in the middle of the sidewalk as he walked home from the bus. What was he thinking? What was everyone at school talking about? The seventh Kiel Gnomenfoot book, out next week. And why? Because they all wanted to find out if the Magister had lived, and if not, to see Kiel get revenge on Dr. Verity.
But what if . . . what if someone saved the Magister from Dr. Verity? What if Bethany brought Owen into the book right at the moment when Dr. Verity attacked, and Owen stopped him?
He would be a hero. A hero in a book. A hero in a book that everyone read.
Owen’s mouth dropped open, and pure joy exploded in his chest. This would be huge. Bigger than saving Dumbledore, since Dumbledore came back anyway as a ghost or whatever. The Magister was like everyone’s favorite character after Kiel. It might even change how the books ended!
That was it. None of the tourist, autograph type stuff. Clearly, Owen had been pulled out of his boring world for exactly this reason. It was meant to be. Fate or something. He’d been chosen, and it was time to save the greatest wizard ever, the Magister.
And all Owen had to do to make it happen was convince Bethany to take him.
CHAPTER 4
Bethany stood outside the library’s sliding doors, watching Owen at the front desk. He wasn’t actually doing anything, just staring off into space like he always did in class. Daydreaming.
When was the last time she’d daydreamed? Bethany couldn’t actually remember. Why imagine a world in your head when you could just go visit another one in a book?
Of course, to do that, you had to sneak the book into your house to make sure you didn’t get caught by your mother, who absolutely forbade you from ever jumping into another book. And then you’d have to hide it from her at all times, waiting to actually jump into it until there was no chance she’d catch you missing.
Bethany sighed, smushing her face against the library’s window. Maybe daydreaming was better.
This was going to be bad, talking to Owen about . . . everything. The how and, even worse, the why. But there was no way to avoid him, not with him working in the library. Without money, the library had always been the only way to get more books. And without new books, she’d never find what she’d been looking for.
She sighed again. Either she stopped sneaking books and gave up her search, or she disobeyed her mother and felt horrible. At least feeling horrible would eventually go away.
It had to, didn’t it?
This was dumb. She’d just tell Owen enough to satisfy his curiosity, then bribe him so he’d leave her alone. She dropped a hand into her pocket to make sure the Everlasting Gobstopper she’d taken from Willy Wonka’s factory was still there. Candy that’d never lose its flavor or get smaller, no matter how long you sucked on it? That seemed like a good trade-off for keeping your mouth shut.
For just a moment she watched Owen smile at someone as he checked out their books, and she felt a little sick. There hadn’t been many people lined up to be her friend, not since her birthday party all those years ago. After the party her mother hadn’t let her out of the house without watching her closely, and she’d even pulled Bethany out of school for the next few years. And here was Owen, someone who might be fun to talk to, or even come with her when she searched through books. But instead, she was bribing him to stay away. Great.
Ugh. Why couldn’t she just be back in a book right now, avoiding all of this?
Taking a deep breath, Bethany stepped through the sliding glass doors, gave Owen a look, then nodded toward the computerless tables in the back, the ones no one ever sat at. He smiled at her, then winked way too obviously, which almost made her turn right around, no matter what he knew. She pushed on anyway and kept walking toward the tables, where she threw her bag onto a chair and sat down to wait.
Less than a minute later, Owen slid into the seat across from her. “My mom’s watching the desk. I told her we were meeting to go over some homework.” He grinned. “A book report. You know, because—”
“I get it,” Bethany said. “So, what, you just lie to your mother? No big deal?” Guilt swirled in her stomach, but she decided Owen deserved it more.
Owen sat back in his chair, his face turning red. “Well, not usually, but I promised not to tell anyone, so I had to think of an excuse—”
“Right, whatever,” Bethany said, waving a hand as she inwardly tried to ignore how he’d done it for her, which made this lie her fault too. “Listen. I brought you something.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the gobstopper.
His eyes widened, and he took the candy in his hands almost reverently. “Is . . . is this a Wonka original?” he whispered.
Wow. “Yup. And it’s all yours. You just have to agree to leave me alone and never tell anyone about what you saw last night.”
His eyes widened even more, and he held the candy up so he could look at it more closely. Then he sighed and passed it back to her. “You keep it,” he said, shaking his head. “There are too many books I’d rather visit!”
Bethany narrowed her eyes and pushed the candy back toward him. “It’s not a choice. You either get the candy and leave me alone, or you don’t get the candy and leave me alone.”
He took the candy back, but set it to one side. “We can talk about that in a minute. I want to know how you do all of this in the first place.”
Bethany glanced around to make sure no one could hear. “My . . . my father. He’s, um, fictional. You know, from a book.” She swallowed hard, knowing what was coming.
Owen gave her a confused look. “I’m sorry, he’s . . . what?”
“My father is a fictional character,” she said, her anger growing, which wasn’t really fair. It’s not like she had just told Owen her father was from Sweden or something. This wasn’t something that most people dealt with on a daily basis, so she should maybe cut him some slack.
But why did she have to be fair to Owen about this? How was it any of his business anyway?
“. . . . What?” Owen repeated, still confused.
“My mother read books about my father, and somehow my father found his way out of those books, and they fell in love,” Bethany hissed, her anger growing with each word Owen said. “You know, I’d really like to not talk about this—”
“How does a fictional person just . . . get out?” Owen asked.
“I don’t know!” Bethany said, annoyed at herself for letting Owen bother her so much. “Maybe I could ask him if he was around. Only he’s not, okay? Are we done here?”
“Where did he go? Back into his book?”
“Where did he go?” Bethany said, her voice getting louder. “For my fourth birthday party, my mom told everyone I wasn’t allowed to get books for presents. All my friends’ parents thought th
She paused, swallowing hard. “Somehow, I got me and the other kids back out,” Bethany said, her voice now quieter. “They all thought it was some kind of cool magic trick for the party. But my dad . . . I don’t know what happened, but he got left behind. Except he’s not in that book now, not anymore. And I don’t know where he is.”
“Couldn’t he just leave that book too?” Owen asked. “The same way he did the first time?”
Why was she telling Owen this much? “Maybe? I don’t know. Maybe he tried, and left that book looking for another way out. Maybe . . . maybe he couldn’t leave, because something hurt him in the story. Or maybe he just figured, why come back to the real world when the fictional world is so much better ?”
She turned away, ran the backs of her hands over her eyes, then sighed. “I look for him everywhere I can,” she said, staring at the table. “After my dad got lost, my mom wouldn’t let me jump into books anymore, no exceptions. For years after, she wouldn’t even let me read a book the normal way without watching me do it, not even schoolbooks. And what am I going to do with those, jump into a word problem? As soon as she started to trust me, I hit the library and checked out that fairy-tale book first thing. I tore that thing apart, inside and out, but he wasn’t there. Not anywhere in it! I keep trying, bringing home new books every night, hiding them from my mom, but there are so many other books out there. How could anyone possibly look through them all?”
Owen put up his hands, and she realized he was trying to quiet her down. She looked over his shoulder to where several people had turned to look at whatever the crazy girl in the corner was yelling about. Her eyes widened, and she gritted her teeth in an effort to not punch something. “I don’t know why I’m even talking about this,” she hissed. “You’re just some jerk who won’t leave me alone. Now, do you want the gobstopper or not? ”