Off the Page Read online

  Trogg calls down the all clear. Captain Crabbe gives the base of the ladder a hard jerk. “Looks sturdy,” he says.

  “Hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Jules says with a laugh, lifting up the edge of her gown. Her combat boots have vanished, and she’s wearing these ridiculous little slippers that look like they have all the protection of a sock. “Because I’m not climbing in these.”

  “I’ll be just fine,” I lie.

  I put my foot on the bottom rung, feeling my boot slip, and hoist myself up, starting to climb. The ship rocks beneath my feet, and the ladder lurches from side to side. I’m climbing in total darkness, which is actually a blessing, because if I could see below me, I’d never make it. The splashes of the mermaids’ tails and the voices of the trolls fade as I get closer and closer to the top edge of the book. And yet it seems like no matter how far I climb, I never arrive.

  Finally I reach the top of the trolls’ ladder. I grab on for dear life as it swings from left to right, nearly pitching me off. I crane my neck, staring at the stars. One of them is definitely different from the others. It’s five-pointed, white, outlined in yellow. While the other stars wink like diamonds, this one stays still and muted, as if it’s been glued into place.

  I go up on my toes and stretch as far as I can with my right hand, but I’m still several yards away from even brushing the edge of it. I briefly consider whether I could reach it with a sword and cut it loose or take one of the trolls’ clubs and swat it from the sky. But even if I were able to reach it with a weapon of sorts, I couldn’t be sure that I wouldn’t damage it in the process. Reluctantly I begin to shimmy down the ladder, until I am again standing on the rolling deck of Captain Crabbe’s ship.

  “Let’s see it, laddie,” he says.

  “I couldn’t reach it,” I admit.

  “How about Rapscullio?” Jules suggests. “He’s taller, isn’t he?”

  “He’s not twelve feet taller,” I point out, and I turn to the trolls. “There really isn’t any more wood?”

  Snort shakes his head. “As it is, we dismantled the castle outhouses.”

  “You might want to remedy that,” I say. “Preferably before Queen Maureen wakes up.”

  “So we’re out of luck?” Jules asks. “There’s no one tall enough to grab a star?”

  I think about this for a moment. “Maybe it’s not height that we need.” I cup my hands around my mouth, calling into the distance. “Ember! Sparks! Glint!”

  Fairies have extraordinary hearing, a little-known fact. It’s why they’re so good at eavesdropping. But it also works in my favor, as they appear almost immediately, three little fireflies that come whizzing closer, so that I can see each of their tiny glowing bodies.

  “What’s all this?” Ember asks, any anger over missing her beauty sleep dissipating when she sees the teetering ladder.

  That’s another little-known fact about fairies: like all gossips, they hate being left out of anything.

  “See that star?” I ask, pointing. “The one that looks like a button instead of a jewel?”

  Glint and Sparks zip higher into the air to get a better view. “What about it?” Sparks asks.

  “I need you guys to bring it down here.”

  “No problem,” Ember says. “Girls?”

  The three fairies shoot up like firecrackers. As they zoom into the night, I watch their lights grow smaller and smaller, blue and green and red, as tiny as the points of lasers.

  For a moment, there’s only silence. Then, suddenly, we hear a crash. A hail of jagged black letters rains down around us, slicing the rungs of the ladder and ripping the mainsail of Captain Crabbe’s ship. Jules narrowly misses being impaled by a K, which pins the hem of her dress to the wooden deck.

  “Watch out!” I cry, grabbing her and pushing her beneath the doorway of the hatch that leads belowdecks.

  A moment later, a fireball rips out of the sky, smacking hard against the wood. Ember lies there, her arms and legs splayed, the light in her body flickering. One of her wings is torn, and black splinters jut from her shoulder, her leg, and her belly. Captain Crabbe immediately scoops her into his hand as Glint and Sparks zip close.

  “It was the letters,” Glint gasps. “We couldn’t see them in the dark, and with the book closed, they form a barricade.”

  The captain takes a bandana from around his neck and fashions a tiny hammock. He gently places Ember on it and gives the corners to her sisters. “Get ’er to Orville straightaway,” he instructs. “He’ll ken what to do.”

  I turn to Jules, who is staring at the spot on the deck where Ember fell. “We almost killed a fairy,” she says woodenly. “I’m pretty sure you go straight to hell for that.”

  “I think,” Captain Crabbe says, “ye may be out of luck, laddie.”

  I glance up at the night sky, at the letters I can’t see that are scrawled on the paper of this book. “What beats paper?” I ask Jules.

  “Scissors?” she replies.

  “No,” I say, grim. “Fire.”

  As we sprint through the pages to Pyro’s cave, I explain my plan to Jules. Fairies may be the strongest creatures in this story, but they couldn’t break through the letters with brute force. That means there’s no way we can break through with strength either. But letters are printed on paper, and paper burns. So all we need is a little bit of portable fire.

  Jules looks impressed. “Wow. I guess you’re more than just a pretty face.”

  “What can I say: I’m the whole package.” We edge around the cliff toward Pyro’s cave, Jules’s hand firmly clasped in mine.

  “Is that fairy going to be all right?” Jules asks.

  I stop walking and look at her. “Don’t worry. Ember can’t die in here. At the very worst, the minute Oliver opens the book again, she’ll pop right back to her old self.”

  “She just seemed so . . . hurt.” Jules shudders. “What if that happens to us? Will we pop right back too?”

  I remember what Orville said: you play by the rules of the world you’re in. “Yes,” I tell her. “In here, you and I are invincible.”

  A smile spreads across Jules’s face. “Okay. Then after we do this thing, we’re totally starting a fight club.”

  A few minutes later, we reach the entrance to Pyro’s cave. The part that fell down—the book making its displeasure known—has been restored, probably with the same stubborn magic that’s got me decked out in tights. The dragon is snoring on his back, puffing smoke rings.

  Jules digs her feet into the dusty ground. “Are you sure this is safe?”

  “You’ve met him. He’s like a giant golden retriever.”

  “It just seems like an unspoken rule: never wake a sleeping dragon.”

  I glance at her. “You’re thinking of babies.” I walk up to Pyro’s colossal head to whisper in his ear. “Pyro,” I call. “Rise and shine!” My voice is drowned out by his vibrating snores. “PYRO!” I yell, louder, and he startles awake, his massive wings flying open like an umbrella. His red eye focuses on me slowly, and he bares his teeth in a terrifying grin.

  “I need your help,” I explain. “Can you fly us to the top of the last page in the story?”

  The giant beast nods and lowers a wing so that I can climb on. To my surprise, Jules scrambles into place behind me. “Really?” I ask.

  “Oh please. How many times in my life am I gonna get to ride a dragon?”

  I feel her arms tighten around my waist. Through my thin hose, I feel Pyro’s scales scratch and shift as he gets to his feet and crawls like a lizard from his cave onto the ledge.

  “Hang on,” I say over my shoulder as Pyro shoots a blast of fire from his jaws, illuminating the valley below for a moment before it falls into darkness again. He leans back on his haunches and springs forward, his wings catching the wind and luffing like a sail as we lurch into the sky.

  Here I am—a guy who basically lived in his room and whose friends were avatars, who was afraid of everything from gym class to social i