Off the Page Read online

  Beside me, Rapscullio grabs the canvas and smashes it against the rock wall of the cave, breaking the frame in half. He punches his boot through the center.

  At that moment, all the letters in Delilah’s bedroom fall to the ground, so that she and Oliver stand ankle-deep in ink.

  “What was that?” Delilah says, breathing heavily.

  “Nobody sent the message,” I murmur. “That canvas was writing on itself.”

  “It’s not the canvas.” I turn at the sound of Frump’s voice. He comes through the doorway on all fours, completely transitioned back into a hound. He sits back on his haunches and turns sad eyes up to the top edge of the book, meeting Oliver’s gaze. “It’s the book correcting itself.”

  Oliver’s face is stricken. “Frump,” he whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Frump’s ears droop. “Because if I didn’t tell you, maybe it wasn’t really true.”

  “I thought maybe Orville could do something,” I say. “It’s worth a try, right?”

  Oliver tries to offer an encouraging smile, but Frump looks defeated. “Maybe we were all just kidding ourselves,” he sighs. “Maybe we can’t pretend to be something we’re not.”

  Oliver slips his arm around Delilah’s waist. “Well then,” he says. “We’re not giving up without a fight.”

  Orville’s home is awfully crowded when you stuff two humans, a dog, and a horse inside. Since Oliver and Delilah insist on being here as we try to un-dogify Frump, we are bound by the conventions of the book: we had to pick a page that includes all the necessary characters, in the right place. On page 32 of the original fairy tale, Oliver, Frump, and Socks came to Orville’s cabin so that the wizard could show Oliver his future. In my adaptation, the scene’s pimped out a little bit. Orville’s crusty old shack is now a state-of-the-art laboratory where he crafts antigravity potions and synthetic alien DNA.

  Above me, I hear Oliver whistle softly. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  Frump is pacing underneath a table. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asks.

  “Then we’ll try something else,” Oliver insists. “Right, Orville?”

  The old wizard, now decked out in a lab coat and goggles, nods. “Let’s see what I’ve got.”

  He digs out the old grimoire that was part of the fairy tale before I arrived, blows dust off its cover, and begins to flip through the pages. “Invisibility . . . no, no . . . Poisoned apple—that’s not it. . . . Pumpkin into carriage, definitely not . . .”

  There’s a clatter from the other side of the room, and we all look up to see Socks stepping delicately through a pile of broken glass. “Oops,” he says. “My bad. You don’t happen to have anything for adult acne, do you?”

  Five pairs of eyes glare at him.

  “Nope? Not the time? Right. Okay.” Socks ducks his head.

  “Ah, I think I’ve got something that will work,” Orville says. He pushes his goggles on top of his head, revealing a pair of thick glasses underneath. “It’s a wishing spell. It can only be used once per person.”

  Oliver’s jaw drops. “Wait a moment, are you kidding me? You had this all along?”

  Orville glances up at him. “I’ve only read about it being used once, when I was a young boy, and the side effects were catastrophic. Chap named Midas, who wished for riches beyond compare, and for everything he touched to turn to gold. Didn’t work out so well when his whole family became a bunch of solid statues. You wanted to give Delilah your heart, boy—for all we know, she might have wound up with two beating in her chest, and you dead on the floor in front of me.”

  “Oh, fabulous,” Frump mutters. “Make me the guinea pig.”

  “Technically,” Socks says, “you’re a dog.” He glances up, wincing at Frump’s expression. “Too soon?”

  Orville begins to move around the laboratory, grabbing vials and emptying them into a titanium crucible. “Desperation,” he murmurs, dumping the contents of one vial. “Desire. A pinch of stardust.” He drops in a four-leaf clover. “A hint of luck.” Finally he pours in a silver powder. “A scoop of hope,” he pronounces, and as soon as the material hits the liquid in the container, it begins to bubble.

  A thick blue mist rises over the crucible, forming a watery screen, and projected across it the tiniest print:

  WARNING

  Make sure your wizard knows before you take this potion. Not for use by children under twelve. Tell your wizard if you experience chest pain, dryness of the mouth, or the growth of a third eye. This is not a love potion; another’s affection cannot be granted. This medicine should not be used in conjunction with a Revenge Tonic or serious side effects may occur. Be careful what you wish for and please wish responsibly.

  ~ ~ This product was not tested on animals. ~ ~

  “If it wasn’t tested on animals, how do we know what it’s going to do to me?” Frump asks.

  Orville looks at him gravely. “We don’t.”

  “You don’t have to do this,” Delilah says softly. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

  “Well, not everyone feels that way.”

  Oliver reaches toward the book and stops when he realizes he can’t offer a reassuring pat anymore. “Frump, there’s more than one girl in the universe, you know.”

  Frump just stares at him. “Really, Ollie? Is there?”

  Oliver reaches for Delilah’s hand. “No,” he admits. “There isn’t.”

  “Then put that stuff into my dog bowl,” Frump says, his voice growing stronger.

  Orville ladles the potion into a dish and places it on the floor for Frump. He approaches it carefully as the liquid glows. He looks up at me. “If it doesn’t work . . . you’ll tell her? You’ll let Seraphima know that I tried?”

  I nod. The blue mist surrounds Frump’s face. He closes his eyes, leaning in, and then stops. “Oliver?” he asks, his voice very small. “What do you do when you’re scared?”

  Oliver meets his gaze. “I remember that my best friend is always by my side. And suddenly it’s not so terrifying.”

  Frump lowers his head and laps at the potion.

  The floor beneath me begins to rattle, and the walls feel like they’re closing in, although the book is wide open. There’s a deafening roar that grows so loud it drowns out the sound of Delilah and Oliver screaming our names. The laboratory stretches and twists, as if it’s being turned inside out, and the book slams shut with a definitive clap. Then, finally, there’s a blinding flash of white light, and every glass item in Orville’s lab shatters.

  It takes a minute for my vision to clear. I look up at the top edge of the page, but Delilah and Oliver are gone. Orville lies on his back, the lenses of his glasses cracked. He sits up, holding his hand to his head. Socks, against all odds and laws of gravity, has curled himself into a fetal position in the sink.

  I turn to where Frump should be, but he’s missing.

  Holy crap. Did this actually work?

  “Where is he?” Orville asks, looking around.

  “Socks, get out of the damn sink before you break it. I need you to gallop through the pages and see if you can find—” But before I can finish, Orville’s lab coat, which has been tossed aside during the explosion, begins to wiggle.

  I crawl toward it and tug the fabric free.

  The dog that was in Delilah’s bedroom is happily wagging his tail in front of me. His tongue snakes out, awkwardly rounding to form a word. “Hi, I’m Humphrey,” he says. “Are you my new best friend?”

  OLIVER

  The book literally leaps out of my hands, tumbling into the sea of ink on the floor of Delilah’s bedroom. I reach down, fishing through a mass of black letters that slip through my fingers like eels, trying to locate the fairy tale.

  “Um, Oliver,” Delilah whispers. “We have a little situation here.”

  I glance up, ripping off a U that has leeched itself onto my sleeve, to find Delilah staring down at the dog on her bed.

  The dog that isn’t Humphrey.