The Boy with 17 Senses (12 page)

Years after Plenthy had disappeared, a messenger had come to the farm and said, “Plenthy told me to give this to you.” At first, Vilcot thought it might be a letter of apology, along with a check reimbursing him for his investment, plus interest. But, no, it was just a key. Nothing else. No note, no money, no apology. Just a stupid, old-fashioned key.

To Vilcot, it was a cruel gesture on Plenthy's part. It was
as if he was saying,
I've got your money. Here, have this worthless key. Sucker
.

At first, Vilcot put the key on a stand and kept it on his desk to remind him that people, even friends, were always trying to take advantage. Always. You couldn't trust anyone. He'd sit at his desk, negotiating deals with other people, and then he'd look at the key and negotiate even harder. He was merciless and never gave an inch. Sometimes the other party got up and left, but no matter! They recognized they wouldn't be able to swindle old Ripley Vilcot and probably went on to easier targets.

That reminded him that he still needed to find someone to tend his winnowberry vines, which were dying. Nobody seemed to want to work for him. Bunch of swindlers.

Vilcot shook his head.
Forget about the vines
.

He began to pace as he thought, but as soon as he started walking, he stumbled over Klingdux, who yipped in pain. Vilcot kicked the pest out of the way, and Klingdux yipped again before huddling against the wall. Tormy threw the ball at Klingdux to punish him for not getting out of the way. Then he laughed.

Vilcot nodded in approval. Then his thoughts returned to the key. He'd gotten so tired of looking at that key and
being reminded of his stupidity that he'd given it to Davardi. It looked expensive, so Davardi had immediately wanted it. Foolish, superficial man. And once he realized it was worthless, he'd given it to the Rollops in exchange for that freasel.

But that didn't explain why Mrs. Rollop was so happy. If Davardi hadn't paid for the freasel, then how had Mrs. Rollop suddenly come into money? Why was that boy dragging around a giant fake bird? What were those Rollops up to?

There could be only one answer. Old Rollop must have found that swindler Plenthy. Old Rollop had gotten his money back . . . he'd gotten
Vilcot's
money back.

Vilcot wanted his money back. Even though he'd taken more from Rollop than he'd lost in his investment, he wanted
his
money back. It was money he'd been tricked out of, and he was a man who couldn't stand being tricked.

He began to form a plan. Swishes of color swirled in his mind as he imagined himself arguing with people. He loved confrontations. They made him feel powerful. Arguing was like taking those pulsing swirls of red and black and hurling them at other people. He never tired of the thrill of binding other people up with his angry swirls of color.

“Tormy,” he said, “what happened to the giant bird I
bought for you after you got a one hundred percent on your homework?”

“You never—”

“I do believe that Rollop boy stole it from you, didn't he?”

“But, Grandfather, you never gave me a—”

“I did. And Jaq stole it from you. How else could a poor, pathetic kid like that have something so grand?”

“Oh, I get it. Yeah. That was my bird. And he stole it. 'Cause he was mad I bought his wipper-slinger.”

“Exactly. We should call the police.”

18

FOR THE UNSUSPECTING, DANGER WAITS

J
aq and his Grandpa continued their slow walk, each lost in his own thoughts. Past the Vilcots' spread they continued down the dusty road, nearing the market.

“I wish I could find that old Plenthy,” Grandpa said. “I'd drag him back here and make him tell Vilcot the truth.”

Jaq blinked a few times, unsure that the taste in his mouth was really what he had just heard. “Did you say ‘Plenthy'?”

“Yes, that was my friend's name,” Grandpa said. “Yorlim Plenthy.”

“Grandpa, I know where Plenthy is. He's on Earth.”

“Where's Earth?”

“Plenthy wrote the note in the key!” Jaq said.

“What key?” Grandpa asked. “The one you got for your pet? Hey, I never got a look at that key. You still have it?”

Jaq opened his backpack and pulled out the key.

“Hot tamale!” Grandpa said. “That's from Plenthy, all right.”

“I told you that,” Jaq said. “Are you saying that your partner . . . was Plenthy? That he's the guy who took your money and ran? That it wasn't Davardi?”

“Davardi? That dandy fellow who hangs out in the market? Good grief, no. And if you ask me, Davardi is not that man's real name.”

“How do you know about the key?”

“Because it's mine!” Grandpa spun the key around in his hand. “It's a funny gizmo I picked up at the fair. I was waiting in line, a line that got longer when the Vilcots cut in, and a lady came by selling these. They open up, so you can stick a note inside. You can give it to your girlfriend and tell her it's the key to your heart. Or give it to a friend and call it the key to happiness. It's just a fun novelty.

“Anyway, after we made our deal, I gave it to Plenthy with
a note inside that said, ‘It's our key to success!' Ha! What a fool I was.”

“How did Davardi get it?” Jaq asked.

“Hmm . . . I have no idea. What did the note inside say?”

Jaq showed him the note.

“This was meant for me,” Grandpa said. “Jaq, you numbskull—you do know my name is Greggin, don't you? It's not ‘Grandpa.'”

“It's such a common name, I didn't put it together,” Jaq said. “Plus, it says only someone with ‘your resources and unwavering courage' could help him.”

“What are you saying?”

“Um. That you don't have either.”

“Well, not anymore, I'll grant you,” Grandpa said, waving a finger in the air. “But back in the day I would have fought as hard as Klingdux for a worthy cause—”

“Why would Davardi have a key with a note for you? It doesn't make sense.”

“I wonder . . . ,” Grandpa said. “Let's see. This is what we know: You got this key from Davardi, who was working for Vilcot when he stole Klingdux. He probably got the key from Vilcot. But how did Vilcot get it? Hmm. If Plenthy wanted to send me a note, he'd send it to my old farm. Wait! That's
it! Plenthy didn't know that I'd sold it.” Grandpa pointed back toward the Vilcots' farm. “So Plenthy's messenger gave this key to Vilcot, thinking that Vilcot was me. Vilcot never opened it, because he doesn't know the secret.”

“Is the secret having your mother throw it out the window?”

“Ha-ha, no. There's a twist here, and then you push this prong. Presto.” The key split apart, revealing the hollow tube in the shaft. Grandpa twirled the pieces in his hands. “Well, he's got some nerve, doesn't he?”

“What do you mean?”

“Plenthy took my money, he took Vilcot's money, and then he disappeared. Not a word for years. And now that he's in trouble, he asks for help. Promising me riches! Ha! I've heard
that
before.”

“Grandpa, this bird and the glug inside it are from Earth.”

Grandpa looked down at the bird. “Is that so?”

“Yes. But Earth is scary,” Jaq said. “It's filled with giants. And the place is a sensory explosion of the worst kind. So many sounds, smells, tastes, sights, and feels. Everything is so loud and bright and harsh. It's crazy.”

“But you went before,” Grandpa said. “If you did it once, we can do it again. You and I together—we can go back and
find Plenthy. I'd love to see Vilcot's face when Plenthy tells him I didn't steal his money. That's all I want out of that old swindler! We have to go.”

Jaq kicked a rock and hurt his toe. “I know,” he said. “When I think of being trapped there, it's awful. Nobody deserves that. We should rescue him. I did meet one nice giant. Her name is Fiona, and she seemed to know Plenthy. She might be able to help.”

“All right, then,” Grandpa said. “We'll sell this glug, buy a few rescue supplies, and then go save Plenthy. Who knows? Maybe we'll find more glug. Enough to buy my farm back.”

Jaq smiled. Grandpa seemed to have filled up with energy. This was fantastic. The two of them could rescue Plenthy together. It would be great to have Grandpa with him. Jaq knew he would feel a lot less scared.

They walked down the road, faster now, their steps buoyed with excitement. If this plan worked, their problems would be over.

And then Jaq noticed a group of hoverbikes heading their way.

They were police hoverbikes.

Jaq and his grandfather stood aside to let the police officers pass, but the hoverbikes surrounded them. Jaq looked
from one stern face to another. Something was very wrong here. Jaq felt his heart beat hard and fast, like it was trying to warn him.

“Put the bird down, young man,” the officer in front said. The rest dismounted.

More hoverbikes approached from the other direction. Jaq saw Tormy Vilcot and his grandfather racing right for them, followed by two of their ranch hands.

“There he is! And that's my bird!” Tormy shouted. He and his grandfather looked angrier than an 84.

Jaq turned to Grandpa, who was shaking his head.

Once the Vilcots reached the group, Ripley Vilcot dismounted and charged right at Grandpa. “This is because of the farm, isn't it?” he said. “You two see us with anything, and you have to try to steal it.”

“That's not true,” Jaq said. “My grandfather never stole anything in his life.”

“Your grandfather has been caught stealing fruit from Mr. Vilcot's orchard multiple times,” the policeman said. “Mr. Vilcot kindly hasn't pressed charges, but this is a different thing entirely. Stealing from a little kid.”

“
I'm
a little kid,” Jaq said. “And I didn't steal this. It was a gift.”

“From whom?” Ripley Vilcot asked. His greedy eyes bored right into Jaq, just begging him to keep talking.

Jaq looked to Grandpa, wondering if he should say anything. If he told them about the wormhole and Earth, then the greedy Vilcots would go there and steal all the glug for themselves.

“Listen,” Vilcot said. “I can see what's up, Greggin. You've found Plenthy. You've gotten your money back. Well, I want my money back, too. Tell me where he is, and I'll let this go.”

“Let this go?” Grandpa said. “
Let this go?
You must be joking. You're not owed anything, you greedy old coot! I paid you back in full.”

What happened next was a blur to Jaq. Grandpa lunged at Vilcot, his rage overtaking him completely. Jaq had never seen Grandpa move so quickly. While Jaq stood watching in shock, Tormy tackled him from behind and pinned him to the ground. The policemen were busy trying to break up the grandfathers, so Tormy got in a few punches to Jaq's ribs before anyone noticed.

Once Tormy was off him, Jaq rolled to his side and moaned.

“It's my bird,” Tormy said. He grabbed it and handed it to one of the ranch hands. Then he noticed Jaq's backpack.

“What else of mine have you taken?” Tormy opened the pack and pulled out the blue glug egg. “Also mine,” he said, smirking.

“Take him away,” the elder Vilcot said. He was pointing to Grandpa. Vilcot's hair was mussed up, and he smoothed it down with his gloved hands. “Lock him up for stealing and assault. And then go arrest the boy's mother. She was an accomplice.”

“No!” Jaq said. If they arrested his mother, she'd lose her job. Then they'd be worse off than ever.

Jaq's grandpa kept swinging at Vilcot, so the policemen cuffed his hands and shoved him into the criminal trailer, which was a small cell attached to one of the hoverbikes. Grandpa kept swearing at the policemen and Vilcot until the door was closed and the sound cut off.

“I'm a compassionate man, Roamy,” Vilcot said to one of the policemen. “You know me. I don't want this poor, misguided boy to be left alone, and I'm satisfied with the return of our property. As long as the boy apologizes for stealing, we won't press charges against his mother.”

The policemen looked at Ripley Vilcot as if he were the nicest guy they'd ever met. It made Jaq want to vomit.

He didn't know what to do. He hated the Vilcots. Why did
they think they could just take whatever they wanted? The chicken was Jaq's dream of a better life for his mother and grandfather, and now selfish Tormy Vilcot had snatched it from his grasp. Jaq knew he should fight them, but if he did, they'd just take the chicken anyway and his mother would lose her job. He had no way to prove it was his.

“I'm sorry for stealing it,” Jaq said.

Tormy leaned in close and whispered in Jaq's ear. “You don't even put up a fight, do you? You're such a coward.”

The Vilcots took their loot, got back on their hoverbikes, and headed home. The policemen also drove off, in the opposite direction, with Jaq's grandpa. Jaq ran after them, screaming, “He didn't do anything!”