The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [75]
“Is it true?” asked a lanky, towheaded boy called Fred the Goat, who had been caught midmeal and talked with his mouth full. “Are you really a Mother?”
“I am,” said Aven. “That’s why I’ve come back. We’re searching for my son.”
“Back?” asked the girl Laura Glue called Meggie Tree-and-Leaf, who in fact resembled a bramble bush. “When were you here before?”
“Don’t you remember her?” exclaimed Laura Glue. “This is Poppy! She’s come back to us at last!”
Fred the Goat’s mouth dropped open and a half-chewed carrot fell out. “Poppy Longbottom? F’r reals?”
“Poppy Longbottom?” said John. “Hah! Did you really choose that yourself?”
“Oh, shut up,” Aven said over her shoulder. She turned back to Fred the Goat. “Yes, I’m Poppy. At least I used to be. But you can call me Aven now.”
“Hmm,” mused the girl named Sadie Pepperpot, who had opened the grate to admit them. “Aven. That’s a good Mother name.”
“I don’t believe her,” said a small boy with a shock of black hair that stuck straight up from his head. “I think she’s just another Longbeard, except, you know, without the beard.”
“I’ll have you know, Pelvis Parsley,” Aven said, bending low to look at him an inch from his nose, “I am indeed Poppy Longbottom, and I can prove it.”
She reached inside her blouse and pulled something out of a pocket hidden in the lining. She held her hand in front of Pelvis Parsley’s face, then slowly opened it.
Resting on her palm was a small silver thimble.
Pelvis Parsley’s eyes saucered. “Holy socks!” he exclaimed. “You have a kiss from Jamie? Then you really must be Poppy!”
With that the boy let out a war whoop and began dancing around the room, pulling Aven along by the hand. The other children picked up the yell, and soon the din was overwhelming.
“You know,” Jack said to Daedalus over the clamor, “Laura Glue was quite put out if we called her by less than her full name—but it doesn’t seem to bother anyone else if she just calls them ‘Poppy’ or ‘Sadie.’”
Daedalus grinned. “At one point in time, there were no less than five Lauras among the Lost Boys. And, as Laura Glue was the smallest of them, she clung very tightly to anything that would make her distinctive. In particular, her name.”
“Hah.” Jack laughed. “There’s plenty more than just her name that sets that girl apart from the crowd.”
“Indeed,” said Daedalus.
The noise continued as everyone took their places along several long tables laden with dishes and plates—all of which were empty.
“Ah, is the food still being prepared?” asked Charles. “Or have you already finished eating?”
“Finished?” said Fred the Goat. “We barely got started. I’m only two courses in.”
“How many courses are there?” asked John.
“Eleventy-seven,” replied Fred. “Unless you count dessert. Then there’s more.”
“Good heavens!” Jack exclaimed. “That’s a lot of courses. Who prepares it all?”
Laura Glue laughed. “We all do, gravy-head.”
“You uses your ’magination, Longbeard,” said Sadie Pepperpot. “That’s what makes the world interesting, you know.”
“I suppose you’d have to,” noted Jack, “to have eleventy-seven courses.”
“It all sounds grand to me,” said John, “as long as I don’t have to clean up afterward.”
“That’s the best part about an imaginary feast,” explained Laura Glue. “You can simply imagine that all the mess that’s left over gets cleaned up by an imaginary Feast Beast, and as soon as you do, it’s done.”
“Aw, they’re just Longbeards,” Pelvis scoffed. “I bet they don’t even know how to use their ’maginations.”
Bert leaned close to the shock-headed boy and wiggled his nose. “That’s where you’d be mistaken, my boy,” he said. “If imagination is your cook, then these three fellows will make the greatest feast the Lost Boys have ever seen.”
And with that cue, John, Jack, and Charles smiled and began to think of the most extraordinary foods