Episode 13 - The Cloud Village

21 cousin mega crossover event

Transcript

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The Bay Village Chronicles, Book Eleven, The Cloud Village, The Mega Crossover, The Mysterious Portal, and The Storm Lord of the Sky. Twenty-one Cousins, One Portal, One Very Loud Baron, The Cousins, Everyone who came to Bay Village for the tournament. Uncle Matt the King and Aunt Betsy Bay Village, Ohio, on Willoughway. Pierce, Henry, Emma, and Maddie, Uncle Mike and Aunt Kelsey, Wichita, Kansas, Dwayne, Lois, Evelyn, and Sammy, Fredberry. Uncle Rob and Aunt Charlotte Eastboro, Kansas, Jane, Molly, Bear, and Tad, Uncle Tedder, the chiropractor, and Aunt Sarah Birmingham, Alabama. Tom, Witt, and Titus, Uncle Joe and Aunt Savvy, Kansas City, Kansas. Miles and McCallan. Uncle Jake and Aunt Carissa Missionaries in Taiwan. Luca, the littlest, age two, Uncle Brock and Aunt Lindsay Rogers, Arkansas, Trip Amelia and Banks. Chapter 1. The Great Convergence. Once a year, something enormous happens to the family. Once a year, from all the corners of the country and one corner of the entire planet, the whole crew packs up their cars and their suitcases and their snacks and converges on one place for the greatest event of the year, the DHJR. The DHJR is a golf tournament. It stands for the four family names, and every summer the dads play it at a different secret location, and they take it extremely seriously, and they have a trophy, and they talk about it for the other 364 days of the year. This year, the secret location was the west side of Cleveland, which meant this year everyone was coming to Bay Village, to the big house on Willoway, to Uncle Matt the King, and Aunt Betsy. They came from everywhere. Uncle Mike and Aunt Kelsey drove in from Wichita with Duane, Lois, Evelyn, and little Sammy, who for reasons no one fully remembered, everyone called Fredberry. Uncle Rob and Aunt Charlotte came from Eastborough with Jane, Molly, Bear, and Tad. Uncle Tedder, the chiropractor, and Aunt Sarah rolled up from Birmingham, Alabama with Tom, Witt, and Titus. Uncle Joe and Aunt Savvy arrived from Kansas City with Miles and McAllen. Uncle Brock and Aunt Lindsay came all the way from Rogers, Arkansas with Trip, Amelia, and Banks. And from the farthest away of all, after the longest trip of anybody, Uncle Jake and Aunt Carissa flew in from Taiwan, where they are missionaries, carrying the very smallest cousin of them all, two year old Luca, who slept through most of the introductions and woke up only to smile at the ceiling fan. Add in Pierce, Henry, Emma, and Maddie who already lived there, and the math came to twenty one children under one roof. Twenty-one. That is not a family. That is a small, loud, hungry army. Now, here is how the DHJR always works. The dads go and golf all day, the moms stay home and watch the children. That is the tradition, that has always been the tradition. But this year, the moms had a meeting. It was a quiet meeting in the kitchen, with the door mostly closed, there was some whispering, there was some nodding. There was a moment where Aunt Savvy said something, and all the moms laughed in a way that meant a decision had been made. Then Aunt Betsy came out and made an announcement. While the dads golf, she said, the moms are going to the spa. There was a pause. All of you? asked Pierce. All of us said Aunt Betsy. All day asked Henry. All day, said Aunt Kelsey, already finding her sunglasses. And who was watching us? Asked Emma. Who was five and reserved. And the only one in the room asking the truly important question. The moms looked at each other. Aunt Charlotte shrugged in a relaxed, sunny way. You have each other, she said. There are twenty one of you. The big ones can watch the little ones. What is the worst that could possibly happen? If you have ever read a story before, you know that what is the worst that could possibly happen is the single most dangerous sentence a grown-up can say. The universe hears it. The universe writes it down. And the universe always, always takes it as a challenge. Meanwhile, out in the driveway, the dads were loading their golf clubs and paying attention to absolutely none of this. The king was in fine form. Gentlemen, he announced, hoisting his bag, I've been practicing. This is the year. This is my year. I can feel it in my swing. You said that last year, said Uncle Mike. You lost eleven balls in a pond last year, said Uncle Joe. I was building toward this, said the king with great dignity. Uncle Tedder the chiropractor cracked his knuckles. If your back goes out from all that smack talk, he said, you know where to find me. And with that, the dads piled into their cars, still arguing about who was going to win, and drove off toward the golf course. And the moms climbed into another car, glowing with the joy of people about to sit very still in fluffy robes and drove off toward the spa. The two cars disappeared down Willowway in opposite directions. The front door clicked shut, and twenty one cousins stood in the suddenly very quiet living room, looked at each other, and realized that for one whole golden day they were completely, totally, gloriously on their own. Chapter two Cousins One Plan. Pierce climbed up onto the couch because the leader always climbs up onto something. Okay, everybody, he said. Family meeting. I'll count heads, said Lois, who liked things to be organized. She pointed her finger and started. One, two, three, four. This was a mistake, although nobody knew it yet. Counting twenty one cousins is like counting raindrops. They will not hold still. By the time Lois got to fifteen, Sammy, who everyone called Fredberry, had wandered behind the couch, and Banks had climbed halfway up the bookshelf and she had to start over. One, two, three she began again. While she counted, Pearce laid out the situation. Here's the thing, he said. We have the whole day. The grown ups are gone, and some of you, he looked at the visiting cousins, have never seen what's down by the creek. Tripp folded his arms. Tripp was ten, the oldest of all of them, tall and blonde and built like he had never once lost a foot race, which, as far as anyone knew, he had not. What's down by the creek? he asked. He asked it like a challenge, because Tripp asked most things like a challenge. Only the greatest secret in Bay Village, said Henry. Emma and Amelia were sitting together because Emma and Amelia were best friends and always found each other in any crowd within about four seconds. They were the funniest pair you ever saw. Emma was quiet and serious and so smart. It was a little scary, and Amelia had bleached blonde hair and giant blue eyes and was, without question, the life of any party she happened to be standing in. A secret, breathed Amelia, eyes shining, I love secrets. Emma, we're going. We're so going. Obviously we're going, said Emma, who was already thinking about it from six directions. I would like to come, announced Maddie, but I will need to change first. Maddie was three. Maddie was the little princess. She loved dresses and bows and makeup and dancing, and above all things being the exact center of attention. If we are going on an adventure, she said, I am going as a princess. A princess does not adventure in regular clothes. Maddie, there's no time to change, said Pierce. Maddie looked at him, the way a queen looks at a very small bug. Then she left and came back ninety seconds later in a sparkly dress, a bow, and one streak of her mother's blush on each cheek. Now there is time, she said, let's go. McCallan, who was also three, who loved to dance and loved stake, did a small celebration dance. Adventure, he sang, adventure, adventure. Is there stake on the adventure? Probably not, Cal, said his big brother Miles gently. Miles was five, and good at sports, and the reigning champion of Mario Kart and three states, and the most caring big brother in the whole family. He kept one eye on Cal at all times, he kept his other eye open for snacks. But we'll find something good. We always do. Tom, who was eight and tall and athletic, and had read every Harry Potter book faster than anyone believed possible, raised one careful hand. Before we go on a mysterious adventure, he said, I just want to say, as someone who reads a lot of books that mysterious adventures usually have at least one part where things get hairy. That's the best part, said Tripp. That's what I'm saying, said Tom. I'm just saying it out loud. So it's on the record. And right then, two small figures bolted for the back door. Titus, who was three, and Banks, who was three, the two most fearless creatures the family had ever produced, were already gone out the door, sprinting toward the creek, laughing like maniacs. And there they go, sighed Pierce. Twin, cried Lois triumphantly, finally finishing her count. Then she looked around at the now emptying room and her face fell. Wait, where did everyone go? Meanwhile, on the west side of Cleveland. On the first tee the king addressed his golf ball as if it owed him money. Watch this, he told the other dads. He swung. There was a crack, and the ball sailed long and straight and beautiful right down the middle of the fairway, and landed softly and rolled and rolled, and stopped twelve feet from the hole. There was a long, stunned silence among the Dowers and the Housers and the Ramsiers. That, said the king, picking up his tea with tremendous calm, is going to be a long day for all of you. Uncle Tedder squinted down the fairway. He's going to be insufferable, he said quietly, if he keeps that up.

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He kept it up.

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Chapter three Down to the Underdepths They caught up with Titus and Banks at the creek, which was not easy because fearless three year olds move at a speed that science cannot fully explain. The creek ran cold and clear over the stones, and the visiting cousins splashed and pointed and asked a hundred questions, and Pierce led them around the bend to where the great old willow tree leaned over the water like a green curtain. He pushed the branches aside, and there, in the roots, half covered in moss was the small round stone door with the leaf shaped handle. Twelve cousins gasped at once, the other nine had seen it before, and gasped anyway because it never got less exciting. Down there, said Henry in his spooky voice, are the depths, caves and tunnels under all of Bay Village. And under the depths, said Pearce, is a place we found that nobody else in the world knows about, the underdepths. Bear, who was quiet and brave and always carried more than his share, pulled the leaf handle. The door opened with a long, low creak, and the cool, sweet air came drifting up, and down went the stone steps into the glowing dark. Down they all went, all twenty one, lit by the little mushrooms that grew right out of the walls. Lois counted heads on the stairs, and got nineteen, then twenty three, then gave up. They wound through the depths. There was the cave with the underground pond. There was the room of glittering crystals, and there was the echo tunnel, where Duane stopped, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed Duane Duane Duane, Duane, said the tunnel, the way it always did. Never gets old, said Duane happily. They rolled aside the boulder, the one that hid the long twisty slide, and one by one they whooshed down into the underdepths. That giant glowing cavern with the golden stones in the ceiling that looked just like a warm summer sky. The strawberry fields were still there, rows and rows of them red and shining. Miles put a hand to his heart, and gazed at them with deep love. Hello again, my beautiful friends, he said softly. Not today. But I will never forget you. Why is he talking to the strawberries? whispered Amelia. Long story, said Pierce. Last time different adventure. But this time, they did not stop at the strawberries. This time, Evelyn, who had sharp eyes and noticed things other people missed, pointed past the fields toward the far dark wall of the cavern. Guys, she said, what's that light? Everyone turned. And far across the cavern past the last row of strawberries, in a part of the under depths none of them had ever explored. Something was glowing. Glowing and swirling, and humming a low, strange hum that they could feel in their teeth. Slowly all twenty one cousins walked toward it.

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Chapter four The Portal It was a portal.

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There was no other word for it. A great ring of swirling lights stood in the cavern wall, taller than the king, spinning slowly, throwing soft colors across their faces, humming that hum. It did not look like anything from the regular world. It looked like a door to somewhere else entirely. Around the edges of the ring were strange carved marks, curling symbols like writing, but no writing any of them had ever seen. Emma stepped closer than anyone, tilting her head, studying the marks. These are letters, she said quietly. Or sort of letters, there's a pattern. I just can't read it yet. Should we go in? asked Jane. Absolutely not, said Tom. Page one of every book ever. You do not just walk into the glowing magic ring. But what if it goes somewhere amazing? said Amelia. Or somewhere terrible, said Molly. Could be both, said Duane. It's usually both, agreed Tom. They argued. Trip wanted to go in, because Trip wanted to do every brave thing first. Pierce wanted to think about it. Henry wanted to throw a rock through it and see what happened. Emma wanted to read the marks before anyone did anything. Maddie wanted everyone to please notice her princess outfit during this important moment, and the littlest ones, Luca and Sammy and Tad, just stared up at the swirling colors with their mouths open. Okay, said Pierce, holding up his hands. Everybody listen. Nobody, and I mean nobody, goes through that portal until we decide together. Is that clear? Everybody stays back. Especially he turned and looked directly at the two smallest wildcards in the family. Especially Titus and Banks. Titus looked at Banks, but Banks looked at Titus. They smiled at each other. It was a beautiful, terrible smile. Titus said Pearce slowly. Do not. Titus, said Tom. Buddy, we talked about the hairy part. Titus, said his big brother Wit, don't you dare. Titus grinned, the grin of a boy who has heard everyone perfectly, and has decided to do the opposite. And then he turned. And he ran. He ran straight at the portal, his little legs pumping, faster than a three year old, has any right to go. Titus, stop yelled twenty cousins all at once. And Titus stopped, right at the very edge. One inch from the swirling light. He stopped and he turned around and he gave them all the biggest, proudest smile you have ever seen, as if to say, see, I stopped. I always had it under control. And then the portal pulsed, and a swirl of light reached out like a hand and wrapped around him and pulled. Poof. Titus was gone. The cavern went dead silent. The portal hummed on, calm as anything, like it had not just swallowed a three year old from Birmingham, Alabama. Then Banks, staring at the spot where his fearless partner had just vanished, said, in a voice full of pure admiration, Whoa, he's so cool. Okay, nobody else move, said Pierce, his heart pounding. They stood there twenty cousins, staring at the glowing ring that had taken the twenty first. Wit's eyes were wide. That's my little brother, he said. That's my little brother in there. The question hung in the air, heavy and real. Did they go back? Did they run all the way home and find a grown up and try to explain a glowing magic portal that ate a toddler? Or did they go in after him? Pierce looked around at all of them, at Wit's frightened face, at Tom, who nodded slowly, at Emma, who said very quietly, we can't leave him. At Tripp, who was already rolling up his sleeves, at Little Banks, who was, alarmingly, edging closer to the portal again. And Pierce made the call, the kind of call a leader makes. We don't leave family behind, he said. Not ever. Everybody, grab a hand, hold on tight, little ones in the middle, we go together and we find Titus and we come home. Twenty cousins joined hands in one long chain, the big ones on the ends, the little ones tucked safe in the middle, Luca riding on Pierce's hip, Maddie insisting on holding Emma's and Amelia's hands so she would not be alone. On three, said Pierce. One, two yelled Banks, who could not wait, and pulled them all forward into the light. Meanwhile, on the west side of Cleveland. By the fifth hole the other dads were no longer enjoying themselves. The king had made three birdies. The king had made a putt from so far away that Uncle Mike had thrown his hat on the ground. The king had begun narrating his own round in the third person. The king steps up, announced the king, lining up another shot. The crowd holds its breath. Can he do it again? Of course he can. He's the king. There is no crowd, said Uncle Joe. It's just us. And we're begging you to stop. The king hit it close to the hole again. He tipped an invisible hat to an invisible crowd. Somebody, muttered Uncle Rob. Please beat this man.

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Chapter five.

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Up is the new down. Here's the thing they all expected. They expected the portal to take them deeper. Down was the direction of every adventure they had ever had. Down to the creek, down the stairs, down to the depths, down to the underdepths, down, down, down. So when the light grabbed them, they brought them. Brace to fall. Instead they rose. Up they went, all twenty of them, rushing through the bright swirling tunnel, wind in their hair, the hum singing all around them, up and up and up, faster than the slide, faster than anything, holding hands so tight their knuckles went white until all at once they shot out the other side and landed in a soft, bouncy, enormous pile. On a cloud. Emma sat up first. She looked around, and for the second time on this adventure, a five year old put a hand over her heart and forgot how to speak. Because they were in the sky, not falling through the sky, sitting on it. The cloud beneath them was solid and springy like the world's biggest marshmallow, and it stretched out in every direction into a whole village. There were little cottages made of packed white cloud with round windows and curling chimneys that puffed out tiny rainbows. There were bridges of mist arching between floating islands of cloud. There were lanterns hanging in the air with no strings, glowing soft and gold. And far below through gaps in the cloud they could see the whole world tiny and green and blue and very, very far down. We're in a cloud village, whispered Henry. We went up, said Tripp delighted. The portal went up. That's amazing. I want to do it again right now. Let's not, said Tom, until we have a plan. But Emma was not listening to any of them. Emma had stood up very slowly and was staring across the cloud at something near the edge of the village. A corral fenced with woven mist, and inside the corral, grazing on little tufts of golden cloud were horses. Horses made of cloud and light with manes the colors of a sunset, soft pink and gold and lavender, and some of them, just some of them, had a single spiraling horn rising from their foreheads, shining like pearl. They were unicorns. Sky unicorns. Real ones. Emma loved horses. Emma loved unicorns. Emma loved them the way Myles loved strawberries and the way Maddie loved attention, which is to say, with her entire heart and most of her soul. She had drawn a thousand of them, she had wished for them on a thousand stars. And now, here they were, ten feet away, real and breathing and impossible. One of them, a small one with a lavender mane, lifted its head, looked right at quiet, serious, overwhelmed Emma, and walked over and gently pressed its soft nose against her cheek. Emma did not cry. Emma was not a crier. But her eyes went shiny, and she put both arms around the unicorn's neck and she whispered, You're real. You're actually really real. This is the best place in the universe, said Amelia, throwing her arms wide and spinning. Emma, there are unicorns. This is our place now. We live here, I've decided. Meanwhile, the others were discovering that the cloud village was full of treasures. Shining stones, the color of sky, lay tucked in the cloud like Easter eggs. Golden cloud fruit hung from misty branches. Gems floated lazily in the air, turning, catching the light. Miles spotted a row of little carts parked by a cloud path, carts that floated just above the ground with seats and wheels of spinning mist. His whole face lit up like a holiday. Are those? He breathed. Are those sky carts? Maddie had climbed up onto a small mound of cloud, struck a pose, and announced to the entire sky, I have decided this is my kingdom and I am the princess of it. You may all bow whenever you're ready. And McCallan, dancing through the village, called out hopefully to the clouds themselves. Excuse me. Hello, is there stake up here? Sky stake, cloud stake, anything? But underneath all the wonder, something was wrong. The village was beautiful, and the village was magical, and the village was almost completely empty, and every now and then a small round shape would peek out from behind a cloud cottage, take one frightened look at the twenty strange children, and dart back into hiding. And nowhere in all that sky was there any sign of Titus.

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Chapter six The Cloud Folk and the Stolen Key Hello?

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Pierce called out gently. We're not going to hurt anybody. We're just looking for our cousin. He's about this tall, fearless, probably causing problems. For a long moment nothing. Then slowly the little round shapes began to come out from behind the cottages. They were cloud people. Small, soft, round folk, made of fluffy cloud, about knee high, with kind, worried faces. They drifted, rather than walked, bobbing gently in the air. There were dozens of them, and they gathered in a careful half circle, keeping a polite distance, whispering to each other in soft, puffy voices. The oldest one came forward. He was a little greyer than the others, a little more weathered, with two tufts of white cloud for eyebrows. We are the pufflings, he said, in a voice like a warm breeze. I am Elder Stratus. And you, children, have come through the portal, which means you are now in a great deal of trouble. And so are we. Why? asked Henry. Elder Stratus sighed, and a tiny rain cloud formed over his head and drizzled sadly. Long ago, he said, the portal was a gift. It opened with the sky key, a stone of pure starlight, and friends from below could visit our village. And we could visit theirs and all was well. The sky key opened the door. Both ways. Both ways, repeated Emma carefully, filing that away. Both ways said Elder Stratus. But then he came. The little eyebrows lowered. Baron Thunderpants There was a pause. I'm sorry, said Duane. Baron what? Baron Thunderpants, said Elder Stratus gravely. A stormlord, loud, greedy, endlessly impressed with himself. He blew in from the far edge of the sky and he stole the sky key, and he locked the portal so it would only bring travelers up and never let them back down, so that anyone who came through would be trapped here forever with no way home. And then he took our treasures, all of them, our sky stones and our gems and our starlight, and he hauled them off to his storm fortress, and he sits up there counting them and making thunder about how wonderful he is. So the only way home, said Tom slowly, working it out like a chapter in a book, is to get the sky key back from the Baron. Yes, said Elder Stratus. And the Baron is a giant, greedy stormlord who traps people forever. Yes, said Elder Stratus. Cool, cool, cool, said Tom. This is the hairy part. I called it this is the hairy part. Also, added Elder Stratus, and now he looked extremely uncomfortable. There is one more thing you should know. A short while ago, a very small boy came through the portal. He landed, looked around, said the word awesome, and immediately ran off and tried to ride a baby thundercloud. And the Baron's guards caught him and they took him to the fortress, and he went along quite cheerfully, and the last we heard, he was up there, completely unbothered, making friends with the storm clouds and asking to do everything again. Witt's face crumpled and then set hard. That's Titus, he said. That's a hundred percent Titus. Then it's simple, said Pearce, even though it was not simple at all. We get the key and we get Titus in the same trip. Two birds, one sky castle. Elder Stratus looked at the twenty children, small and strange and impossibly brave, and a tiny, hopeful sunbeam broke through over his head. No one, he said softly, has ever tried to fight the Baron before. Everyone who comes here just gives up. Tripp cracked his knuckles. We're not really a giving up kind of family, he said. Meanwhile, on the west side of Cleveland, at the turn after nine holes, the king was winning by a mile, and the other dads had begun very quietly, to conspire. What if we all just beat him on the back nine? Whispered Uncle Mike. With what? Whispered Uncle Joe. He's playing the best golf of his life. He made a putt from the parking lot. He did not make a putt from the parking lot, whispered Uncle Rob. It felt like the parking lot, whispered Uncle Joe. Across the green, the king was telling Uncle Tetter at length about each of his nine holes one by one with hand gestures. Uncle Tetter nodded politely and wondered if there was a chiropractic adjustment for being completely full of yourself. There was not.

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He had checked, years ago, hopefully.

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Chapter seven Baron Thunderpants The pufflings led them to the edge of the village where the soft white clouds gave way to something darker. And there, looming on the horizon of the sky, was the fortress of Baron Thunderpants. It was a castle of storm. Great black thunderheads piled into towers and walls, lit from inside by flickers of lightning rumbling low and constant. Dark clouds churned around it like a moat. It was honestly pretty scary. It would have been very scary, in fact, if it were not for the Baron himself, who at that exact moment came out onto the highest balcony to make a speech to absolutely no one. Behold, boomed a voice across the entire sky, the greatness of me. The kids ducked behind a cloud bank and peered over the top. Baron Thunderpants was enormous, a great roiling figure of dark grey storm cloud with a face like an angry thundercloud, and a belly like a bigger angry thundercloud. He wore a tiny crown that looked ridiculous on his huge stormy head. He carried a long, crackling key knee of pure lightning, and around his neck, on a heavy chain, hung a stone that glowed with soft white starlight. The sky key, whispered Emma, around his neck, there. Below the baron, in the fortress courtyard, milled his minions. There were dozens of them, little grumpy grey rainclouds with frowny faces drifting around in cranky clusters. Those are the drizzlers, whispered Elder Stratus, harmless mostly. They just rain on you when they're annoyed. And those big ones, the Thunderheads, those are his guards. Those you have to watch. And there, in the middle of the courtyard, hanging in a cage woven of dark cloud was Titus. He was having the time of his life. He had befriended a small, confused baby thundercloud, which sat in the cage, with him sparking gently, and he was petting it like a kitten, and saying, Good cloud, good cloud, and he did not look remotely worried or trapped or like anyone who needed rescuing. He looked like a boy who had found a great place, and could not understand why everyone else was being so dramatic. Up on the balcony the Baron filled his enormous chest with air and began to brag again because bragging was the thing he loved most in all the world. For I am Baron Thunderpants, he boomed, the loudest, the greatest, the most impressive storm in all the sky. I took the key, I took the treasure. I rule this entire heaven, and there is no one anywhere who can match my greatness or my power or my truly magnificent voice. Is there a crowd to hear me? There should be a crowd. Why is there never a crowd? Down behind the cloud bank, the kids stared up at this enormous, loud, endlessly self impressed, smack talking stormlord narrating his own greatness to an audience that did not exist. Slowly every single one of them turned and looked at each other with the exact same thought on their faces. Does he whispered Henry, remind anybody else of somebody? He sounds exactly like Daddy, said Maddie in pure wonder. And who? asked Jane, is going to outshow off a giant stormlord. Everyone slowly turned and looked at Maddie. Maddie, three years old, princess of an imaginary kingdom, lover of dresses and bows and dancing and being the precise center of all attention everywhere, blinked at them. Then she understood. And a slow, royal, magnificent smile spread across her blush streaked face. Finally, she said, Finally, somebody gives me an important job. So they made the plan, and the plan had jobs for everyone. Maddie, McCallan, and Amelia would be the distraction. Maddie would put on a royal sky show so dazzling that every drizzler and thunderhead and even the Baron himself could not look away. McCallan would dance. Amelia, the life of any party ever held, would whip the cloud crowd into a cheering frenzy. Emma would ride with the unicorns who trusted her and study the sky key up close and figure out exactly how it worked because somebody had to understand the magic, and Emma was the only one who could read the marks. Wit and Trip would be the speed team. Wit was wicked fast, and Trip was competitively, dangerously fast, and between them they would dart in, grab the key the moment it came loose and outrun anything in the sky. Miles would drive a sky cart, ferrying cousins where they needed to go, and if it came to it, flinging cloud fruit at any minion who got in the way. It's basically Mario Kart, said Miles, eyes gleaming. I was born for this. Baron Duane, the two strongest, would hold the cloud bridge to the fortress steady no matter what, so the others could cross. And Jane, Molly, Lois, Evelyn, Tad, and Sammy would be the chain. When the moment came, they would link arms and stretch across the gap to Titus's cage, a living bridge, and Pierce and Henry would run across them and pop the cage and pull Titus out. And me? asked Banks hopefully, vibrating with the desire to do something fearless and ideally dangerous. You, said Pierce firmly, stay with Elder Stratus in the safe spot, and you hold baby Luca, and you do not move. Both of you. Promise me. Banks and Luca looked at each other. Luca, who was two, gave Banks a slow, solemn two year old nod, as if to say I understand the assignment. Banks did not nod. Banks said, Okay. Which is a very different thing, and everyone was too busy to notice. All right, said Pearce. He looked around at his enormous, ridiculous, wonderful family perched on a cloud at the edge of a storm castle, about to do the bravest thing any of them had ever done. For Titus, for getting home on my signal. Maddie adjusted her bow, fluffed her sparkly dress, and stepped out from behind the cloud. Showtime, she said.

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Chapter nine The Sky Heist.

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Maddie marched straight into the middle of the fortress courtyard, right under the Baron's balcony, threw her arms into the air, and announced at the top of her three year old lungs, Ladies and Gentle Clouds, presenting the Royal Sky Show, starring me. The drizzlers stopped drizzling. The Thunderheads stopped thundering. Every grumpy gray face in the courtyard turned to look at the tiny sparkling princess who had appeared out of nowhere, and was now incredibly beginning to perform. And it was a good show. Maddie twirled, Maddie posed, Maddie blew kisses, McCallan leapt in beside her and danced his whole body, arms everywhere, joy of the kitchen dance, and the cloud folk had never seen anything like it. And Amelia bounced through the crowd of drizzlers like the world's most enthusiastic party host, pumping her fists, yelling, give it up for the princess. And somehow, within about twenty seconds, she had an entire courtyard of cranky rain clouds cheering and bobbing along. Up on his balcony, Baron Thunderpants was furious. Who? he boomed, is stealing my attention. I am the most impressive thing in this sky. Me, look at me. But here is the trouble with a villain who needs an audience. When somebody else puts on a better show, he cannot simply ignore it. He has to compete. So instead of stopping the children, the Baron started his own show, flexing his storm muscles, throwing big dramatic bolts of lightning booming behold over and over, trying desperately to win back the crowd from a three year old in a bow. Which meant he was looking at Maddie, which meant he was not looking at anything else. Now, whispered Pierce, go. The sky exploded into beautiful chaos. Wit took off in a blonde blur, zipping up the side of the fortress so fast the Thunderhead guards spun in circles trying to follow him. Tripp went the other way, and when the biggest, fastest Thunderhead guard came roaring after him, Tripp grinned the grin of a boy who had never lost a race and shouted Oh, you want to race? You want to race me and took off around the fortress wall and beat the guard so badly that he had time to turn around and run backward and wave at it before he reached the other side. Miles came rocketing through the courtyard in a sky cart, mist wheels spinning, whooping with joy, and when three drizzlers tried to block his path, he flung a handful of golden cloud fruit that went splat splat splat right in their grumpy faces. Red shell, he howled. Coming through Bear and Duane planted themselves at either end of the wobbly cloud bridge to the cage and held it dead steady with their strong arms, grunting while the storm shook everything around them. And the chain went to work. Jane grabbed Molly's hand and Molly grabbed Lois's and Lois grabbed Evelyn's and Evelyn grabbed Tad's and Tad grabbed Sammy's and the six of them stretched out across the last gap to Titus's cage, a living bridge of cousins, holding on with everything they had. Go, Pierce, go yelled Lois, who had finally found a head she could keep track of. Pierce and Henry ran across their cousin's arms, light and quick, and reached the cage, and together they pulled the woven cloud door until it burst open. Titus cried Henry, we're rescuing you. Titus looked up from petting his baby thundercloud, completely content, and beamed. This place is awesome, he said. Can my cloud come? Sure, bring the cloud. Let's go, said Pierce, grabbing him. It was working. It was actually working. And that was the exact moment when up on the balcony, bare in thunderpants, happened to glance down and saw children swarming all over his fortress and realized he had been completely, totally, humiliatingly tricked. Enough! he roared, and his voice shook the whole sky. He raised his lightning cane high, and the storm fortress began to churn, and the wind howled, and real lightning, big lightning, the dangerous kind, began to crackle all around them. My key! Key The Baron bellowed, clutching at the chain on his neck. You will not take my key. He yanked at it and pointed his cane, and a huge blast of wind tore through the courtyard, and in the chaos the chain snapped, and the sky key, the precious stone of starlight, went flying up into the storm, end over end, glowing and began to fall toward the gap in the clouds, toward the long, long drop to the world below. Everyone lunged for it. Wit, trip, miles, pierce, all of them, too far, too slow, watching the only way home tumble out of reach toward the edge of the sky. And that is when a small, calm, chubby pair of hands reached up and caught it. Everyone froze, standing at the edge of the cloud, exactly where he had absolutely promised not to go, having wandered off the instant nobody was looking, was two year old Luca. He held the glowing sky key in both hands. He looked at it. He looked up at the gigantic, furious storm lord staring down at him in total disbelief. And Luca said softly and happily, the way he said everything. Meanwhile, on the west side of Cleveland, on the eighteenth hole, the last hole of the entire DHJR tournament, the king stood over a putt to win it all. This he announced to the Dowers and the Hausers and the Ramzires, who had long since stopped hoping, is for the championship for the trophy for the glory for the legend of the king. Just hit it groaned Uncle Mike. A king, said the king, does not rush greatness. He hit it. The ball rolled across the green, slow and certain, curving exactly the way he wanted, and dropped into the cup with a soft and infuriating clink. The king raised both arms to the heavens and let out a roar of triumph so loud it startled birds three fair ways away. Uncle Tetter watched him celebrate and said to no one, There is not enough chiropractic care in the state of Ohio for that man's head after today. Chapter ten The Storm and the Key Give me that, thundered Baron Thunderpants, and he came down off his balcony in a boiling rush of storm, swelling bigger and darker and angrier than ever, lightning forking off his shoulders, bearing down on tiny Luca at the edge of the sky. For one terrible second it was genuinely frightening. The Baron was huge, the storm was real, and the smallest, gentlest cousin of them all stood right in its path, holding the key, blinking up at the dark. But Emma was already moving. Emma had spent the whole heist circling the fortress on the back of her lavender maned unicorn, and she had gotten close to the sky key and she had read the marks, the curling, glowing marks carved into the stone, and she had finally understood. She understood the whole thing, and she yelled it now across the storm in her clear, quiet, certain voice. He stole his power. Emma shouted. It's not his. The Sky Key runs the whole village. The treasure, the portal, the storm, all of it. He's only big because he's holding everybody else's magic. Put the key back in the Skyheart and it all goes home. And he goes small. The Skyheart? yelled Pierce. Where? The Unicorn Corral cried Elder Stratus, bobbing with sudden hope. The pedestal at the center of the corral. That is the heart of our village. That is where the key belongs. So they ran the most important relay race of their lives. Luca bless him would not give the key to the scary storm, but he happily handed it to Wit because Wit smiled at him. Wit took off so fast he was barely a streak, the barren storm chasing right behind him, lightning snapping at his heels. Wit passed it to Tripp, because Tripp was the only one who could match his speed. And Tripp ran flat out across a collapsing cloud bridge that Bear and Duane held together with their bare hands and their stubborn strength. Tripp passed it to Myles, who was waiting in his sky cart, and Miles floored it through the courtyard, drifting around drizzlers, flinging cloud fruit over his shoulder until he reached the edge of the village, where the unicorn stood. And there, Miles handed the sky key up to Emma, on her unicorn, who carried it the last stretch to the corral, to the pedestal at the center, the sky heart, an empty cradle of cloud just the size and shape of the key. Behind her, the baron filled the whole sky, vast and roaring. No, he bellowed. That key is mine. The greatness is mine. Look at me. Look at me. Nobody's looking at you anymore, said Emma. And she set the sky key into the sky heart. Light burst out of the pedestal in every direction, a soft, warm flood of starlight racing across the whole village. And everywhere it touched, things came home. The stolen treasures whooshed up out of the storm fortress in a glittering river and rained gently back into the cloud cottages where they belonged. The lanterns blazed brighter. The pufflings rose up off the ground, glowing, no longer afraid, dozens and then hundreds of them lifting into the air all around the village they had gotten back. And barren thunderpants, cut off from all the magic he had stolen, began very suddenly to shrink. What he sputtered, getting smaller. What is happening? This is no. I am the greatest. I am the loudest. I am I am wait, why am I? Hold on. He shrank and he shrank until the great and terrible barren thunderpants was nothing but a small, grumpy, ordinary little grey rain cloud, about the size of a beach ball, sparking weakly and sputtering with rage, his tiny crown clinked down and bonked him on the head. And then a gust of fresh wind, the village's own wind, free again, caught him and sent him tumbling away over the edge of the sky, spinning end over end, his furious little voice fading into the distance. This isn't over. They heard him squeak far away now. I have a very loud voice, and I will be back. All twenty one cousins stood together in the glowing village and watched him go and waved and cheered. Maddie cupped her hands around her mouth and called sweetly after the vanishing storm Bai! You were a good villain. You really did remind me of my daddy. And every single cousin completely lost it.

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Chapter 11.

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The long way down and home for dinner. The pufflings through a celebration, which for cloud people means the whole village glows gold and everybody floats a few feet higher out of pure happiness. Elder Stratus drifted up to the children, beaming, his eyebrows fluffy with joy. You did what no one has ever done. He said. You may take any treasure you wish. The sky stones, the gems, the golden fruit. It is yours. You have earned it a thousand times. And here is the thing about this family. They looked at all the floating gems and the shining stones and the piles of starlight treasure, and then Pierce said, Thank you, really. But we don't need all that, we just needed to get our cousin and get home. And everyone nodded. Even Trip, even though Trip eyed one really cool sky stone for a long, longing moment. So the pufflings gave them small gifts instead. To each cousin, a single soft white feather of cloud that glowed faintly and never melted, a little piece of the sky to keep. Emma got to say goodbye to her lavender maned unicorn who pressed its nose to her cheek one last time, and she whispered something to it that nobody else could hear, and her eyes went shiny again, and that was alright. Miles was given a whole sack of golden cloud fruit which made him the happiest he had been since the strawberries. And the pufflings, who had been listening, finally did something about McCallan, who had been asking the entire visit. They conjured out of pure cloud a perfect, sizzling, magnificent steak, and presented it to him on a little plate of mist. McCallan's face lit up like the sun. He took a giant bite. It tasted exactly like a marshmallow. He chewed thoughtfully. It's not real steak, he announced. Then he smiled the sweetest smile in the world. But it's the best fake steak I've ever had, and I love it, and I love all of you. And he danced, because of course he did. Then it was time to go home. With the sky key back in the sky heart, the portal worked properly again, both ways, just like in the old days. The pufflings opened it at the edge of the village a swirling ring of light, and this time when twenty one cousins joined hands and stepped through, the portal did the opposite of before it took them down. Down through the bright rushing tunnel, down and down until they tumbled out in a soft pile right back in the under depths, in the cavern with the golden ceiling beside the fields of strawberries. Home, cheered Banks, who had had the single greatest day of his entire fearless little life. They raced back the way they came. Miles waved goodbye to the strawberry fields. Duane yelled his name in the echo tunnel one more time for old time's sake. They climbed the long curling staircase past the glowing mushrooms, and pushed open the little stone door behind the willow, and the warm orange light of a bay village evening came pouring in. And at the top, standing in the grass by the creek, Lois held up one finger, took a deep breath, and counted heads one final time. She counted carefully. She counted slowly. She did not let anyone move. nineteen twenty, she said. And twenty one. She checked it twice. It was twenty one both times. Every cousin accounted for. Nobody left in the sky. She nearly burst into happy tears. Twenty one. I did it. I finally counted everybody. They ran back up to the house on Willoughway, hosed the worst of the cloud fluff out of their hair, hid their glowing feathers safe in their pockets, and flopped down in the living room. Exactly four minutes before they heard the cars in the driveway. The dads came in first, and you could hear the king before you could see him. And on eighteen the king was booming as he walked through the door, holding the DHJR trophy over his head. With the whole tournament on the line, the king calmly, coolly drained the putt for the championship. He's told this story four times in the car, said Uncle Tetter, coming in behind him and rubbing his ears. It gets better every time, said the king. It does not, said Uncle Mike. The kids looked up at their loud, beaming, trophy hoisting, smack talking uncle, the king of Willoway, and now the king of the DHJR, narrating his own greatness to a room that was only half listening, and twenty one cousins thought about a certain stormlord far up in the sky, and pressed their lips together very hard. And somehow, just barely, did not laugh. Then the moms came in, glowing and relaxed and several degrees calmer than they had left, smelling like cucumber and lavender, the happiest anyone had seen them all year. Aunt Charlotte looked around the room at twenty-one suspiciously well behaved children sitting in a suspiciously neat circle. Well, she said, narrowing her eyes just a little. Everything go okay. No trouble. The cousins looked at each other. Nope, said Pierce. Totally normal day, said Henry. We just played outside, said Emma, with a small piece of cloud still tucked behind her ear that nobody noticed. By the creek, added Tom. There were no unicorns, announced Maddie firmly, which was not a question anyone had asked, and got her quietly elbowed by four different cousins at once. That night, the whole house full of cousins lay in sleeping bags spread across every floor, whispering and giggling until one by one they made the most solemn promise of their lives. A twenty one cousin pinky promise passed hand to hand to hand around the dark, that they would keep the secret of the cloud village forever. Forever. They all whispered. Dance secret, murmured McCallan, already half asleep, and did one last tiny dance lying down, just as hands because some secrets are too big and too happy to keep all the way inside. And way way down beneath Bay Village, deeper than the depths, in the underdepths beyond the strawberry fields, a portal hummed softly in the dark, patient waiting. And way, way up above on a small glowing windowsill where someone had set their feather to sleep, a single puff of cloud drifted gently up toward the ceiling and glowed and held like a little piece of sky that had decided to stay. And somewhere out past the edge of everything, a very small, very grumpy gray rain cloud, the size of a beach ball, bobbed alone in the dark, plotting and clearing its tiny throat, and practicing in the smallest voice you ever heard the word behold.