Episode 14 - Revenge of Victor Malone

Vic is back...with TOES

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:54

Bay Village Chronicles Book 12. Victor Malone is back again with the giant called Toast. The grown-ups were gone, the traps were set, the giant was coming. Previously, on the Bay Village Chronicles. All 21 cousins were in Bay Village for the annual DHJR golf tournament. Yesterday, Uncle Matt the King won the whole thing, draining the winning putt and talking enough smack to fill the sky. That same day, while the dads golfed and the moms went to the spa, the cousins found a portal in the underdepths, traveled to a cloud village, defeated a loud storm lord named Baron Thunderpants, and got home in time for dinner without a single grown-up finding out. They made a 21 cousin Pinky promise to keep it secret forever. They thought the excitement was over. They were wrong. Chapter 1. In the morning after the win, day two of the DHJR tournament dawned bright and lazy and good. Technically, there was supposed to be one more round of golf. Technically, the tournament had a whole second day. But yesterday, Uncle Matt the King had won by such an enormous, ridiculous smack talking margin that this morning, over breakfast, the dads had taken a vote. There is no point golfing today, announced Uncle Joe. He's going to win again. He always wins now. He's insufferable. I am the champion, agreed the king, buttering toast like a man who had peaked. So I propose, said Uncle Joe, that instead of more golf, we go to the pub and we toast the champion, and we make him pay for it by listening to his own stories until his ears fall off. I accept these terms, said the king, because I will simply tell the stories again. They get better every time. They do not, said all the other dads at once. And so it was decided the men would go to the pub to celebrate the king's victory. And the moms who had so enjoyed their spa day that they had developed a taste for not watching twenty one children, decided they would spend the afternoon on a sunny patio somewhere, sipping cold drinks, talking about absolutely nothing, and being, in their words, off duty. And the kids? asked Pearce, already knowing the answer. Aunt Betsy waved a relaxed hand. You did wonderfully yesterday, she said. Not a scratch on any of you. You clearly have it handled. Just stay close to the house. The cousins managed to keep their faces perfectly still, which was not easy because not a scratch on any of you, and you clearly have it handled, were doing a lot of work for a group of children who had secretly fought a stormlord in the sky the day before. The cars pulled out of the driveway on Willoway. The dads went left toward the pub, the king already midstory. The moms went right toward the patio, already laughing. The door clicked shut, and once again twenty one cousins had the whole golden day to themselves. For a while it was perfect. There was leftover victory cake for second breakfast. Emma read a horse book on the porch with a piece of butter toast. Maddie set up a throne on the front steps and knighted people. Miles and Tripp had a Mario Kart tournament that Miles won, obviously, while Tripp demanded eleven rematches. Wit ran laps around the yard just because he could. Tom finished an entire book. Titus and Banks dug a hole for reasons known only to them, and little Luca sat in the grass, patting a ladybug very gently and saying, Ooh. It was calm, it was sunny, it was completely totally peaceful. Which, if you have read the first eleven of these books, you already know is the most dangerous thing a day can be. Because right then, far down Willoughway, a long black car turned onto the street, and it began very slowly to roll toward the house. Chapter two A Long Black Car. Evelyn saw it first because Evelyn always saw things first. Hey, she said standing up, whose car is that? It was not a car anyone knew. It was long and black and shiny, and it did not belong on a street full of bikes and chalk drawings and a princess throne. It crept up to the curb in front of the house slow as a shark and stopped. The engine went quiet. All twenty one cousins stopped what they were doing and watched. The car door opened. And out stepped a tall, thin man in a long charcoal coat, with slicked back hair and a thin little mustache that he smoothed with one finger and a smile that had too many teeth in it. Pierce went very still. So did Henry. So did Duane. So did Bear. Because the four of them knew that face. They had seen that smile before. They had foiled that smile before more than once, and it had not made the smile any friendlier. Victor Malone, said Pierce quietly. Who? Whispered Amelia. Bad guy, whispered Henry. Old bad guy, ours. The man spread his arms wide as if expecting applause. Children, he said in a smooth and oily voice, my favorite little nuisances Pierce, Henry, Duane, and ah Bear, how I have missed your meddling faces. He looked around at the enormous crowd of cousins and raised one eyebrow. My there are rather more of you than last time. Did your parents lose a bet? What do you want, Malone? said Pierce, stepping in front of the younger cousins. What do I want? Victor Malone strolled up the front walk, twirling his mustache taking his time. I want what I have always wanted. I want the treasure, the secret. The thing you four have been hiding down by that little creek of yours for years. He leaned down with his two toothy smile. I know it's down there. I've always known. And today, finally, there is not a single grown up anywhere to stop me. I watched them leave. I have been watching this house all morning. A cold little shiver went around the cousins. He had been watching. That was why he had come on this exact day. You've tried before, said Duane, folding his arms. You and your goons, we beat you every time, we beat Fingers. At the name Fingers, Victor Malone's smile flickered just for a second into something colder. Ah, yes, he said softly. Fingers my associate whom you children humiliated, whom you sent home soaking wet and empty handed. He straightened his coat. Fingers was clever. Fingers was sneaky. But Fingers was I will admit, on the smaller side. So this time, my dear little nuisances, I have brought someone different. Someone bigger. The smile came back, wider than ever. Someone meaner. He turned toward the long black car and called out sweetly, Oh brother, come and say hello. And the whole car rocked and groaned and tilted as something very, very large began to climb out of it. Chapter three Toes First came a hand, a hand the size of a baseball mitt that gripped the top of the car door and made the whole car dip. Then came a foot. An enormous foot in an enormous boot that hit the pavement with a thud the cousins could feel in their teeth. And then unfolding up and up and up like someone shaking out a very large blanket came the biggest person any of the cousins had ever seen in their entire lives. He was seven feet tall, maybe more. He had shoulders like a doorway, and a head that nearly blocked out the sun, and a slow, grumpy, glowering face. He cracked his giant knuckles, one at a time, and each crack sounded like a tree branch breaking. The cousins craned their necks back and back and back to look up at him. Children, said Victor Malone, gesturing proudly, allow me to introduce my associate. This is Toes. There was a small pause. Toes, said Henry. Toes, said Malone. Like fingers, said Pierce. Fingers, rumbled the giant in a voice so low it shook the windows, is my little brother. I am Toes. And he is, said Malone, beaming. Considerably meaner. Duane leaned over to Tom. Why are they named after body parts? He whispered. It's a whole family. Malone said, who had excellent hearing. Fingers, toes. There is also a cousin named Knuckles, an uncle named Elbows, and a grandmother whom we do not discuss. We are the Malone crew. We are very feared. What's next, Spleen? muttered Henry. Do not, said Malone sharply, make fun of Spleen. Spleen is sensitive. Toes took one giant ground shaking step forward and twenty one cousins took one quick step back. He looked down at them, the way a person looks down at ants on a sidewalk. Little kids, he growled, I do not like little kids. He really doesn't, said Malone cheerfully. Now, here is how today is going to go. You're going to take us down to the creek, and you're going to show us the secret you've been hiding, and you're going to hand over the treasure. And if you do not, he tapped Toes's enormous arm. Well, Toes here is going to sit on your swing set until it is flat as a pancake, and then he is going to eat every last piece of that victory cake I can see through your window, and then he is going to get really unpleasant. Do we understand each other? The cousins looked at each other, twenty one small faces, one slick crook and a seven foot grumpy giant on a sunny lawn on Willoughway, with not a single grown up for miles. Pierce swallowed. Then he lifted his chin. Give us a second to talk it over, he said. Take all the time you like, said Malone, examining his fingernails.

SPEAKER_01 11:39

We are not in any hurry, and there is nowhere for you to go.

SPEAKER_00 11:47

Chapter four No grown-ups coming. The cousins huddled up tight on the far side of the yard, all twenty one heads together. Okay, first idea, said Lois, who liked to solve problems in order. We call a grown up. Tom held up the one phone among them. An old, cracked one Pierce was allowed to carry for emergencies. I'll try Uncle Matt, he said. He dialed. They all leaned in. The phone rang and rang. And then faintly they heard the king answer it in the loudest, happiest, pubbiest voice imaginable. Hello? Who is this? You'll have to speak up. I am in the middle of telling the story of the eighteenth hole and then a roar of other dads in the background, and then the call dropped. He can't hear anything, said Tom. It's too loud in there. Text him, said Emma. Tom typed fast. H E L P. He hit send. The phone, which was old and cracked and did its own thing, auto corrected it and sent K E L P. A moment later the king texted back a thumbs up in the words Love you too. Eat some kelp. Very healthy. The king is winning. He thinks kelp is a snack suggestion, said Henry, putting his head in his hands. Try a mom, said Jane. They tried Aunt Betsy. It went to voicemail. They tried Aunt Kelsey, voicemail. They tried Aunt Savvy, Aunt Charlotte, Aunt Sarah, Aunt Lindsay, Aunt Carissa. Every single one went to voicemail, because every single one of them was sitting on a sunny patio, phones face down, gloriously completely off duty for the first time all year. They're not coming, said Pearce slowly. Nobody's coming. It's just us. There was a heavy silence. Twenty feet away, Toes idly picked up a bicycle, looked at it, and bent it in half like a pretzel, just to be intimidating. It worked. Then Bear, who almost never spoke, said quietly, then we do what we always do. Pierce looked at him. Bear looked back, steady and calm. We've beaten Malone before, Bear said. Lots of times. He thinks the giant changes things. It doesn't. We're smarter than he is, and there are twenty one of us. He almost smiled. We just have to be clever. And we have to work together, and we have to protect the door. Pierce felt something settle in his chest. He turned to the whole crew, and his voice got strong. Bear's right. Here's the most important thing, and everybody listen. We do not let them find the real door. That's the whole game. We keep the secret safe and we run these two off our street. We've done harder things. We did it yesterday in the sky, he grinned. We can definitely do it in the front yard. So what's the plan? asked Tripp, already bouncing on his toes. Tom and Henry and Emma looked at each other and three slow, identical, dangerous grins spread across their faces. The plan, said Tom, is that Victor Malone has never once had to walk through a house defended by twenty one motivated children. He has no idea what's about to happen to him. Meanwhile, at the pub, the king stood on a chair. Nobody had asked him to stand on a chair. And so he announced to the entire pub, holding his trophy aloft. With the tournament on the line, and the wind in my face and destiny calling my name. The king stepped up to the eighteenth hole. You've told this twice since we sat down, said Uncle Rob. And the king, continued the king, ignoring him completely, drained the putt heard round the west side of Cleveland. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it. A call from the kids, then a text that just said, help. He smiled, texted back a thumbs up, and slid the phone away. Without a second thought. Kids being kids. Probably making a smoothie. Another round for the champions, he called. And by champions, I of course mean me. Uncle Tedder quietly checked the time and wondered how the children were getting on. Probably bored, he said to himself. Probably having a very quiet afternoon. Chapter 5. Setting the traps. Pierce strolled back across the lawn to Victor Malone with his hands in his pockets. The picture of a boy who had given up. Okay, Malone. He said in his most defeated voice. You win. The secret's in the house. Give us like ten minutes to get it ready, and then you can come in and we'll show you everything. Malone's eyes glittered. How wonderfully sensible. He purred. Ten minutes. And then Toes and I walk in and take what's ours. He checked an imaginary watch. Tick tock, children. What Victor Malone did not know was that ten minutes to get it ready did not mean what he thought it meant. Inside the house it was beautiful chaos, the good kind. Tom had drawn a map of the hole downstairs on a piece of paper, and he was running the operation like a general. Every cousin had a job. Henry and Emma rigged the front hall. They emptied an entire bin of marbles across the wood floor just inside the door, then a tub of Legos behind that, the small, sharp, evil kind, scattered like a minefield. Nobody, said Emma with grim satisfaction, steps on a Lego and stays scary. Miles raided the garage and lined up his ammunition, water balloons, a super soaker the size of a leg, and a bag of marbles in reserve. It's basically Mario Kart, he said happily for the second day in a row. Banana peels. Shells, items. I know exactly what to do. Jane, Molly, Lois, Evelyn, Tad, and Sammy, who everyone called Fredberry, became the supply crew, hauling jump ropes, tying them between the stairposts at ankle height, filling buckets and stringing a tripwire across the back doorway out of fishing line and Christmas bells. Wit and Tripp practiced their decoy runs, zigzagging through the living room. I'm faster, said Wit. I'm more competitive, said Tripp. Those aren't the same thing, said Wit. Race you, said Trip, and they were gone. Duane and Bear dragged the big patio cushions into position to soften the giant's landing because as Bear pointed out, we want to beat him, not hurt him. There's a difference. Maddie nodded solemnly, and then went to do her makeup because a hero must look her best. In the middle of it all, McCallan tugged on Pierce's sleeve. Pierce, he said, I have an idea about the giant. What is it, Cal? McCallan, who was three and who loved to dance and who loved steak more than anything in the entire world, said the most important sentence of the whole day. What if, he said, we give the giant a stake. Everyone within earshot stopped and turned around. Say that again, said Tom slowly. Big guys love steak, said McAllen, with total confidence as a fellow lover of steak. I would do anything for a stake. If you put a stake somewhere, the giant will go there. It's just true. Tom stared at him. Then he looked down at his map. Then a slow grin spread across his face. Cal, he said, that is the smartest thing anyone has said all day. We don't fight the giant. We steer the giant. We lead him wherever we want, with a stake, and we steer him right out of the house and away from the creek. There's a huge steak in the freezer from the cookout, said Pierce, defrosting on the counter right now. Then it's not a stake anymore, said Henry. It's bait. McCallan beamed and did a small, proud dance. Out on the lawn, Victor Malone checked his imaginary watch again. Time's up, children, he called sweetly. Ready or not, here we come. Inside, Tom looked around at twenty one cousins crouched at their stations, eyes shining, traps set, stake in hand. Oh we're ready, he whispered. Positions, everybody, here they come. Chapter six The Battle of Willoway Part one The front door swung open, and Victor Malone stepped grandly inside, with toes ducking low to fit through the door frame behind him. Now then, Malone began, show me the treasure his foot hit the marbles. What happened next was, frankly, magnificent. Victor Malone's legs shot straight out from under him, his arms windmilled. His fancy coat flew up over his head, and he went down hard onto the wood floor and slid all the way across the front hall. Hoo oh oh before crashing into the pile of soft patio cushions Duane and Bear had set out, which caught him with a gentle, humiliating poom. Get them! Malone shrieked from inside the cushions. Toes roared and charged in after him, and Toes, being seven feet tall and wearing enormous boots, did not slip on the marbles. Toes stepped on the Legos. Y the giant's roar shook the pictures off the walls. He grabbed his enormous foot and hopped up and down, and the whole house Bounced with every hop, ow, ow, ow, ow, because there is no creature on this earth, no matter how large or how mean, that can step barefoot or boot foot on a Lego and remain dignified. Now Miles yelled Pierce. Miles popped up from behind the couch like a sergeant, the giant super soaker braced on his shoulder. Item box, he howled, and let loose. A blast of water caught Malone square in the face just as he climbed out of the cushions, and Miles pumped and fired again, and the water balloons started flying, lobbed by trip and wit, splat sploosh, splat, until both crooks were soaked and sputtering and could barely see. This is undignified, spat Malone, dripping. I'm a criminal mastermind. You're a wet criminal mastermind, said Henry. And then the toddler struck. Titus and Banks, the two most fearless three year olds the family had ever produced, came rocketing out of nowhere, laughing like little wild things and zoomed straight between Toes's enormous legs, weaving in and out, around and through so that the giant tried to grab them and stumbled, tried to step and tripped, tangling his own gigantic feet trying to catch two toddlers who thought the whole thing was the best game ever invented. Hold still, you tiny menaces, bellowed Toes, lurching after them. You can't catch us, we're small, sang Banks, delighted, and Titus shouted again even though it was still the first time. Across the room, Duane squared up. Somebody's gotta slow the big guy down, he said, cracking his knuckles, and he grabbed the giant around one tree trunk leg and held on for everything he was worth. And then, to everyone's surprise, a small, fierce blur shot past and grabbed the other leg. It was Emma. Five years old, quiet as a librarian, who loved horses and unicorns and butter toast, and who also, as her brothers well knew, loved to wrestle, and was shockingly good at it. I've got this leg, she yelled, locked on tight. Duane, you've got that one. Take him down. Toes wobbled. The giant teetered. Two cousins on his legs, two toddlers under his feet, water in his eyes, and a lego still stuck to his boot. He swayed one way and he swayed the other way, and with a groan like a falling oak, the great and terrible toes toppled over backward and landed flat on the patio cushions with a wump that rattled every dish in the kitchen. For one shining moment the cousins had won the front hall. But Victor Malone, wet and furious, had used the chaos to slip away. And when Pierce looked up, the front door was banging open, and Malone was sprinting across the lawn, straight toward the creek. He's going for the door, Pierce shouted. Everybody to the creek, bring the steak, bring the steak. Meanwhile, on the patio, the mom sat in the sun in a row of comfortable chairs, fruity drinks sweating on the table, and not one of them was thinking about a single child. Aunt Betsy's phone buzzed somewhere in her bag. She did not check it. Aunt Kelsey's buzz too. She turned hers further over. Should we look at our phones? asked Aunt Charlotte lazily. There was a long, peaceful pause. No, said all the moms together, and they clinked their glasses, and somewhere far across town twenty one of their children were chasing a soaking wet criminal toward a creek. And the afternoon sun was warm, and the drinks were cold, and it was, the moms agreed, the best day of the entire year. Chapter seven The Chase to the Creek Out the door they poured, all twenty one of them, thundering across the backyard and down the hill toward the creek, with Toes hauling himself up off the cushions and lumbering after them, and Victor Malone already at the bottom by the water, spinning in circles, searching. It's here somewhere, Malone muttered, yanking at bushes, kicking at rocks. The treasure. The door. I know it's by this creek. Where is it? Where is it? And here is where being clever mattered more than anything, because the real door the little stone door with the leaf shaped handle was tucked behind the great old willow tree hidden in the roots, exactly where it had always been, and the cousins could not let Malone get anywhere near it. So Henry, thinking fast, cupped his hands and yelled, Oh no, Malone, whatever you do, don't look over there by those big rocks on the other side of the creek. That is definitely not where our secret is. Malone's head snapped around. Aha he cried, and went charging off toward the big rocks on the far side, exactly the wrong direction, because a greedy man will always run toward the thing you tell him to ignore. Nice, whispered Pearce. Reverse psychology whispered Henry. Works every time on grown-ups who want things too badly. But that still left the giant. Toes had reached the bottom of the hill and he was not chasing toddl anymore. He was done playing. He stood at the edge of the creek, enormous and dripping and furious, his eyes scanning the willow tree, getting closer and closer to the real hiding spot with every step. He's headed right for the willow. Breathed Tom. Right for the door. We need the stake. We need it now. Miles skidded to a stop, holding the giant cookout stake in both hands, the bait, the whole plan. I've got it, he panted. Cal, you're up. This is your idea. How do we steer him? McCallan stepped forward three years old, calm as a tiny general, an expert in the one subject that mattered. We make him want it, said Cal. Show him. Then run the way we want him to go. He'll follow the stake. I would follow the stake. Anybody would follow the stake. And then the littlest cousin of all did something nobody expected. Chapter eight The Stake, the Mud and the Willow. Two year old Luca, who had toddled all the way down the hill after everybody, because nobody could ever make him stay put, walked right up toward the seven foot giant, completely unafraid, the way he was unafraid of everything and pointed at the stake in Miles' hands and looked all the way up at Toes and said in his small sweet voice, Ooh, yummy. Toes stopped. The giant mid rampage looked down at the tiny child pointing helpfully at the stake, and something complicated happened in his big grumpy face. He had said he did not like little kids. But this little kid was sharing, this little kid was pointing him toward a stake. Yummy, Toes agreed quietly, in spite of himself, his enormous stomach growling like distant thunder. Now Miles, yelled Pierce. Go, go, go. Miles took off along the creek bank, holding the stake high over his head, and Toes lunged after it with a hungry roar and the chase was on. Miles led him away from the willow, away from the door along the slippery, muddy edge of the creek, where Wit had already quietly run ahead, and stretched a jump rope taut between two trees at exactly giant ankle height, with the whole supply crew, Jane and Molly, and Lois and Evelyn, and Tad and Sammy hidden in the bushes holding the ends. Stake, stake, stake, chanted Toes, thundering forward, eyes only on the prize not watching his enormous feet at all. Bring him to the line, Tom shouted. Miles, jump the rope now. Miles leaped clean over the jump rope like the athlete he was. Toes did not. Toes hit the rope at a full giant sprint, and the supply crew yanked it tight, and the giant's gigantic feet flew up into the air, and for one long, glorious, slow motion second, all seven feet of Toes hung suspended over the muddiest, squishiest, soggiest bend in the entire creek. Splosh The giant landed in the mud so hard that a wave of brown creek water splashed clear up the bank and soaked Victor Malone, who was forty feet away on the wrong side of the creek, still digging hopelessly around the big rocks. My suit wailed Malone, and now came the finish. The part Bear had been waiting for. Because while everyone was steering the giant, quiet, brave, steady bear had climbed up into the great old willow tree right above the creek, carrying the one thing they had saved for last. A enormous bucket, filled to the brim with the leftover victory cake batter from the cookout. Thick and sticky and gloopy and gold. Victor Malone, soaked and filthy and beside himself, came stomping back across the shallow part of the creek toward the kids, having finally given up on the rocks, shrieking, Enough games, show me the door right now, or I'll he stomped directly under the willow tree. Bear looked down. Bear smiled his small, rare smile, and Bear tipped the bucket. Splorch. A whole bucket of thick golden cake batter came down on Victor Malone's head and covered him from his slicked hair to his fancy shoes, dripping off his thin mustache, filling up his coat pockets, gluing his arms to his sides. He stood there in the creek, frozen. A criminal mastermind turned into a giant human cupcake blinking out of two clean circles where his eyes were. The cousins fell completely silent for one second. And then all twenty one of them burst into the biggest laugh in the history of Bay Village. Meanwhile, back at the pub You know, said the king, finally climbing down off his chair. I should probably head home soon and check on the kids. Every other dad immediately panicked because if the king left, the celebration ended. No, said Uncle Mike, a little too fast. One more story. Tell us about uh the seventh hole. The famous seventh hole. The king's eyes lit up. The seventh hole. He breathed, sitting back down. Now that was a hole. The other dads exhaled. The kids, whoever they were, and whatever they were doing, had bought themselves a little more time without ever knowing it.

SPEAKER_01 32:49

Chapter nine Run Off.

SPEAKER_00 32:53

Victor Malone wiped the cake batter out of his eyes with one gooey hand and looked around at his situation. His giant was sitting in a mud puddle, his fancy coat was a dessert. There were twenty one children laughing so hard that some of them had sat down in the grass. He had not found the door. He had not found the treasure. He had, in fact, found nothing at all except humiliation for the umpteenth time at the hands of the same meddling family. This isn't over, he sputtered, batter dripping off his chin. He pointed a sticky, shaking finger at Pierce. Do you hear me? Victor Malone always comes back. I have other brothers. There's knuckles, there's elbows. There's a second cousin named Shins, who is absolutely terrifying. You haven't seen the last of the Malone crew. Bye, Malone, said Pierce, grinning. Tell Spleen we said hi, added Henry. Do not roared Malone. Mention Spleen. And he turned and squelched away up the hill toward his long black car, leaving a trail of cake batter behind him. But Toes did not get up to follow. The giant was still sitting in the mud, and Miles, after a glance at Pierce, had walked over and quietly handed him the cookout steak after all. And Toes was holding it in his two enormous hands, eating it and looking for the first time all day, almost peaceful. Thank you. Toes rumbled, with his mouth full. He looked down at McCallan, who had wandered over to watch a fellow steak enthusiast enjoy a steak. You were right, little kid, said the giant. I would have followed this steak anywhere. I know, said McAllen kindly. Steak is the best. Toes shrieked Malone, from the top of the hill, now mostly inside his car. We are leaving. Stop fraternizing with the enemy and get in the car. Toes sighed. A sigh so big it bent the grass. He stood up, dripping mud, and looked down at the cousins. You little kids are okay. He admitted gruffly. Meaner than I thought, in a good way. And then, because he was still technically a bad guy, he added, but I'm still telling fingers you were rude to him. And he turned and lumbered up the hill and folded himself impossibly back into the long black car which sank down low on its wheels under his weight. The car coughed and started and pulled away from the curb on Willowway, leaking a thin trail of cake batter, and disappeared down the street and around the corner, and was gone. The cousin stood at the bottom of the hill by the creek, muddy and soaked and triumphant, next to the great old willow tree whose secret door tucked safe in the roots Victor Malone had never even come close to finding. We did it, breathed Amelia. We actually did it. We beat a giant. We protected the door, said Bear quietly, which to him was the part that mattered. Lois pulled out her finger and started counting heads because someone had to. Nineteen, twenty, twenty one, all here, she announced. And then, because she had counted everybody two days in a row now, she gave a small proud fist pump. And then Tom looked up at the afternoon sun, and his eyes went wide. Wait, he said. What time is it?

SPEAKER_01 36:25

When are the grown ups coming home?

SPEAKER_00 36:33

Chapter ten Home before they know it. What followed was the fastest cleanup in the history of children. Twenty-one cousins flew up the hill and into the house like a tornado in reverse, putting everything right. They swept up every marble, they picked up every single lego, even the evil one stuck to the memory of the giant's boot. They wiped the water off the floors and stacked the patio cushions and untied the jump ropes and pulled down the tripwire of Christmas bells. They scrubbed the cake batter off the creek bank as best they could, and rinsed themselves off with the garden hose and hung their wet shirts to dry and combed the mud out of their hair, and Maddie reapplied everyone's non existent makeup whether they wanted it or not. By the time they heard the first car turning on a will away, the house was spotless, the yard was tidy, and twenty one suspiciously clean children were arranged around the living room, reading books and looking like little angels. The dads came in first, and as always, you could hear the king before you could see him. And that the king was booming, carrying his trophy through the front door, now wearing a paper crown, someone at the pub had made him is how a champion plays the seventh hole. Kids, your father is a legend. Did you have a nice quiet afternoon? Super quiet, said Pearce. Didn't do much, said Henry. Just read some books, said Emma, with a tiny fleck of dried cake batter behind her ear that no one noticed. We had kelp, added Tom solemnly, and the king nodded with deep approval, pleased that his snack advice had been taken. The moms came in next, sunwarmed and relaxed and happier than they had been in a year. Aunt Charlotte looked around the calm, tidy living room at all those well behaved children, and a tiny suspicious wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows, the way it always did. Everything go all right? she asked slowly. No visitors? No trouble? Twenty one cousins looked at each other. Nope, said Pierce. No visitors at all, said Duane. Definitely no giants, announced Maddie, and got quietly elbowed by six different cousins at once. Aunt Charlotte narrowed her eyes one degree further, but the house was clean, and the children were calm, and the day had been so very nice, and so she let it go, the way grown ups do when the evidence has been swept up and hosed down and combed out of everyone's hair. That night the whole house full of cousins lay in their sleeping bags in the dark, and they whispered and they giggled and they renewed their solemn vow. They were keeping the secret of the cloud village from yesterday. And now they were keeping the secret of the day, they beat Victor Malone and a giant named Toes all by themselves with marbles and Legos and water balloons and reverse psychology and a single cookout steak. Two secrets now whispered Henry. Best weekend ever. Whispered Trip. Dance secret murmured McCallan, already half asleep, doing one last tiny lying down dance with just his hands, because some secrets are too big and too happy to keep all the way inside. Down by the creek, the willow tree stood guard over its little stone door in the dark, its secrets safe for another day. And somewhere out past the edge of town, a long black car with cake batter still drying on its hood rolled through the night, and inside it, a soggy, sticky, defeated Victor Malone was already on the phone, already scheming, already planning his next return. Knuckles, he was saying into the phone, his voice low and oily and not even a little bit done. It's Victor, I have a job for you, and bring your cousin. Yes, the big one. Yes, I know he's me. A pause. A two-toothy smile spread across his batter streaked face. That's exactly why I wanted. The end.