Chapter Two

The three Grace siblings were quiet over supper; except for the usual spilling of Violet's cup of water all down her shirt front, the family ate in silence. Mr. Grace, who worked long hours in the downtown part of New York City, came home tired as usual. He did seem happy, though, for the fact that he and Mrs. Grace would be spending the summer at the seaside. As soon as the children were told their parents' plans, Violet peppered him with questions about whether or not there would be jellyfish, Andy tried to smile and act enthusiastic when his heart really longed to see the seashore and to draw it if he could, and Deker ate with mechanic motions, not saying a word, his black eyes moody.

That night, Andy sat on the lower mattress of the bunk bed, his legs crossed. He scooted the numerous doodlepads, books and colorful blankets to the end of the bed and rolled over, heaving a sigh. The night was still young, the neighbors in the apartment below them had not yet begun their nighttime partying. Mr. and Mrs. Grace came to tuck Violet in. They straightened the sheet that hung from the ceiling, making a little hideaway for her. Violet waited until her parents had left the room, then jumped up and began dancing around, babbling to her brothers about grandma's house. She nearly stepped on her collection of CDs as she danced a jig with a headless doll.

"I wish I could see jellyfish and sharks!" she yelped in a squeaky voice. "I bet grandma never saw those things!"

Andy rolled over, tangling his sheets, and stared at her, a small smile on his lips. "I doubt Mom and Dad will see those things if they're just strolling along the beach and having a romantic vacation by candlelight." Violet made a hurling sound and Deker gave a small groan from the top bunk. Andy grinned and went into the kitchen for a evening snack of Oreos and mango guava. Violet wriggled around in her pink ballerina sheets until she found a comfy position, then gave a small sigh and fell asleep.

Andy came in and climbed back into his bed. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long night, so he took up one of his note pads, grabbed a pen from under the bed and make the finishing touches on a picture of a sneaky black fox. Pens and pencils were scattered over the plaid sheets, pillows lined the white walls and various crafts in progress lay here and there. Several yellow curls fell over Andy's pale forehead as he concentrated on his work, and the comforting sound of the soft keys of Deker's laptop drifted down from the top bunk.

The city lights outside the single window drew brighter as the sunset faded into a velvety black. Violet sighed in her sleep and murmured something about chipmunks.

Finally, Andy was finished with his drawing and fell out of his bed, nearly spilling his half-full cup of mango guava juice, his back brushing against one of the many paintings that were taped to the wall. He climbed the iron rungs of their bunk bed and clambered onto Deker's puffy black sheets. His older brother was huddled under the blankets and the muffled sound of furious typing reached Andy's ears. Deker must be writing a battle scene.

"Hey," Andy said, "I finished that drawing of Shadow I promised Violet. Think she'll like it?"

He heard a pause in the typing and then a distracted "Hmm..." Andy sat on the black sheets, gazing up at the array of fantasy and space posters tacked on the wall to cover up the dirty white paint. There was a new one, a slate gray dragon curled around his horde of gold, his reddish brown eyes glowering. Andy stared into the eyes until his own went cross-eyed.

"Oh, I see you got a new poster," Andy said delicately, clearing his throat. Deker shoved the covers aside, burying Andy in them. Yes, he'd been writing a battle scene; his black eyes still gleamed, his glasses were perched crazily on the tip of his long sharp nose, and his hair was wild. Andy handed him his drawing of Violet's character Shadow, a black fox who caused all sorts of mischief to her Barbie dolls. For of course, Violet wrote about her adventures with her dolls in big, galloping scrawl on sheets of printer paper.

Deker took the drawing and stared at it a long while. "That's very good," he finally said, handing it back. He suddenly gave a nutty grin and said "Talent you have!" in a Yoda voice. Andy burst out laughing and was obliged to smother his snorts in the sleeve of his green hoodie.

Deker typed for a short moment, his long fingers scrabbling over the keyboard like two spiders. Andy tried to ignore the glaring dragon poster. What was that guy's problem, anyway? "So," Deker finally said, "what do you think about us three staying alone with grandma this summer?"

"I'm nervous," Andy confessed, tucking his knees up into his hoodie. "I'm afraid the kittens are going to run wild and scare her half to death, and I have no idea what I'll do without my toy bugs! Oh, speaking of the kittens, I threatened to put them in my school locker and I think they'll behave now and stay out of the fridge...for a while, at least." He gave his brother a wink. "I mean, I'm glad Mom and Dad are finally taking a break, I guess I shouldn't be complaining, it's just..."

At that moment there was a crash from one of the rooms under them. Andy looked at his watch. "Noisy neighbor time," he said. A faint smell of smoke drifted in; Jake was on the prowl. Andy monkeyed down to his bunk and waited for the nighttime rituals. "I'd better hide my mango guava," he decided, and taking one last sip, scuttled to the kitchen and stuck it in the freezer. When he came back, there were three kittens playing around in his sheets.

"Hey, don't eat my pens!" Andy yelped at his kittens. One, a black tom, stared up at him.

"Ink tastes good!" he said. Andy scowled. "Ink does NOT taste good, especially when it's from my pens!" The other two kittens, one orange tabby and one snowy white puff, giggled at each other. They loved making their Author angry and watching his pale face go red.

There was a scratching sound at the window and Deker leaned over to open it. A young dragon, about as big as a pony, flew in and blew smoke into Violet's face. Violet coughed and sat up, blinking at the blue dragon and shoving aside the colorful wings that flapped under her nose. "Jake!" she snickered, trying to be mad with him and failing miserably. "I'm very excited today!" She talked to her dragon as Andy chased the black tom around. "You know why? Because today is the day that you are big enough for me to ride you!" Andy stopped in his tracks and Deker stared at his little sister.

"We've already talked this over before," Violet said stubbornly before anyone could say anything. "You said I could ride Jake in the park when he's big enough, if I'm careful and if I come home after half an hour."

"Right," Deker said, cocking an eyebrow.

"So..." Violet was jumping up and down by now. "Can I ride him tonight?"

"No one asked me whether I'd like to carry you, Authoress!" Jake growled, but his sapphire blue eyes twinkled with laughter. Violet stroked his scaly snout, marveling at the way he'd grown ever since she created him last year. Andy drug a small wooden saddle he'd made in school out from under his bed and strapped it to Jake's belly. Violet hopped onto her dragon's back and grinned wildly as Jake rose to his feet, walked unsteadily to the window, and perched on the sill. Violet gave Deker a blow kiss as Jake launched himself out of the window. Andy ran to the window, yelling "You forgot your flashlight!"

Deker chuckled. "Don't worry, kiddo," he said, "Violet wrote Jake so that he'll take good care of her."

Andy sighed. "I know, it's just...AHH!" He grabbed the orange tabby kitten out of his little pile of cookies and firmly put all three characters inside a large backpack for the night, leaving the zipper gaping. He put his headphones on and slowly dozed off to the soundtrack of Pirates of the Caribbean.

The harsh white glow of Deker's laptop screen shone on his face as he typed far into the night. Downstairs he could hear the neighbors watching football and screaming whenever their favorite player got a touchdown. After half an hour, Violet flew to the window on Jake, full of laughter from the glorious first ride and watched as Jake flew off into the cloudless night. Finally, at four thirty in the morning, Deker sat back on his large pillow and reread his work, making a few changes here and there. He suddenly looked up and saw his character, a tall handsome knight named Daimon with a shock of snowy white hair and a pair of glinting green eyes, sitting at the end of his bed and looking at him.

"How goes the novel, Author?" the young man said. He was fiddling with the leather strap of his sword belt and his crimson tunic bore the magnificent golden insignia of his king, the good Luther, who represented God in Deker's novel.

"I finished chapter three, Daimon, that is all I can do this night." Deker found himself lapsing into the proud eloquent speech of his people whenever he talked to his character.

"I love how you made me stay the murderer's hand from killing Misty Snowfall, as you said you might." Daimon spoke of the beautiful heroine who was traveling to a nearby town in search for her long-lost brother.

"I think it is appalling," said a deep raspy voice. Deker stiffened and straightened his thin-rimmed glasses. "I did not bade you enter here," he said, his voice hushed for fear of waking Andy and his purring kittens. A tall cloaked figure stood in the shadowed corner, red eyes burning out from under his gray tattered hood. Deker felt a tickling heat fill the room and looked anxiously at his little sister, mumbling in her sleep and smiling every now and then. Daimon climbed down from the bunk bed and drew his sword. It slipped from his well-oiled sheath with a whisper of metal and seemed to glow in the moonlight that reached through the open window.

"Leave now, Caspar, and do not dare to come to your Author unless he bids you come!" the brave knight commanded. The cloaked figure leaned against the wall. Deker gave a piercing glare to the villain of his story, a warped soul with "anger issues", as Mrs. Grace said.

Suddenly a squishy little tomato came hopping into the room through the open door. Daimon grinned down at Jules the Notorious Talking Tomato, a character Deker had created early in his writing career and could never seem to get rid of.

"Hey," Jules squeaked, "when are ya gonna work on my books, huh?" The tomato had overheard his Author contemplating about writing a children's series with talking produce, and had plagued him ever since.

Caspar smirked and began to fade away, the heat melting from the room, his red blazing eyes fixed upon Deker until his dark essence drained from the apartment room. Daimon sheathed his sword with a sigh of relief. "I will leave you now, Author," he said, "but call me if Caspar threatens you again."

Deker climbed down from his bunk and landed on the floor with a gentle thump, the memory of Caspar's heat still seeping through his chocolate brown T-shirt. He shut the window and picked up Jules. "Thank you, Daimon, I will," he said. Andy turned over in his sleep and one of the kittens, maybe the snowy white one, gave a small helpless meow, perhaps because the mouse in her dream wouldn't stop running away. Daimon walked from the room, sword at his side. Deker stuffed Jules in the refrigerator for the night, then curled up under his black blankets and fell asleep.

Out in the night, someone walking along the bustling streets of New York City might have seen a large shadow flying across the sky, the moonlight shooting between every sinew in the rainbow wings and sparkling in Jake's beep blue eyes.