Christmas is in."

They were interrupted by Mr. Christmas whispering from the bed. "Come here."

They all turned. The man was holding up a feeble hand. He was reaching for Mack. "Hold my hand."

Mack took a step toward him.

"You trust him?" asked Word.

"Don't do it, Mack," said Ceese.

"Help me," said Mr. Christmas.

Mack looked at Ceese and Word, then turned back to Puck. "The doctors already did what you needed."

Mr. Christmas glanced at Ceese and Word, and suddenly they smiled and began pushing Mack gently toward the bed.

"It's all right," said Ceese.

"He needs you," said Word.

And Mack knew right then that Puck was doing to them the thing he had done to Word Williams thirteen years ago. Making them want to do something they didn't want to do. Encourage Mack to obey Puck's command.

The thing was, Mack didn't want to do it. Didn't want not to, either. It's as if Puck had no power to make Mack want or not want anything.

"I touched you before," said Mack to the man on the bed. "I... carried you. It didn't help you."

Mr. Christmas responded by wiggling his fingers. Give me your hand, his fingers were saying.

his pocket.

Mr. Christmas still wiggled his fingers.

Okay, so I proved I could do it. But now as I take my hand out of my pocket and reach out to him again, is that because I want to or because I...

I could keep going back and forth on this all morning, and in the meantime, Professor Williams might pop out of thin air and blast eight rounds into Puck's body.

Mack took the man's hand.

His grip was weak. But the longer he held, the stronger it got. Until Mack said, "You're hurting me."

"Sorry," said Puck. But now he looked stronger. And when he let go of Mack's hand, he sat right up and pulled the bandages off his head and his body. "That really hurt."

"What happened to you?" asked Mack. "Was it the—"

Puck put up a hand to stop him from saying more. Then he stood up and looked down at the cast on his leg.

"Mack," said Puck, "can I lean on you to steady me?"

Mack came closer. The man leaned on him. He took a step. Another.

And then Puck wasn't leaning on him anymore. Mack looked at him, and now he was fully dressed as a homeless man, with grocery bags hanging out of every pocket and looped over his arms.

"No reason to hide these from you now," said Puck to Mack. "Now that Word here has told you everything."

And with a nod to Word and Ceese, and a wink to Mack, Puck flung open the door and strode boldly out into the hall. Nobody challenged him.

"You healed him," said Word.

"He healed himself," said Mack. "He's the magical one, not me."

"But he had to hold your hand to do it."

"That's crazy," said Mack.

"And when he was leaning on you," said Ceese, "his cast just disappeared, and he was wearing those clothes."

"We saved your father," said Mack. "From committing a murder and going to jail for it."

"If he was coming."

"Now we'll never know," said Ceese. "But isn't that better than knowing because we didn't stop him?"

"Yes, it is," said Word.

"Now let's go home," said Ceese, "before the nurses catch us here and demand to know what we did with the old man."

As they approached the car, Word pushed the button that made the Mercedes give a little toot and blink its lights. "You know what I don't want to do now?"

"What?" asked Ceese.

"I don't want to spend a lot of time trying to figure all this out. I spent years trying to make it make sense and I decided long ago that the best thing for me to do is act as if it never happened, just as my dad does, because there's not a damn thing we can do about it and it's never going to make sense. In fact, not making sense is why we call it magic instead of science, right?"

"Right," said Ceese.

Mack didn't like it. He had finally found not one but two people who believed him, and Word might have even more information about Mack's origins. "I got to talk about it," said Mack.

"Fine," said Word. "With each other, not with me. Because if you start telling people this stuff, and they come to me for corroboration, I'll tell them I just drove you guys home in my dad's car and I've got no idea what you're talking about. I'm not letting magic ruin my life."

"I understand," said Ceese. "That makes sense."

"Like hell it does," said Mack.

"Watch your language," said Ceese.

"Yeah, you two got your nice birth certificates and your moms and dads and your damned last names."

Ceese reached over the back of his seat and laid a hand on Mack's head. Mack pulled away.

"Mack," said Word from the driver's seat, "I understand how you feel."

"Like hell," said Mack.

"Mack, don't—" Ceese began.

"You've got to let this boy watch George Carlin and learn more words," said Word.

"Hell," said Mack, toward Word this time.

"The thing is, Mack," said Word, "you already know everything I know. I didn't hold anything back. And I don't want to talk about this or think about it. You've got a family. You even have a mom and dad, if you aren't too picky about standard definitions. Read Midsummer Night's Dream. You'll learn more from that than you ever will from me."

This time Mack didn't faint on the way home.

And late that night, after Mack was in bed, he heard Ceese come in and give something to Miz Smitcher. She brought it to Mack as Ceese left the house. It was a big thick book.

"A complete Shakespeare," said Miz Smitcher. "What is that boy thinking? If you read this in bed and fall asleep with that book on your chest you'll suffocate long before morning."

"I won't read it in bed, Miz Smitcher," said Mack.

"Why Shakespeare? Is that summer reading for school? Surely not the whole Works of Bill!"

"He and I were talking about a play I remembered," said Mack. "So I guess he wanted me to be able to read it for myself."

"But why the book?" said Miz Smitcher. "Doesn't he know there are places online where you can get the full text of any Shakespeare play, free of charge? This is so expensive!"

"Ceese is still looking out for me," said Mack.

"He's a blessing in your life, that's for sure," said Miz Smitcher. "But no reading tonight. Plenty of time tomorrow."

Mack thought he'd have trouble getting to sleep, he had so much to think about. But he'd been thinking about it all day, brooding about it, trying to figure out what it all meant and why Puck was living in Skinny House right in their neighborhood and what it might mean to be a changeling and how that might explain why he didn't change size going into Fairyland and...

And he was asleep.

Chapter 11

FAIRYLAND

Ceese knew he couldn't say anything to anybody, yet it troubled him to keep such a thing secret.

This wasn't gossip to excite or scandalize people in the neighborhood. This wasn't entertainment.

From what Mack let slip today, some terrible things had happened in the neighborhood—the worst being Tamika Brown's near-drowning, but there were others, and the danger of more bad things happening. Wishes always being turned against the wisher.

Who was doing it? Or was it simply the way of the world, that all desires exacted their price?

Ceese wanted to talk to somebody about it. But who? Not his mama, that was certain. She'd blab to his brothers, at the very least, and then they'd taunt him for the rest of his life about how he believed in magic and wishes. Dad? He wouldn't even understand what Ceese was talking about.

Ura Lee Smitcher? Maybe. She was a hardheaded woman and not prone to believe in strange things, but she knew how to keep her mouth shut. The only reason not to talk to her was that it would worry her that Mack was tied up in all this. And maybe that was her right, to know what her adopted son was involved in so she could worry.