“What’s all this business about a volcano in Iceland blowing up?” Margaret, visiting from the Moon in the Mango Tree, lounges in a chair by the window, in the most appealing light. Ted eyes her, as always.
“Thousands of people are grounded in airports,” Emily from Walk Back The Cat, and soon, Secret of the Shroud, says. “It’s a catastrophe.”
“Fire and Ice–it’s very poetic,” Barbara Perkins says. “Apparently a volcano exploded beneath a glacier in Iceland.”
Leo has entered the room. One way to stop a good party anytime is to have Leo enter the room.
“That’s not very nice,” Emily snaps. I jump. How’d she know what I was thinking?
“Guess,” she says in a tone I think is a little bit sarcastic. “You’re The Writer…aren’t you?” She looks at me and squints, as though she’d never really seen me from this perspective before.
“Yes, I am,” I say, a little chagrined. I’d hoped to keep a low profile back here behind the mirror. But I just get excited, and when I get that way the words just jump out of my mind before I can control them.
“The mirror’s open, yet people are peeking in. What’s up?” Emma Mamsey’s eyes are wide and shining as she looks around our secret garden. The books are closed and readers should be asleep. “Looks like a party. What are we celebrating, Mrs. Breeden?”
“The writer’s launching a website.” Amalie Breeden’s voice runs up and down the scale as she bustles around, getting things ready.
“What’s a website?”
Amalie shrugs. “How should I know? That’s what happens when The Writer mixes up our times. Ask someone from Dancing On Glass, or Walk Back The Cat. They’re much more modern than we are.”
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