Katlyn Zinger and the Hornless Unicorn

Katlyn Zinger and the Hornless Unicorn

By

Christine Williamson

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Copyright 2012 Christine Williamson

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SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Table of Contents

Prologue: The Last Peacock

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Little Girl

Chapter 2: A Not-So Ordinary Yard

Chapter 3: A Uniquely Zinger Gift

Chapter 4: The Zinger Sight

Chapter 5: The Twenty-Fifth Fountain

Chapter 6: The Wall

Chapter 7: The Man in Black

Chapter 8: A Vampire in The Yard?

Chapter 9: Unsuccessful Business

Chapter 10: An Unintended Kindness

Chapter 11: A Beacon of Hope

Chapter 12: The Last Three Fountains

Chapter 13: Ideas and Letters

Chapter 14: The Fire

Chapter 15: The Guardians

Chapter 16: The Not-So Twin Packages

Chapter 17: The Suit and the Voice

Chapter 18: The Adonis

Chapter 19: The File

Chapter 20: The Marble Game Board

Chapter 21: The Special Project

Chapter 22: An Unexpected Difficulty

Chapter 23: The Thirtieth Fountain

Chapter 24: The Vampire Returns

Chapter 25: An Unexpected Reunion

Chapter 26: Cucumbers and Conundrums

Chapter 27: A Monumental Task

Chapter 28: An Unexciting Meal

Chapter 29: An Interesting Conversation

Chapter 30: Galdigar’s Folly

Chapter 31: The Thirty-First Fountain

Chapter 32: The Keeper of the Sun

Chapter 33: Flight of the Bubble Car

Chapter 34: Freedom

Chapter 35: Unexpected Guests

Chapter 36: The Question of Sanity

Chapter 37: Puzzles, Pliers, and Cell Phones

Chapter 37.5: Parallel Events

Chapter 38: Cacophonic Consequences

Chapter 39: Feedback

Chapter 39.5: Manual Transmission

Chapter 40: Pursuit of the Bubble Car

Chapter 41: The Importance of Sleep

Chapter 42: A Not-So-Ordinary Little Boy

Chapter 42.5: Elsewhere in The Yard

Chapter 43: Pulling a Grandma Jean

Chapter 44: A Distasteful Task

Chapter 44.5: Reality Check

Chapter 45: An Unfortunate Misunderstanding

Chapter 46: Free Radicals

Chapter 47: Galdigar’s Legacy

Chapter 47.5: The Problem With Sarcasm

Chapter 48: The Watchmaker’s Table

Chapter 48.5: The Vampire’s Revenge

Chapter 48.75: Considered Defection

Chapter 49: The Hornless Unicorn

Chapter 50: Revelation

Chapter 50.25: Silent Defiance

Chapter 50.5: A Convenient Convergence

Epilogue: Not Quite Extinct

About the Author

Other Works by Christine

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Prologue: The Last Peacock

I think it’s dead.

Don’t say that. You make it sound worse than it is.

But its leg is gone. And it’s all twisted.

Daniel Parkins cringed and rubbed at the bruise forming on his shin. C’mon, it can’t be as bad as all that! He crawled over the fallen ladder and shouldered his way into the group of murmuring groundskeepers. Where is it?

Kyle scooted over to make room and pointed down at a tuft of carefully manicured moss. Glimmers of silver and the slight shimmer of iridescence flickered beneath the thin carpet of greenery. Face it, Danny. You flattened it.

One look was enough to tell Kyle was right. The peacock was barely visible. The force of the blow had driven the tiny bird several inches into the ground.

It’s embedded in the dirt, someone muttered.

Danny heard a snicker. Like a nail hit by a hammer.

A second snicker answered the first from somewhere off to his left. More like a thumbtack whacked by an anvil.

Stop it. It’s not funny. Kyle reached forward and smoothed the moss away so they could get a better view. These birds aren’t easy to replace.

Aren’t we out of them already?

Why is it always the peacocks? It’s like they’re cursed. Nothing else ever gets damaged.

That’s not true. Jimmy squashed an apple tree a few months ago.

Really? I didn’t hear tha—

Daniel ignored his coworkers’ discussion. He felt awful. Oh, man. He carefully pulled the mangled, metal bird out of the squishy moss and brushed the dirt off it. The twisted peacock glinted dully in his hand. Scratches marred the iridescent enamel coating its feathers, and one of its legs was bent sideways, poking out at an appalling angle. He could see the other leg sticking out of the moss, still attached to its base. It was almost a foot away from the impression he’d pulled the bird’s body from.

The peacock’s metal eye stared reproachfully up at him, and Daniel closed his fingers over it. He cringed. He could feel a kink in the slender neck.

I suppose there’s no reattaching this, Daniel groaned.

Kyle sighed. Not unless you’ve been hiding mad metalworking skills from me.

Daniel shook his head. I wish. He climbed to his feet. I better report it.

You going back to the house? someone asked.

Daniel Parkins slipped the peacock into his pocket and nodded. Yeah. I want to apologize in person.

You should get some ice while you’re at it. That was a bad fall.

That’s a good idea, agreed Daniel. He grinned sheepishly and waved his concerned coworkers off as he headed for the supply carts. If I’m not back in an hour, send a rescue posse. Until then, keep up the good work.

Wait. Kyle had jumped the fallen ladder and was picking his way through the beds of undamaged miniatures, following him. I’ll go with you.

No, that’s all right. I’ll be fine.

But it was partially my fault.

Stopping his friend, Daniel clapped Kyle on the shoulder and climbed into a cart. Don’t worry. I can handle Jeremy. Besides, they need your ‘mad masonry’ skills to replace the stone properly.

Kyle frowned reluctantly. Are you sure?

Daniel laughed and switched the cart on. I can handle the Zingers. Really, it’s no big deal. I’m more likely to get chewed out for being careless than for damaging the fountain. That’s the sort of people they are.

Still looking unconvinced, Kyle stepped away and let Daniel back the cart onto the path. All right. But if you need anything, call. I’ll give my side of the story.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

Daniel turned the cart around and headed for the forest that lay between the worksite and the main house. Kyle waved after it. Good luck!

With the broken peacock lying heavily in his pocket, Daniel forced an unconcerned smile and waved back. Then he sighed and turned his attention to navigating the twisting pathways.

* * * * *

Half an hour later Daniel Parkins was standing beside his supply cart in the middle of a large driveway, staring at his shoes as he listened to his supervisor explain the peacock’s demise to their boss.

That’s basically what happened. The Head Gardener, Jeremy Hinkel rubbed his neck. It was a convergence of unfortunate coincidences. Put simply: An accident.

Up on the porch, Mrs. Zinger put aside her laptop, got up from her chair, and came down to meet them. I understand. I can’t blame a man for being afraid of bees when he’s deathly allergic to them. Under the circumstances, I’d have let go of the ladder too. She stretched out a hand. May I see it, please?

Daniel Parkins fumbled in his pocket and quickly passed the peacock to Jeremy. His supervisor carried it to Mrs. Zinger and gently set it on her palm.

She examined it in silence for a moment.

I’m very, very sorry, ma’am, Daniel said. I was being careless. I leaned out too far. It won’t happen again.

Mrs. Zinger raised an eyebrow and glanced at him. I certainly hope not. We don’t have presentations on ladder safety for nothing. Perhaps it’s time for another one.

Daniel winced. That’s not necessary. Really. I promise I—

Pish tosh. There’s always time for safety. Mrs. Zinger’s fingers closed over the battered metal bird, and she flashed Daniel a dazzling smile. I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I appreciate your honesty. You may return to your duties.

Flustered by the brilliant smile and abrupt dismissal, Daniel awkwardly stammered an, I’ll just be going, then, and respectfully tipped his cap. Later, ma’am.

Mrs. Zinger nodded as Daniel hastily retreated to the supply cart, then she turned to Jeremy. Do you have a moment?

Of course, Jeremy replied.

By the time Daniel had finished circling the driveway’s turnaround, his boss and supervisor were deep in a discussion about what to do with the damaged peacock.

* * * * *

Are there any left? Jeremy Hinkel asked. I know we’re running low.

I’ll have to check. Mrs. Zinger polished the battered bird’s metal face with a corner of her dress. There’s a case of extras in the library. We’ve used a lot, but I don’t think they’re gone. My father would’ve complained if he found the box empty.

The installation won’t take long. I can do it now, if you like.

Mrs. Zinger nodded and tried to straighten the peacock’s bent leg.

I’ll go get my tools, then, said Jeremy.

Wait. Mrs. Zinger let go and the straightened leg sprang back to its original position. Let me make sure we have a replacement first. I’ll be right back. Dropping the peacock into her dress pocket, she trotted up the porch stairs and into the house.

Jeremy Hinkel watched the white painted door swing shut, then shook his head and went to get his tools anyway. When Mrs. Zinger returned, he was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he’d been waiting for ages.

She frowned as she took in the toolbox by his feet. Was I really gone that long?

Its impossible to get anywhere in a timely fashion in your house.

Point taken. Mrs. Zinger sighed heavily and offered him the wooden box she was holding. I’m afraid you needn’t have taken the trouble, though. Given the circumstances, I’d like to postpone installation until after the masonry repairs are done. I don’t want to take any chances.

Circumstances? Jeremy took the proffered box. What circumstances?

Just open it.

Jeremy gently lifted the small chest’s polished lid and looked inside. His eyes widened in dismay. But there’s only one!

Mrs. Zinger nodded. I know. We need to be careful with it.

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair and stared at the replacement bird in consternation. The silver peacock twinkled merrily up from a bed of black velvet. It looked so beautiful lying there, it seemed a crime to remove it. And the velvet was familiar too. Jeremy didn’t want to think about the implications of the fabric.

He tore his eyes from the strutting bird and looked at Mrs. Zinger. We need to reorder these at once. Who made them?

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. Reordering isn’t possible. The company doesn’t exist anymore.

You mean…?

Mrs. Zinger closed her eyes and nodded.

Jeremy’s heart sank as his fear was confirmed. What about the artist?

We don’t know for sure who they were.

So the artist might be… He couldn’t say it.

Smiling sadly, Mrs. Zinger finished the sentence for him. Dead. Yes. There is a good chance that that is, indeed, the case.

So this really is the last one… Jeremy ran a reverent finger across the peacock’s enameled tail feathers. They were smooth and unblemished. They wouldn’t stay that way long once exposed to the elements. Are you sure you want to install it? It would make a beautiful display piece.

Mrs. Zinger chuckled softly and shook her head. No. It’s meant to be admired alongside the others, in the original setting. The artist would’ve wanted it that way.

The polished lid slid shut with a gentle click. That was their philosophy, conceded Jeremy. Still… He gave the lid a pat. It seems a shame for something like this to be at the mercy of Fate’s whim. These peacocks have extremely bad luck.

I know.

He offered her the box, but Mrs. Zinger waved it off. You keep it. The repairs should be done tomorrow. I know how busy you are. This way you won’t have to wait for me to get it again. Install it at your leisure.

Shrugging, Jeremy slipped the chest into one of his pockets. As you wish, Mrs. Zinger. What about the broken one? It’s in better condition than the other miniatures that were removed. Do you have plans for it?

Mrs. Zinger looked thoughtful. She pulled the bent peacock from her pocket and walked over to the chair she’d been sitting in earlier. Actually… A dull clack sounded as she set the silver bird on the glass table beside her laptop. It’s bent leg acted like a stand and it stayed upright, reflecting iridescence from its tail onto the sparkling, clear surface. I was thinking of giving it to my daughter. Its the sort of thing she’d like. Mrs. Zinger sat down, surveying Jeremy with a knowing eye as she leaned back and reclaimed her laptop. Why? Were you thinking of buying it off me?

No, no. Not at all. Jeremy Hinkel picked up his toolbox with a smile. It’s worth more than I can afford, I’m sure. I was just curious.

In truth, he’d been tempted to do just that. Jeremy had quite a bit of money saved, and the chance to own something made by that ill-fated company didn’t come around very often. However, if the peacock was going to the Zingers’ daughter…

Well…

…That was a different story entirely…

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1. An Ordinary Little Girl

Katlyn Zinger was an ordinary little girl. She had a father and mother, like ordinary girls do, and she went to school, like ordinary girls do. She loved to play in her yard and to play with her toys, just like an ordinary girl, and she liked to play with her friends, who were also ordinary little girls. (Except for the friends who were little boys, but they were also very ordinary.)

Now, an ordinary girl needs an ordinary family, and Katlyn’s family was quite ordinary indeed. Her father was a businessman, and like all ordinary businessmen, he liked to lock himself in his study with his computer and telephone, and he liked to talk with other businessmen who were locked in other studies, which, as a rule, were located halfway across the country or on the far side of the globe. Katlyn’s mother was a writer, and in the fashion of ordinary writers, she wrote novels about extraordinary people who lived in extraordinary places and had extraordinary things happen to them. When asked why she wrote them this way, Mrs. Zinger always told Katlyn that the novels were written for, and enjoyed by, all the ordinary people who secretly wished something extraordinary would happen to them as well.

Katlyn had assorted other relatives, as children often do, but the only ones she saw on a daily basis were her grandparents. All four lived with her, but not one was as ordinary as she was. But this was to be expected. It’s a well-known fact that people become eccentric as they age, and it’s therefore quite natural for grandparents to develop quirks and crazy obsessions. Knowing this, Katlyn didn’t mind that her grandparents gave themselves nicknames and possessed excessive quantities of their favorite pets.

Now, having a father who was always locked in a study with the disembodied voices of imprisoned businessmen, and having a mother who was always glued to a sofa with her reading glasses on her forehead and her fingers dancing across her keyboard because she was on a roll, but NOT having any brothers or sisters to play games with after she’d finished her homework, Katlyn frequently had lots of time on her hands, but not lots of things to fill it with. Whenever this happened, she visited her grandparents.

First Katlyn would visit Grandma Jean and Grandpa Jasper, who were her mother’s parents and lived in the East end of the house. The Eastern Grandparents, as they liked to call themselves, loved cats and were skinny and wrinkled with bright beady eyes and long pointed noses. They liked to tell stories, and did so in such an animated fashion that their noses traced crazy patterns in the air. This made Katlyn feel dizzy and always hypnotized Grandpa Jasper’s favorite cat, Juniper. Their stories, though ordinary in content, varied in length and always ended the same way, with Juniper leaping at one or the other of the wagging appendages. Laughing and grumbling would ensue, and neither Jean nor Jasper would remember what their stories had been about.

Once she’d had her fill of unfinished stories, Katlyn would say goodbye to the Eastern Grandparents, and go to visit Grandma Doris and Grandpa Dan, who were her father’s parents and lived in the West end of the house. Not to be out done by Jean and Jasper, they called themselves the Western Grandparents and were also wrinkly, though not particularly skinny, with big droopy eyes and sagging cheeks that made them resemble Doris’s old Bassett hound, Darrell. Grandma Doris would feed Katlyn milk and cookies and ask how the Eastern Grandparents were doing, (this was her way of asking which nose Juniper had attacked). Then she and Dan would dutifully make up endings for all the interrupted stories the Eastern Grandparents had started. Nothing, in their opinion, was less ordinary and more tasteless than a story that didn’t have an ending.

Once the last ending was told, Katlyn would politely thank the Western Grandparents for finishing the Eastern Grandparents’ stories. Then she’d wash her milk cup and slip away, leaving them to discuss what a nice little girl she was while they placed bets on whose nose Juniper would attack the next day.

Head spinning with adventures, and stomach full of cookies, Katlyn would then spend the rest of each day playing in her most favorite of places: The Yard.

The Yard was not called ‘the yard’ as most yards are called, but, The Yard. Every adult that ever saw it and learned its name, which sounds no different than saying ‘the yard’ without capitals, would hence forth, and without either prompting or exception, pronounce it with the most emphatic sense of capitalization that you can imagine.

You see, although Katlyn Zinger was a perfectly ordinary little girl, and although her parents were perfectly ordinary parents and had respectable, ordinary professions, and although her grandparents were relatively ordinary when compared to other elderly eccentrics, there was one thing about the Zinger family that was most certainly NOT ordinary. In fact, it was so not ordinary that you could even call it extraordinary, and from this extraordinary piece of information The Yard sprang into being with all the subtlety of an erupting volcano.

The Zingers were extraordinarily wealthy.

They were not ordinarily wealthy, for there are many ordinary families that are ordinarily wealthy with ordinary massive houses and ordinary expensive cars and ordinary successful businesses. The Zinger family was so incredibly wealthy that they could’ve described themselves as remarkably, fabulously, stupendously, tremendously, amazingly and yes, even extraordinarily, wealthy, and still have been thought modest by all the other wealthy families. They were so well off that when I said Katlyn’s Grandma Jean and Grandpa Jasper lived in the East end of the house and that Grandma Doris and Grandpa Dan lived in the West end of the house, there actually was a West end of the house and there actually was an East end of the house, and Katlyn had to walk ten minutes along corridors lined with beautifully carved doors to reach either one of them.

They were so fabulously well off that when I said the Eastern Grandparents loved cats, it meant that to listen to the beginnings of their stories, Katlyn had to walk past ten minutes of beautifully carved cats peering out at her from ebony knobs, wainscoting, and mahogany door panels. There were paintings of cats hanging on the walls and large ferny vases decorated with jungle cats lining the hallways, and when she finally reached the Eastern Grandparents’ domain, she had to walk through three rooms full of tall shelves and luxurious lounging chairs that dripped with cats. They peered at her from cracks under the sofas and leaned far out over the edges of bookcases to watch her walk by. They even dropped onto her shoulders as she passed under them, purring loudly and shedding profusely, but always polite and mindful of their claws. It was a rare day indeed that she arrived at the Eastern Grandparents’ sitting room with no cats in her arms.

The Zinger family was so amazingly well off that when Katlyn went to see the Western Grandparents to hear the ends of the stories, she had to walk past the ten minutes of carved cats a second time and then past another ten minutes of beautifully carved dogs, (for as I said earlier, the Western Grandparents loved dogs). These peeked out at her from birch handles and trimming and oaken door panels. There were paintings of dogs and tapestries of hounds everywhere, and when Katlyn finally reached the Western Grandparents’ apartment, she was overrun by a sea of dogs, which invariably knocked her down and licked her all over. Upon regaining her feet, Katlyn had to wade through three rooms full of beautiful sofas and easy chairs, each one carefully chewed and slobbered upon, which were crowded with dogs. These glorified dog beds emptied as soon as she’d waded past, and a parade gathered, sniffing at her heels as the dogs all leapt up to follow Katlyn into the Western Grandparents’ sitting room.

The Zinger family was so wonderfully wealthy that their house, with its massive East, West, and North ends, (Katlyn and her parents lived in the North end), was the size of a sprawling palace. And surrounding this palatial mansion for as far as Katlyn’s eyes could see, was The Yard.

The Yard was green.

The Yard was glorious.

The Yard was the size of a small country.

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2. A Not So Ordinary Yard

Katlyn could run around in The Yard for hours on end and never see the same bush twice. It was full of hundreds of sculpted bushes and meticulously groomed flower beds. It had its own orchards, a large lake and three ponds. There were thirty fountains scattered across its grounds, and it would take the better part of a week to visit all of them in a leisurely fashion. And that’s assuming one knew where to find them.

Katlyn knew where most of them were. She’d gone looking for them last summer. But even though she’d packed picnic lunches and searched as long as she could, she’d only found twenty-seven by the time school restarted.

She was determined to find the last three fountains before next summer ended. Her friends, only a few of whom owned fountains, all knew where theirs were, and they thought her quite silly for having lost not one, but three.

The Yard’s gardeners were no help in Katlyn’s search, though there were regiments of them patrolling the paths, pruning petunias, and patching the cracks in the statues and pathways. They had strict instructions from Katlyn’s parents to watch out for her and find her if she got lost, which used to happened quite frequently and was understandable given The Yard’s massive size. Unfortunately, the gardeners were also instructed not to give Katlyn any clues as to the missing fountains’ whereabouts. Mrs. Zinger firmly held the belief that if Katlyn could find the last three by herself, she would know The Yard inside and out and would never get lost in it again.

Katlyn had thought wandering about until she got lost, then wandering lost until someone found her, and then being brought back to the house to start over again was a silly, though admittedly ordinary, way to learn her way around The Yard. She’d told this to her mother. But her mother had claimed that she herself had learned her way around by getting lost. And that all the Zingers before her had learned that way too.

You shouldn’t complain about such an ordinary, inoffensive tradition, Katlyn, Mrs. Zinger had said the last time Katlyn complained. It works very well.

Katlyn hadn’t been able to argue with that. It was true. She’d only gotten lost once since last summer. And even though searching for fountains made finding time to play with friends difficult, she had discovered that the never-ending, irksome, and tiring search was also surprisingly fun and curiously rewarding.

You see, as a result of last year’s trial by nature trail, Katlyn had acquired the beginnings of the uniquely Zinger way of looking at the outdoors that all Zingers have.

This is the second out of the ordinary, though not quite extraordinary, thing that the Zinger family possessed. And it sprang directly from the various ordeals Zingers went through while being lost in The Yard.

This was the Zinger Sight.

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3. A Uniquely Zinger Gift

The Zinger Sight, though definitely out of the ordinary, was not quite special enough to fall into the category of extraordinary because other non-Zingers had once possessed similar abilities. A long time ago these abilities had actually been quite common. But that was a very long time ago, indeed, which is a fact that is due entirely to how more and more large pieces of wilderness have been torn up to make ordinary shopping malls and parking lots.

You must understand, dear listener, that large pieces of wilderness, though not particularly useful from an ordinary businessman’s point of view, are absolutely essential if one wishes to become lost in any sort of productive fashion, which all of the Zingers, and some few non-Zingers, still did. However, what with the rise in the numbers of parking lots and shopping malls, suitable pieces of wilderness were becoming more and more difficult to find, and inevitably the number of people with abilities like the Zinger Sight was on the decline. In fact, at the time our story takes place, all the other local families who’d possessed not-so-ordinary abilities, such as the Keferan family with their Keferan Ears and the Littlemin family with their Littlemin Tongues, had lost them. And The Yard was the only suitable piece of wilderness left in the county.

According to Katlyn’s crazy cousin Mitchel, who was most certainly NOT an ordinary Zinger, The Yard was the only suitable piece of wilderness left in the country, and possibly the whole continent. But Mitchel, as the other Zingers all know, is very excitable and prone to exaggeration. In reality The Yard had one remaining, semi-local rival. This was called The Farm and was located two states and one city northeast of the Zinger estate. It harbored the last of the reclusive Titalling family who, with their Titalling Fingers, grew the best vegetables and biggest flowering bushes in the country.

What with the last surviving Keferan Ear living in the Willow Street Center for Eminent Expiration, and what with the last Littlemin Tongue having passed away three winters back, and what with the reclusive Titalling Fingers not counting because they were very unordinary and never bothered to visit anyone anyway, the Zinger Sight was in severe danger of becoming unique in the near future.

Now, uniqueness is not in itself a bad thing. It is, however, the first step on the path to being labeled extraordinary. It’s also the first step on the paths leading to being labeled endearing, eccentric, and quirky, and whenever Crazy Cousin Mitchel came to visit, he proclaimed this fact as loudly and as often as he could. This delighted the Eastern Grandparents, who loved having extraordinary inspirations for their ordinary stories, and it annoyed the Western Grandparents, who were very ordinary Zingers and preferred for things to remain ordinary. Katlyn’s mother ignored Mitchel’s outbursts because she found his crazy ways endearing, and his silly statements were good inspiration for her novels. Katlyn’s father, however, was a very busy businessman, who almost never emerged from his study when he was working. But he always unlocked his door long enough to shout for Mitchel to keep the noise down so the disembodied voices of other imprisoned businessmen wouldn’t ask embarrassing questions about what was going on in the Zingers’ household.

But I digress. (Mitchel tends to produce digressions.)

As for what the Zinger Sight actually was, nobody, not even the Zingers, could adequately describe it. This was a common problem, actually. The last surviving Keferan couldn’t explain the Keferan Ears, and the Littlemins had never been able to explain what the Littlemin Tongues were. And, according to Grandpa Jasper, the Titallings, whom no one ever asked anything anymore, had once told the second to last of the Littlemin Tongues that they weren’t sure what the Titalling Fingers were either.

All Katlyn knew about the Zinger Sight was this: One day last summer, after getting lost for the fifteenth time looking for the sixteenth fountain, The Yard had suddenly looked Different. The trees, the shrubs, the bushes, the flowers… Even the grass and weeds had been Different, though she couldn’t say exactly how. And when she’d thought about it too hard she’d become confused, and The Yard had gone back to looking like it had before. This looking Different hadn’t happened again until she was hunting for the twenty-second fountain, but after that it’d started happening quite frequently. And each time it’d lasted just a little bit longer than the time before.

As far as Katlyn knew, this was definitely not an ordinary thing for a little girl to experience. So she’d asked her mother about it.

Is something wrong with my eyes?

Mrs. Zinger had peered intently into the pair of big blue eyes that’d appeared between her and her laptop. Hmm. They look fine to me. Why do you think something’s wrong with them?

Climbing onto her mother’s writing sofa, Katlyn had made the mistake of trying to explain the looking Different. Many starts and stops, several rambling, incomprehensible sentences, and three quickly aborted attempts at making new words later, she flapped her arms in frustration. Everything looks funny! Its weird! She flopped into her mother’s arms. Am I turning into a freak? The Eastern Grandparents had told her freaks saw the world differently from normal people. Or do I just need glasses? She much preferred the idea of wearing glasses to that of eating live insects, which is what the Western Grandparents had said freaks did.

Laughing lightly, Mrs. Zinger gave her a hug. Neither, Katlyn, neither. No daughter of mine could ever be a freak.

But my eye sight! she huffed. It’s not normal!

Hush… Her mother put a finger to Katlyn’s lips. It’s perfectly ordinary for a young Zinger to experience this. A calming smile spread across her face. That Difference you’re seeing is the beginnings of the Zinger Sight.

Katlyn shivered a bit. She liked the idea of finally having her own Zinger Sight, but she didn’t like the idea of suddenly being different from her friends. What if they didn’t want to play with her anymore? I think it’s scary.

Mrs. Zinger gave her a reassuring squeeze. There’s no need to be afraid. I promise, the Zinger Sight will never harm you.

What about my friends? What if they think I’m strange? What if they don’t like me anymore?

That will never happen. The confidence in her mother’s voice washed Katlyn’s fears away. Your friends know about the Zinger Sight, and so do their parents. They expect you to have it, just like your father and I do. In fact, they’ll probably want to know all about it. They’ll be excited.

Really?

Really.

Truly?

Her mother laughed. Truly. She tapped Katlyn on the nose and told her to go back outside. Use your new Zinger Sight to look at anything and everything you can think of to look at. That’s what you need to do now.

Katlyn had wanted to ask more about the looking Different, but, vexingly, her mother simply set her on the floor and straightened her hair ribbon.

I won’t answer anymore questions until you find the thirtieth fountain. You need to discover the Sight for yourself. And Mrs. Zinger had gone back to typing her ordinary stories about extraordinary people. All Katlyn had been able to get out of her after that was an indulgent smile and a whispered, Look, Katlyn. Just look.

So, having nothing better to do since her friends were vacationing at a beach house without her, (she’d been lost when they tried to invite her), Katlyn had gone back out into The Yard, and she had looked.

~~~~~

4. The Zinger Sight

Katlyn had looked at everything she could think of to look at. She’d looked at the trees and she’d looked at the grass. She’d looked at the birds and she’d looked at the paths. She’d looked at the fountains and she’d looked at the statues. She’d even looked at the gardeners as they went about pruning and planting and watering.

Now that she wasn’t worrying about what was happening when things looked Different, Katlyn had found she could make things look Different whenever she wanted.

So she had.

She’d made the trees look Different and she’d made the grass look Different. She’d made the birds look Different and she’d made the paths look Different. She’d made the fountains look Different and she’d made the statues look Different. She’d even made the gardeners look Different as they went about their pruning and planting and watering. And, slowly but surely, Katlyn had realized that she Knew every single thing that she’d made to look Different.

She didn’t know them the way she knew that that was a bluebird and this was a bluebell and this other thing was a slate pebble. Instead, she Knew that that was the bluebird who lived on the Western side of the apple orchard in the third tree from the left of the Eastern end of the seventh fountain. And she Knew that this was one of the bluebells that’d grown in the shade of the statue of the dog by the Southern end of the Northernmost pond. And she Knew that, not only had the little slate pebble been part of the slate pathway that circled the thirteenth fountain and rambled off to the opposite end of The Yard, but it’d come from a section of the path that was almost exactly halfway between the thirteenth fountain and the great stone wall.

This Knowing part of the Zinger Sight was a great help. Katlyn had been very tired of getting lost in The Yard when she’d discovered it, and it hadn’t taken long for her to realize she could use it to find her way back to the house. Whenever she didn’t recognize anything, she’d find a hill, or a statue or a fountain, and she’d climb as high as she could. Then she’d look for something nearby that she Knew. When Katlyn found something, she’d go to it. Then she’d look around until she found something else she Knew, and so on and so forth until she could see her house.

Now, with all this going back and forth between things she Knew in her efforts to find her way back from things that she didn’t, Katlyn made many of the plants and rocks in The Yard that she hadn’t looked at yet look Different as well. And, when the twenty-third day of August had arrived, which was the day she’d finally found the twenty-fifth fountain, it had occurred to Katlyn that the parts of The Yard she Knew were close to outnumbering the parts she didn’t Know.

This was a perfectly reasonable outcome for her fountain search to arrive at, but the idea had been quite astonishing to Katlyn. The Yard was very big. Enormous even. None of her friends could’ve found their way around something as big as The Yard. Heck, some of her classmates were so directionally challenged they still got lost in the largest of the local parks, which was quite a bit smaller than it.

Was it really normal for Katlyn to be doing this?

Unable to get a straight answer from her mother because she hadn’t found the thirtieth fountain yet, Katlyn had had a talk with her father this time.

Tell me about this park, Mr. Zinger said.

Well, its full of lots of tiny paths, replied Katlyn. They’re impossible to avoid, and they all go to exactly the same place.

Her father frowned. And where is that?

The exit.

Hmmm. I see. Mr. Zinger closed the folder he was perusing and gestured for Katlyn to sit in the chair across from his desk. She climbed onto the shiny leather cushion. He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment. Tell me, Katlyn. Rather than thinking yourself strange for not getting lost, don’t you think it’s more strange that your classmates can get lost with so many paths around?

She hadn’t thought of that before. But still… Perched on the tall chair, Katlyn started swinging her legs a bit. I suppose. But The Yard’s got lots of paths too. They’re harder to follow than the park paths, but I don’t get lost on them either.

Hmmm. Her father drummed his fingers and stared at the ceiling. In that case, why don’t you try looking at it this way. Every person in this world has things that they’re good at and things that they’re not good at. So having something that you’re really good or really bad at is perfectly normal. Wouldn’t you agree?

Katlyn nodded. Uh huh…

Now, it seems to me, Mr. Zinger continued, that some of your classmates are exceptionally good at getting lost. Is that a fair statement?

She nodded again. Yeah…

You, though, are exceptionally bad at getting lost. But that’s okay because having something you’re bad at is normal. Therefore—

But not being lost in the park and not being lost in The Yard are completely different! Katlyn complained. The paths in the park are short and all attach to the same place. But the paths in The Yard are long and all attach to completely different beginnings and endings. It’s impossible to predict where they go!

Standing up, her father came around his desk, scooped Katlyn up, and gave her a hug. Uh uh uh. It’s not impossible. The gardeners do it, don’t they?

But they’re grownups. I’m just a little girl.

Mr. Zinger tapped her nose. No, you’re a little Zinger girl. And you’re learning to Know The Yard with your Zinger Sight. He patted her cheek and pressed his forehead against Katlyn’s, looking deep into her eyes. And Katlyn, that’s exactly what your mother and I were counting on you to learn this summer.

Katlyn wanted to believe him very badly. Really?

Really. Her father laughed. How else can a little girl be expected to know her way around a yard the size of a small country when she’s all alone, has no help or maps, and is surrounded by paths with no sensible endings? How else, unless she’s possessed of a talent like the Zinger Sight and has learned how to use it?

How else, indeed.

Feeling immensely cheered, Katlyn had kissed her father on the cheek and had asked to be let down so she could continue her fountain search. Then she’d skipped outside and had tried her best to get lost. She’d ended up failing, but she’d been so happy knowing it was expected that she hadn’t minded.

~~~~~

5. The Twenty-fifth Fountain

Knowing wasn’t the only part of the Zinger Sight that Katlyn had learned last summer. She’d also learned its flipside, and she’d discovered that flipside the same day that she’d discovered the twenty-fifth fountain.

The twenty-fifth fountain didn’t look particularly special. In fact, it was the most ordinary fountain Katlyn had come across since her search began. It was a beautiful angel with cute little wings, a gracefully flowing gown, and a long trumpet that pointed at the sky while shooting a pencil thin stream of water ten feet straight into the air. The angel was posed in the center of a circular pool surrounded by a white marble wall, which came up to her waist. It was the perfect height. Katlyn could lean out over the water easily while resting her hands on it to keep her balance.

It was while balancing in this fashion that her fingers discovered the mysterious brass lines that were the twenty-fifth fountain’s only out of the ordinary feature. The little lines were set in the top of the wall at regular intervals, and if you followed them around the pool, which Katlyn had, were occasionally joined by little brass V’s, I’s, and X’s. The only part of the wall that didn’t have lines was the place where the angel’s robes brushed against the marble before disappearing into the pool. At this point there was a little brass sun set in the robe. Lined up below the sun were a brass moon and twelve little brass stars, all of which were quite cute and very well made.

The pretty metalwork had fascinated Katlyn. She’d spent a long time dipping her hands in the pool and running her fingers over the stars. Then she’d climbed onto the marble wall and had spent an equally long time feeling them with her toes. She’d tiptoed around the rim, feeling the brass lines with her feet and absently glancing at nearby hedges while she concentrated on staying balanced.

It was during the glancing that Katlyn discovered the flipside of the Zinger Sight. Not only could she make things look Different so that she Knew them, but she could also distinguish, at a glance, between things she’d made to look Different and things she hadn’t. Until that day, Katlyn had needed to stare at something for several seconds before remembering whether she Knew it or not. However, after idly eyeing the dense hedges encircling the twenty-fifth fountain for several minutes, all the Unknown leaves and branches had suddenly jumped out at her. She could even see them from the corners of her eyes. It was like they were clamoring for her attention, begging to be Known!

This had presented quite a few interesting possibilities, not all of which were practical. One, however, had stood out above the others, and Katlyn’s sharp little Zinger brain had immediately latched onto it. If she could tell whether she Knew an object or not just by glancing at it, she could also tell whether she’d been in the part of The Yard where the object was. A place she’d visited would contain at least one thing that she Knew, and a place she hadn’t been would contain only Unknown things. To find the last five fountains, all Katlyn had to do was make sure she only walked through parts of The Yard that she didn’t Know yet.

This wasn’t exactly an epiphany. She’d used a similar method to find the last six fountains, only it’d been time-consuming. Having to stop and think about every plant and statue she’d encountered was annoying. Now, though, with Known and Unknown things so easy to tell apart, Katlyn could run through The Yard as fast as she could without accidentally missing unexplored areas. And if she made things look Different while running, she could also quickly and effortlessly ensure that she was always exploring parts of The Yard she’d never been to before.

Katlyn had jumped off the wall in excitement. She’d find the last five fountains in no time! Why, she’d probably be done before school started, even though there were only two days of vacation left! Determined to finish her fountain search before classes started, Katlyn had slipped her little brown sandals on and had raced through as many Unknown parts of The Yard as she could, making things look Different as she went.

* * * * *

Two days had not been enough to find all five fountains. School had started up with her still three fountains short, and along with it had come mountains of homework, which were noticeably higher than last year’s. Between that and the excessive number of sleepovers her friends insisted on scheduling because they hadn’t seen her lately, Katlyn hadn’t found time to search for fountains again until the following summer.

And that summer, dear listener, is when our story really begins.

~~~~~

6. The Wall

When the last day of school ended, Katlyn waved goodbye to her friends and leapt down the big black steps of the school bus. She hit the sidewalk skipping and made a beeline for the shiny, blue car that always met her at the bus stop. As she climbed into it, Katlyn vowed to find the last three fountains before the week ended. No way was she missing the annual beach party two summers in a row.

Katlyn had spent a lot of time thinking of how to avoid another beach house tragedy. Her best plan so far was to finish her search quickly. To this end, she’d decided to focus her search on the biggest part of The Yard that she’d not explored yet.

Now, dear listener, you’re probably thinking the part of The Yard Katlyn hasn’t explored must be a large hill, or a valley, or maybe one of the ponds. You might even be thinking it was one of the seven hedge mazes, or the Western Grandparents’ massive vegetable garden. Perhaps you’re thinking that there’s some field or untended piece of forest in a far corner of The Yard that nobody has been to for years.

If so, I assure you this is not the case. The Yard is very well taken care of and its gardeners are numerous and well organized. Very few parts of The Yard have been completely lost and forgotten, and none of them is big enough to hold all three of the missing fountains. One or two, maybe, but definitely not three.

The part of The Yard Katlyn was thinking about wasn’t actually a place at all. It was a thing. A very large thing. In fact, like The Yard itself, it was extraordinarily large. Katlyn only ever saw a small part of it each day, when she went to school or left the Zinger Estate for other ordinary reasons.

The thing Katlyn had decided to start her search with was The Wall.

How should one describe The Wall? I shall start by saying that the first thing every Zinger child is taught about The Wall is this:

The Wall is always very far away.

And if it is not very far away, that means the gardeners or Zingers to whom it is near are very far away instead.

The Wall was so far away, Katlyn could run down her driveway until she was out of breath and she still wouldn’t be able to see the main gate. It took ten minutes of driving to reach The Wall so she could be dropped at the bus stop each morning, and it took three hours of walking to reach the part of The Wall nearest the main house.

The Wall, which enclosed The Yard completely, had been built a long time ago to separate the Zinger estate from the forest and the wild beasts. It was tall and gray and mossy, and looked very much like granite walls usually look. In fact, it could’ve passed itself off as any other ordinary, aging, granite wall, except for its extraordinary length.

The Yard was so big and The Wall was therefore so long, that to hike the entire length of it, which is what Katlyn intended to do, would take a month.

And that was assuming one camped in The Yard every night, which is something Katlyn did not intend to do. Or rather, she hadn’t intended to do it until she learned about Galdigar Zinger. He was the last person to walk The Wall without camping, and she learned about him at dinner that evening.

Galdigar Zinger, said Grandma Jean, who was helping herself to some Western salad, lived about two hundred years ago and was an extremely stubborn man. He absolutely refused to ever admit he’d made a mistake.

This is very important, Katlyn, interrupted Grandpa Jasper, flourishing a piece of broccoli. Never be afraid to admit that you’ve made a mistake. You can avoid lots of problems that way.

Please don’t interrupt, said Grandma Jean. Have some cucumber. She dropped a small cucumber onto her husband’s plate and turned to Katlyn.

Unfortunately, she said, everyone makes mistakes, and in his time Galdigar made some doozies. The first time he went out to walk The Wall, everyone was surprised when he showed up for supper that same evening.

Why are you here? they asked. We thought you were going to hike The Wall?

I am, Galdigar replied, but you can’t expect me to give up my bed and good food just for a little hike. I hate camping.

But it will take forever if you keep coming back! everyone cried.

Oh –

Poppycock! shouted Grandpa Jasper, waving his half-eaten cucumber. I’ll be done in no time at all!

That’s right dear, Grandma Jean sighed. That’s why I’m telling the story. The points will be lost otherwise. Have a radish. And she continued.

Now that Galdigar had started returning to the house every night, he refused to stop, even though all the gardeners advised that camping was the sensible thing to do. Stopping the nightly visits to his bed and dinner table would’ve meant he was admitting he’d made a mistake, and Galdigar couldn’t bring himself to do it. And so, because of this misguided pride, he had to keep hiking back to the house every night.

He kept it up for three months, said Grandpa Jasper, with an emphatic wag of his nose, and each day he spent twice as long walking to and from The Wall as he did walking along The Wall itself. Katlyn giggled as Jasper took an especially loud bite out of his radish and started studying the ceiling.

Upon finishing his long walk, said Grandma Jean, pointedly ignoring the interruption, "Galdigar returned to the house and loudly proclaimed:

This was the most colossal waste of ninety-seven days of my time that I’ve ever encountered. I bet I can cut it down to thirty, just by camping. Anyone who walks the full perimeter of The Yard without camping is a fool with a capital F.

Here Grandpa Dan startled Katlyn by laughing uproariously until he inhaled some spinach and had to stop for a drink of water.

Upon hearing this, Grandma Jean continued, the whole house went quiet. All the gardeners went quiet, all the other Zingers went quiet, and all the children went quiet. Even the animals made no sound. Pausing, Grandma Jean sat back in her chair and took a sip of water, which was her favorite way of drawing out suspense.

Fidgeting, Katlyn picked at her salad until she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

But why? she finally asked. Why did everyone get quiet?

Ah! Grandpa Jasper exclaimed. He was as impatient to tell the end of the story as Katlyn was to hear it. That was the first time any of them had ever heard Galdigar admit he’d been wrong! And on top of that, he’d called himself a great big fool to boot! It was an unprecedented moment in Zinger history!

And did he go camping the next time he walked The Wall?

Indeed he did, cut in Grandma Jean, using a carrot to prevent Jasper from stealing her story. And as predicted, it cut the time down to just under a month.

Katlyn gasped in shock. She had to be exaggerating. A month?

The Eastern Grandparents nodded. When Katlyn looked at the Western ones, Grandpa Dan and Grandma Doris nodded at her from across the table. A whole month? That wouldn’t do at all! I didn’t realize it would take so long!

Does this mean you’ve changed your mind? Mrs. Zinger asked, spooning baby potatoes onto Katlyn’s plate.

Katlyn quickly shook her head. No. I’ve spent the night in The Yard before. It’s just, what if my friends call to invite me over again? I really want to go to the beach this summer. She’d been looking forward to it all year long.

Seeing her granddaughter’s blue eyes tearing up with indecision, Grandma Doris leaned across the table. You’ll get to see your friends, Katlyn. We’ll send you with them even if we have to make the gardeners drive you back from The Wall in a golf cart. I’m sure we can work something out with the call boxes.

Quite right, Mr. Zinger said. What’s the point of having them in the first place if they can’t be used to keep track of one little girl?

Hear, hear, Grandma Jean hailed. And she started heaping salad onto Katlyn’s plate to go with the potatoes.

The meal progressed in appreciative silence for a few minutes. Then Grandpa Dan suddenly leapt to his feet and loudly accused the Eastern Grandparents of stealing the Eastern portion of his Western salad.

Now Dad, Katlyn’s father sighed. All of the vegetables in this salad came from the Western garden. You can’t make that accusation tonight.

But its true! You stay in your study all day, so you don’t use your Sight often, but I Know each and every one of the vegetables in our garden. Grandpa Dan pointed at the salad bowl while shaking his fist at Jasper. And I’m telling you, all the vegetables on their plates came from the Eastern end of our garden!

Katlyn looked at the Eastern Grandparents’ salads more closely. It was true. And, having been dished up by Grandma Jean, her own was the same way. She pulled the salad bowl over and quickly added some Western peppers to her plate.

Mrs. Zinger gave her an approving wink and did the same.

I don’t see why it matters, Grandma Jean sighed. They all taste the same.

No they don’t, muttered Jasper. The Eastern carrots taste better.

It’s the principle of the thing! spat Grandma Doris. Besides, if they all taste the same, why bother picking out the Eastern plants in the first place!

Because I can, Grandma Jean snapped. Honestly, if it bothers you so much, you should put in a higher fence so we can’t see them. Then we wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.

Oh, you admit you’ve been spying on our garden, do you? Grandma Doris’s watery eyes widened so far in righteousness indignation that they looked in danger of falling out and landing in the subject of the discussion.

Are you trying to imply that you don’t spy on ours?

Here the conversation dissolved into one of the Eastern and Western Grandparents’ favorite, and more humorous, rivalries. The argument and accusations continued through desert and beyond, and before Katlyn knew it, it was time for her to go to bed and for her grandparents to retire to their respective ends of the house.

Later, having said her goodnights, and tucked snugly in by her dad, Katlyn stared up at the rainbow patterns being thrown across the ceiling by her nightlight. She was thinking about Galdigar Zinger and the time he’d wasted going back and forth from The Wall to the house. She wanted to finish her fountain search as fast as possible, but she wanted to do other things as well. If she was hiking or camping in The Yard, she wouldn’t be able to play in the park or run errands with her mother.

On the other hand, spending a single month tramping through underbrush and getting the job done with would mean she’d have two months left over. Having two months to do whatever she wanted was much better than having none, which is how many she’d have if she tried coming back every day.

Katlyn sighed and snuggled into her blankets. As much as she didn’t like admitting it, camping was definitely the way to go.

With a plan of action grudgingly decided upon, Katlyn hugged the tiny metal bird her mother had given her after kissing her goodnight, and fell asleep.

~~~~~

7. The Man in Black

The next morning Mrs. Zinger showed Katlyn how to use the call boxes. Call boxes were communication devices that were scattered throughout The Yard at regular intervals. They looked like small pink squares stuck to the tops of giant candy canes, and each one had a large blue button, a small round speaker, and a white keypad.

Katlyn already knew about the blue buttons. If you pushed one when you were lost, the button would light up and start flashing. Then the voice of the head gardener, Jeremy Hinkel, would come out of the speaker and ask if you needed help.

He usually told Katlyn to stay put until someone picked her up.

The call boxes, Mrs. Zinger said, handing Katlyn a broken one that’d been brought in for repairs, are just like telephones. Each one has a number and you can talk to someone at another box by typing the number of their box into your keypad.

What if there’s no one there?

Well then, you can leave a message instead, just like an answering machine. If you find a box with a message waiting, its keypad will be flashing. Mrs. Zinger pointed to a round button on the keypad. It said ‘Let Nature Speak.’ To hear the message, all you have to do is push this button and follow the instructions.

Katlyn examined the keypad and the ‘Let Nature Speak’ button closely for a minute. It looked pretty simple…

We’ll be sending you with this. Her mother plopped a list of three digit numbers into her lap. It’s a list of all the call boxes. Beside each number was a short description of its call box’s location and a blank space. The blanks are for taking notes if you come across a box and want to remember where it is later.

Wow! Katlyn exclaimed. There’re tons of them! She started flipping through the list, looking for descriptions that sounded familiar. Most were unidentifiable. They said things like, Wall, North, 78, or Yard, Southeast, 322. But a few she recognized. She saw Northern Pond, Giant Mushroom on page two. That referred to a large stone mushroom that Crazy Cousin Mitchel had dubbed The Humongous Fungus. And on page five she found Cherry Orchard, Weeping Samurai and Pear Orchard, Erring Serpent. Weeping Samurai was her father’s nickname for an ancient weeping cherry tree, and the Erring Serpent was a statue of a marble boa constrictor offering a young granite man a marble pear. (It was a particular favorite of Grandma Jean’s…)

The list went on and on. There were a lot of call boxes in The Yard.

Finding the thick packet uncooperative, Katlyn stretched out on the floor and pinned its cover with her elbow. She rummaged in her pocket and pulled out the peacock. Then she used it to hold the springy pages down. She wasn’t sure why she’d been given the shiny bird, but she was rapidly getting fond of it. It was pretty and fit nicely in her pockets, and its smooth body felt good in her hands. (Mr. Zinger had straightened the bent leg and filed the jagged bits off.) It also looked very well made, which reminded Katlyn of the twenty-fifth fountain’s little brass stars.

She liked