The Tale of Time Warp Tuesday

Prologue

As the evil council of lords and ladies laughed and congratulated themselves at the entire world’s impending destruction and loss, the quadruplets crouched in the shadows, hidden from view.

We can’t stop it. Oh, I can’t bear it, Lizzie sniffed, and buried her head on Nell’s shoulder. "We didn’t even get to say goodbye before we left. They won’t know what happened to us. But we know what’s going to happen to them."

Nell put her arm around her sister, trying to comfort her. There was really nothing else she could do or say in the reality of this bleak situation.

Suddenly, Tom turned to Ned and held out his hand.

Give it to me. I’ve got a plan.

~Z~

Chapter One

Has anyone seen my floopee cushion?

Back in the days when there were dragons and knights and three-headed ogres, and wizards and fairies and hydroxes, and a lot of other interesting animals and beings and things, three of the four Royal Quadruplets of the magical Kingdom of Zephram were gathered in their Royal Schoolroom learning important Royal Subjects. The fourth of the Royal Quadruplets, Prince Nedwyn, was, as usual, busy doing anything but studying on this sunny Tuesday afternoon.

Has anyone seen my floopee cushion? Prince Nedwyn asked again, a little louder this time because neither his brother nor his sisters looked up from what they were doing. He clumsily closed the door behind him because his arms were full of the stuff he’d picked up while scavenging the castle instead of studying. Come on, I know you’ve seen it, he added grumpily as they continued to ignore him.

The Royal Quadruplets’ actual real names were Thomasin, Lizeta, Nedwyn and Elenlyn, but since they weren’t quite grown up yet (and their names were sort of hard to say), most people called them Tom, Lizzie, Ned and Nell. And, of course, they were also called Prince or Princess, too (with an occasional Majesty or Highness thrown in), because that was what they were.

So why would a Prince of Zephram need a floopee cushion?

I just saw Alf heading this way. I don’t want to miss my chance! said Ned, his face contorting as he spoke of his arch enemy, Alf, the Royal Tailor’s son. He took a quick look around the Royal Schoolroom for a hint as to the location of the missing floopee cushion. Made out of flora-ora, Zephram’s most important product, it was similar to a round, inflatable pillow that made all kinds of embarrassing sounds when suddenly deflated with brute force. He dropped his armful of junk on the table and the apple he’d discovered while in the kitchen rolled onto Nell’s work.

Hey! Nell blurted out. "More food? That’s what you’ve been doing? Didn’t you have, I don’t know, four helpings of floroni and cheese for lunch?"

Lunch was hours ago, Ned muttered, continuing his search of the Royal Schoolroom.

He’s got floroni and cheese stains all over his shirt, Lizzie pointed out to her sister.

What a slob, Nell commented, shaking her head at their slovenly brother.

Lizzie shoved aside a dirty, coiled rope he’d also dropped on the table, her nose wrinkling. Yuck – why did you bring this nasty thing here?

Come on, come on, where is it? Did one of you steal it? Ned demanded, ignoring Lizzie’s question as he came up empty (floopee cushion) handed yet again.

Steal it? I wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. It’s full of leftover slobber from you blowing into it a million times a day! Nell shuddered.

It’s a health hazard, agreed Lizzie. Hey! Stop it, she cried as Ned lifted the edge of her chair cushion. "I certainly don’t have it!"

Me neither, said Nell, giving him a big scowl, so don’t even think about bothering me.

I know one of you has it, Ned accused them.

It’s hanging out of your back pocket, Tom said calmly, not even looking up from his book, The Plateau of Mirth, Zephram’s great literary masterpiece that all the children were supposed to be reading.

What? Where? Ned looked behind at his behind, and sure enough, the edge of a green floopee cushion was peeking out of the left back pocket of his pants. Oh, that. He pulled it out. No, that’s the small one. I need the big one. For maximum noise.

I can’t believe he has two of those things in different sizes, Lizzie observed to Nell.

Two? snorted Ned. Amateurs. You just can’t use any old floopee cushion any old time – each situation calls for a specific noise. Different sizes make different noises. Geez, haven’t I taught you anything? You can never have too many floopee cushions. He jammed it back into his pocket.

What else is in your pockets? Nell asked, curious in spite of herself at what else was stuffed into them. Look at that. They’re bulging. You know he keeps dirty tissues in there, and wrappers. He probably has food in his pockets, too. So gross.

I’ll check, Ned said, completely unashamed. Hey – I’ve got chocolate, he discovered, pulling several dusty nuggets from his front pocket. Do you want some?

Ew, gross! squealed the girls.

Your loss, he said, and put a handful in his mouth. Um, fresh, but oddly crunchy.

Nell gagged.

Now, where is my floopee cushion? The big yellow one.

Maybe it’s where you left it last time, came another suggestion from Tom.

No, it’s not – well, maybe, Ned conceded. He opened the Royal Schoolroom Door and peeked out. Luckily, there was still no Alf in sight. He scooted across the gray stone hallway to a window framed with heavy burgundy drapes. He had hidden there yesterday when he had hoped to pull a similar trick on the Royal Tutor’s Assistant. Sure enough, his bigger, bright yellow floopee cushion was tangled in the folds of the velvet curtains, stuck from when he hadn’t gotten himself quite set up in time.

Got it! he exclaimed with glee. He carefully opened the mouthpiece of the floopee cushion. He took a deep breath and blew into it until the floopee cushion was practically the size of a small melon.

Nell appeared in the doorway, unable to resist watching her brother’s shenanigans. She curled her lip in disgust as he sealed the floopee cushion with a great big glob of his spit.

"One of these times someone is going to zap you," she commented as he concealed himself in his hiding place behind the drapes, out of sight.

Why? No one knows it’s me, came his muffled explanation.

Puh-leeze! Nell declared. Who else would it be in the hallway outside our schoolroom, lying in wait with a floopee cushion? Lizzie? Tom? Me? I don’t think so. Voices were suddenly heard coming from further down the hallway. Two voices – one male, one female. Oh – here he comes, with Amaralyn, I think, she whispered conspiratorially.

Even better! chortled Ned, while Nell carefully pulled the door almost closed. She wanted to hear what would happen next, figuring she might as well enjoy Ned’s prank as long as there was no connection to her.

Plus, Amaralyn was with Alf. Amaralyn was the Royal Mayor’s daughter, often touted as the prettiest girl in the kingdom. Well, Nell certainly wouldn’t mind if Ned managed to embarrass Alf and Amaralyn with the noise. What a bonus!

You know, even though they saved us before, there’s still something so annoying about them, Nell could hear Alf was saying, his voice getting a little louder and clearer as he came closer.

I know what you mean, agreed Amaralyn. "They think they’re better than us. Ugh, like they’re so different. They just don’t get it."

EEEWH! silently fumed Nell behind the Royal Schoolroom Door, feeling heat rise up in her cheeks.

EEEWH! silently fumed Ned behind the curtain. It was certainly time to humiliate both of them! Ned, Tom, Lizzie and Nell had saved the kingdom, including Alf and Amaralyn, from evil Prince Persius – and this was the thanks they got?

Ned stomped his foot on one side of the over-inflated floopee cushion, and a big, satisfyingly-embarrassing sound issued forth.

Then he slowly shifted his weight on the cushion to cause a different, squealing sound to echo in the hallway.

Last, he stomped on the air pocket that remained for a final, definite squeaky boom.

Wow. Nell had to admit that while Ned often neglected his studies, floopee cushion management was definitely an art form he had perfected.

By the stunned silence that met his performance, Ned knew he had achieved his goal. Oh, how he wished he could see their faces. But it was probably better to stay safely hidden within the curtains.

Um, I need to get going – my father, they both heard Amaralyn squeak.

But – uh, it wasn’t me … Alf sputtered, but Amaralyn was gone in a flurry of her pretty flowered skirts. Ned, I swear you’re dead the next time you do that! Alf declared, glowering at the empty hallway, one gazillion percent positively sure who his Royal Jokester was. He waited a minute, but Ned stood stock still and wisely didn’t reveal himself. Grumbling dire threats, Alf finally left, annoyed he couldn’t unleash the fury of his magical powers on the prankster hidden behind the curtain, no matter how much he felt Ned deserved it.

"That never gets old," Ned told his sisters and brother, smiling as he rejoined them in the Royal Schoolroom.

Mom and Dad would be so proud, commented Tom, not even looking up from his book. If you only put as much energy into studying.

Why? Ned asked, completely unfazed. "You’re the oldest of us; you’re the one who is going to be king, not me. You’re the only one who has to know all that stuff."

Do you think they do things together? Nell whispered to Lizzie as she sat back down at the table.

Who? Lizzie asked. Lizzie hadn’t been paying attention and was oblivious to Ned’s floopee cushion prank.

Um, Alf and Amaralyn, Nell replied, trying to be discrete.

What do you mean? Lizzie asked, still in the dark.

"They were just in the hallway – just now, you know, together."

Uh, well, Lizzie hesitated, and then continued bravely, well, um, they are probably just doing errands for their dads, I guess. Or going to a class or something.

"He wishes they had stuff to do together, Ned said, overhearing that last part. Amaralyn’s hot!"

She is not! Nell snapped. Their older sister, Princess Duchess Zephera – now she was gorgeous. Just because she had married Duke Humphrey and was expecting a baby any day was no reason for everyone to think that Amaralyn was the prettiest girl around.

She is pretty, Lizzie pointed out with her annoying honesty. But you are, too, she added, suddenly realizing what was bothering her sister. You’re just pretty in a different –

"Different. I hate that word. Didn’t you hear what Alf and Amaralyn said?" Nell interrupted, forgetting the fact that Lizzie had not heard Alf and Amaralyn speaking.

No, what?

They said we think we’re different, that we don’t ‘get it’. What ‘it’ don’t we get? she asked, a confused look on her face.

Yeah, we’re different, Ned said, now spinning a top he’d selected from his pile of loot on the table. We’re important.

True, Nell conceded, smiling a little. Then, You don’t think it’s still the whole magic thing, do you?

Nah. Important is better than magical any day.

"Unless you’re important and magical, Tom roused himself to comment, both of which we aren’t."

You are so negative, Nell said.

A sudden, sharp knock at the Royal Schoolroom Door made Ned jump. He flattened one hand on the top to stop the spinning and used the other hand to quickly stuff the floopee cushion under his own chair cushion. He put what he hoped was an innocent look on his face.

Come in, Tom called, shaking his head at his brother’s shenanigans.

Good afternoon, majesties, said the Royal Tutor’s Assistant to the Royal Quadruplets, bowing his head slightly.

Hello, the children answered (two pleasantly, one half-pleasantly, one annoyed).

"The Royal Tutor and I have reviewed this morning’s elective assignments for your new fall schedule. He is still not feeling well, so he asked me to go over these with you instead. Class Workorum," the Royal Tutor’s Assistant said, and snapped his fingers. A small stack of papers suddenly appeared in the air in front of him. Ned looked at them with distaste.

"Your class work first, Prince Nedwyn, the Royal Tutor’s Assistant said to Ned, jumping right in without any pleasantries when he could have said something like, How is your day going, Prince Nedwyn? Or, No more homework, the Royal Tutor and I have determined that homework causes extreme stupidity. Or, We’re going to shake things up today and take the afternoon off. Or, I’ve come to tell you that the Royal Tutor quit. (Or, even better, I’ve come to tell you that I quit.) Nope, no pleasantries like that. The Royal Tutor doesn’t think that you put enough time into your assignment."

The Royal Tutor’s Assistant nodded his head, and at the unspoken command, a couple of the papers separated themselves from the pile and zipped through the air to land in front of Ned.

Nell leaned over to whisper to Lizzie, "The Royal Tutor didn’t come this morning, either. I wonder if Ned made him sicker."

Prince Nedwyn, we were curious as to whether you came up with any more uses for flora-ora since you wrote the list, the Royal Tutor’s Assistant was saying to Ned. "The Royal Tutor felt that it was quite short, given that flora-ora is our most important national product and can be used for anything from a drink sweetener to paint to girders for bridges."

Did he include floopee cushions? whispered Nell to Lizzie.

How about flora-ora cream for people’s faces, Ned said, discretely kicking Nell’s chair. Girls’ faces, for pim–

My face? Nell hissed. Look at yours!

I thought my list was quite long, Ned said brazenly, ignoring Nell. It’s all there, I’m sure he just didn’t read it thoroughly.

I’m quite sure he did read it, all six entries. Fortunately for the kingdom, there have been more than six new uses discovered since Zephram first started using it in Great King Otto’s time, the Royal Tutor’s Assistant said. "He asked me to take a look and determine if your assignment was complete because he thought I might have left a paper behind. Fortunately, I was able to reassure him that I had not left anything behind and that the lack was entirely on your part, Prince Nedwyn."

Nell snorted, but the Royal Tutor’s Assistant wasn’t deterred, focusing solely on Ned. I did suggest that you might need me to show you how to use one of many reference books in this room. Again. He pointed a finger at one of the groaning Royal Schoolroom bookshelves. Several books, presumably reference books because the Royal Tutor’s Assistant had no sense of humor and wouldn’t waste time with romance novels or science fiction for his example, pushed themselves out to be clearly seen, and then pulled themselves back in. Even the History of Ancient Zephram’s cover popped up and down.

But I didn’t use a reference book, Ned proclaimed. I keep it all up here, he said, pointing at his head.

Exactly my point, said the Royal Tutor’s Assistant. Princess Elenlyn. He turned toward Nell and his expression changed, softening now that he wasn’t addressing that annoying Prince Nedwyn. He smiled. Here is your history lesson. The Royal Tutor says you need to focus on the Battle of Golara Goldune because you put in the wrong winner.

Ned snorted this time.

What? Nell exclaimed. Give me that – I mean, please may I have it? She hopped up and grabbed the paper out of the air before he had time to zip it to her. She furrowed her brow, her blue gray eyes zipping down the page. "But they did win," she said, confused to see the comments marked in red.

Ah, no, they did not, the Royal Tutor’s Assistant corrected her. Ned rolled his eyes. But we see how you could be confused, because both nations begin with a G. He tempered his correction with yet another smile; Nell was obviously getting off the hook while her brother was not, which totally annoyed Ned. Just make a note to yourself. And we’re sure you’ll remember it next time.

Thank you, I will, Nell said graciously.

"Do you have my essay? Lizzie asked, eyeing the few pieces of paper left floating in the air. I did work hard on my creative writing assignment about that light theme."

No, Princess Lizeta. The Royal Tutor still has it and asks me to extend his apologies, the Royal Tutor’s Assistant told her. He was busy grading Prince Thomasin’s test and he was so surprised by it that he didn’t have time to get to your work.

Oh, okay, I guess, Lizzie said, disappointed not to see her grade. Tom had perked up and waited eagerly for the last papers to come to him.

Prince Thomasin, your test – The Royal Tutor’s Assistant paused. Here it is. As I said, the Royal Tutor was quite surprised – Tom’s smiled widened, – disappointed, actually.

Di-disappointed? Tom stuttered, a stunned look replacing the smile on his face. Now it was Ned’s turn to perk up. Disappointed? Someone was disappointed with Tom? That never happened to Crown Prince Perfect!

Yes.

I’m not sure what you mean, Tom croaked. May I see my test?

The Royal Tutor’s Assistant actually walked over and handed it to him, which meant that it was really bad if he was not using his magic. Tom took it and walked to the window, away from his brother and sisters, to take a private look.

I got a zero, he said in shocked dismay, but it was sort of muffled because he said it to the blue velvet curtains.

"A zero? Ned smacked the table. Tom, you made him sick, not me," he said, pinning the Royal Tutor’s absence on his brother.

Stop it, Lizzie said. Don’t be mean.

Mean?

"You know what we mean by mean," Nell hissed. She and Lizzie looked at each other and made faces as they tried to communicate without Tom hearing them.

"So I’m mean, Ned snarled. I always get zeros and you guys always make fun of me."

That’s different, Nell said. You deserve it.

"Now who’s being mean?"

But you do, Lizzie said. "You never try – but Tom always does! She leaned over to whisper to Nell, What should we do?"

Eh hem. The Royal Tutor’s Assistant cleared his throat to get their attention. The three obediently turned toward him.

May I please collect your Hildenese language assignments from this morning, your highnesses?

Glad for the diversion, Lizzie popped up to gather their papers and hand them to the Royal Tutor’s Assistant.

Thank you, Princess Lizeta. That will be all for today. The Royal Tutor suggests that if you give a little more thought to your list, Prince Nedwyn, he might consider changing the mark tomorrow. Have a good afternoon, your majesties.

You have a good afternoon, too, Master Royal Tutor’s Assistant Fudder, Lizzie said courteously, getting all the syllables of his name and title out. What a mouthful!

Oh, as to that – He stopped and a big smile bloomed on his pale, scholarly face. I should inform you that I am no longer the Royal Tutor’s Assistant. I’ve been promoted to the Royal Assistant Tutor.

Really? Is there a difference? Ned asked, his brow furrowing.

Yes, said the newly appointed Royal Assistant Tutor. I am now an Assistant Tutor, not the Assistant to the Tutor.

Oh, I see the difference, Lizzie said.

I don’t, Ned muttered under his breath.

Congratulations, Tom rallied himself to say.

Thank you. Again, have a pleasant afternoon, he ended. He bowed and left the Royal Schoolroom, closing the door behind him.

How come I have to do something and the rest of you don’t? Ned demanded loudly.

Shush! Lizzie said. He’ll hear you.

Oh, he’s gone, I’m sure. Ned went over to open the door and they could see the hallway was indeed empty of the Royal Tutor’s Assistant or the Royal Assistant Tutor (whatever). At least he had the decency to zap himself away outside of their sight. It’s not fair.

Oh, be quiet, it’s just a list. It’ll keep you out of trouble, Nell said.

I don’t care if he got a promotion, he looks like a rat to me with that twitchy nose, Ned commented.

"Clearly, I don’t spend as much time as you do with rodents, Nell said. But, yeah, maybe there is a resemblance," she allowed, giggling.

You know, his promotion to Royal Assistant Tutor makes him a –

RAT! shrieked Nell. The two collapsed in laughter at their wit.

Ignoring them, Lizzie got up and walked cautiously over to their distraught, older-by-a-few life-altering-minutes, brother. She took a deep breath and gently touched his arm. May I see it, Tom?

Tom awkwardly stuffed the papers into her hand without turning his head from the curtains.

Lizzie glanced down and her eyes widened. The pages that Tom had densely filled with scribbled notes and check marks and formulas made up of symbols and numbers and slashes were now filled with an equal amount of harsh red marks. There was not a single question that wasn’t covered with cross outs or several lines of comments, and the big ‘O’ at the top had a frantic question mark next to it as if the Royal Tutor couldn’t believe it.

And why should he believe it? This was Prince Thomasin’s test – Prince Thomasin, who was the brightest and hardest working student he had ever had, royal or otherwise. Prince Thomasin, who took the responsibility that he was the heir to the throne and someday would be Zephram’s King, very seriously. Prince Thomasin, on top of which, actually loved to study! This was the very first time that Prince Thomasin had ever scored like this – was the world coming to an end?

Lizzie waved her hand down low to get Nell’s attention. What should they say? What should they do? she silently queried. After all, this was new territory to them! He was the strong, smart one who could always be counted on to take care of them. Nell shook her head. This test certainly turned their world view in the Royal Schoolroom upside down!

Ned, however, was oblivious to any of these sensitivities. He sauntered over to Lizzie, turned his head to get a good look at the paper, and laughed. You’re upset about that? I get zeros all the time.

"Oh, that’s going to make him feel better," Nell snorted.

You didn’t let me finish, Miss Know-it-all, Ned sneered. Are you sure it counts, Tom? We never have tests on Tuesdays. Only Mondays. Besides, it’s no big deal, just take it again. That’s what I always do. You can’t do worse. Things are bound to look up.

"I guess you are sort of right, Lizzie conceded reluctantly. Tom, I know this is bizarre, but – I mean, you are like six years ahead of me …"

And eight years ahead of me, said Nell.

And ten ye – well you know, Ned said, his freckled cheeks flushing, but adding in his own defense, although there’s nothing wrong with being at an 11 year level when you’re 11!

Almost 12 in 17 days, whispered Nell.

Shut up, hissed Ned.

… you know so much more than everyone else … maybe it’s okay that you didn’t get your usual top grades, Lizzie finally finished saying to Tom.

Top? Tom yelped. I didn’t even pass – I didn’t even get a grade. He turned and sat down on the window seat, putting his head in his hands. I suppose I’ll have to tell Dad about this. He’s going to be really disappointed in me. The Royal Tutor must have given me a special test today, and I’ve failed.

"For someone who’s so smart, that’s a dumb idea, a really dumb idea. You have no idea what it’s like having to tell Dad. He gets all quiet and serious and gives this big heavy sigh – wait, you’re right. You really should tell him. May as well get it over with. You should go now. I’ll go with you," Ned said enthusiastically, hopping up from the table to lead the way to the door, excited that the shoe was on the other foot for the first time ever. Anyone else want to come?

Nope, I’ve got a voice lesson – ooh, I’d better get going, I’ll be late, Lizzie said, noticing the time on the mantel clock. She put Tom’s test down on the table.

You are horrible, Nell said. I’m staying here. Let Tom go by himself if he really feels he has to go see Dad.

He needs my support, Ned said.

Right, well, while you’re there, don’t forget to tell Dad that you’ve been terrorizing his subjects with a floopee cushion, Nell replied.

Fine, come with me if you want, Tom said to Ned, getting up and heading for the door.

"Wait, Tom, you don’t want to forget this," Ned called, grabbing the infamous test off the table and running after his brother.

~Z~

Chapter Two

It was a busy Tuesday afternoon in the castle. Of course, it wasn’t anywhere near as busy as Zephram Monday was the day before, but business as usual was quite busy enough!

Courtiers and ladies in their colorful clothing gave the boys deferential nods if they were noticed, while the boys helpfully kept clear of any magical castle upkeep chores that were going on. A rag polished the sconces that hung on the stone walls to brightness under the watchful eye