Chapter 1

1
THE PEOPLE IN THE KINGDOM of Joviala had very strong fingers. They knew how to hold on better than anyone else, they liked to say. Mostly to the things that brought them joy.

They were experts at swinging from monkey bars, and at flying kites, and at holding hands. They never lost their grip on the reins of their horses, splinters were easily pulled out, and almost every person around gave great massages. The Jovialese could flick boogers from one edge of a field to another, which was enough to bring joy to all the kids in the kingdom—and some adults, too. They were expert rock climbers, and on any given weekend dozens of people could be spotted on the face of Mount Saint Helenhunt, scampering their way up to the dormant crater. Jovialese knights never lost their swords (not that they ever went to war), and their wizards never lost their wands, and these were some of the many reasons why Joviala was a happy kingdom, even if it often experienced disasters. Those strong, happy fingers also helped the people of Joviala hold on during times of high winds, and during earthquakes, and when flooding rivers threatened to carry them away.

They were known throughout many kingdoms to hold on to all sorts of other things too: traditions, the past, grudges.

At least that was what Candelabra was learning from her homeroom teacher in the adjacent Kingdom of Nefaria. Nefaria was a very different place: beautiful, and generally free from natural disasters, but prone to evil schemes.

Candelabra and a few of her friends were among those who had been selected for a student-exchange program in Joviala. They were going to embark on a weeklong trip to their northern neighbor, and they had been learning a lot about the land. To Candelabra, though, there seemed to be a lot of her teacher’s opinions mixed into the lessons.

“And, sure, maybe there are no evil schemes there,” Mr. Gigglebutt said, rubbing his hands together and creating a cloud of chalk dust. “But trust me, it’s not such a great place. I’ve been, and it smells kind of fishy to me.”

“Didn’t you take the sixth graders last year to a fish market there?” Candelabra asked, not bothering to raise her hand.

Mr. Gigglebutt waved away the chalk dust and pretended not to hear the question. “But since we are going and the school insists on it, remember that your essays on your favorite bit about Joviala that we’ve covered in class are due the morning before we leave.” Everyone in the classroom groaned, except for Candelabra’s friend Bobert, who’d probably already written his. “You can write about anything at all—don’t complain! It can be about their disasters, their history, or even about the fishy smell they have. Although I’m sure most of you will write about the Muffin of Glory,” he said derisively.

Candelabra herself had chosen that topic. After all, Joviala being home to the most powerful known magical object was pretty cool.

The bell rang, and most students gathered their belongings and roared out of the classroom. Bobert waited by Candelabra’s desk, like he usually did. Bobert seemed to always be happy to wait for Candelabra, even though he liked being on time to everything, and Candelabra didn’t like to rush. Even the year before, when they’d finally broken free of the spell of an evil wizard (it was a long story), Candelabra hadn’t run out of the castle with all the other kids. She’d taken her time leaving, running her fingers along the stone wall as if saying goodbye to a place she loved, not a royal home where she’d been imprisoned. Bobert had been right there with her, even though he was the one who had been trapped the longest, and all because of her.

Candelabra and Bobert were the last two to push open the school’s big wooden doors and emerge from the stone building into the sunny afternoon. Other kids were chatting excitedly, playing frees-bees, or running through the field toward the woods (ignoring the frustrated pleas of teachers to stay on school grounds until someone signed them out, which was a new security addition after Bobert’s disappearance the year before). Candelabra waved to their friends Jennizabeth and Stanbert, who were boarding the carriage to go home.

“Remember your snacks!” Jennizabeth called out. They’d made a pact to bring various goodies to share for the long journey to Joviala. Bobert gave her a thumbs-up. He was going to bring some of his dad’s flying goat jerky. It wasn’t made from the flying goats that were constantly overhead in Nefaria, but from regular goats. The jerky just happened to fly. Candelabra waved, though she wasn’t in the mood to think about snacks.

Her mind was on something a little more substantial. Something more permanent.

They kept walking around the main building. Often at this point they’d be debriefing about the school day, checking in on whether they’d noticed anything that could hint at an evil scheme. Mostly they’d be joking about one thing or another, which was what Candelabra often thought was her favorite part of friendship. The ability to talk about nothing and make it fun. Today, though, Candelabra was distracted, deep in her own thoughts.

Once they had signed out of school, they continued on their usual path home—they lived in the same area on the outskirts of town—heading past the school’s various pigpens, following the shadow of the turret on the berry fields. When they were nearing the spider-monkey snack shack, Bobert turned to Candelabra. “Are you excited for the trip?”

Candelabra was running her hands along one of her braids. She wasn’t listening, so Bobert gave her some space and walked quietly beside her through the woods on their way to town.

They stopped at the snack shack and perused the day’s selections. When they paid the spider monkey running the shack for Candelabra’s swampmallows and Bobert’s painted chips, Candelabra whispered, so quietly that Bobert wasn’t sure she’d even spoken, “Very.”

Bobert frowned. “Really?”

“You’re not excited to go?” she said, wondering what her face was doing.

“I am. I just didn’t think you were. You’ve been quiet.” He gave a little shrug. He didn’t really mind if she felt like being quiet. He had been the king of quiet for a long time.

She popped a swampmallow in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully as they continued down the path.

“Then what are you going to write for the essay? What are you most excited about?” Bobert asked.

“Oh, probably listening to Mr. Gigglebutt complain for a whole week,” she deadpanned. Why Mr. Gigglebutt had accepted a role as chaperone for the weeklong trip to Joviala despite his clear distaste for it was a mystery they hadn’t yet solved. “What about you?”

Bobert laughed. “I guess just seeing somewhere new. And not having to worry about evil schemes will be pretty cool too.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Candelabra said, though this was a lie. “Do you really think they don’t have any at all there? That people are just happy all the time?”

“It’s kind of hard to believe, right?” Bobert responded. “But I’m excited to find out. And also to see what kinds of things they snack on!”

“Have you ever gone to another land?” Candelabra asked, reaching up to swat at some leaves overhead. It was the time of year when everything was green and lovely, the weather so perfect you didn’t even want to be inside except to sleep.

“Nope. You?”

“When I was little. Before my sister got, you know.” She gestured with one hand, and Bobert nodded. Candelabra always felt uncomfortable bringing up her sister, who had been evil-schemed into a painting, where she was still stuck. It was a normal part of Candelabra’s life, and she wanted everyone to treat her normally despite having her only caregiver stuck in a landscape. Except that as soon as she started talking about Sandraliere, no one knew how to act around her. “I don’t remember a lot from it, though. We went to the Banana Republic. I remember the beach and eating fruit and mostly spending so much time in the sun that I felt sick one of the days.”

“I didn’t even know the sun could make you sick,” Bobert said, taking a turn trying to reach the leaves. They arrived at the clearing through which they could see the town below, set in one of Nefaria’s many valleys, surrounded by huge mountains. This was one of Candelabra’s favorite views. Not just because it was beautiful, but because usually she was in the company of others when she came to it.

“That’s one of the things about growing up,” Candelabra said, taking her backpack off so that she could hold it in front of her. “You find out that more and more things can make you sick.”

Bobert seemed to consider this for a second as he pulled off his own backpack and tossed it down the hill. “I don’t know. I actually used to be a lot more scared of the world.”

“And now?”

Candelabra was staring at him. She didn’t know why she felt so serious all of a sudden. It was like she needed his answer to confirm that it was okay to not be so scared of the world. She was hopeful about this upcoming trip for several reasons, but she didn’t know if the hope was warranted, or if she even had the right to feel hope. Instead of answering, though, Bobert gave her a big smile and then threw himself down the hill.