“But where?” Josh asked, looking around. “I don’t see any—”

  “It’s that ocean beside you,” the pet’s voice shouted.

  “That?” Josh asked, pointing at the silvery water along the beach. “That is the Sea of Justice?”

  “Precisely.”

  “But I can’t swim in that. I can’t—”

  “Dear heart, it only appears to be liquid silver. Touch it with your foot. Enter it and you will see it is merely mirrors. Perfectly fashioned, beautiful mirrors.”

  “But, but I don’t—”

  “We’ll be with you,” the coach assured him. “In the reflections, we’ll be with you.”

  Josh threw a look at the crowd. They were starting to fidget. Any moment one of them might think he was weak or afraid or worse yet, imperfect. And if anyone thought that, he knew what would happen.

  Josh turned back to look at the silver water.

  “Hurry, before you are challenged!” the pet called. “Hurry!”

  Josh closed his eyes a moment. Then he took a deep breath and started toward the ocean.

  It was exactly as the coach had promised. As soon as his foot touched the silvery liquid, he realized it wasn’t liquid at all. Instead, the sea was made of mirrors. Nothing but beautiful mirrors. Mirrors reflecting in every direction. Mirrors that parted, allowing his feet to touch the dry sandy floor below.

  The crowd cheered as Josh waded deeper into the Sea of Justice. Soon he was up to his knees, then his waist. Not a single mirror touched him. Each gently parted to the side as he waded in deeper and deeper.

  “You should see this place,” he said in awe to the coach.

  “We are not even worthy to approach it,” she replied.

  “But we may enter its reflections,” her pet added.

  “I wish Denny and Nathan could see,” Josh exclaimed.

  “Oh, they will, dear heart, they will. Not only will they see it, but so will your friends from Fayrah.”

  “Aristophenix and Listro Q?” Josh asked, his excitement growing.

  “And that bothersome bug,” the pet added. “At last the trap has been set.”

  “Trap?” Josh frowned.

  “Treat,” the coach hastily corrected. “Fido meant treat, didn’t you, boy. Treat.”

  “Yes.” The pet cleared his throat. “Treat. The treat of justice. The treat of receiving all that you rightly deserve.”

  “But how?” Josh asked.

  “Look deeply into the mirrors, dear heart. Look deeply into the mirrors and you will understand perfectly . . . ”

  He lied to us,” Nathan said as he slumped into the beanbag chair in Joshua’s room. It had been a long day of searching with plenty of surprises, but no results. “The guy flat-out lied to us.”

  “I don’t think Fayrahnians can do that,” Denise said.

  “Bud’s not from Fayrah, he’s from Biiq, remember.”

  “Same thing . . . and I don’t think they can make mistakes, not with that Olga computer thing of theirs.”

  “Yeah, right,” Nathan scoffed. Then motioning to the canteen on her belt, he added, “And a lot of good that water did us.” He gave a sigh. “Who are we kidding? We’ll never be able to find perfect people—we’ll never be able to help my brother.”

  But Denise had stopped listening. She was looking down at the canteen. Nathan watched as she turned and headed for Joshua’s dresser. There was a small dish that he used to dump his loose change and pocket junk into. She picked it up and dumped it out.

  “What are you doing?” Nathan demanded.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she removed the canteen from her belt, unscrewed the lid, and poured some of the water into the dish.

  Nathan rose to join her. “Denny?”

  Next she grabbed one of the dozen campaign buttons lying around. Carefully she positioned its photo over the dish of water. Then she lowered her head for a better view.

  “What are you doing?” Nathan repeated.

  “Look,” she said in a breathless whisper. “Do you see it?”

  “See what . . . where?”

  “In the water? The reflection. It’s different than what we see.”

  “Different? What are you talking about?”

  “I saw it the first time we were in Fayrah. And this morning in my bedroom.”

  Nathan lowered his head until it was beside hers. At first he saw nothing. But as she adjusted the angle of the photo, he finally caught a reflection of it in the water. It was not a reflection of his grinning, good-looking brother. It was a reflection of Joshua, yes, but a Joshua with grotesque muscles, multicolored feathers and . . . Nathan sucked in his breath. This Joshua had six legs and two heads!

  “Denny,” he cried, “what’s going on? Denny, we gotta help him!”

  “But how?” Denise whispered. “How?”

  Over in Fayrah, at the Great Hall, Aristophenix, Listro Q, Samson, and the Weaver stared at Joshua’s tapestry. They studied with horror the thread indicating that he was wading into the Sea of Justice.

  “Survive, cannot he!” Listro Q cried as he looked up from the tapestry to the Weaver. “Sea of Justice, it will kill him!”

  Aristophenix agreed.

  “We have to assist Him,

  There ain’t not a Doubt.

  No way can we stay Here

  Without Helpin’ him out.”

  “Only perfect people can enter the Sea of Justice,” the Weaver repeated. “If you enter the sea, it will destroy you.” The old man tried to sound stern, but he knew what Josh was about to suffer. He knew something should be done.

  And something would be done. He knew that as well. If the group could simply hold out and wait a few minutes longer, something would definitely be done . . .

  Chapter 9

  The Sea of Justice

  Josh waded deeper and deeper into the sea. And with every step he took, the mirrors continued to part before him. There were thousands of them. Millions. “This is incredible,” he said. “Everywhere I look there are mirrors—miles and miles of mirrors.”

  Immediately, the blue orb’s reflection appeared in a mirror beside him. “Gorgeous, aren’t they?”

  Josh gave a start, then nodded in agreement. “They’re beautiful . . . But where’s the rest of it?”

  “The rest of what?” the coach asked as her reflection appeared in another mirror beside him.

  “I mean, they’re beautiful and everything, but there’s more to this place than a bunch of mirrors, right? You said something about a treat. ”

  “I’m afraid you haven’t looked deep enough,” the coach replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look into the mirrors . . . What do you see?”

  “Nothing. Nothing but me.”

  “Precisely.”

  “But—”

  “Have you ever seen such beauty, such perfection?” the coach asked.

  Joshua looked more deeply. And the deeper he looked, the more he liked what he saw.

  “Look at the curve of each of those muscles,” the coach whispered. “Magnificent muscles . . . muscles you have worked so long and hard to obtain.”

  Josh continued to stare. She was right. His muscles were marvelous to look at. They were magnificent. And the longer he stared, the more he enjoyed their beauty . . . their perfection.

  “That’s the purpose of the sea,” she whispered, “to enjoy the fruits of your labor. To receive your fullest reward.” The coach’s mirror moved a little closer. “And those feathers—have you ever seen anything so beautiful, so breathtaking?”

  At first Josh wasn’t so sure about the feathers. But the more he looked, the more he appreciated their intricate detail, their brilliant colors.

  “And what of those wondrous heads of yours . . . ”

  As the coach continued to speak and as Josh continued to admire himself, a warmth of satisfaction flooded through his chest. This was him. This was the great Joshua O’Brien. The result of all his hard work was right here, reflected in these perfect mirrors. The warmth grew warmer; the satisfaction, more satisfying. At last, here in the Sea of Justice, Josh was finally able to enjoy the reward of his efforts. At last he was receiving . . . well, there was no other word for it but justice. Perfect, beautiful, justice.

  “This is amazing,” he whispered. “I’ve never felt so . . . so . . .”

  “So proud?” the pet offered. “So full of accomplishment?”

  Josh could only nod.

  “But you’ve barely scratched the surface, dear heart. Look deeper,” the coach encouraged. “Much, much deeper.”

  Josh obeyed. He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t want to help himself. And as he looked deeper, something within the mirrors began to shift. The reflection of his “perfect body” began to waver and change.

  “That’s it, dear heart,” the coach softly spoke. “Look deep inside yourself. Find out who you really are.”

  In the mirror, Josh began to see a five-year-old boy. He was kneeling with a handful of kids beside a terrified puppy.

  “That’s me,” Josh whispered in awe. “That’s me when I was little.”

  “That is correct,” the pet purred. “But look deeper still.”

  As Josh stared, the little boy grabbed a nearby milk carton and filled it with rocks. Next he tied the carton around the neck of the whimpering puppy. Then, as the other kids urged him on, he shouted at the animal and gave it a good kick.

  The puppy scurried off like a frightened rabbit. The rattling milk carton only added to his terror and confusion. He yelped and ran helplessly in all directions as everyone laughed and congratulated young Josh for a job well done.

  “I’d completely forgotten that . . . ,” Joshua sadly mumbled as he stared into the mirror.

  “Quite the little monster, aren’t you?” the coach’s voice gently accused.

  The comment surprised Joshua. “That was a long time ago,” he said. “I’m not that way anymore.”

  “You’re not?” the coach asked.

  Before Josh could answer, another reflection formed deep within the mirrors. It was Joshua when he was nine. He stood on the playground with a crowd of other kids. They were laughing and jeering at a smaller boy who was pulling himself out of a mud puddle—his face cut and bleeding.

  The Josh in the reflection tried to look away, but he was too late. The little boy caught his eyes and staggered toward him, soaked and muddy “Make him stop,” the boy pleaded. “Please, Josh! I never stole his pen, you know I wouldn’t.” He grabbed Joshua’s shirt. “Please make him stop!”

  “You sticking up for this weasel?”

  Young Josh turned to see a huge bully striding toward him, obviously the cause of the boy’s battered face. Josh swallowed hard as he looked at the bully, then down at the boy clinging to him for protection.

  “Get out of there, O’Brien!” someone in the group shouted. Others joined in. “Move it! Get out of the way!” They wanted to see a good beating, and Josh seemed to be the only one preventing it.

  The boy circled behind Josh, cowering, pleading to him for help. But Josh didn’t look at him. Instead, he stared hard at the ground and said nothing.

  The crowd jeered and shouted louder, “Get out of there! Get out of the way!”

  “What will it be, O’Brien?” the bully demanded.

  Josh had no answer.

  The crowd grew more angry. He looked up at their faces. They meant business. Real business. He looked back at the bully.

  The bully meant business, too.

  Then, finally, without a word, Joshua O’Brien stepped to the side.

  The bully lost no time in grabbing the little boy. Everyone cheered. Everyone but young Josh and, of course, the little boy. It’s hard to cheer when you’re getting the stuffing beaten out of you.

  Squirming in discomfort, older Josh tried looking away, but the scene filled every mirror in the sea. No matter where he turned, he saw the little boy being hit again and again and again . . . as the young Josh stood by refusing to help.

  “There’s nothing you won’t do for popularity, is there?” the coach taunted.

  Josh couldn’t answer.

  “Is there?”

  He continued staring into the mirrors. His eyes filling with moisture; his throat growing thick and tight. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t know what to do.”

  The beatings continued. So did the crowd’s cheers. And with each blow, the mirrors surrounding Joshua moved in a little closer.

  “I don’t . . .” Josh’s voice grew hoarse. “I don’t want to look anymore. I came here for justice, not this.”

  “Oh, but this is justice,” the blue orb purred.

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “This is what you’re really like and this is what you really deserve.”

  “Those are exceptions,” Josh insisted. “Mistakes.”

  “They are still truth . . . and truth demands justice.”

  “I didn’t come here to see my mistakes.” Josh croaked, still unable to take his eyes from the mirrors.

  “You came to receive justice, and so you will.”

  “But . . . ” Josh felt himself growing desperate. “This isn’t . . . what I . . . ”

  The coach laughed. “This is exactly what you wanted. And it is only the beginning, dear heart! Only the beginning!”

  The pet joined in the laughter as more reflections formed, as more memories flickered across the mirrors—memories of ugly mistakes, thoughtless actions, embarrassing failures. And, as their reflections appeared, as Josh stared, unable to look away, the mirrors moved in on him closer and closer.

  Back in Fayrah, Aristophenix turned from Joshua’s tapestry. “I don’t understand what you’re doin’!”

  The Weaver simply looked at him.

  “You keep tellin’ us not to interfere—that Imager is using all this to get him re-Breathed!”

  “That is correct.” The Weaver nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  “But I don’t see any sign of him gettin’ re-Breathed. All I see is Josh gettin’ tortured and Denny and Nathan gettin’ more frustrated!”

  Samson darted above Aristophenix’s shoulder and chattered in loud, high-pitched agreement.

  Listro Q also stepped forward. “Go in there and help him, now I say!” He reached into his coat and pulled out the Cross-Dimensionalizer.

  It appeared the Weaver was about to have a mutiny on his hands. But instead of growing angry, his answer was gentle and firm. “If you enter the Sea of Justice, you will be destroyed.”

  “What about Josh? He’s bein’ destroyed right now!”

  The Weaver continued evenly. “Your love for Joshua O’Brien is most commendable, yes, it is. But you must not interfere. You must trust that Imager’s love is greater than yours. You must not enter the Sea of Justice.”

  “We have to do somethin’!”

  The Weaver glanced at his watch. “In exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds you will Cross-Dimensionalize to Denny and Nathan.”

  “What!” Aristophenix exclaimed. “You’re givin’ us permission to visit the Upside-Down Kingdom?”

  “Of course. Your visit has always been woven into these tapestries. If you would have looked more closely, you would have known this. It was simply a matter of time.”

  “Right all!” Listro Q shouted.

  Samson darted above their heads with his own brand of high-pitched enthusiasm.

  And Aristophenix found an opportunity to fire off a poem.

  “Quick, grab that cross-dimensionalizer

  And enter them coordinates.

  We’ll be seein’ Denny and Nathan,

  And tellin’ ‘em . . . and tellin’ ‘em . . .

  Aristophenix turned back to the Weaver. “Uh, what exactly will we be tellin’ ’em?”

  The Weaver smiled. “Tell them they are about to be re-Breathed.”

  “All right!” Aristophenix cried as he turned to the others. Then spinning back to the Weaver, he asked, “But . . . how . . . ”

  “You’ll know,” the Weaver chuckled. “Trust me, you’ll know.”

  Without another word, and certainly before another poem, Listro Q reached for his Cross-Dimensionalizer, pressed in the coordinates.

  Beep . . .

  Bop . . .

  Bleep . . .

  burp . . .

  And they were off!

  Denise stared at the reflection of Josh in the liquid letters and words. As scene after scene of his ugly past played before him, as the mirrors moved in closer and closer making it impossible for him to look away, he slowly dropped to his knees. Denise couldn’t believe it, but he was actually starting to cry, weeping over all the wrongs he’d done.

  She could take no more. She turned from the dresser and began to pace. “I don’t get it!” she said. “First Bud says we can’t rescue Josh ’cause we’ll be destroyed in that Ocean of Justice thing—”

  “Sea of Justice,” Nathan corrected.

  “Whatever. Then he says we’ll find perfect people who can go there. But, of course, there are no perfect people. But of course, we don’t know that until we waste the whole day looking at people standing on their heads until we’re nearly eaten by some wolf. And now we’re back home watching Josh get tortured, totally clueless about what we can do.”

  Nathan nodded. “Yup, that about sums it up.”

  She shot him a look and headed to the window. “You’d think in this whole stupid town there’d be at least one perfect person.” She pushed up the window and opened it. “What are we supposed to do?” she shouted at no one in particular.

  The only answer was a startled crow that cawed as it took off from a telephone pole. Actually, there was one other answer. Just as she was about to turn from the window, Denise glanced down and noticed the Bloodstone resting on the outside sill.

  “What on earth . . . ” She reached down, picked it up, and brought it inside. “Look at this.”

  But Nathan was back at the dresser, staring at the dish of water. “Nathan, take a look at—ow!” She dropped it to the floor.

  Nathan spun around. “The Bloodstone!” he cried. “You found the Bloodstone!”

 

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