Page 25 of Her Wonderful Wonder Bell
Brigley freezes in place and the change begins immediately. His size rapidly decreases, all his strong muscles wither away, his back becoming hunched. His hair falls out and turns grey, until it’s nothing but a few white, wispy strands. Brown teeth clatter to the floor. His skin becomes nearly transparent where it isn’t spotted and splotched. Joints turn twisted and swollen. His eyes become cloudy, and they no longer have the frightening look they did. Eventually, he falls to the tile in a fetal position, wheezing but alive. The only other sound while Delia and I hold each other for the next few minutes is Mavis licking at her paws, until I finally speak up.
“Catch ya later. Get it?” I mumble. Delia huffs. “What do we do now?”
“I think we should take him to the hospital.”
“What if he poofs someone?”
“I don’t think he can anymore.” Delia crouches next to Brigley. Fear races through my stomach. “Mr. Brigley, can you talk?”
The old man shivers and coughs before speaking so quietly I can hardly hear him. “Could you bring me a blanket, dear?”
“You shouldn’t be on the floor, coach. Let’s get you somewhere warmer.” Delia lifts the man.
If you’d said she’d be able to carry Brigley an hour ago, I’d have laughed, but things sure have changed.
She carries the frail man to the sofa, covers him in blankets, then turns to me. “Will you call 911 on my phone, please? You remember how right? Tell them there’s an old man at this address who fell and needs an ambulance. Do you remember the address?”
I nod. It makes the torn area of my neck hurt, and Delia looks concerned when I wince. I smooth my features as best as I’m able. “Yes, and yes. I’ll call now.”
I scramble to find her phone and stylus, and when I do I make my first phone call on amodern phone. The ambulance arrives surprisingly quickly and all the things they have in their vehicle are really impressive. I have to wonder how often people think about that sort of thing.
Mr. Brigley is taken to the hospital with sirens blaring at top volume. Delia calls Rosa while I attempt to tape my neck back together. I hope it heals. I hope Icanheal.
“Did you get it? I can help,” Delia says as she walks into the bathroom where I’m standing in front of the mirror, checking the finished job.
“No, thank you. I’ve got it. Just hope it works. Everything alright with Rosa?” I turn to her and set my hands on her waist.
Delia kisses the center of my forehead, then the tip of my nose. “Everything’s just fine. She’s calling to tell Angelo to bring the other stick of gum back to her. I don’t know what she’ll do with it. None of my business. Now we have to find the other girls.”
The mango-chili lollipop Rosa made is supposed to help us find my teammates. I guess the way it'll work is when it’s sweet, it'll mean we’re far from the girls, and when it’s spicy we’re close. Hopefully, it works. If what happenedto Brigley is any indication, then her spells should work just fine.
“Well, tomorrow, we can find them.” I sigh. “I know we should find them now but it’s nighttime and I’m tired. Is it selfish to wait?”
Delia takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. “We’ll just get up early.”
“Pbfft,” Mavis says.
“I’m going to make Mavis an egg in the morning before we go.”
Delia looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Whatever you say.”
Chapter Ten
Delia
Well, the charm worked. We found five tins and took them back to Rosa’s. She shooed Brock—who I was surprised to see there—out of the store and closed up again.
“I’m sorry you have to keep closing because of us,” I apologize.
“Don’t worry. I work almost every day. A little time off won’t kill me.” She smiles as she arranges the tins on the countertop. “Now, let’s try to wish these open. We may not be their true loves, but our hearts do desire their happiness.”
Pearl, Rosa, Sharon, Angelo, and I each place our hands on top of a tin and wish for it to open, and for the girl inside to come out. We then step back and wait. Nothing happens.
“Sometimes magic happens best when no one is looking,” Rosa says and indicates we should turn.
We all face the opposite direction. It seems silly to me that facing the other way would make a difference, but lo and behold, not thirty seconds later shocked exclamations ring out behind us.
Five women in baseball uniforms, all three-dimensional—unlike Pearl—sit on the counter, looking different levels of shocked and frightened. They whisper among themselves for a moment. One of the women, a very short, young, Latina woman with bleach-blonde hair, jumps off of the counter first and looks over us. Apparently deciding Rosa is the one in charge, she approaches her with a determined set to her jaw.
