The Everafter War

“I wonder how hard it would be to hide a shark under someone’s pillow,” Puck said, squinting at Sabrina. She shook a threatening fist at him.

 

Pinocchio continued his tale. “So I stayed in Europe and took a few odd jobs. I was an apprentice at a newspaper and learned to work with a printing press. The paper wasn’t much to speak of—mostly propaganda and smears. I was an artist’s assistant for a few years. I sold kites in a market in Spain. I lived in the Taj Mahal for a month before security guards found me and tossed me out. I was a shoeshine boy on the Orient Express. I’ve had a number of occupations and saw a great many places. I even journeyed back to my home in Italy. Papa, I believe I found the actual forest I came from and met a great many of my relatives. It was very enlightening.”

 

“You found the magic forest,” Geppetto said, clapping his hands. “I found a log inside it and used it to carve my son. I had heard it was destroyed by a forest fire.”

 

“Sad but true, though a few saplings survived the blaze,” the boy said.

 

“Why all the moving?” Granny Relda asked.

 

“It’s due to my condition,” Pinocchio explained.

 

“Condition?” Puck asked. “Do you have some horrible virus? If so, could you give it to Sabrina?”

 

Pinocchio ignored him. “It appears that I am incapable of growing old. Every few years I was forced to vanish before anyone could conclude I wasn’t getting older. I made the horrible blunder of sticking around for too long once in Eastern Europe and the superstitious townspeople chased me with torches and pitchforks. Do yourself a favor and stay away from Transylvania.”

 

“It’s ’cause you’re an Everafter. You have to decide to get older or you’ll stay the same age forever,” Daphne explained.

 

“Alas, no,” the boy replied. “I cannot get older. I believe it has to do with the wish I made to the Blue Fairy. I wished to be a real boy. Not to be a real boy that grows into a man.”

 

“You have to be real specific with wishes,” Sabrina said.

 

“Indeed,” the boy groaned.

 

“The Blue Fairy lives here in town,” Daphne said. “We could help you find her. She might fix the wish.”

 

“Thank you, but no,” Pinocchio said. “Like your sister said, her wish granting leaves a little to be desired. I might ask her to let me grow up and she’d probably make it so that I grew all the way to the moon. I’ll seek other options.”

 

“I’d like to know how you ended up here in the camp,” Henry asked.

 

Pinocchio shifted uncomfortably. “I had a great deal of savings from my many occupations, and these days anyone can purchase an airplane ticket on the Internet. I landed in New York City and boarded the next train for Ferryport Landing. It was immediately clear that trouble was afoot, but I searched for my father nonetheless. I met a young man who had a pumpkin for a head. He was quite peculiar.”

 

“Jack Pumpkinhead,” Granny said. “He’s from Oz. They’re all a little odd.”

 

“I told him who I was and he offered to bring me to the camp.”

 

“And I couldn’t be happier, pine nut,” Geppetto said. “After dinner you will have to show everyone your marionettes.”

 

Granny smiled. “So you are a puppet-maker as well?”

 

“Like father, like son, I suppose,” the boy said. Geppetto beamed with pride.

 

They hugged again. Sabrina looked over at her own father, hoping he might be inspired by the family feeling, but he was busy studying a map of the town. It was clear he was looking for another path out of Ferryport Landing.

 

Just then, Nurse Sprat approached the table. She was an overweight woman shaped like a nearly perfect circle. The family had met her at her former job as a nurse at Ferryport Landing Memorial Hospital, where she had had the unfortunate responsibility of looking after Red Riding Hood when she was mentally unhinged.

 

“Jacob is going to be fine,” she told the group.

 

“Thank goodness,” Granny cried.

 

“Normally he would be healing for a couple of months, but I found a container of magical salve in his pocket and it’s doing wonders. He should be shipshape in a couple of days.”

 

“Can we see him?” Henry asked.

 

“Tomorrow,” she said. “He’s sleeping and needs the rest.”

 

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Sprat,” Granny said.

 

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Grimm,” she said, then returned to her medical tent.

 

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