“Backpack,” he said.
Mini handed it over. She was sweating and pale-faced. “Whatever’s in there isn’t mine,” she said. “It’s my brother’s.”
“That’s what they all say,” the raksha said, sifting through the contents.
He shook it upside down over the counter. Out spilled a sleeve of Oreos (Aru felt an indignant flare of YOU-HAD-THOSE-THE-WHOLE-TIME? feelings), a first-aid kit, a roll of gauze, a bunch of Boy Scout key chains (which made Aru raise her eyebrow), and the wrapped sprig of youth. The raksha scanned them with his eyes as he listened to someone talking in his earpiece. Then he pressed a small button on the lapel of his jacket and muttered, “Copy that. No sign of the godly mounts.” He swiped the contents back into Mini’s backpack and handed it to her. “Next.”
Boo fluttered to his shoulder and whispered in his ear. The raksha’s eyes widened for a moment.
“Sorry to hear that, mate. That’s some rough luck. You may proceed.”
Boo harrumphed and soared through the gate.
Next was Aru. She put the golden Ping-Pong ball in the basket and stepped forward, only to have the raksha stick out his hand.
“Shoes off as per Otherworld Transportation Security Guidelines.”
She grumbled, took off her shoes, and placed them in a bin. She stepped forward, only to have the raksha stop her. Again.
“Miss, are those your feet?”
“Are you serious?”
“Does this job look like something that encourages humor?”
Aru considered this. “No.”
“Then yes, I’m inquiring as to whether those are, in fact, your feet. You will notice on the board to your left that any removable body parts, yours or otherwise, must be registered as per Otherworld Transportation Security Guidelines.”
“Dude, these are my feet. It’s not like I’m hiding cloven hooves.”
“Why did you specify cloven hooves?”
“It’s just a joke! That’s what we say in Georgia when we don’t like someone! And then we add Bless your heart after!”
The raksha spoke into his lapel again. “Yup. Copy. Potentially small, unregistered demon.” Then, after listening to his earpiece: “Nope. Unthreatening.” He looked at her. “You may pass.”
Aru felt insulted. I can totally be threatening! But now was definitely not the time. She stepped through and glared at the raksha until he handed back her ball.
“Welcome to the Night Bazaar,” he said. “On behalf of the gods and storytellers around the world, we hope you leave with your life intact and your imagination brimming.”
Now that she’d stepped through the archway opening, the Night Bazaar truly unfolded around her. The half-torn sky of day and night glistened. And the smells. Aru wanted to roll around in them forever. It smelled like popcorn dripping with butter, cookie-dough ice cream, and fresh-spun cotton candy. She made her way to Mini and Boo, her head whipping back and forth so fast trying to see everything—the trees that weren’t made of bark at all, but glass; the stores that seemed to literally chase after clientele—that she almost tripped.
“It’s something else,” said Mini, grinning. “And it smells so good. Like a book! Or vanilla!”
Aru was about to ask if Mini’s nose was working right, but Mini kept talking.
“Only my brother has seen this place, but I don’t think he remembers it.”
“Your brother? Why?”
Mini’s face turned as red as a tomato. “They thought he was the Pandava brother…not me.”
“When did they find out it was actually you?”
Mini turned even redder, now looking like a tomato’s mutant cousin.
“Last week?” she said, squeaking on the word week. “Pandavas are supposed to sense danger and sometimes even react to it before they have full control of their abilities. Every time my brother did something that we thought was a miracle, I guess it was actually me doing it, because I was nearby and got scared, too. Last week, our car skidded into a ditch on the side of the road on the way to my brother’s track meet. I must’ve freaked out or something, because I…I lifted the whole car.”
“You what? I wanna do that!”
Mini looked horrified. “Really?”
“Mini, you lifted a car, when you’re so small that I don’t think you even register on—”
“Okay, okay. Geez, I get it.” She sounded annoyed, but Aru could see the small smile lifting up the corners of her mouth.
As impressed as Aru was, she also felt bad. Mini hadn’t been lying when she said the backpack wasn’t hers. It was meant to be her brother’s, when he went off on his quest.
Now Aru understood why Mini was so hesitant about everything. Not once had Mini been taught to think that maybe she was supposed to be the hero.
“Imagine what your family will say when they wake up and realize you saved the world!” said Aru.
Mini beamed.
Boo fluttered to Aru’s shoulder. “Come along. We need to find the Court of the Seasons. I know it’s in here somewhere…” he said.
“And the second key, right?” said Mini.
Aru glanced at the mehndi design on the side of her hand. The symbol for the second key was a book. But there were no bookstalls in sight.
“You move so slowly,” scolded Boo. “And your posture has gotten worse. I don’t know how such things are possible.”
“You’re so grumpy,” said Mini. “Maybe your blood sugar is low.” She fished around in her backpack. “Here, have an Oreo.”
“I don’t want an—”
But Mini broke the cookie into small pieces and shoved a bite into his beak. Boo looked outraged for about five seconds before he finally swallowed it.
“What ambrosia is this?” He smacked his beak. “Gimme more.”
“Say please.”
“No.”
Mini fed him part of an Oreo anyway.
As they made their way into the bazaar, Aru could finally read the three huge signs pointing down the three main paths through the market:
THINGS YOU WANT
THINGS YOU NEED
THINGS YOU DON’T WANT TO NEED
“Well, we need to get our armor and the second key…so the second sign?” Aru guessed.
Boo nodded, and off they went. Around them family clusters streamed toward the three paths. The signs floated above the ground, completely unsupported and shaped like giant ribbons with hanging tassels. The round, scalloped ends of the tassels reminded Aru of cat paws.
As Aru, Mini, and Boo got closer to THINGS YOU NEED, the sign started moving. It skirted around the edges of a shop that sold laptops and computer wiring. They jumped and lunged at the sign, trying to catch it. But the sign kept scooting out of reach. It was dodging them.
“Hey! We’re not playing!” shouted Aru.
But the sign wouldn’t listen. It moved behind a pack of empty grocery carts. The carts swiveled on their wheels in unison, like a herd of antelope. The sign sneezed and the grocery carts scattered off in a huff.
“Why is it making this so difficult?” grumbled Mini. She had almost walked into a family of tortoise-shelled beings.
Boo flapped his wings. “You can’t just ask for things you need. You have to chase them down! Make yourself known as a worthy recipient! I’ll distract it. Then it’s up to you two.”
Boo strutted back and forth in front of the sign, as though he didn’t care about it. The sign gradually lowered itself to the ground. It reminded Aru of the way a cat oozes down from a couch, curious to investigate. Boo walked faster and turned a corner.
The sign bent around to see where he had gone…and Boo jumped out at it.
“GOTCHA!” he shouted.
The sign whirled. It arched like a Halloween cat. When it had its back to Aru and Mini, they crept forward. Aru slunk behind a palm tree, which hissed, “You have no manners, child!” Mini brought out her compact mirror and pulled out an illusion of a candy.
“Heeeeere, sign!” she cooed, waving it around. “Come here, sign! Come here!”
The second the sign turned, Aru ran up and caught it by one of its dangling tassels. Instantly, the sign went limp. It puddled onto the floor, forming a circle. The circle telescoped into a tunnel. Amethyst steps spiraled down into the dark. Boo perched on Aru’s head and looked down the shaft.
“Ladies first.”
That Was So Last Season