“Shall we?” Mr. Parnassus asked.
Linus nodded.
They all stared at him.
It took him a moment to realize he was blocking the door. He stepped aside. Phee and Talia pushed through to the kitchen. Mr. Parnassus called over his shoulder, “Theodore! Supper!”
Linus heard a loud scuffling coming from the living room. He looked beyond Mr. Parnassus in time to see Theodore burst out from underneath the couch, tripping over his wings. He growled as he flipped end over end, tail smacking against the floor. He lay on his back for a moment, breathing heavily.
“Slow and steady, Theodore,” Mr. Parnassus said kindly. “We’d never start without you.”
Theodore sighed (possibly—Linus couldn’t be sure) and righted himself. He chirped as he gingerly stood on his back legs, folding his wings behind him with great care, first the right, and then the left. He took a tentative step forward, claws sliding on the wood floor before he found a grip.
“He prefers to fly everywhere,” Mr. Parnassus whispered to Linus. “But whenever it’s time to eat, I ask him to walk.”
“Why?”
“Because he must get used to his feet on the ground. He can’t spend all his time on wings. He’ll tire, especially being so young. If he ever finds himself in danger, he needs to learn to use his legs as well as his wings.”
Linus was startled. “Danger, why would he—”
“How many wyverns are left in the world, Mr. Baker?”
That shut Linus up quickly. The answer, though he couldn’t be exact, was not many.
Mr. Parnassus nodded. “Precisely.”
Theodore took his exaggerated steps toward them, head cocked to the side. When he stood at their feet, he looked up at Mr. Parnassus, chirped, and spread his wings.
“Yes, yes,” Mr. Parnassus said, leaning down to run a finger along his snout. “Very impressive. I’m proud of you, Theodore.”
He folded his wings again, then looked up at Linus before leaning down and biting gently on the tip of one of his loafers.
Mr. Parnassus looked at him expectantly.
Linus wasn’t sure what for.
“He’s saying thank you for the button.”
Linus would prefer not being gnawed on to show gratitude, but it was already too late for that. “Oh. Well. You’re … welcome?”
Theodore chirped again and went through the door that Mr. Parnassus held open for him.
“Shall we?” he asked Linus.
Linus nodded and walked through the door into the kitchen.
* * *
There was another table set at the other end of the kitchen. This one looked more used than the one in the formal dining room. There was a slightly worn tablecloth spread out, weighted down by place settings. Three plates and sets of silverware were on one side. There were four place settings on the other side, though one didn’t have a spoon or a fork. And there were settings at either end of the table. Candles were lit and flickering.
In the center, there was food stacked high. He saw scalloped potatoes and bread and some sort of meat he couldn’t recognize. There were leafy greens; the tomatoes that Lucy had been chopping looked like red beetles in the candlelight.
A feast, he’d been told, in his honor.
Linus wondered if it were poisoned.
Most of the children were already sitting at the table. Chauncey sat in the middle, with Phee and Talia on either side of him. Across from them were Theodore (climbing on the chair in front of the plate with no forks or spoons) and Ms. Chapelwhite. Next to her was an empty chair, and then Sal. He glanced back at Linus, found he was being watched, and then turned around quickly, lowering his head, picking at the tablecloth.
Mr. Parnassus sat at one end of the table.
That left the other end as the only open seat, seeing as how Linus was most likely not going to sit next to Sal. The poor boy probably wouldn’t eat a single bite if that were the case.
No one spoke as he approached. He pulled out the chair, the legs of which scraped against the floor. He winced, cleared his throat, and sat. He wished Bobby were still singing to distract from the awkwardness, but he couldn’t see a record player anywhere.
He unfolded his cloth napkin next to his plate and spread it over his lap.
Everyone stared at him.
He fidgeted in his chair.
Lucy was suddenly there beside him, causing Linus to jump in his seat. “Oh dear,” he said.
“Mr. Baker,” Lucy said sweetly. “Can I get you something to drink? Juice, perhaps? Tea?” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “The blood of a baby born in a cemetery under a full moon?”
“Lucy,” Mr. Parnassus warned.
Lucy stared at Linus. “Whatever you want, I can give you,” he whispered.
Linus coughed weakly. “Water. Water is fine.”
“One water coming right up!” He reached up, grabbing an empty glass set next to Linus’s plate. He took it to the sink, climbing up onto his stool. He stuck his tongue out in concentration (through the gap where his two front teeth used to be) as he turned on the tap. Once the glass was full, he held it with both hands as he climbed down from his stool. He spilled nary a drop as he handed it over to Linus.
“There,” he said. “You’re welcome! And I’m not even thinking about banishing your soul to eternal damnation or anything!”
“Thank you,” Linus managed to say. “That’s very kind of you.”
Lucy laughed, a sound Linus was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life, before he went to the remaining empty chair. Sal pulled it out for him. On the chair sat a booster seat. Lucy climbed up into it, and Sal pushed the chair back toward the table, keeping his gaze downcast.
Mr. Parnassus smiled at the children. “Wonderful. As you are all aware, even though someone decided to hide his arrival from me, we have a guest.”
Lucy sank down in his booster seat just a little.
“Mr. Baker is here to make sure you’re all healthy and happy,” Mr. Parnassus continued. “I ask that you treat him as you would me or Ms. Chapelwhite. Which means with respect. If I find out that any of you have done anything … untoward, there will be a loss of privileges. Are we clear?”
The children nodded, including Theodore.
“Good,” Mr. Parnassus said, smiling quietly. “Now, before we eat, one thing you learned today. Phee?”
“I learned how to make the foliage thicker,” Phee said. “It took a lot of concentrating, but I did it.”
“Wonderful. I knew you could do it. Chauncey?”
His eyeballs knocked together. “I can unpack suitcases all by myself! And I got a tip!”
“How impressive. I doubt a suitcase has ever been unpacked as well as you did. Talia, if you please.”
Talia stroked her beard. “If I stand really still, strange men think I’m a statue.”
Linus choked on his tongue.
“Illuminating,” Mr. Parnassus said, a twinkle in his eye. “Theodore?”
He chirped and growled, head resting on the tabletop.
Everyone laughed.
Except for Linus, that is, because he wasn’t sure what had happened.
“He learned that buttons are the best things in the world,” Ms. Chapelwhite said to Linus, glancing fondly down at Theodore. “And I learned that I still judge people by their appearance, though I should know better.”