Leven Thumps and the Gateway to Foo Read online

  All that changed one night in the middle of summer and during a low moaning wind storm. Leven got a surprise. He was fourteen now and so tall that his feet hung off the end of his small bed by a good six inches. His long dark hair was the color of rich mud and on the right side of his head there was a streak of brilliant white hair. According to Addy something had happened to him when he was four that had scared the pigment out of him. Addy claimed the incident had occurred when she wasn’t around and that she had no idea what had transpired. “What business is it of mine?” she would always say. Leven couldn’t remember any incident. He had tried to color the streak, but no matter what he did it remained bright white.

  Beyond that, he had clear brown eyes, a straight nose, ears that protruded slightly more than most people’s, and a large mouth that made him look a bit like a boy who had not completely grown into himself yet, which is what he was.

  Normally, Leven wasn’t scared of sleeping alone on the porch, but tonight he was a little spooked by the strange wind and the low noise it was emitting. As he lay in his bed he stared out through the screened porch. Leven was looking toward the home next door when he saw a thick patch of black swoosh behind the neighbor’s place. It glided and seemed to be whispering something.

  Leven sat up rail straight, his heart pounding, the back of his neck burning.

  He squinted his brown eyes and tried to make out whatever it had been. His eyesight was awful, and his aunt refused to buy him glasses on the grounds that she thought it would make her look silly to be walking around with a bespectacled boy.

  Another swath of black slid across the ground and brushed over the screen, whispering. The shadow turned, and tiny pinpoints of white stared at Leven from a dark, rat-like face as it glided by.

  Leven scooted as far as he could away from the screen and back in his bed, willing whatever it was to go away. The black shape circled back, pressing up against the screen, its white eyes glowing.

  “Find him,” it whispered. “Him.”

  The shadow pushed against the screen and began to work itself in. Like black spaghetti it oozed through the mesh. That was enough. Leven leaped out of bed and began pounding on the door to the trailer house.

  “Let me in!” he insisted. “Aunt Addy! Terry!”

  The black shadow moaned and oozed some more.

  “Aunt Addy!” Leven yelled. “Aunt Addy!”

  Leven could hear movement and grumbling inside.

  “What is it?” she hollered through the door.

  “There’s something out here!”

  Terry and Addy kept the door locked at night so as to keep out burglars and prevent Leven from waking them up by using the bathroom or coming in too early. Those locks now turned as she unlocked the door to open up.

  “This better be good,” Addy threatened through the door. “I was applying my mask.”

  Over his shoulder, Leven could see the blackness seeping into the porch, hanging there like a stringy rag. It drooped, dripped, and then began to quickly retract.

  The door opened. Leven turned to look at his aunt, his face white and his eyes frantic. He glanced back at the screen. The black swath was gone, but now Leven had his aunt to contend with. He half wished the blackness was back.

  “Something was coming through the screen,” Leven pleaded. “It was—”

  “Where is it now?” she barked. Her face was green, thanks to a nighttime mud mask she was wearing, and her hair was sticking up all over the place, making her head look like a honeydew melon sprouting kinky hay.

  “It’s gone,” Leven said sheepishly, his eyes foggy.

  “I have a job,” Addy hissed. “Do you think I can go to work tired and still keep my job? Do you?”

  “No,” Leven said. “I’m sorry; maybe I should sleep inside tonight.”

  Addy laughed. “I should say not. You’re fourteen. Besides, this night air will do your imagination some good.” Small flecks of dried green mud showered from her face as she spoke.

  “Really,” Leven begged. “It was coming in.”

  “Monsters don’t come in through doors,” Addy said impatiently. “They live under beds like that one,” Addy added, pointing to the small, used bed that Leven slept on. “But don’t worry, if there was one under yours it would have eaten you already,” she said coldly.

  “Aunt—”

  “How many times have I told you, don’t call me aunt. I am your mother’s half sister.” She slammed the door and locked it.

  The wind moaned.

  Leven looked at his bed. He looked at the screen door and quickly bounded across the porch and jumped back onto his mattress. He pulled the blankets up over himself and tried to think of something safe and comfortable. His short blanket was a clear symbol that his life had not been full of too many safe and comfortable things, so it took great imagination to conjure up something pleasant. He thought about his parents, whom he had never known. He thought about his mother, who had died giving him birth. He thought about his futile life and wished he could just fly away from it. Not on a plane or in a helicopter, but just by himself. He wanted to stand in the open prairie and lift off, up to the moon to soar between clouds and above houses. He had almost forgotten about the blackness that had visited him earlier when he heard a scratching from beneath his bed.

  He stopped breathing so as to better panic.

  Skritch, skritch.

  Leven’s heart stopped. Something was under the bed. He could feel the light vibration as it scraped away.

  “Just go to sleep,” he told himself. “Just go to sleep.” He closed his eyes as tightly as he could. The back of his eyelids burned and white dots danced in the blackness.

  Skritch, skritch.

  It was still there. Leven thought about jumping off of his bed, but there was nowhere for him to go. The door to the inside of his home was locked, and the screen door leading outside had just been occupied by oozing black. He thought about trying to fall asleep, but he couldn’t bear the thought of that happening now for fear that whatever was scratching would feast upon him as he slept.

  Skritch, skritch.

  “Who’s there?” Leven whispered. The noise stopped. With the rest of his body pressed tightly against the wall, Leven moved his head to the edge of the bed and peered over. He could see nothing but floor. He pulled his head back onto his pillow and breathed deeply. Then he inched back to the edge and leaned over a bit farther so he could see under the bed. Nothing. He pushed his head down even more, the ends of his shaggy brown hair hanging and touching the cold floor. He gazed under the bed.

  He was not alone.

  Two big glowing blue eyes stared back at him. Leven pulled back so quickly he pushed the bed away from the wall and fell into the space onto the floor. Scuttling like a crab he backed into the corner of the porch, searching for anything he might use to protect himself. He grabbed a couple of rocks out of the bucket Addy kept by the back door for throwing at noisy dogs or cats. He crouched against the wall, facing his bed, ready to throw them at whatever was there.

  The blue eyes under the bed blinked.

  Whatever it was, it was clinging to the bottom of the mattress, its head hanging beneath it with its eyes staring out. It looked no larger than a small cat, but its shape was inconsistent with any animal Leven had ever seen. He thought about hollering, but he knew Addy would never come out now that he had already cried wolf once. The creature blinked and smiled.

  “Hello, Lev,” it said kindly.

  “Excuse me?” Leven said in disbelief, amazed that whatever it was, was now talking to him.

  “Sorry, for the scare and all.” The creature’s nose twitched. “Antsel told me to not do that.”

  “Antsel?” Leven asked.

  “He was my burn before you.”

  “Your burn?”

  “My assignment. We sycophants burn only for those we are assigned. It has always been our lot. I desired nothing but to serve him at that time.”

  Am I dreaming? Leven quest
ioned himself, wondering if he had perhaps fallen asleep.

  “Not likely,” the little creature laughed. “Dreams are pretty and usually involve horses or rainbows or castles, or big—”

  “I know about dreams,” Leven interrupted. “Then who are you?”

  “I am Clover. Clover Ernest.” His blue eyes blinked. He let go of the bottom of the bed and twisted to land on two of the littlest feet Leven had ever seen. He strode out from under the bed with confidence. He stood like a human but with a body more like a cat. He had no tail and was about twelve inches tall and covered in gray hair everywhere except for his face and his knees and elbows. He had leaf-like ears, a wide, crooked smile, and wet, blinking blue eyes. His nose was straight but pointed to his right just a bit. He wore what looked to be a little silvery dress with a hood on the back. His fingers were as thin as twigs and as knotty as any pine a person might encounter. He was like no monkey, bear, raccoon, cat, or any other animal Leven had ever seen. The long hair directly above his eyes stood and wiggled whenever he spoke.

  “What are you?” Leven asked.

  “That all depends upon you,” Clover smiled. “What do you want me to be?”

  Leven looked closely at Clover; there was an aura about him that wasn’t threatening and Leven wasn’t afraid. He felt comfortable and relaxed just a bit. “How about being honest?” Leven said.

  Clover sighed, his eyelids contracting. He motioned to a small stepstool Terry used to change light bulbs. “Do you mind?” he asked, wanting permission to sit.

  Leven nodded.

  “I can’t believe they keep you out here,” Clover said, hopping up onto the stool.

  “It’s not too bad,” Leven shrugged.

  “It’s better than where you lived when you were first born. I’ll give you that. That place was awful,” Clover complained.

  “You know where I used to live?” Leven said in amazement.

  “Of course,” Clover seemed to brag. “I was there, too.”

  “Under my bed?”

  “Under your bed, in your dresser, your car, your yard, your bathroom—you name it, and I was there.” Clover shook his head and smiled as if reliving a pleasant memory.

  Leven stared at the creature in amazement. “Why?” he finally asked.

  “I’m guessing you’re a nit. Although I haven’t seen your gift surface yet.”

  “A nit?”

  “They’re fairly common in . . . well, that’s not important. What matters is that Antsel told me to stick by you.”

  “And you do whatever this Antsel says?”

  “Of course; I’m a sycophant. That’s what we do,” he said nonchalantly. “But now, I’m your burn.”

  “I don’t understand,” Leven said. “I don’t know any Antsel.” He stood and looked at the locked door leading inside. He gazed at his bed. “I must still be asleep,” he reasoned.

  “Do you want me to agree with you about that?” Clover asked nicely.

  “Only if it’s true.”

  “You’re not asleep. Nope, in fact, this is probably the beginning of a long sleepless night. It’s actually the beginning of much more than that. But, for now, all that’s important is that I’m Clover, or Cloe, or whatever. I answer to any of those. Of course, I would be fine with you labeling me something else entirely.” Clover paused to see if Leven was going to say something.

  Leven didn’t.

  “I was assigned to Antsel hundreds of years ago,” Clover went on. “He wasn’t much older than you are now. A little shorter, though.”

  “Hundreds of years ago,” Leven said skeptically. “How old are you?”

  “I can’t remember,” he waved. “We sycophants live forever. There’s only one way for us to die.”

  “How’s that?” Leven asked.

  “It wouldn’t be very prudent of us to go telling folks that, now would it?” Clover grinned, and his blue eyes slanted as the corners of his mouth pushed up on them.

  “I suppose not,” Leven smiled, beginning to like the small creature. “So why are you here?”

  Clover shook a bit and said, “I’ve been with you since birth. There have been few moments of your life when I have not been around. I slept in late a couple of years ago and you made it to school without me, but aside from that . . . ”

  “How is that possible?” Leven asked, more in wonder than in doubt. “How could you have been there for any of that? I’ve never seen you.”

  Clover smiled and looked around. “You want me to show you?”

  “Sure,” Leven answered, his brown eyes blinking.

  Clover got up off his stool and brushed his forearms. He walked right up to Leven and asked him to hold out his hand. “Can you feel this?” he asked, touching Leven’s right thumb.

  Leven nodded.

  Clover stepped back. His robe shimmering slightly in the moonlight, he looked like a doll designed for trolls to play with. Then he pulled his hood up over his head and touched Leven’s hand again. Leven felt nothing. Not only that, he could no longer see Clover. Leven looked around the porch and glanced under the bed and into the corners.

  “Clover?” he whispered, surprised to find himself hoping it had not all been just a dream. “Clover?”

  Suddenly there he was again, sitting in Leven’s lap. Leven jumped just a bit.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “I’m a sycophant,” Clover said again. “It’s what we do. Technically, I am a part of you, and I want nothing but to make you happy.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Leven said sadly. “Why would anyone . . . or anything . . . want to make me happy?”

  “Ah, Antsel said you would be slow to believe,” Clover smiled. “Leven Thumps, you are incredibly more than you believe yourself to be. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “I’ve got to be dreaming,” Leven said honestly. It was harder for him to believe that he was of value than it was to believe that there was a furry creature named Clover Ernest.

  “You’re not dreaming,” Clover insisted, brushing his own ankles with his hands. “I’ve been here and I will be here for the duration.”

  “The duration of what?”

  “Of our time,” Clover said sharply.

  “Why have I never seen you before?”

  “Because you weren’t supposed to see me.”

  “Why now?” Leven asked, flexing his shoulders as he leaned closer to Clover.

  “Because time is running out and they are getting near.”

  “Who’s getting near?” Leven said, looking around.

  “I wasn’t the first to show myself tonight, was I?” Clover asked, cocking his head to one side.

  “You mean the blackness?”

  “That blackness was one of Sabine’s shadows. They have been looking for you for many years.”

  “Why?” Leven asked, as if he had just been told a joke. “Why would they be looking for me?”

  “I can’t tell you everything,” Clover insisted.

  “But I thought you had to tell me everything.”

  “I desire nothing but,” he bowed.

  “So tell me,” Leven asked kindly.

  “I was bound to Antsel first,” Clover replied. “His wishes are still of importance to me.”

  “So what will happen if they, whoever they are, find me?”

  “Nothing good,” Clover whispered. “That’s why we have to get going soon.”

  “Going where?”

  “That’s for Geth to explain.” Clover jumped up onto the bed and made himself comfortable on Leven’s pillow.

  “Geth?”

  “Yep,” Clover said. “Pretty much the fate of the entire world is depending on it though.” Clover yawned, and his small face scrunched up as he did so. He blinked and closed his eyes. “No pressure, though.”

  Leven simply sat there staring at him, with his wide mouth hanging open. A few moments ago he was an unwanted child sleeping on the porch of his cold-hearted aunt’s . . . his mother’s half sister’s .
. . house. Now, he was a confused boy, talking with a stuffed animal that seemed to think Leven held the future of the world in his hands.

  “You’re kidding about all this, right?”

  Clover opened his blue eyes.

  “Do you want me to be?”

  “I’m not sure,” Leven answered honestly.

  “Well, then neither am I.”

  Leven got up onto the bed next to Clover. His mind was racing a million thoughts per second. He couldn’t focus his brain on any one thing. He wanted to fall asleep so that he could wake up and realize that all this was just a dream. On the other hand, he was afraid to close his eyes for fear of discovering that he wasn’t what Clover was saying he was.

  “Good night,” Clover said softly.

  “So I should call you Clover?” Leven asked in reply.

  “Whatever you wish.”

  “Good night, Clover.”

  The leaves on the giant tree in Leven’s yard rustled softly in the night breeze. Leven lay next to the furry, cat-like thing named Clover, trying to mentally digest everything he had just seen and heard. His head kept filling with self-doubts and odd pictures. For some reason his mind began to play images of a girl. She wasn’t familiar to him, but no matter how he tried he could not get her face out of his head.

  Clover complained about Leven’s fidgeting.

  “Sorry,” Leven said. “By any chance is the person we’re waiting for a girl?”

  Clover laughed. “Geth, a girl?”

  “Well?” Leven asked.

  “No.”

  “I keep seeing a girl in my head,” Leven said.

  “Is she pretty?” Clover asked sweetly.

  “No . . . I don’t know. She’s just there.”

  “Pay attention to her face,” Clover yawned. “She might be important.”

  Leven didn’t sleep a wink.

  Chapter Six