would be way too easy.
“Is it nine?” I wondered. That seemed like it should be the answer, three keys times three doors equaling nine. But something didn’t seem right. What was it? I took a big breath, trying to concentrate on the problem again. I supposed I could just try the keys in the locks and see. But something felt really off. And I’d been in bad situations enough times lately to know to trust my feelings. When the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, I decided to leave aside the riddle a second and take a quick glance around the room.
That’s when I noticed something more than a little alarming. The room at the bottom of the rabbit hole felt way smaller than it had been before. How was that possible? I looked to the left and right, all around me, but everything looked the same. Then I looked up.
Oh no. Where there had been a long, open tunnel stretching out above me, now there was a black-and-white-tiled roof that matched the floor. Only, it wasn’t at normal ceiling level but looming super close. When had that happened? And wait, was the ceiling actually moving—edging down even more toward me by the second? I remembered now how the sign on the third door had talked about a squishy death. The keys in my palm rattled and shook, as if in warning. Or maybe they were just scared. Well, them and me both.
“Tuni, you were right, we are gonna die down here!” I moaned.
I ran up to the first door, trying the tiger key. It didn’t open. Then I tried the tiger key in the second door, and it didn’t open either. The other two keys rattled in my hand, heating up to such a degree they almost burned. Oh no, the ceiling had already moved down a bunch more. Now there was barely enough room for me to raise my arm straight above my head. I hunched down, starting to breathe faster in my panic. Oh, this was really not good. I felt a little bit like Lola Morgana in that awful scene in Star Travels when she and her team are inside the trash compactor when it starts up, almost squishing them to death. And I didn’t have a robot on walkie-talkie I could call. I didn’t even have a Tiktiki cell phone anymore since the lizard had been turned into a magical key.
Think, Kiran, think, I told myself, trying to ignore the rapidly squishifying room size. Okay, okay. If the tiger key didn’t work in either the brown-red door or the blue door, it was sure to work in the green door. So that was two tries for the first key.
I jumped as the ceiling hit my head. Ouch! I bent over more, my back aching and vision blurring with the panicky sweat dripping into my eyes. Hurry, hurry, I told myself. The keys in my hands were boiling hot now, almost jumping out of my palm. I had to think faster. I tried to take deep breaths, forcing myself to not freak out. But, oh man, did every cell in my body want to just mutiny and run out of my body, screaming in panic.
Breathe, Kiran! Breathe! I thought of Ma, Baba, and Zuzu waiting for me in New Jersey. I thought of Neel, Mati, and Naya relying on me to get to Lal. I thought of the animal keys in my hands, and of the sweet Prince Lalkamal, who’d never get rescued if I failed now. And I thought of Sesha, who was up to no good yet again. I had to make it home, I had to rescue Lal, and I had to return and stop Sesha. As the ceiling closed down even more, I took to my knees, kneeling before the three locked doors of the magical wormhole.
My brain was going a million miles an hour. Okay, so if the tiger key fit the green door, then the bird key was either going to fit the brown-red or blue door. I’d just need one try to figure that out. Two plus one equaled three tries.
The ceiling was almost down on me now. I went from my knees into a totally crouched-down position, my hands braced above my head. But I had the solution. I’d just have one key left and one door left, so that was an obvious answer. The lizard fit the last remaining door. No tries necessary.
“Three tries!”