Aru Shah and the City of Gold - Roshani Chokshi Page 0,5

“Not a ton? Well, no, that’s…That’s a lie. When Dad brought you here, he showed me his memories of you…and also, some of what his army’s surveillance had picked up?”

Aru’s jaw dropped. “He’s been spying on me?”

“Yes?” said Kara, grimacing. “But not to hurt you! He said he just wanted to watch you grow up. I saw the outside of the museum where you live—I like that red tree out front, by the way—and your school—the mascot is kinda weird, though—and I know you really like Swedish Fish, and I’ve seen you with the other Pandavas, and they seem really nice, and I hope they like me and—”

“Kara?”

“Oh. Yes?”

“This is really creepy.”

“I know,” said Kara, turning even more red. “So I shouldn’t say all that when I meet everyone?”

Aru shuddered, trying to imagine exactly what she would tell the others when she showed up with Kara. HI, HONEY, I’M HOME! BTW, HAAAVE YOU MET THE DAUGHTER OF OUR ENEMY? Hmm. She needed to work on that speech.

“Yeah, definitely not,” said Aru.

Kara nodded. “Sorry. I was just excited to have a sibling, honestly.”

Aru didn’t know what to say to that. All her life she’d wanted a sister, and then, after Mini and Brynne came into her life, she’d no longer felt that ache for family. But sometimes Aru wanted a different connection, like what Nikita and Sheela had, with someone whose room was right across from hers and who could read all of Mom’s moods, too.

Aru was still thinking about it when she mindlessly tugged another book off the shelf. The floor beneath her lurched and she stumbled, Vajra sparking as the throw rug rippled like the skin of an angry animal.

“You found the book!” said Kara excitedly. “Look! It’s happening!”

The bookshelf in front of them began to shake. A seam of light shot down the middle, as if someone had cut it in half with a laser beam. With a loud creak, the shelves were magically wrenched apart.

“What book was it?” asked Kara.

Aru glanced at the cover. It was Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. Her mom used to read that book to her when she was little. This copy looked old enough to be the same one, but that wasn’t possible….

The jacket was yellowed and ripped, and when Aru flipped open the cover, she saw a note inscribed on the endpaper:

For my Arundhati.

This was the only book they had in the hospital gift shop, but I think it’s perfect for my little girl, who is bound to be a wild thing indeed.

Love,

Dad

Aru felt an uncomfortable lump in her throat.

The message was a bit smeared, and part of it had bled onto the opposite page, as if he’d written it quickly and then closed the book before letting the ink dry. He must have been in a hurry.

To get back to me? she wondered. Or to get back to his other daughter…Kara?

How many days had he spent with Aru before her mother locked him in the lamp? Had he carried this book on his quest to find the Tree of Wishes?

A light tremor ran through the room. Books toppled off the shelves, thudding loudly on the floor. A cold shadow stretched over Aru.

“Uh-oh,” squeaked Kara. “Tiny problem.”

Aru snapped the book shut, her senses on high alert. She kept her eyes focused on the exit growing before them. It was barely a foot wide. At the moment, there was no way they could fight and run through it at the same time, but the opening expanded with each passing second.

“How tiny a problem?” asked Aru nervously.

“Well, um, I guess I forgot to mention that Dad said this whole place is protected by what he considers the most dangerous thing of all….”

Images of hissing crocodiles, hungry sharks, and irate baboons flashed through Aru’s head.

“Books,” finished Kara.

“Books?” repeated Aru, almost laughing. “But—”

WHUMPF.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aru spied something that looked like a heavy, multicolored tail whipping on the ground next to them. Only the tail wasn’t made of scales, but dozens of angry books, their spines quivering as if they were alive. Aru spun around as more tomes dropped from the shelves.

The papers scuttled across the floor and fused together. A couple dictionaries formed a claw. A collection of old maps rolled into a tongue. Cookbooks jointed one atop the other, like vertebrae in a spine. The tail, cobbled out of fairy tales, wiggled forward to attach itself to the rest of the pieces. For a moment, the