The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,17

the rabbit to jump down and stretch his legs.

There was a knock at the door. Ridley wheeled across the room, beating her mother to the door. She checked the hole in the telescoped peephole and then tugged the string on the spring-loaded door opener in the foyer.

Four people stood before her. When she looked at the two men in the middle, she felt a burn at the back of her eyes, and the other two figures faded away. She held out her arms and whispered, “Mr. Vernons.”

(Or the Misters Vernon, if you’ll allow me a slight grammatical correction.)

One of the men bent a knee and brought his arms around her shoulders. His curly white hair tickled her cheek. He smelled of amber and warmth and maybe a little bit of cinnamon. Drawing back and holding her at arm’s length, he smiled, his dark, thin mustache stretching across his top lip. “Ridley, my dear, how have you been?”

Ridley pulled herself together. She couldn’t have herself bursting into tears at the first sight of her beloved mentor in almost a month. But she also knew she couldn’t lie to him. “I’ve been better,” she answered.

The Other Mr. Vernon patted her knee. A sad smile was hidden underneath his trim brown beard. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, rubbing a hand across his shaved head. “We all have.”

Ridley jerked her head toward the doorway to the living room, where the Magic Misfits were waiting. Ms. Parkly stood in the foyer by the stairs. Dante Vernon rose to his full height and called out to the others, “Ah, friends! So wonderful to see you.” Then, looking at Carter, he lowered his voice, “Are you okay?” Mr. Vernon gave him a squeeze and a pat on the back, then reassured him, “If not, you will be. I promise.”

Ridley looked to the two figures still standing in the doorway—a man and a woman wearing police uniforms. “Are you Miss Larsen?” asked the female officer.

“I am,” said Ridley, as politely as possible.

“Please, come in,” her mother added with a sigh. “The more, the merrier.”

Half an hour later, after they had taken everyone’s statements, the officers promised they would warn Uncle Sly that he was not to approach the children again.

“That’s not going to help anything,” Ridley argued.

Her mother grimaced. “Ridley, let the police do their jobs.… This is their area of expertise.… Watch out for that loose floorboard, Officer.… I’ve been meaning to call a repairman for weeks.… Would you know anyone who might—wait—what was I just saying? Oh yes, Ridley, the police are very busy, I’m sure, and need to get back to work… as do we all.” She guided the officers back to the foyer. “Have a pleasant evening,” Mrs. Larsen told them, and then closed the door quickly.

By now the orange glow of streetlights was creating pockets of warmth in the darkness. A breeze bristled through the branches, and brisk air whisked into the house, leaving Ridley with a chill. Top Hat was now hiding under the couch, closer to the heating vent by the wall. Ridley hoped that her mother didn’t spy his fuzzy tail sticking out from underneath the hem of draped fabric there. Mrs. Larsen returned and said, “Well, now that that’s over with!” When no one moved, she cleared her throat, her face turning slightly pink.

Ridley was about to suggest that her mother go back upstairs and continue working on her writing, when Mr. Vernon approached Ms. Parkly. “In all the hubbub, I don’t believe I made the pleasure of your acquaintance,” he said.

“Oh… the, uh… pleasure is all mine?” Ms. Parkly gave his gloved hand a formal shake. “I’m Helena Parkly,” she said, glancing at Ridley and the others with an embarrassed look. “Ridley’s new teacher.” She gave an awkward wave to the Other Mr. Vernon, who nodded politely.

“So,” said Mrs. Larsen. “What now?”

“I’m not sure,” answered Mr. Vernon. “Those were quite exciting statements you all made to the police.”

Ridley’s mother huffed. “Well, Dante, what did you expect? And the police? Again? How many more times will we have to call them before the year is out?”

“Mother!” Ridley chided.

“I’m sorry!” Mrs. Larsen’s voice was rising into registers Ridley rarely heard. “It’s just that… I don’t like crowds. And… and I have a book due in only a few weeks.… And… my daughter should not be gallivanting around.…” She brought her hands to her face and shook her head.

Ridley wished she had a room full of stuffed animals to fling at her