Free Eyes Like Stars by Lisa Mantchev Page A

time.”
    “Probably,” Bertie agreed.
    The others looked at her as though she were crazy, while Mr. Tibbs exhaled smoke and suspicion. “What foolishness are you up to?”
    Bertie didn’t tie up her pitch with pretty words or a winning smile, knowing full well that neither of those things would have the slightest effect on him. Mr. Tibbs listened to the entire speech, shifting his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other.
    “
Hamlet,
” he said finally.
    “In Egypt. Yes.”
    “Huh. That’s quite the harebrained scheme. Nice try, girlie, but you’re wasting my time. The Theater Manager will never give you permission for that.”
    Bertie felt her cheeks get hot. “He might, if I had your support. I have Mrs. Edith’s already.”
    “And Hastings?” Mr. Tibbs demanded.
    “He’s agreed to help me.”
    “Oh, he did, did he?” The Scenic Manager glared at the sunshine as though it offended him, too. “Run along, and take your ridiculous plotting with you!”
    About to burst with ill-timed anger, Bertie had a stroke of diabolical genius. “It’s all right, Mr. Tibbs. I understand. In fact, I’m not even surprised.”
    “You’re not, eh?”
    “Oh, yes. Mr. Hastings said you’d be against it.”
    “He did, did he?”
    Nate cut in smoothly. “Aye. He said that ye were stuck in yer ways, an’ that ye wouldn’t know a good idea if it bit ye on yer arse.”
    “Is that SO?” Mr. Tibbs demanded.
    Bertie took a deep breath, crossed her fingers behind her back, and added her coup de grâce. “Mr. Hastings said not to worry, he’d manage the set decoration alone.”
    Mr. Tibbs nigh on exploded when he heard that. “What?!”
    Bertie nodded, striving to appear both earnest and innocent. “He said something about obelisks being the responsibility of the Properties Department.”
    Not a lie! Even better!
    If Bertie thought she’d heard every curse there was to hear in the Théâtre, she’d been wrong. Mr. Tibbs put the pirates to utter shame as he shouted that he wouldn’t be bossed about and who did Mr. Hastings think he was anyway, his tirade punctuated by profanity and expletives the likes of which curled Peaseblossom’s hair and left even Nate wincing.
    “You’ll have your obelisks!” Mr. Tibbs’s shout rattled thewrought iron curlicues that framed the windows. “Courtesy of the Théâtre Illuminata
Scenic
Department, and THAT is FINAL.”
    Bertie grabbed him by the hand and was shaking on it before Mr. Tibbs could realize he’d been had. “A pleasure to hear it, sir. You won’t regret it, I promise!”
    And then they ran for it, down a hallway that seemed far less gloomy and foreboding than it had only a short time ago. The fairies laughed and swooped, shoved at each other and dive-bombed Nate’s head.
    “Brilliant,” Bertie shouted, holding out her arms and pretending to fly, too. “That’s all major departments accounted for.”
    “That were a wicked bit o’ trickery, my miss,” Nate said, punching at the air. “Ye should be proud o’ yerself.”
    The fairies whooped their approval as Nate gathered Bertie up to swing her about in triumph. Overcome by his enthusiasm, she gave him a loud kiss on his scruffy cheek.
    He tastes like the ocean. And sweat. And—
    Nate turned his head, his sandpaper bristles rubbing against her face. He inhaled very slowly, but a gust of cold air hit the two of them before he could say or do anything more.
    Bertie twisted about in his arms, searching for the one she knew was listening. “Ariel.”
    Nate set her down and reached for his cutlass, but noone appeared to challenge them. “He’s not goin’ t’ be happy yer fightin’ t’ stay.”
    “Isn’t that a tragedy?” Cobweb said.
    “He’d better not try anything, or we’ll let him have it, but good!” Mustardseed said.
    Peaseblossom flew back to alight on Bertie’s shoulder. “What are you going to do about him?”
    “I don’t have time to worry about Ariel now,” Bertie said. “We