Free The Real Boy by Anne Ursu Page A

attack or flee. Oscar ached to bend down, put his hand on her back, and whisper that it was all right. But he could not move.
    Curly Hair turned back to Caleb. “Master Caleb, why do you keep such creatures in your shop?”
    “She’s not a creature!” Oscar exclaimed. “She’s a cat.” Anyone could see that.
    “Oh, I see!” said the girl. “You keep it because it’s amusing.”
    Both girls laughed, so full of mirth they might burst with it and shatter all over the shop. Oscar took a step back. He wanted to turn and run, but another gaze was holding him—Callie’s. She was looking at him so quizzically, like he, too, was falling off the shelf in front of her. Oscar lowered his eyes, then turned and headed back to the cellar.
     
    Oscar spent the rest of the day in the pantry, dicing whatever dried camellia he had left into small pieces. Camellia was an exotic plant, not found even in this forest, so this would be it until Caleb could import some more. Oscar would then put the pieces in jars, fill the jars with alcohol, and seal them. He would shake them once a day, every day, for four weeks, then pour the tincture into vials and bring them up to the store. All the shining girls would have to wait until then to attract bountiful love.
    Something had gone wrong today: the girls had laughed and Caleb had snapped, and a whole shelf had come tumbling down. But Oscar would remake the tinctures, and everything would be all right again—he would make it all right.
    He looked down and kept chopping. There was more noise than usual coming from the shop above, or maybe Oscar’s ears just hurt more now. But as the afternoon wore on, the footsteps sounded more like stomping, the talking sounded more like yelling, and the door did not so much close as slam. His whole body hurt from the noise.
    Eventually night came, and with it Caleb’s footsteps on the stairs. Oscar froze. You can do it, the magician had said. I know you can.
    Well, now Caleb knew the truth.
    In a moment, the magician was filling the doorway. There was darkness on his face. Oscar’s stomach felt like he’d swallowed a whole jar of Barrow ivy.
    “Oscar,” Caleb said. “I want to speak to you.”
    “Yes, Master Caleb,” Oscar whispered. He kept his eyes focused firmly on the floor.
    “I am going back to the continent. My business calls me there.”
    Oscar sat up. “To the continent?” he repeated.
    Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”
    “Now?” Oscar asked.
    “Yes,” Caleb said. “I’ll be gone several days. You will mind the shop, as we discussed.”
    Oscar’s eyes darted to the pantry shelves. They crashed to the floor behind his eyes. “But . . . what about Wolf?” Oscar asked suddenly. It hadn’t been what he’d wanted to ask. Not really. He didn’t know what he wanted, other than some truth Caleb could give him, something solid and smooth and sure.
    Caleb put his hands on the door frame and exhaled. “Wolf’s death was a tragedy. It was a terrible accident. But it has nothing to do with us.”
    In the distant hallway the lanterns flickered.
    “The shelves were fine,” Oscar said. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
    Caleb’s gaze held him completely and would not let go. “Oscar,” he said after a time, “you have worked hard for me. I knew you would.”
    “You did?” Oscar dared a glance up.
    “Yes. I handpicked you at the Home. They recommended other children. But I picked you. Do you know why?”
    Oscar’s breath caught. His eyes widened and he shook his head slowly. He dared not say anything, lest Caleb change his mind and not tell him.
    Caleb leaned in. “Because the wards told me you were the one who would never get picked.”
    Oscar’s eyes darted up to his master’s face for a flash, and then dropped to the floor. A snap of the fingers , and suddenly he was hollow inside.
    “I needed someone who would work hard,” Caleb continued. “I needed someone who would be loyal. The boy nobody wanted, that was the