himself the rest of his life?
Darby OâGill stayed on his mind as he walked the rest of the way home.
When he entered his room, the world was upside down.
Or Ashling was, anyway. She was standing on the ceiling, braid dangling straight down, tunic skirt tucked between her knees. She was tossing Trivial Pursuit cards into the wastebasket, missing every third time because she was barely aiming.
âKill something,â she said as Conor closed the door. âI am going mad. I have read most of these little skins and even some of those things.â She pointed at his bookcase.
âWhy didnât you go out?â
âYou didnât want me at your school.â Her tone was sulky. âAnd I canât walk about attracting attention, and I can only wish myself where Iâve been before or if Iâve seen a picture. I went thereââshe pointed to his Grand Canyon posterââbut people were everywhere and they screamed when I made myself visible. I am ready to keen and go home. Someone has to die
now
.â
âNobodyâs dying. At least . . . listen, Ashling. What if I told you to take me instead of whoever it really is. Could you do that?â
âNo.â Ashling drifted down from the ceiling, righting herself slowly until her feet touched the rug. Her braid was coming apart. âNo, I cannot do that.â
âWhy not? Darby OâGill did it.â
âWho is Darby OâGill?â
âHeâs this guy from your country, Ireland.â
âI donât know Ireland. My country was Uladh.â As the library book said, she pronounced it
Ull-oo
.
âItâs called Ulster now, and itâs part of Ireland. Anyways, this guyâs daughter was dying, and he had a wish from a leprechaun, so he wished he could take her place.â
âDo you have a wish from a leprechaun?â
âNo.â
âThere you are, then.â She began to unbraid her hair. âConor-boy, I cannot take the wrong person to the Lady. I donât make the decision, and anyway that is not the bargain I made to get my life back. Besides . . .â She bit her lip and got out her comb.
âBesides, it could be me, anyways, is that what youâre thinking?â
She didnât answer, only combed. Conor watched her, too stupefied to work on his Land of Shanaya map or start his homework. As the comb moved through Ashlingâs hair, chaos became order. She redid her braid, the green ribbon woven just so.
He could see why she did it. It was calming.
Ashling gave her braid a final tug and tossed it over her shoulder. âIt doesnât matter who it is, of course. Makes no difference to me. No difference at all. None.â
Conor went downstairs for supper, then came back up to describe it for Ashling. For someone who didnât eat, Ashling was awfully interested in food, even when it was fish sticks. She went into her cupboard while he did homeworkânot all of it and none of it well. Finally he gave up, took out his map notebook, and started giving the Land of Shanaya its carnivorous spruce trees. He got so involvedâtrees with mouths turned out to be a hoot to drawâthat he barely noticed when Ashling came out of the cupboard and stood by him, watching.
âWhat is that youâre making?â she asked.
His pencil skipped, and the tree he was working on got an extra-wide maw. It looked amazing.
âThis is a little like the pictures on your wall,â Ashling said, âwhich you have never explained.â
âTheyâre maps. And Iâm drawing one. With carnivorousâthatâs meat-eatingâspruce trees.â
âMaps?â She shook her head, baffled.
âA map shows you where you are.â He pulled her over to his map of the United States. âSee there? That red dot is South Boston; thatâs where we are right this minute. And see, if we went westâtoward the