Free Jakarta Missing by Jane Kurtz

“I thought Mom was stuck in the Allalonestone once.” She glanced at Melanie. Melanie was staring at her with an open mouth. “Dad was off on one of his adventures,” she went on, trying to make her voice not jump even the least little bit. “So Jakarta had to take care of me. We did quests together, and one day Jakarta got the idea of making up an incantation.”
    Dakar was afraid to look at Melanie again. She stooped down and stirred her finger in the creek water. “I don’t think the incantation had real power or anything,” she said quickly. “But one day we went on what Jakarta called a specially brave quest and then said the incantation. And—here’s the weirdest thing—the very minute we stopped saying it, Mom walked out of her room.”
    Dakar felt a little sick to hear the words that had come out of her mouth. Even at boarding school she had never told anyone about the Allalonestone or the incantation. She didn’t have to look at Melanie to know that Melanie was waiting, waiting to hear the incantation.
    Don’t think. She straightened up. Don’t think. Be brave.
    â€œFierce!” Melanie whispered. “A real African incantation?”
    â€œI guess.” Dakar squeezed her mind, trying to remember. “At least, the day it started, Jakarta was wearing a camel bone necklace. But she had just read me an American book that had something about eye of newt in it. She said, ‘Monkey toe, camel bones, petals of lotus, three,’ and the rest just seemed to come magically to her after that. Here. Say it after me. Monkey toe.”
    â€œMonkey toe,” Melanie repeated obediently.
    â€œCamel bones. Petals of lotus, three. Elephant tusk. Hair of dog. Bark of sycamore tree.”
    â€œWhat’s a sycamore tree?” Melanie asked.
    â€œI’m not sure. But I think Jakarta got it from the Bible. Anyway, it just sounds good. Okay. Second verse. Wing of eel.”
    â€œBut eels don’t have wings,” Melanie said.
    â€œI know.” Dakar fought back her impatience. She never should have started this, but now she had to go on. “Still, that’s how the incantation goes. Wing of eel. Tooth of snail. Golden lion’s mane. Giraffe’s eyelash. Murmur of bat. Three silver birds flying home in the rain.”
    â€œThe last line doesn’t exactly fit.”
    â€œI know,” Dakar said. “But Jakarta said it was too delicious not to use. Besides, we had just looked up and really seen three birds.” She paused. “You must never, ever tell anyone this incantation.” She hoped her voice was solemn and scary enough to get through. “Up until this very moment it’s something only Jakarta and I knew. Now you know it, too.”
    â€œI don’t even think I remember it all,” Melanie said. “Can we practice some more?”
    â€œFirst, you have to promise.” Dakar tapped Melanie’s arm. “You have to give your most solemn, oathful promise not to tell anyone. And then you have to teach me how to sign, okay?”
    â€œSure,” Melanie said. “I can teach you that easily. Here’s how you say, ‘Are you okay?’ Here’s how you say, ‘Fine.’ Here’s how you say, ‘Fancy fine.’” She giggled.
    Dakar refused to laugh. “We can only say the incantation when we’re here in this magical place,” she said sternly. “And we have to hurry. I can’t wait to find out if Mom and Dad know when Jakarta’s getting in.”
    That night Dakar couldn’t sleep even though she went all the way to Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi. The ancient poetry in the names wasn’t working. She gave up and tried Ivan IV, Theodore I, Boris Godunov, Theodore II, False Dimitri … she felt a stab of guilt. She had to quit being such a False Dimitri. It was getting to be a bad habit. Ummm … Peter I,