Bindings by Carla Jablonski Page B

crumpled piece of paper. Bending down, he saw that it was a page that had been torn from a book.
    He gazed down at the piece of paper in his hands. On it was printed an illustration of a unicorn with a description of it underneath. The writing looked old-fashioned, and there were Latin words scattered throughout the paragraph.
    Then he noticed that a book was pulled partway out from the bottom bookshelf, its binding sticking out a few inches. “ Terra Incognita ,” Tim read. He sat down cross-legged on the floor, picked up the book, and flipped it open.
    â€œWhat the—?” Page after page had been torn from the book. He glanced at the unicorn page. It had obviously been torn from this very book. But why? Why would anyone rip out all the pages of a book? And then why would he put it back on the shelf?
    Not all the pages have been torn out , Tim realized. “Ugh. That dude sure is ugly.” He stareddown at the picture on the only remaining page in the volume.
    â€œManticore,” Tim read. Hm. Never heard of one of those . The creature was another one of those mixed-up half-this, half-that beasts. But it wasn’t elegant and mysterious like the sphinx. The manticore was just gross. And mean-looking. It had a lion’s body, except its tail looked like a scorpion’s. It also had the face of a man, but what a face! Its eyes looked crazed, and it had a mouth with rows of teeth.
    Tim particularly noted the part that explained it had an appetite for humans.
    â€œHarrum.” Tim heard behind him.
    He started, and dropped the book. Sheesh. Does the guy have allergies or something? Or is that throat clearing a nervous tick? He picked the book back up, closed it, and lay it across his knees. He chose not to get up, trying to act like he didn’t care that the guy had just snuck up on him.
    â€œHow did you get in here?” the man demanded.
    â€œI have my ways,” Tim retorted. “I’m not just a dumb kid, you know.” He lay the crinkled unicorn page on the book and smoothed the paper.
    â€œI see that you’ve already begun your studies,” the man commented.
    â€œI’m looking at this book, that’s all.” He liftedup the book for the man to see. “Why do you even bother to pretend it’s a book at all when you’ve torn out all the pages? That’s stupid.”
    â€œI do not pretend that this is a book, insolent child,” the man snapped. “This is a book.”
    Tim glanced over his shoulder up at the man. The man fussed with his long hair as if he were collecting himself. “I have, in the interests of scholarship,” he said, much more calmly, “removed from the volume certain entries that I determined to be extraneous, as they dealt with creatures whose existence my researches have disproved.”
    Now Tim couldn’t contain his anger. He leaped to his feet, letting the book thud to the floor. He waved the unicorn page at the creep. “Like the unicorn, you mean? You’re lying. It’s a lot realer than that ugly thing in your stupid book. The only page you left in it.”
    â€œYou wound me, boy,” the man said. “Voicing this claptrap, you dash my expectations.” He waved toward the display cases along the wall. “Oh, the creatures I’ve subtracted from my bestiaries may have served a purpose once,” he said loftily. He pointed at the unicorn on the pedestal behind Timothy. “The unicorn, for example, that you seem to have fixated on. Certainly, the unicorn was a staple of the ballads with which troubadoursentertained many a milkmaid. A pretty concept, that is all.” He stepped up so closely to Tim the boy could smell the man’s foul breath. “But it is nothing,” the man hissed.
    Tim backed up a few steps from the stench. “Don’t tell me you don’t believe in magic,” Tim scoffed.
    â€œI believe in food,” the man declared. “And I