The Children's Crusade by Carla Jablonski

old-fashioned dress nodded. “One finds oneself concurring with Katherine-Peter on this.”
    Tim wondered if her tightly wound blond curls gave her a headache. That could explain her snooty expression and voice.
    â€œNot Katherine-Peter,” the Peter Pan girl snapped. “Just Katherine. Sheesh!”
    The snooty girl rolled her eyes. “Katherine, then. It should be Wat who has the honor of initial address. He is the most well-mannered.” She bowed to the short, one-handed boy.
    So his name is Wat , Tim thought. What kind of name is Wat? He must have been teased a lot in school.
    Wat shook his head. “I must respectfully decline this honor, good lady. Public speaking suits me not.”
    Since they’re having so much trouble deciding who gets the great honor of greeting me , Tim thought, I’ll just introduce myself. Save them time arguing, which means I might get home sooner.
    â€œUh, hello,” Tim called. He jogged the rest of the way up the hill toward them.
    None of them responded.
    â€œYou see, Griselda,” Kerwyn said, “it should be me. And as I was saying, I shall go up to Timothy Hunter and say—”
    â€œSorry to interrupt you,” Tim tried again. “But—”
    Kerwyn glared at Tim. “Will, er, someone please explain to this individual with the spectacles that he cannot hang about here? Daniel?”
    The boy with long blond hair and the tattered overcoat held up a fist. “Bugger off,” the boy snarled at Tim. “We’re waiting for someone important.”
    Tim took a few steps backward. This seemed to satisfy the group, and they turned their backson him, making their circle a little smaller and tighter.
    What is up with these kids? Tim wondered.
    â€œNow where was I?” Kerwyn said.
    â€œYou was about to greet Tim Hunter, Kerwyn,” Daniel said. “And then the minute you do so, I ask about Marya’s whereabouts.”
    â€œShe may be with him,” Wat said. He lay his hand on Daniel’s arm. “Don’t worry so.”
    â€œActually—” Tim began.
    Daniel whirled around, fight in his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you to back off, mate?”
    Tim held up his hands in a placating gesture. He took a few more steps backward, but he continued to listen. He needed to figure out what was going on.
    â€œYes. Right. So I shall say, ‘Welcome to Free Country…’”
    â€œâ€˜Mighty wizard,’” suggested Katherine.
    â€œâ€˜Noble sir,’” said Daniel.
    â€œâ€˜Magisterial mage,’” the little guy, Wat, added.
    â€œSo which is it?” Kerwyn asked. He sounded exasperated.
    â€œHow about ‘Hi, thanks for coming,’” Tim muttered. “‘And sorry we’re a bunch of rude sots.’”
    â€œA tricky question,” replied Griselda. “The fellow is a master of the magical arts. One must ascertain whether or not he derives income from this practice.”
    â€œI doubt that he does,” said Wat.
    â€œWhy would that matter?” Kerwyn asked.
    â€œEtiquette would demand a different greeting were he in trade.”
    â€œExcuse me!” Tim said. Sheesh. Am I invisible or something?
    â€œSince he is not a merchant,” the stuck-up girl with the tight curls continued, “one would suggest you begin, ‘Welcome, Lord Thaumaturge.’”
    â€œLord what?” the girl in green asked.
    My question exactly , Tim thought.
    â€œAnd then, of course,” Griselda continued, “you would present him with the keys to Free Country.”
    â€œKeys?” Kerwyn clutched his clipboard to his skinny chest. “We don’t have any keys.”
    Tim had had enough, despite Daniel’s threatening attitude.
    â€œI said, excuse me!” Tim poked Griselda on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, then waved her hand in the air as if she were shooing away a fly. She didn’t even bother to look