The Children's Crusade by Carla Jablonski Page B

“where would I be hiding?”
    As he walked he tried to piece together what he knew so far. It wasn’t much. The kids of Free Country wanted him because they thought his magic would help them with their plan to bring kids from home into Free Country.
    â€œThey’re going to be disappointed,” Tim said. He had no idea how his power could help them do anything.
    He hated this feeling—like he was letting people down, dashing expectations.
    â€œIt’s not fair!” he cried, stamping his foot. The loudness of his voice startled him, and he quickly glanced around to see if anyone heard him. There was no one in sight.
    â€œI never promised them anything,” he muttered. “They’re just assuming. So if it goes badly, they’ve no one to blame but themselves.”
    He kept walking, unsure of what to look for. “Don’t see any hopscotch grids. Or chalk, for that matter,” he said. He hadn’t a clue what a gate from Free Country would look like. “So, Tim, what did you do in Free Country?” he asked himself out loud. “Funny you should ask, Tim. I spent a lot of time talking to myself.”
    He stopped walking. “What’s this?”
    An enormous hedge blocked his path. “Thislooks like it could be guarding something,” he said. “Maybe a gateway to home.” The hedge was about ten feet high and neatly trimmed.
    Tim walked all around the hedge. The shrubbery was so tightly grown together he’d need gardening shears to get inside. It was perfectly square, like a bright-green leafy box. At one side he found a trellis archway, completely overgrown with vines sprouting enormous flowers. It looked as if it had once been an entrance.
    He reached out his hand to touch a bright purple rose.
    â€œDon’t touch!” the flower snapped at him.
    Tim jerked back his hand, startled. He shook his head. Why does anything surprise me anymore? “Sorry. I was just interested. I wasn’t going to pick you or anything.”
    â€œWell, then, it’s okay, I guess.”
    Tim peered at the rose. This time it didn’t seem as if the rose had been the one speaking. There must be someone on the other side of the hedge.
    â€œYou can come in if you want,” the voice said.
    Tim’s eyes widened as the plants, flowers, and vines uncurled. He stepped inside the hedge box.
    He spotted a small green girl, high in a tree. At least, she was sort of a girl. She seemed morelike a plant. Her body was smooth, like a plant stalk, but she had legs and arms like a regular person. But the hair sprouting from her head was thick grass. Tim noticed tiny flower buds dotting her hair. She was small, about the size of an eight year old.
    â€œDid you make the plants do that?” Tim asked. “Just move out of the way like that?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œThat’s a neat trick,” Tim commented. “What else can you do?”
    He hoped she’d say “get you home without playing hopscotch,” but instead her chin quivered as if she were about to cry.
    â€œI think something’s wrong with me,” she choked out.
    â€œWhy? What’s the matter?”
    â€œI don’t feel real here. Everything smells different and there’s nothing good to eat. And Junkin Buckley lied. I hate him and I want to go home.” She ended in a long wail, covering her face with moss-colored hands.
    Tim sat under her at the base of the tree. “Madam, I know exactly how you feel.”
    â€œYou do?” She spread her fingers apart and peered down at him.
    â€œMore or less. At least, I want to go home, too.”
    â€œReally? You’re not one of them?”
    â€œNope,” Tim said. “I am most definitely not one of them. And wouldn’t want to be.”
    Her face brightened, and one of the buds in her hair opened. “Then we can play dolls together. This bush grew them for me when I started to