Ship of Stolen Words , livre ebook

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4197-4950-6 eISBN 978-1-64700-324-1
Text 2021 Fran Wilde Illustrations 2021 Shan Jiang Book design by Marcie Lawrence
Published in 2021 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.
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To everyone who wishes for adventure
Part One
Chapter One
Sam
On the last morning of fifth grade, Sam Culver lost his favorite word. Right after that, he lost two more words.
Sam didn t notice at first. But then his sometimes-best friend, Mason McGargee, and his teacher, Ms. Malloy, noticed. And after that, everyone noticed. Which was embarrassing.
Sam! Easy on the screen door! His stepmother, Anita, had called as he ran from the house. Too late-the door hit the frame with a WHAM right between screen and door.
Sorry! he shouted over his shoulder, hoping that would smooth his exit. He heard Anita say something about Mason, but he was already late. He d see Mason in a minute anyway, because they walked the three blocks to school together.
But today, she wasn t waiting for him.
Just in case Mason was running late, Sam strolled slowly toward Ursula K. Le Guin Elementary alone. He took his time stepping over cracks and dodging the ants making lean trails across the already-hot pavement. Mason and her mom had missed their families latest Saturday movie night and the first meeting of the Mount Cloud summer baseball league, which they d been waiting for all year. He had a lot to tell her.
As Sam walked, he whistled. He wasn t very good at whistling, and the notes sounded flat. He tried to remember the bad guys theme in the monster movie that he, his sister, Bella, and their parents had just watched. But he couldn t quite get it right. Mason would have known which notes he was getting wrong, because she never forgot things like that. But she hadn t caught up to Sam on the way to school yet, so he couldn t ask her.
Sam was also thinking about baseball-how could he not? The first practice of the summer was that afternoon. At the end of last season, he d played second base instead of his usual right field position, and he and his dad had been working on his throws ever since. The Mount Cloud coaches, Mr. Lockheart and Mason s dad, Dr. McGargee, had hinted Sam might move to the infield for good.
Sam was so busy thinking about baseball and movies that he almost tripped over a miniature white pig rooting around the base of Mrs. Lockheart s Little Free Library, two doors up from his house.
The pig s snout was deep in the last of the tulips, upending the flowers and pushing dirt onto the sidewalk. Boy, Mrs. Lockheart hated when her flowers got messed up, Sam thought. Then he realized there was a bigger problem.
The pig s leash-a long, leather strap that matched the saddle it was wearing-had gotten tangled around Sam s ankles. He d blundered right into it when he was looking at the wrecked tulips and wondering who was going to get in trouble and have to apologize to Mrs. Lockheart.
Mrs. Lockheart hated apologies. Sam knew this for a fact, having messed up her tulips before.
The surprise pig was very odd, and its leash and saddle even more so. But what most immediately concerned Sam was the small, silver-haired old woman poking a willow stick at his face while trying to untangle the pig s leash with her other hand.
Her skin-both on her hand, which was way too close, and her face-was wrinkled like a dried apple. When she shook the stick, the end almost scraped Sam s nose. And then she started scolding him.
Watch where you re going, young man! the old woman bellowed; her voice was much bigger than should be possible for someone so small. Even Bella-who was five and taller than this woman-couldn t get so loud. The old woman waved the switch at Sam again. Kids should be more careful, especially-
Sorry! Sam said for at least the second time that morning.
He tried to back up and pull his foot free from the leash. The pig made a watery snuffling sound and gazed at Sam doubtfully, sideways, with one black-ink eye.
Sam couldn t free his foot fast enough. He ended up splat on the sidewalk, next to the tulips, where he couldn t avoid the old woman s stick. She tapped him on the cheek with it, which itched. Hey!
Something shimmered near Sam s cheek, like a spiderweb or a long piece of ribbon-the kind Bella sometimes tied to Sam s backpack. He pushed it and the stick away. Sam waved at his hair too, for good measure. Leaves and spiderwebs sometimes fell from the big oak onto the sidewalk near the Little Free Library.
For a moment, Sam felt the same way he did when he d just pulled a tooth out-where that one raw spot was just lacking, before it became a point of pride to stick his tongue through. And then the feeling went away, and he grabbed for the ribbon. Mrs. Lockheart didn t tolerate littering any more than people messing with her tulips, and if she caught Sam on the way to school doing both, he was going to have a lot of explaining to do.
But the ribbon-or whatever it was-sparkled just out of reach. Then the white pig snorfled it up gleefully. Most of it disappeared before Sam could grab it. Hey!
You shouldn t be so careless! the old woman scolded him. She glowered and yanked at the leash. The pig snuffled, and Sam finally freed his foot. He was going to be so late for school.
I really apologize for running into you! I have to go, Sam shouted over his shoulder as he sped off, a little embarrassed that he d managed to get so tangled up with the pair of them. The strange woman waved at him with her stick. And Sam got the missing-tooth feeling again, but then it went away.
A pig! With a saddle-in Mount Cloud! Sam almost stopped and turned around again to make sure they were real. But that would make him even more late. And who would believe that he was late because of a wandering grandmother and her miniature pet pig? No one. Especially not Ms. Malloy, his fifth-grade teacher, who lived right next door to the Lockhearts and likely had never seen an old woman walking a tiny pig on a leash. Sam knew he hadn t.
But then he did look back. And when he didn t see the old woman or the pig-or anything other than the Little Free Library and a few uprooted tulips-he wondered if maybe he had imagined it all.
He quickened his pace and made it to the school s front steps just as the bell rang. He d climbed two of the five big stone stairs that led up to the blue doors of Ursula K. Le Guin Elementary before Mason caught up with him.
What is that you re whistling? Mason asked. She wore her hair in curly pigtails and had one of last year s Mount Cloud baseball jackets wrapped around her waist so that it cinched her yellow sundress in a blue hug.
Sam hadn t realized he was still whistling the song.
There you are! I can t remember the tune right-it s from Ghostbusters IV, which you d know if you d been able to come watch the movie last weekend, Sam teased. He and Mason had been teasing each other a lot lately. Sometimes not so nicely.
This one? Mason repeated the tune and did it perfectly. She was so good at remembering. And at whistling.
Sam felt his face go red. He didn t really know why, but Mason barely having to try to remember made him want to turn invisible. She was better at everything than he was, really, except reading and baseball. And maybe fixing stuff, when Sam had Anita s help. He spoke without thinking. It s hard to tell. You whistle kind of like a goldfish. He puffed his cheeks and pressed his lips into a fish face.
Mason s smile fell.
One thing Sam liked about Mason was that he rarely had to worry about hurting her feelings. She was tough and always said she could give as good as she got. But today felt different.
It s not like you can whistle well either, Sam. You should practice more instead of teasing people. Mason was blinking hard, and her face was scrunched. Can we not fight today?
Sam winced. Mason knew he was touchy about having to do extra work to get stuff right, like with math this year, but she still teased him about practicing. It wasn t fair. Even though he did wish he could unsay the bit about the goldfish.
He tried to smooth things over. Sure. And I ll definitely practice. As long as it s practicing baseball! He opened Ms. Malloy s classroom door. It was the first room down from the principal s office, just after the main entrance. A wave of air-conditioned coolness washed out, smelling a little like very cold tin cans. Instead of spending all summer doing math problems, like a nerd!
Mason elbowed him. It s called Math Olympics, and I like it. Now she grinned.
Sam smiled too. He started to describe what had happened on his walk. You ll never believe . . .
But with a few words, his mostly best friend made him forget all about pigs and grandmas. Don t worry, you re getting a lot better at math too, she said with a wink.
Mason wasn t letting up! Even if she d dropped the joking tone and was trying to sound nice. Sam focused on his shoes, betting he was turn