“Hold on.” She shakes her head. “Did I just cast a time spell?” she asks. She looks back at the Frozen Lasagnas (get it?), hoping they never thaw out.
“Yes, you did, which means we don’t have much time,” says Jack, looking at his pocket watch.
“Right,” says Filomena.
Time has stopped only until she does what she has to do, which is get away from the petulant Pasta Posse.
“Let’s go!” says Jack.
“Wait!” Filomena reaches into her locker and grabs her stuff. She needs her books!
Books in hand and Filomena away with a head start, time unfreezes, and the slimy noodles begin to move again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE TREES
When time starts up again, the Fettucine Alfredos are standing in front of Filomena’s locker, but Filomena is no longer there, where she should be, according to logic and, well, general rules of time and space. All that’s left of her is the scent of peachy bodywash and coconut shampoo, and in her place stands a whirlwind of confusion.
Posy and the trolls stare at one another in disbelief, quizzical looks on their faces.
“Where did she go?” Posy snaps. “She was literally just here!”
“That little snake!” another kid chimes in, kicking Filomena’s locker.
Filomena is, they notice suddenly, running down the hall shoving her books into her backpack. And she now has two oddly dressed kids with her. Kids the noodles don’t recognize. They’ve never seen the pair around school, and they basically know everyone—by taunt or by haunt.
“Who are those weirdos?” one of them asks.
“Who cares! How’d she get there so fast, anyway?” another replies.
“Beats me. She was just here a second ago…”
“Quit wasting time!” Posy barks at them. “She’s getting away!”
Filomena makes a mental note never to post her test scores on social media again, no matter how much fun it seems to be. It’s just not worth it!
The Alfredos give chase, tailing Filomena and the two boys.
Filomena finds herself out of breath yet again, wondering why each time Jack Stalker shows up she is forced to run for her life. She supposes in the books he is always doing the same (running, adventuring, hopscotching over fiery pits and whatnot).
And just like in the books, he’s kind of cute.
Not that she noticed.
And how did he magically show up here anyway, right after I cast that spell? She continues to run as fast as she can, following Jack for a second time, automatically trusting him. After all, she’s read twelve books about him; she knows him like he’s practically her best friend. Plus, Alistair is here. Everyone loves Alistair. He’s a fan favorite. He’s the kid who basically carried Jack up Mount Gloom so that he could destroy the Ring of Infinity before that horrid ogre queen could get her hands on it.
Has she lost her mind?
What if Jack and Alistair are just figments of her imagination? But they seem so real.
Jack’s cloak is flapping in the wind, with Alistair trundling as fast as he can behind. Filomena turns to check whether the Alfredo gang is still following them. They are. In fact, they’ve closed the distance a little too much for her liking. Beads of sweat form on her forehead as she races toward the school exit, and she momentarily wonders how Alistair is making out with all this cardio. He has the shortest legs of the three of them, and if she’s feeling it, she knows he and Jack must be, too.
“Get back here, you little witch!” Posy yells after Filomena.
Filomena turns around to see her pursuers quickly catching up. They’re only a few feet behind!
Why do popular people always have to be so athletic?
She tries not to let their impressive speed discourage her as she trails Jack and Alistair. The doors are just ahead. If they can make it outside, maybe the Alfredos will give up and let them go already, so that the Spaghetti Squad themselves don’t get in trouble for being late for class. Although it’s probably inevitable now that they’ll get tardy marks.
To her dismay, as she, Jack, and Alistair blow through the front doors, the Alfredos are still close behind them, ramming through the same doors seconds later. The doors didn’t even have a chance to close!
Oh God, oh God, oh God, Filomena repeats in her head, trying to keep herself calm despite the impending doom heading straight for her. She knows she’ll be dead meat if they catch her—and that is not a metaphor.
“You can run, but you can’t hide!” one of the Alfredos yells.
“Wait till we get our hands on you!” another troll warns.
“Awful clichés, is that the best they can do?” says Alistair.
“They don’t have a lot of imagination,” says Filomena, grinning even as she looks back, sweating under her layers.
She, Jack, and Alistair are outnumbered. There are too many of the Rotten Rigatonis. They’re an arm’s length away. In a second, a pasta pile-on will commence, with Filomena at the bottom of it.
She nearly screams out of sheer fear of what’s to come, when suddenly she smacks headfirst into Jack, who’s stopped running and has turned around with his hands outstretched before him, a ferocious look on his face.
“Move to the side!” he bellows.
Filomena is confused for a split second. Then she realizes what he’s about to do: The vines from his arms are already slipping out, ready to lasso and attack his enemies.
“Woo! Let it rip!” cheers Alistair.
“Jack, no!” she cries. “You can’t hurt the Alfredos!”
“What! Why not?!” he yells back, still holding his arms out, his vines tingling with tension, ready to spring.
“You just can’t!” she begs.
As much as she wants him to, as much as she would love to give them a taste of their own medicine and relish revenge, she knows he can’t. Jack Stalker is magic, and he can’t waste it on these lousy noodles. It would be like a bear stomping on an ant.
At last Jack relents and, instead of attacking, practically flies from the pavement, leaping for the tree closest to the schoolyard, with Filomena and Alistair close behind.
“Up here!” Jack says, scrambling through the branches like a squirrel. It’s almost as if the tree were letting him climb it, leaning down and lifting him up.
Filomena and Alistair follow, and the branches practically zoom them all the way to the top of the tree, tossing them higher and higher.
“Whoa!” Filomena says, almost slipping off a limb. But a vine wraps around her wrist and tugs her, and she sees Jack ahead, the vines wrapped around his wrist, too, as he helps her up.
He grins at her.
(Okay, he really is way too cute.)
When the action stops and the three of them are safely nestled in the highest point of the tree, which no one could comfortably climb without some sort of assistance (like, ahem, magic), they sit still. Filomena checks her body over to see if she feels any broken bones, or even scrapes, but there’s no pain. No sign of any kind of wound. She looks down.
The Alfredos are left on the ground. They’re stomping their feet and screaming profanities, waving their hands in the air, fists balled up in a threatening manner. Filomena can’t make out everything they’re saying; she’s laughing too hard.