Sort of Deadly

Mr. Om dismounts his butterfly. He has veneers of sweat layers on his face. Loads of cuts on his arms, too. He looks . . . well, he looks like himself. And a little bit of Marra’s Dad. And a little bit of his Mom.

Because, you know, sort of dead.

In his hand he’s holding a sling. A Paracord Rock Sling.

Oh.

Oh!

The realization collides into me like a bull into a red flag. Mr. Om is really good at slinging, as we have already established. And he’s the one who shot that tooth thing to kill Ravenna – the tooth now that I can clearly see it due to the fact that the rest of Ravenna has evaporated in sand, is the tooth which belonged to that alligator-chainsaw-squid creature who had trampled my schooner –

But how is he here?

‘Unc . . . Uncle?’ Marra barrels into Mr. Om. ‘Thank you!’

‘It’s okay, Mar. It’s okay, kids. It’s going to be okay now . . .’

Niffy finally finds her tongue – the irony – now that Ravenna is dead and says: ‘But – but didn’t we use all the silver amulets in coming here?’

‘That’s right,' says Aar (because of course he’s going to support her). ‘We took your amulet from your safe – sorry about that, by the way – your favorite movie isn’t the best password to have – but – but, like – where did you get another amulet?’

Mr. Om heaves a sigh. ‘I got it from the dog.’

‘The dog?’ Aar scratches his head (he’s really expressive being an actor; looks kind of cute doing it too). ‘What dog?’

‘You forget last time we came here,' I tell him, ‘we had See with us. Rasthrum gave us one amulet for each living soul, remember? See’s a living being too.’

‘OH!’

‘But, Mr. Om,' I say to him, ‘See didn’t have the amulet on her when we came to Mar’s birthday party. How’d you get it then?’

Mr. Om smiles. ‘You have a smart beagle, Bee. Soon as I saw all of you – and my own amulet –‘ he glares at Aar like he’s going to have him for breakfast '–were gone, I drove See back to your new home in {Undis-2-closed}. Told your Pops you’d left a book you urgently needed and barged in. He’s a mild fellow, your Pops. Kept repeating stuff I said.’

‘Yes, that he is,' I mutter, not wanting to remember him or Momma lest the ache in my heart multiply.

‘Anyway,' Mr. Om continues, ‘See led me to this plant. Kept peeing on it. Eventually I swallowed my pride and dug the plant and there it was! The dog’s amulet!’

‘Ah, and you used it to come here,' Marra concludes.

‘Yes, Mar, exactly. I must say, Bee, you are immaculate down to the bone and so is your dog. Which is why the decisions you made of withholding information from us sting even more.’

I look down at my feet.

Mr. Om puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Keep your chin up, young lady. Just because you make mistakes doesn’t mean you are an idiot. In fact, we humans are just clay made sentient. These mistakes forge us, shape us, mold us. You’ll see.’

He pats my shoulder twice. ‘Intelligence is a blessing and a curse, Bee. But the mistakes intelligent people make cut deeper than the mistakes dumb people make.’

Mr. Om casts a look at Aar as he says this, whose eyebrows seem to rocket off his forehead.

Mr. Om then faces me again and says words I’ll always remember: ‘Mistakes are not a sin. But the mistakes intelligent people, good people make . . . well, they can often be sort of deadly.'

And undercutting my lesson are the many voices of Bob the Blob: ‘Oye! Y’all! Chit chat later! Your friend – the real Rasthrum – I don’t think he has a lot of time left.’