Olivia Brophie and Aristotle’s Lantern

By Christopher Tozier

Having lost the Pearl to the evil Cult of Wardenclyffe, Olivia must face life without the most powerful device in the universe. Pursued by the paparazzi in their quest to get the true story of the Bear Girl, she must learn to trust and rely on other people if she is going to rescue her brother Gnat and best friend Doug who are lost in ancient Florida; never mind finding her missing parents or ending the environmental catastrophe she caused.
Hospitalized with mysterious pains, Olivia meets Nigerian-born Abiona, a math-whiz with a deep secret. Together with fun-loving Terrilyne, they decide to release the Bobwhite witch from her frozen tomb in the hopes she can restore everyone’s lives back to normal. What they unleash is beyond anything they could have imagined. Confronted by the true power of the Pearl, Olivia must make a choice that will alter the direction of the earth and her future.
Don’t miss the exciting continuation to this international hit series whose awards include the Honor Award from the Society of School Librarians International, USA Best Book Award Finalist, and the 2012 President’s Book Award. Download Worlds Around Us, the free school curriculum developed by teachers and scientists for use with Olivia Brophie and the Pearl of Tagelus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Tozier
• Release date: Mar 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9780998657080

Christopher Tozier

Christopher Tozier is the author of Olivia Brophie and the Pearl of Tagelus, the award-winning, middle-grade fantasy series set in the wilds of central Florida and published by Pineapple Press. He was selected as a 2011 State of Florida Artist Fellowship recipient and his poetry has appeared widely.

Book preview

title page image Olivia Brophie and Aristotle's Lantern by Christopher Tozier; book three of the Olivia Brophie series

Copyright © 2017 Christopher Tozier

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Inquiries should be addressed to:

Hontoon Press, Inc.

41500 Poinciana Street

Eustis, Florida 32736

[e-mail]

ISBN 978-0-9986570-8-0

First Edition

Book produced by Kevin Callahan / BNGO Books

Illustrations by Steve Weaver, TruBluArt, Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Contents

One

Normal Girl

Two

Secrets

Three

The Lightning Pine

Four

Chuck-Will’s-Widow

Five

The Vinegaroon

Six

The Olm

Seven

Mariachne

Eight

Island of Holes

Nine

Hunger

Ten

Hypogeum

Eleven

The Memories of Lost Children

Twelve

The Beauty and the Blood

Thirteen

The Lightning Egg

Fourteen

A Bright Hontoon

Landmarks

Cover

Title-Page

Table of Contents

Frontmatter

Start of Content

To all the lost mothers and fathers.

To my mother for her support.

To Melissa for the best pearl of all, love and belief.

1

Normal Girl

Olivia Brophie was a regular, normal girl. Ten years old. Ten years, seven months, and three weeks to be exact. And normal. Very normal. Average in almost every way. She had brown hair, but it wasn’t too brown. It was curly but just sort of curly. She wasn’t tall and she wasn’t short. She was popular but not too popular. She knew a few of those too-popular girls, and she wanted no part of that. She was a little on the skinny side for the time being, but the way she had been eating oatmeal pies and rocket pops lately, she would have that situation fixed soon enough. She was a pretty good polka dancer, but she stunk at ballet. She could do a backward flip but couldn’t flip forward.

Olivia was fantastic because all ten-year-olds are fantastic. So even her fantastic-ness was unremarkable.

The best part of being Olivia Brophie was having no worries. Not a care in her life. No responsibilities. No homework. No chores. No hamsters or fish to feed every day. No one shooting at her as she tried to save the universe. She was light and free. It was great. It was better than great. It was awesome. She had choices now. Nice, simple choices. What song should she listen to? Should she get a chocolate shake or strawberry? What would happen if she slept in until lunchtime? Nothing. That’s what.

At least once per hour, Olivia would look out the back window of the white van she was riding in to see if anyone was stalking her. Nope. Nobody. Just like every other average girl in the world. Sure, she had to duck down as they drove through the incredibly large Wheeler County in Texas. Too much history there. But after that, it was smooth sailing.

Olivia’s new best friend, Terrilyne, bounced up and down in her seat for hundreds of miles at a time. She loved driving across the country in a van. To her, this was the trip of a lifetime. Look at that! had become her new favorite phrase. Streetlights. Semi-trucks. Hairy men on motorcycles. They all seemed to delight her equally. She just about exploded with joy the first time she saw a neon sign. Terrilyne’s cousin Chubascos spent long hours discussing foreign lands and epic adventures with Uncle Milligan. Apparently they were going to be new best friends, because neither of them would stop talking. The only time they shut up was when the radio was on and everyone in the van was listening to the president of the United States pleading with the citizens to keep calm and follow orderly procedures for collecting their daily water from the tankers. Uncle and Chubascos already had plans to sail a boat to the Keys with nothing but two fishing poles and desalinating pellets. Chubascos had never gone fishing before. He had never even eaten a fish. Olivia wasn’t sure how Uncle could handle that kind of physical activity though. He seemed so old and frail. Now that the Pearl was under Wardenclyffe control, he and Aunt were aging quickly again. But Olivia had also learned not to underestimate their strength. At least now they were eating decent meals and weren’t imprisoned in a glass jail cell.

Aunt fretted constantly. She was nervous as a deer in November. She fiddled with her mirror. Her eyes darted around in dark orbits. Olivia could see her fingers touching one another repetitively, counting some secret arithmetic.

Every once in a while, Uncle would stop the van in a remote parking spot in the dog-walking section of a highway rest stop. He would open the cargo doors so a very restless and smelly bear could sprint into the woods and do whatever bears do. Once, Olivia noticed a little boy in the backseat of a blue SUV who saw everything, but it was clear that his weary parents considered him petulant, because they completely ignored his frantic pointing. During Hoolie’s breaks, Aunt would rush about and shake out the rectangle of carpeting the bear had been resting on. She mumbled lots of adjectives about car-rental agreements and sanitation. She always took the opportunity to kiss each of the three children on the tops of their heads.

By the time they crossed the border into Florida, the entire van was packed to the gills with empty food wrappers and interesting junk that Uncle somehow bartered at those gas stations and all-night restaurants. A gigantic sombrero. An inflatable alien. A harmonica carved from a piece of red cedar. A small, blue plastic bird that flew by twisting a rubber band in its heart. A jumping-bean-breeding terrarium. For a while, he had a giant quartz crystal from Arkansas that Terrilyne and Chubascos considered sloppy work, suitable only for gravel. In Louisiana, he traded it for a large papier-mâché mask of a voodoo alligator princess. Terrilyne was excited about the trade and wore the mask all the way through Mississippi and Alabama.

The highways were crowded with over-packed cars. Families of transients traveled the roads with all of their earthly possessions, searching for a southern location with adequate water supplies.

It’s just a drop in the bucket, Uncle said.

What do you mean? Olivia asked.

Most people are staying in their homes and heating up what ice they can find on stoves.

Can’t say I blame them, Aunt responded. I would want to stay in familiar surroundings.

Once the food gets scarce, everyone will be out looking, Uncle warned. It’s going to get bad. Really bad. His eyes grew large.

They rode in silence into the night. Aunt took over the driving duties.

Montana! Terrilyne yelled at the top of her lungs, and pointed to the license plate of a silver minivan with one wobbling wheel.

Terri, please. Keep it down, Aunt sighed.

Capital Helena! Chubascos yelled.

Fourth largest state, Terrilyne added.

But forty-fourth in population.

Fifty-six counties.

State fish . . . Chubascos paused.

Cutthroat trout. Terrilyne slashed her finger across his neck.

Quit it. Chubascos slapped her hand away.

Remarkable, Uncle said, engrossed in every fact the children shouted out.

I see New Hampshire, Chubascos said. That white Toyota up there with the boxes tied to the top.

Capital Concord, Terrilyne yelled, louder than ever.

Forty-sixth largest state.

Forty-second in population, more people than Montana.

Karner blue is the state butterfly.

Ummm . . . hold on, Olivia interrupted. Let me try. New Hampshire. New Hampshire. New Hampshire. The state that invented ham.

Terrilyne and Chubascos paused before bursting out in laughter. Terrilyne jumped over the seat and landed on top of Olivia and Hoolie with a thud. Oh, Sis, you’re so sillarious.

Sillarious? Olivia laughed.

You know what it means. Terrilyne pressed her forehead onto Olivia’s forehead and stared into her eyes. "You know what it means." The two girls rolled on the floor laughing while Hoolie groaned beside them.

You’re not buying them any more root beer floats. Aunt leaned toward Uncle.

Isn’t their cognitive retention remarkable? I wonder what kind of school they went to.

Maybe, but they don’t have any self-control. It’s like chaperoning a herd of jackrabbits.

They’re just excited. You have to remember that they’ve never been outside of that valley their entire lives. Everything they’re seeing is brand new.

Don’t you remember, Harold? Nine months ago we were worried about what day of the week to drive to the grocery store. We spent our days gardening and reading. Now . . . well, now . . .

Uncle reached over and stroked the back of her neck.

Harold, we don’t have a home. We’re responsible for three kids who don’t believe in seat belts. And we’ve spent the last two months sitting in a glass prison suspended over a gorge in a secret cult compound. How on this earth can you be so, so Zen about that?

Do you remember when we were young and we just finished dragging that choleric Italian prospector down the river from Diamante to Buenos Aires? Uncle spoke quietly. Maybe we drank too much maté, but I wanted to buy that little house on the edge of town. You remember that little stucco, tin, and Saltillo tile house? You loved the geraniums. Not just the red geraniums. But those bright yellow ones too. Imagine that, yellow geraniums. He paused. It was such a small town back then. Well, I wanted you to have a place to call home. I know following me around on expeditions made you a bit adrift. But you said, ‘Home is every breath I take with you.’ I never forgot that. Home is every breath I take with you.

I said that?

That was a long time ago. Longer than anyone has a right to be on this planet.

What are you saying?

"Every breath. That’s what I’m saying. Uncle stroked the back of Aunt’s neck. Every breath. Every breath," he whispered.

Silence filled the van. Even Hoolie seemed to be entranced by Uncle’s soothing words.

Every breath. Every breath.

What in the fiery blazes are you talking about? Aunt squawked, and turned toward Uncle with a twisted face.

Well, I was just saying —

"I heard what you were saying. I heard exactly what you were saying. I was talking about driving a secret van down a midnight highway with no driver’s license, a crazy cult maniac trying to kill us, three runaways and a wild bear the size of a couch in the back so we can return to a house that no longer exists and try to find two other children and our dog who are missing. It’s the end of the world, and you’re blabbing about . . . about yellow geraniums and breathing."

Yes, exactly. Breathing.

Honey, if I weren’t breathing, I wouldn’t care.

That isn’t . . . that isn’t the point.

Don’t you tell me what the point is, Mister. The volume of Aunt’s voice was growing rapidly.

Boy, am I getting hungry. Uncle stretched his arms out and looked back at the kids. Are you guys getting hungry? Hoolie’s head popped up over the seat back.

Hoolie’s hungry, Olivia announced.

"Great. Just great. A gigantic, hungry bear, Aunt said. You two are subject changers. The both of you are in cahoots. Y’all can just wait until we get to Lyonia. We’ll be there soon, and we can figure out wherever home is going to be."

Um . . . Terrilyne raised her hand. I gotta pee.

Chubascos turned to look at her. You do not.

I do. I gotta pee. I really do. With her other hand, she was jamming a finger into Olivia’s side, harder and harder. I need a new rocket pop, she whispered so only Olivia could hear.

You and my brother are going to love each other, Olivia whispered back.

Yuck.

Look at all of these people, Aunt said as she turned the van into a remote gas station. The entire parking lot was packed with cars, trucks, and vans. A big red sign flashed over the entire area. no gas. no gas. Still, a line of people led into the convenience store. Handwritten signs on the windows announced Dry Goods Only.

There’s nowhere to park, Olivia said. Where’s Hoolie going to get out?

They’re all trying to get whatever crumbs are left, Uncle said.

And taking all of our food and water, Aunt scowled.

They sure are funny looking, Terrilyne said.

In the most distant corner of the parking lot, a pinkish streetlight glowed. Olivia’s heart sank. The entire area surrounding the gas station was burned black from a recent fire. A few charred pine tree trunks stood silently against the sky. Burned palmettos lurked like dark alligators against the ground. A sticky wind blew, picking up streamers of ash. Wisps of smoke still ghosted from secret embers. The thick, tangy smell of bleeding pine seeped into the van through the air vents. Hoolie’s skin twitched.

Easy boy. Olivia patted him on his stomach.

They drove slowly past the fluorescent glare of the store. Inside, two large men pushed each other against the back wall, bumping against the empty food shelves. One man had a red, scraggly beard. The other man had a green stocking hat. Olivia could tell they were screaming at each other. Their faces were red as they grappled for a bag of snacks.

Check it out! Chubascos yelled, and pressed his face to the van window.

Before Aunt could accelerate away, the man with the beard pushed the other guy so hard that he slammed into a shelf, sending a rack of umbrellas, magazines, and air fresheners crashing through the window with a loud explosion. Instantly, alarms screamed through large speakers and lights flashed. The crowd bolted for the door and scrambled. One young man slammed into the side of the van. Hoolie leaped to his feet.

No, Hoolie! Olivia screamed. It’s all right.

Hoolie’s eyes raced back and forth. The fur on his back raised. He started slamming his weight into the back door.

What’s he doing? What’s he doing? Aunt yelled.

Terrilyne and Chubascos cowered toward the front of the van. Uncle jumped out and ran to the back.

No! Olivia yelled. It’s all right — calm down. She wrapped her arms around the bear’s neck and pulled with all her weight. But Hoolie’s panic only increased. The door bent and strained. Finally, Uncle unlocked the latch. With one sudden lunge, Hoolie landed in the middle of the parking lot, surrounded by scrambling people.

Come back! Olivia jumped out of the van behind him, but it was too late. In a matter of seconds, Hoolie disappeared into the burned landscape. Hoolie, she cried, tears turning her face red and puffy. We have to go get him. Hurry.

Aunt turned the van around and wove through the groups of stunned people. Several of them were on their cell phones or taking pictures as they drove past. Nobody saw the red-bearded man and the man with the green hat standing calmly in the middle of the chaos, watching the van and whispering to each other.

That way. He went that way! Olivia pointed as she jumped back into the van.

I can’t just drive across that. I need to find a street. Aunt sped down the highway before turning down a dark road. Olivia, Terrilyne, and Chubascos leaned out the window calling into the night.

An hour passed. Aunt and Uncle looked nervously at each other.

We don’t have gas to just keep driving around all night, Uncle announced.

And with all of these people, who knows when we will find gas again? Aunt added.

Maybe we should let him do what he wants, Uncle said.

"He is a wild animal," Aunt agreed, as if nobody knew that.

"I don’t