Pip Tumbleshore's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The path of pasta ribs ended at the ice palace gate. Two gatekeepers stood on either side, tall and stiff, breath fogging the air. Pip pulled out his flyer and held it up like a ticket. The nearest gatekeeper barely glanced at it. "That's a poster," she said. "Anyone can carry a poster. Where's your entry token?" Pip's flippers went cold. He had no token. He had never even heard of one. "I ran all night," Pip said. "I crossed the broth. The bread sank behind me. I can't go back." The gatekeeper shrugged. "No token, no entry. Dawn closes the list." Above the palace, the sky had turned pale gray. Pip's chest felt tight. All that running, and a locked gate now stood between him and the contest. A voice came from the shadow of the wall. Flat. Tired. "Climbing. Swimming. Digging." A boy sat slumped against the ice, streaked with sauce, strands of pasta clinging to his bare feet. "I tried all of them," he said. "The bowl swallows me every time." This was Noodle Ahh, stuck outside the gate like Pip, worn down but still there. "No token," Noodle added. "Same as you." Then a paw dropped onto Pip's shoulder. He spun. Vesper Greenpaw stood behind him, yarn still snagged on one claw, the rainbow ball tucked under her arm. "You," Pip said. Vesper grinned. "Told you I know shortcuts." She held up a small brass key on a green cord. "And every latch in this place. Including the token box." "You steal tokens now?" Pip asked. Vesper's tail flicked. "I return things to the right hands. The box holds spare entry tokens. Contestants who quit leave them behind." She looked at Noodle, then at Pip. "Two left. I only need a payment." Pip turned out his empty pockets again. "I have nothing." Vesper eyed the bouncy ball under her own arm and laughed, short and dry. "You already gave me the best game I've had in years. Consider it prepaid." She slipped past the gatekeepers, worked the key at a hidden panel, and returned with two tokens. She pressed one into Pip's flipper and one into Noodle's. Pip held it up to the gatekeeper. She took it, checked a mark on its side, and stepped aside. "On the list," she said. The gate creaked open. Warm light spilled out. Pip's heart leapt. He was in. But Noodle stood, gripping his token, and followed Pip through. "I entered too," Noodle said. "The Joy Contest. Same as you." Pip stopped. He had raced all night to be the happiest penguin in the bowl. Now a rival walked in beside him, worn but unbroken, holding the very token that had saved them both. The list was closed. The contest had begun. And Pip was no longer running alone.