Chapter One

Bogdan Draganov: A Bulgarian tennis player, currently ranked number twelve in the world, his highest ranking. Bogdan is a Slavic masculine name. It is derived from the Slavic words Bog, meaning ‘God,’ and dan, meaning ‘gift,’ and is borrowed from the early Byzantine empire.

On 19 March, Bogdan Draganov won the Masters 1000 in Indian wells, his third ATP title and biggest to date. He celebrated with one glass of champagne and three hours and thirty-seven minutes in his hotel room with his girlfriend Anne before rendezvousing with his coach, trainer, and friends for dinner.

Danny finished the passage in his beloved book, blushed, snapped a furtive glance at his mother, and scowled at Longmeadows. (He and Heather had been a couple for over a year, and he was pretty sure he knew what that three hours and thirty-seven minutes in a hotel room meant.)

Lately, Danny had noticed that his miraculous book— Longmeadow’s Rarely Used, Nearly Forgotten, and Generally Unnecessary Knowledge and Facts—had a mind of its own. It did not always cooperate, and Danny was pretty sure his book was teasing him with information he liked and then embarrassing him because… well, just because. It was frustrating. After all, Longmeadow’s did not come with instructions or a rulebook to explain its operation or idiosyncrasies. Often, if he wanted detailed information, he had to think really hard and feel, almost touch with his mind, what he wanted. For example, if he wanted to know about a random tennis player, one he did not know very well, all Longmeadow’s showed were the standard stats—record, age, height, ranking—but then, he would look up a car he saw, and Longmeadow’s would tell him what sandwich the driver was currently eating. “I am more than just an almanac or a search engine!” he often imagined his magical book scoffing derisively. Danny’s book was the most cherished gift from his uncle. Not only did it contain rather confidential information, like that contained in the passage about Dragonov, but it always magically stayed updated and current. Last week, before the end of the tournament in Indian Wells, his wondrous book had Draganov at number nineteen in the world, with only two tournament titles! And now, it was like it knew what had happened and, as though it were a close friend bursting with important gossip, could not help but tell him. For this reason, he checked his book occasionally to see how things had changed.

Danny chuckled, closed his beloved and constant companion, and lost himself out the window again.

            He watched the endless line of trees rolling by outside the car window as his mother sang along absently to some vacuous song on the radio. His mother getting a nine-to-five job at the paper in town was a blessing for which he was grateful, and he was willing to make any sacrifices to ride to town with her three to four times a week. However, she didn’t always leave early enough to get him to school on time, so Danny couldn’t give Alonso a proper farewell—like a bucket of beaver fat over his head. But it was enough that he could spend a night in town with Heather occasionally and only had to take the bus a few times a week. His mother had started the job late last summer, and he had enjoyed their arrangement throughout the fall semester and into the early part of this one. He hoped it would last because his mother sometimes joked and threatened to work from home again. At least, he hoped it was a joke.

He squinched his eyebrows and watched his mother curiously, though she did not seem to care. Her voice rose an octave or two, and she began to drum her fingers animatedly on the staring wheel, which he was sure was either for his entertainment or his dismissal.

Danny yawned. He was tired and bored, and he wanted to call Heather. But his mother had laid some ground rules for their rides to town.

“…and no phone, Danny. No calls or games, or Instachat, or Snapgram, or Tik Tak. You can do homework or read. Oh, and if we run into your bus, no…inappropriate…gestures and such to anyone, especially that driver guy, Alhornso what’s his name. Understood?”

Though his Mother had archaic views on phones and did not know the names of his apps, what made him laugh was her calling his nemesis, bus driver Alhornso. And Danny had to admit that it was easier to get reading and studying done in the car with his mother than on the school bus, dodging Alonso’s beady little orc eyes and retching from the smell of his putrid breath and woeful stench. Man, he hated that guy, he thought happily, surreptitiously waving as they passed the bus on the highway.

He had really honed his study skills last year, after their wild adventure in Montreal with the trolls Ingvild and Njordmundr. When they had returned for the spring semester, he had been able to keep to his outlandish contract with his guidance counselor: he had to stay out of trouble, keep his grades up, and go to class all day, every day! It was ridiculous, but he did it. As the days and weeks rolled by, he realized how pleasant and easy school was when he stayed focused and a step ahead, and his ability to do that was due, in great part, to Heather, his guardian in red leather.

Heather was Danny’s best friend and, for over a year now, his girlfriend, too. It seemed he’d known Heather his whole life, and when they had become a couple, the world suddenly made sense. She didn’t have to work too hard last spring to keep him to his contract because all he really wanted to do was spend time with her, and she was in most of his classes. Sometimes, after lunch, she had to talk him out of going to the library instead of class or convince him to go to homeroom after his hour-and-a-half bus ride in the morning instead of going for coffee—but keeping him in line helped her, too. Her grades had improved, though they were already excellent, and she told Danny that it was easier for her to study with him around. Maybe it was because it was more rewarding, and they enjoyed spending time together after finishing their homework, without the shadow of school hovering over them—and the phantom heads of their parents looking over their shoulders. They were more dedicated and focused, and, as a result, school was much less strenuous.

They spent the summer trying to be together as much as possible, though it was difficult with over an hour drive separating them. They used their phones to communicate all day and spoke on the phone nearly every night. Heather got a part-time job at her mother’s newspaper and another at a fast food restaurant, and Danny managed to work several odd jobs a week, mostly cutting grass and doing yard work for the summer houses and resorts around the area.

He lived too far from civilization, he often bemoaned to his exasperated mother, asking why he couldn’t live at Heather’s house in town for the summer. Each time, she would snort and tell him that would be fine if Heather’s parents were willing to take on a randy teenage boy in their house with their teenage daughter. They were not, nor did his mother explain what she meant by randy. The only good thing about being so far from town was that Danny had nowhere to spend his money, so he had saved a lot. Occasionally, he made it into town with his mother and could spend an afternoon or an evening with his girl, and those times were precious; they’d walk to the library and browse for hours, walk in the park, or watch movies at her house. When it was time to part, they’d do so sorrowfully, like they’d never see each other again, much to the amused bewilderment of their parents.

The summer flowed into fall, and thankfully and finally, the young lovers saw each other every weekday at school. Their studies went smoothly, and the semester steadily passed. Danny and Heather researched universities together, studied hard, and waited anxiously for the snow to come and then go. Though Danny received a few sparse postcards and texts from his uncle Bruce, there had been no news of his friends, Njordmundr and Ingvild. The autumn lumbered into winter, and now they were firmly entrenched in the spring semester of their junior year of high school. And this is when the fun begins.