Instead of Three Wishes Read Free Page B

melting there against his neck. Squinting his eyes against the bright sunlight, Leroy sat up and pulled himself out of the snowbank. Looking around him, he saw that the pile of bricks was gone. His apartment building was gone, and so was everything familiar. Leroy was in a forest of tall, thin trees that cast long and even thinner shadows across the unmarked snow.
    It took Leroy several moments to realize that he was not alone. Moving through the trees was a group of people covered in heavy furs. Most of the people looked to be not much taller than Leroy. The heavy furs covered them from top to toe. They worefur caps, and when they lifted their feet from the snow, he saw that they each wore fur boots that reached up to their knees.
    Wow, Leroy thought, shivering in his winter jacket, these people know how to keep warm.
    As the group approached, Leroy saw that they all were men and seemed to be some sort of hunting party. Many of them carried spears, and an animal that Leroy thought might be a reindeer hung from a pole carried by two men.
    I’m dead, thought Leroy. I’ve died and gone to Sweden.
    The leader of the group greeted Leroy and introduced himself. Leroy was a little surprised to understand the man but responded politely.
    The man asked, “Are you an evil spirit?” He stared at Leroy and was obviously intrigued with the color of the boy’s skin. He and his men all had creamy white skin, with a red mark burned by the cold on each cheek.
    â€œNo,” answered Leroy.
    â€œAn incarnation of a god?”
    â€œNo,” answered Leroy.
    â€œThen you are a hero?” This was almost a statement, not a question at all.
    Leroy thought about this. He knew that the only people who traveled in the legends of Sweden were heroes, spirits, or gods. He thought being a hero might provide an excuse for hanging out in a snowbank miles from nowhere.
    â€œYeah, that’s me,” he said, “I’m a hero.”
    â€œAh,” said the leader of the hunting party. “Of what are you bane?”
    Leroy was stumped for a moment. He realized that to be a hero, one had to have killed some wild animal or a monster. He thought.
    â€œRoaches,” he said. “I am Leroy Roachbane.” And he stood up and curled his arms like a wrestler as he said it.
    â€œAhhh,” the men in the hunting party murmured, and nodded their heads, “roaches, roaches.”
    â€œWhat’s a roaches?” asked the leader. He was not obviously impressed with Leroy’s size. Standing up, Leroy was still waist-deep in snow.
    â€œWell,” said Leroy, thinking fast, “they’re about this tall.” He held up his hand to his chest. “And about twice as long. They have six legs and really hard skin called, um”—he searched for the word he’d learned the previous week in science class—“called an exoskeleton.”
    The hunters were looking suitably impressed. “And they have pincers,” Leroy added, “giant pincers on the front.” He held out his arms in front of him and waved them in an imitation.
    This was enough for the men. Several in the back shifted uneasily and murmured, “Pincers, pincers.” They looked around them as if one of these monsters might actually appear from behind one of the skinny trees. One stepped forward to whisper in the leader’s ear.
    â€œWould you like to come to dinner?” the leader asked Leroy.
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    Leroy accepted the invitation, and after collecting his paper bag, he walked back to the lodge with the hunting party. On the way, he learned that he was in the land of King Wiglaff and that the leader of the hunting party’s name was Per. Per was the king’s second-in-command.
    As they walked, Leroy elaborated on his description. “Roaches are very dangerous,” he said. “They operate in packs and have been known to carry off several small children at a time.”
    â€œReally?”