Read This Isn't What It Looks Like Online
Authors: Pseudonymous Bosch
This Isn't What It Looks Like
Copyright © 2010 by Pseudonymous Bosch
Illustrations copyright © 2010 by Gilbert Ford
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Little, Brown and Company
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
.
Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: September 2010
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Then again, he never
intended
to write this book in the first place.
ISBN: 978-0-316-12207-8
FOR
S
OFIA
C
AROLINA
(
SO NICE, THEY NAMED HER TWICE
); I
ZZY AND
J
ACK
; E
LIJAH
; I
SABELLA
; K
ATE
P.
AND
E
MMA
(
EVEN IF SHE’S TOO OLD
)
BUT NOT
M
AY AGAIN
(
WOULDN’T BE FAIR
); K
ATE
G.
AND
S
AM
; E
LLA AND
M
ARGAUX
; L
ILY WITH A
Y
, G
IDEON, AND
R
UFUS; BUT NOT
L
ILLI WITH AN
I
OR
L
UCAS OR
M
ADELEINE
(
SEE
B
OOK
T
WO); AND NOT
I
NDIA AND
N
ATALIA, EITHER
(
WELL, MAYBE WE’LL LEAVE THAT OPEN FOR DISCUSSION
);
ALSO FOR
A
VA AND
S
YLVIE
; L
UCY AND
L
EVI
; D
ULCE AND
O
LIVIA
; T
YLER X
2; I
RIS
; S
TASH
; L
ORENZA; THE LOCAL COUSINS
: L
EV
, D
ANTE, AND
M
OLLY; THE NORTHERN COUSINS
: N
AOMI
, E
LI, AND
J
ACOB; THE MYSTERIOUS COUSIN
, S
OPHIA; AND FINALLY FOR
N
ABU AND
K
IWI
S
KUNK AND MY
“M
OST
A
NNOYING
F
AN
E
VER” AND MY
S
ECRET
A
GENT IN
K
ENTUCKY AND ALL MY
S
ECRET
A
GENTS EVERYWHERE
WARNINGS, DISCLAIMERS, FINE PRINT & ETC.
CHAPTER FOUR: New Kid Old Comrade
CHAPTER-SIX: The Royal Kennels
CHAPTER FIVE: An Important Announcement
CHAPTER-FIVE: A Conversation in the Dark
CHAPTER SEVEN: The Mopping Hour
CHAPTER NINE: Oh No! The Baby’s in the Mayo!
CHAPTER TEN: The Mole, The Monocle, and The Mole
CHAPTER-TWO: An Old Legend in Reverse
CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Man in the Mirror
CHAPTER-ONE: Portbait of An Invisible Girl
CHAPTER TWELVE: Here Goes Nothing
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: An Extra-Extra-Long Guitar Solo
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The Glob Blog
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Seeing Things
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Opal, Like the Rock
CHAPTER TWENTY: As Above, So Below
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Lodestone
DISCLAIMERS,
FINE PRINT & ETC.
Do not read this book standing up. You may fall down from shock. • Do not read this book sitting down. A quick escape may
be necessary. • Operating a moving vehicle or any kind of heavy machinery while reading this book is forbidden. It might distract
you from the plot. • Prolonged exposure to this book may cause dizziness and, in extreme cases, paranoid delusions or even
psychosis. If that is your idea of fun, by all means keep reading. If it’s not, then this isn’t your kind of book. • Use of
this book for other than the intended purpose is not advised. While it may seem like an ideal projectile, the makers of this
book cannot guarantee your safety if you throw it at someone. There is always the possibility that that person will throw
it back. • You should not read this book if the cover has been tampered with or removed. If you suspect that your book has
been deliberately altered by your enemies, you should report it to the makers of this book. However, they
will probably think
you are crazy. Under no circumstances should you consult a doctor. He will definitely think you are crazy. • The contents
of this book may appear to have shifted over time. Do not be alarmed. This is a
natural occurrence that affects all books
and does not necessarily mean that your book has rewritten itself. Then again, it might have. • Remember, nothing in this
book is what it looks like.
*
1.
Truth is only stranger than fiction if you’re a stranger to the truth. Which means you’re either a liar or you’re fictional.
2.
A realistic story is a story lacking in imagination. (What does
realistic
mean, anyway? Would you say something is true-istic?)
3.
I’ve never met a joke so bad I didn’t like it. Then again, I’ve never met a joke.
4.
When in doubt, you can’t be wrong.
5.
Whether it’s chocolate or socks, the rule is the same: the darker the better.
6.
There is more to life than chocolate. There is, for example, cheese.
7.
If a waiter accidentally serves you a burger with mayonnaise, it’s not enough for him to scrape it off. He must order you
a new burger.
8.
It’s pronounced
sue DON im us.
9.
Secret? What Secret?
10.
I know you are, but what am I?
UTHOR’S
N
OTE
:
A
T A CERTAIN POINT IN THE FIRST 150 PAGES OF THIS BOOK THERE WILL BE AN EMERGENCY DRILL
. P
LEASE FOLLOW ALL INSTRUCTIONS AND BEHAVE EXACTLY AS YOU WOULD IN A REAL EMERGENCY
. T
HANK YOU
.
P.B.
*
A
S YOU WILL DISCOVER
, I
HAVE NUMBERED THIS AND SEVERAL OTHER CHAPTERS NEGATIVELY, SO TO SPEAK
. A
LAS
, I
CANNOT TELL YOU WHY WITHOUT GIVING AWAY TOO MUCH
. B
UT IF YOU HAVE STUDIED INTEGERS, YOU MAY WELL BE ABLE TO GUESS
. Y
OU KNOW, FOR EXAMPLE, THAT A NEGATIVE NUMBER IS A NUMBER WHOSE VALUE IS LESS THAN ZERO, AND THAT THE “HIGHER” THE NEGATIVE NUMBER IS, THE LOWER ITS VALUE
. T
HUS, WHEN YOU ORDER TWO NEGATIVE NUMBERS IN SEQUENCE, THE HIGHER OF THE TWO ALWAYS COMES
BEFORE
(
HINT, HINT
)
THE LOWER
. N
EGATIVE TEN COMES BEFORE NEGATIVE NINE, AND SO ON, UNTIL YOU GET TO ZERO AND THINGS TURN NORMAL—MORE OR LESS
.
H
ow shall I put this? I must choose my words carefully.
(I know how you are. Always ready to jump on my mistakes.)
Somewhere, at some time, a girl walked down a road.
I say
somewhere
not because the where is secret, although it is.
I say
some time
not because the when is secret, although it is.
And I say
a girl
not because her name is secret, although it is.
No, I use these words because the girl herself did not know where she was.
Or when.
Or who.
She had woken standing up. With her eyes open.
It was a very strange sensation. Like materializing out of nowhere.
Her fingers and toes tingled. The tips of her ears burned (whether from heat or cold she wouldn’t have been able to say).
Sunspots lingered in her eyes, blurring her vision. But when she looked up she saw there was no sun. The sky was cloudy.
Had she fainted? Did she have a concussion? (She knew that confusion and blurred vision were symptoms of concussion, but she
couldn’t remember how she knew it.) She touched her head, but she found no injury.
Gradually, the sunspots disappeared and her vision cleared. She looked around.
She had no idea where she was.
She seemed to be in the countryside, but of what country wasn’t immediately apparent. There were fields to either side of
her, but they were dry and empty. Trees dotted the landscape but in no obvious pattern. There were no signs of life.
Be systematic, she told herself. If you retrace your steps, you’ll figure out where you are.
But she couldn’t remember a thing that had happened before she was where she was. It was as if she had been born a moment
ago.
Who am I…?
The realization that she didn’t know her own name came over her belatedly, like a chill you don’t notice until you see your
breath clouding in the air.
She felt uneasy but not exactly frightened. Real amnesia, she knew (although she couldn’t remember how she knew it), was exceedingly
rare. Most likely, her memory would return in a moment.
She decided the best thing was to walk.
The walking was not easy. There were no signs or streetlights to guide the way. The road was not paved, and it was riddled
with rocks and tree roots and mud holes.
She stumbled more than once, but she trudged forward. What else was there to do?
An hour passed. Or maybe two. Or was it less?
She didn’t see anyone else. Until she did.
Ahead of her, just a few feet off the road, a little boy was climbing a big tree. Like a cat, he made his way on all fours
out onto a long branch. Like a cat, he got stuck.
“Father… Father!”
His cries grew louder, but nobody came.
I wonder if he’ll recognize me, the girl thought. He could be my little brother for all I know.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get you down!” she shouted.
If the boy heard her, he showed no sign. “Father!” he kept yelling.
An old hemp rope lay beneath the tree. The remains of a swing. The girl picked it up, then automatically started to climb
the old and twisting tree trunk. As if it were the natural thing to do. As if she had rescued many other children before.
Remember the Three-Point Rule, she told herself.
But she couldn’t remember how she knew the rule.
*
“You shouldn’t climb up trees if you’re too scared to climb down,” she said when she came close to the boy.
He ignored her, continuing to yell for his father. It certainly didn’t seem as though he recognized her.