The Bridge to Never Land (13 page)

CHAPTER 17

T
HE PRINCETON PHYSICS DEPARTMENT
was headquartered in Jadwin Hall, a massive, modern brick building next to the football stadium. The office Sarah and Aidan were looking for was on the second floor at the end of a long hallway. The door was closed. As they approached it, Sarah grabbed Aidan’s arm.

“Look,” she said, pointing to the nameplate next to the door, which read j.d. aster, associate professor of physics.

“His name is Aster!” she said. “J.D. Aster.”

“I can read,” said Aidan.

“So it’s not just his e-mail address. It’s his name. He’s a Starcatcher!”

“Sarah, he’s a guy named Aster.”

“Who maybe can help us. I soooo hope he can help us.” Sarah rapped her knuckles twice on the door.

“Come in,” called a man’s voice. Sarah opened the door and stepped inside, followed by Aidan. The office was cluttered—papers were everywhere, occupying two chairs as well as a good section of the floor. Behind the desk, facing a computer screen, was a man in his twenties wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt that read death to squirrels. His tousled brown hair spilled over an angular face dominated by startlingly bright green eyes set above prominent cheekbones.

“Whoa,” said Sarah, softly. Aidan rolled his eyes.

“Can I help you?” said the man.

“‘Death to squirrels’?” said Aidan.

“A band,” said the man. “I’m J.D. And you are…”

Sarah, wishing she’d checked her hair one last time before opening the door, stepped forward and, putting on her most winning smile, said, “I’m Sarah Cooper, and this is my brother, Aidan. I’m the one who sent you the…I mean, you sent it to me, but it was in answer to the thing I sent you, although of course I didn’t know it was you, at the time.”

“What?” said J.D.

“You answered our Craigslist ad,” said Aidan.

J.D. frowned. “That was
you
?”
Sarah and Aidan nodded.
“But you’re just…kids!”
Sarah reddened.
Aidan said, “Well, you don’t look old enough to be a
college professor.”

“Associate professor,” said J.D.

“Well, professor,” said Sarah, “we’re old enough to have found you, and to have come here to ask for your help.”

“Help with…” He eyed them both curiously.

Sarah hesitated for a moment.

“Starstuff,” she said.

“Excuse me?”

The words seemed to tumble out before she could stop them. “We have some starstuff.”

“It’s real,” Aidan said. “Really real.”

“We found a letter…and a map,” Sarah said, “and we followed the map, and we found the starstuff in England.”

“Hidden in a cave,” Aidan said.

“And we took it,” Sarah added. “We thought it would be fun, but now Ombra knows we have it, and he’s after it.”

J.D. smiled. “That would be Lord Ombra?”
“Yes!” said Aidan. “He’s after us. He’s a flock of birds,
ravens, and he…” He stopped, seeing the look on J.D.’s face. “You don’t believe us,” Sarah said.

J.D. sighed. “I take it you’re fans of the books.”
“Yes,” said Sarah, “but this is—”
“Listen,” said J.D. “Those books, they’re just stories.

People get wrapped up in stories. But they’re still just stories.” Aidan said, “You think we came all this way to tell you a fairy tale?”

“I’m afraid I do,” said J.D.

“Well,” Aidan said angrily, “maybe you’d like to see what’s inside the—ow!” He yanked his arm away from Sarah’s painfully pinching fingers. She gave him a
shut up
look, then turned to J.D.

“I have a question, Professor Aster,” she said. “If you don’t believe the starstuff stories are real, why did you answer our Craigslist ad? Why did you say you’d like to meet us? Why did you tell us to come here?”

“Because when I answered the ad, I didn’t know you were children.”

“We’re not children. I’m seventeen.”

J.D. snorted.

“Besides,” Sarah went on, “what difference does it make how old we are? You answered the ad. You told us to meet with you. Why did you do that, if you don’t believe us?”

J.D.’s face reddened. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

“You think?” Aidan said.

J.D. sighed. “Okay, okay,” he said. He took a deep breath. “What I’m going to tell you now is our big family secret, passed down through the generations. I shouldn’t tell you this, but at this point I don’t think it matters anymore. My great-grandfather, Henry, was an Englishman, and the nephew of a man named Leonard Aster—the same name that’s in the books. Henry claimed he was a Starcatcher.”

“Oh my god,” said Sarah. “I knew it. You are one of them!”

“I am no such thing,” said J.D. “I said my great-grandfather claimed he was a Starcatcher. It was a family legend, passed down through generations of Asters. But they’re all gone now. I’m the last of the Asters, as far as I know. And I’m not passing it on, because I think it’s a fairy tale.”

“What did your parents think?” said Sarah.

“My mom thought the whole Starcatchers story was silly. My father wanted to believe. He loved and respected his father and grandfather. But he was a physicist, like me. He needed proof. The idea of starstuff, flying, shadow creatures…I don’t think he really believed any of that. But he felt an obligation to his father, so he passed the instructions along to me.”

“What instructions?” said Aidan.

“Basically, to keep an eye out. For what—that part was pretty vague. The story passed down in our family was that the bad guys were defeated back in England and all the starstuff was gone except for one batch, which they kept in case of an emergency, hidden in some secret safe place by this guy Magill. So the instructions, according to my dad, were that we Asters were to keep an eye out in case the bad guys reappeared, or the starstuff somehow got out, or somebody needed our help. It was all pretty vague, and I don’t think my dad ever really bought it. I know I don’t buy it. But I made my dad a promise that I would keep an eye out. So I did.”

He pointed to his computer. “I use Web-search programs with keywords like ‘starstuff,’ ‘Starcatchers,’ ‘Aster,’ that sort of thing. Most of what I get is fans of the books blogging about them. But your Craigslist ad seemed different. It mentioned Magill, which was unusual. So I answered you. But now that you’re here, to be honest, I feel pretty stupid for letting it get this far.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m really sorry I wasted your time. But I honestly don’t want to waste any more of mine on this. So if you’ll excuse me…”

“We’re wasting your time?” Aidan said bitterly. “Do you have any idea—”

Sarah put a hand on her brother’s arm, stopping him. “I have one more question for you, professor,” she said.

“Yes?” he said.

“What about the books?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“The Starcatchers books. You had this big family secret for all these years. Then all of a sudden, there’s these books about exactly the same thing—starstuff, the Starcatchers, the Asters. Didn’t that freak you out? How do you explain it?”

J.D. smiled. “Good question,” he said. “Yes, it did freak me out—at first. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it made perfect sense.”

“How?” said Sarah.

“It’s obvious. The Starcatchers story must be an old
legend. I don’t know how it got into my family; maybe somebody told the story to one of my ancestors. Or maybe one of my ancestors made it all up and told it to his kids one night, and they believed it, and they’ve been passing it along ever since. But however it got started, it’s obvious that other people, outside my family, have also heard basically the same story. And a few years ago somebody decided to turn it into a book for kids. But that just proves my point: it’s a folk tale. It’s all made up.”

“You’re sure?” said Sarah.

“Completely. I’m a scientist. I believe in what can be proven. There’s no proof for any of this.”

“Really,” said Sarah. She unslung her backpack and set it on the desk. She looked at Aidan and said, “What do you think?”

“I think he’s a jerk,” muttered Aidan.

“I heard that,” said J.D.

“Aidan,” said Sarah, “we need his help.”

“All right,” Aidan said reluctantly. “Show him.”

“Show me what?” said J.D.

“Proof,” said Sarah. She unzipped the backpack and took out the golden box. She set it on the desk with a solid
thunk
. “There,” she said.

“Nice box,” said J.D.

“It’s full of starstuff.”

J.D. looked at the box, then at Sarah, and smiled. “Sure
it is,” he said.

“You don’t believe me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I told you he’s a jerk,” said Aidan.

“I’m a scientist,” said J.D., glaring at Aidan.

Sarah touched the gold wheel on the box. “Stick out your hand,” she said.

Aidan stepped forward. “Sarah,” he said. “We showed it to him. That’s enough. This is not a good idea.”

“Just a little,” she said.

Aidan shook his head. “It could bring them, Sarah. They can feel it.”

Sarah hesitated. “From this far away?” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Aidan. “They could be anywhere.”

Sarah took her hand off the wheel.

J.D.’s smile broadened. “Nicely done!” he said. “A fine performance. I gather that, because of the grave danger of the box’s contents, you can’t actually show me the starstuff.”

Sarah’s face turned deep red. She put her hand back on the wheel.

“Sarah…” said Aidan.

“Stick out your hand,” she said to J.D.

“If you’re videoing this…” said J.D.

“Stick out your hand!”

With a sigh, J.D. put his hand next to the golden box.

Sarah, one hand on the wheel, used the other to tilt the
box.

“This better not be paint,” J.D. said.

Sarah turned the wheel a tiny bit, then a tiny bit more. Nothing happened.

“Okay,” said J.D., “this is getting old.” He started to pull his hand away.

Sarah opened the wheel a quarter turn.

In an instant, the small office was flooded with golden light and a glorious sound.

Four hundred miles to the west, a massive oak suddenly came alive, its leaves and branches thrashing as though buffeted by a sudden storm. But it was no storm. It was the beating of hundreds of black wings.

Momentarily blinded, Sarah and Aidan couldn’t see J.D.’s reaction. But they heard him—first a gasp, then a moan of pleasure. Then—“Whoa.”

Sarah turned the wheel shut. As suddenly as it had appeared, the golden light was gone. J.D. was still behind his desk, a look of astonished delight on his face.

“What was that?” he said.

“That,” said Sarah, “was starstuff.”

“Which, according to you, doesn’t exist,” said Aidan.

“Well, I admit it was pretty…amazing,” said J.D. “But I can think of various ways you could have done that…some kind of chemical mist with a fast-acting hallucinogenic—”

“Professor,” said Sarah, cutting him off. “Look at your feet.”

“What?”

“Your feet. Look at them.”

J.D. looked down at his feet. They were a good six inches off the floor. “Oh my god,” he said.

“Exactly,” said Sarah.

“Try leaning forward,” said Aidan. “Just a little.”

J.D. leaned. He floated gently upward, his feet brushing his desktop, sending some papers fluttering to the floor. He drifted across the office, Sarah and Aidan stepping aside to make room. He put his hands out as he reached the door, stopping himself. He looked down, and his feet began to rise; in a few seconds he was upside down, facing Sarah and Aidan, his sneakers gently bumping against the ceiling.

“Oh my god,” he repeated.
“It’s not a chemical mist,” said Aidan.
“No,” agreed J.D.
“You might want to turn right-side up,” said Sarah. “It
wears off.” By waving his arms in a swimming motion, J.D. got himself roughly upright, two feet off the floor, smiling hugely.

“Okay,” he said. “I believe you.”

“Duh,” said Aidan.

J.D. pointed at the golden box on his desk. “Now,” he said, “I want to know everything.”

“You’re going to want to sit down,” said Sarah. “If you can.”

J.D.maneuvered himself to his desk chair, then took hold of its arms and positioned himself above it, hovering.