The Children's Crusade by Carla Jablonski

another world? He’d seen the little kids doing it in the schoolyard regularly and none of them had vanished. She must be using special chalk or something.
    â€œIt doesn’t hurt,” Marya assured him. “And it’s not hard.”
    Tim shrugged. There was no use trying to figure it out now. He stepped up to the hopscotch grid. “Um. I just jump?”
    â€œWell, there’s a rhyming, too.” She cocked her head and looked at him a moment. “People who say ‘uhm’ a lot have trouble with rhymings sometimes. I’ll chant for you. Ready?”
    Tim glanced around to be sure no one waswatching. Only girls played hopscotch in this neighborhood. Satisfied that they weren’t being observed, Tim nodded. “Ready,” he declared.
    Tim heard Marya chanting an old nursery rhyme:
    â€œHalf a pound of tuppenny rice,
    Half a pound of treacle.
    Mix it up and make it nice,
    Pop goes the weasel.”
    Tim concentrated on hopping the pattern correctly. Two feet, one foot. Two feet, one foot. Marya continued chanting more nursery rhymes, some Tim knew, like “One, Two, Buckle My Shoe,” and others he’d never heard before, all about kings and queens and emperors.
    For one moment Tim wondered how he would get back home. Marya had traveled back and forth , he assured himself. It must not be too hard getting between our worlds .
    Two feet, one foot. Two feet, one foot, two feet, one foot. Gone!
    Â 
    Marya watched Tim jump the pattern and vanish.
    He’s awfully nice , she thought. He might truly be able to help Free Country.
    She knelt down and began to erase the chalk marks with the hem of her dress. Maybe he’ll even be able to turn Daniel happy inside . She sank back onto her heels. Or maybe not. Maybe magic can’t do things like that. Any magic. Maybe nothing can just make you what you want to be. You always have to help the magic along.
    The hopscotch pattern was smeared enough to be unrecognizable. She had accomplished her mission. “Good-bye, Free Country,” she said.
    She stood and clapped her hands together to get off the chalk. She knew exactly where she was headed: to that dance school. Some of the girls in that window were spinning around, only wishing they could dance. But some of them were dancing. Really dancing. Finally, she might be able to find someone to show her how.
    Maybe it has something to do with being allowed to grow up , Marya thought.
    After living for over two hundred and fifty years, she believed she might be ready for that.

Chapter Seven
    D ANIEL LEAPED FROM his raft to the riverbank. He had sat in Marya’s tent for so long that he was late for the meeting of the high council.
    It seemed Marya had been gone awhile. Makes a cove lonesome and skittery inside not to have her about . The tent was sure empty without her. In fact, to Daniel, all of Free Country was empty without Marya in it.
    He ran through the tall grasses, knowing full well how peeved Kerwyn would be by his lateness.
    â€œHey!” Daniel yelped and tumbled face forward onto the ground. He lay stunned for a moment. “Cor,” he exclaimed. “What happened there?”
    He sat up and discovered he’d been tripped by a thick, gnarled tree branch. “That’s funny,” he said, rubbing his scraped palms together to lessen the sting. Free Country usually never lets that sort ofthing happen to a fella. Usually, Free Country moves roots and fallen limbs or branches right out of a bloke’s way. He patted the soft dirt. “Losing your touch?” he joked.
    He scrambled back to his feet and made his way more carefully to the clubhouse where the meeting was taking place.
    As Daniel approached he could hear voices jabbering. It sounded like everyone was speaking at once. Daniel grinned. Perhaps Kerwyn wouldn’t even notice his tardiness—he’d be much more furious at the talking out of turn. Kerwyn loved his own rules and