The Sisters Grimm: Book Eight: The Inside Story by Michael Buckley, Peter Ferguson Page B

he said.
    “Nuh-uh-uh,” Sabrina said as she tried to get to her feet once more. “I’m not going to do the riddle part. I hate the riddle part. This goes on and on. Let’s skip it.”
    “Skip it?” the Mad Hatter said as he forced her back into her chair. In the process he dropped his teacup. It shattered on the table.
    “You fool!” the March Hare said, pointing his paw at the Mad Hatter. “That didn’t happen. The Editor will be on us now.”
    “It was an accident. She made me do it!”
    “The Editor won’t care,” the March Hare said. “What were you thinking? Going off the story! Well, I won’t suffer for your lack of respect for the Editor. When his beasties arrive, I will tell them what you all have done. Why should I be revised? I’m innocent!”
    “Throw me under the bus, will you!” the Mad Hatter shouted. He jumped to his feet and grabbed the March Hare by the neck. He shook him so angrily that the March Hare’s bow tie unraveled. Enraged, the March Hare swung wildly and hit the Mad Hatter in the eye. The force from the blow caused him to fall backward over his chair. There he lay very still.
    “Get up, you fool,” the March Hare said. “When the Editor comes, it will do you well to show a little respect.”
    But the Mad Hatter didn’t stir.
    “Is he OK?” Daphne asked.
    Sabrina circled the table and kneeled beside the Mad Hatter’s body. She shook him gently. He was still breathing, but he was unconscious.
    “You cold-cocked him,” Puck said as he licked icing off his fingers. “Nice punch, too. For a rabbit.”
    The March Hare screamed in terror. “This is all your fault.”
    “Our fault? You’re the one serving knuckle sandwiches,” Daphne said.
    “The Mad Hatter does not get beat up in the story!” the March Hare cried. He was panicking and pacing back and forth.
    “Get control over yourself. We need to figure out what to do,” Daphne said.
    “Figure out what to do? This isn’t spilled milk, child.”
    The March Hare fled into the woods, knocking many of the teacups off the table as he went.
    Watching him flee, Sabrina had an unsettling feeling that she, Daphne, and Puck should do the same. She grabbed them by the hands and they raced off into the woods, following the string that the ball of yarn had left.
    “Shouldn’t we wait for the Mad Hatter to wake up?” Daphne said.
    “You remember what the Editor said,” Sabrina responded. “His hungry little monsters show up and they eat. If we’re in their way—we’re lunch. We should go.”
    The little ball was fast and relentless. It was difficult for the kids to keep up. Everywhere they went they encountered bizarre people and talking animals, but the trio ran past them without a word. Sabrina would rather be accused of being rude than accidentally change Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland any more than they already had. Eventually they found a small stream, and since they were too tired to go on, they stopped to take a break. The ball of yarn sat not far away, agitated and eager, like a soft, round bloodhound.
    Puck lay down in the grass with his hands behind his head. “Ah, isn’t this the life?”
    Sabrina could hardly believe her ears. “What? You’re enjoying this?”
    “Aren’t you? Jumping from one story to the next, playing around with history, changing people’s destinies—this is first-rate mischief-making,” Puck said.
    “I will never understand you,” she mumbled.
    Puck laughed. “Really, don’t you feel your heart beating! Don’t you feel so alive? We’ve nearly died a dozen times already. It’s exhilarating!”
    Daphne laughed. “I’d lost count. Who can remember them all?”
    “The last year of my life has been awesome. I hate to admit it, but you two have helped my street credibility in the prankster community. We’ve busted a guy out of jail, broken into someone’s house, killed dragons and giants, destroyed a bank and an elementary school, changed the future, and started a civil