Imaginarium by Zielona Sowa Publishing House

Część pierwsza

Gildia Wynalazców Część druga

Ogród Leonarda – w przygotowaniu

Agnieszka Stelmaszyk

Illustrated by Anna Oparkowska

Tekst: Agnieszka Stelmaszyk Ilustracje i projekt okładki: Anna Oparkowska Redakcja: Anna Włodarkiewicz Korekta: Teresa Zielińska, Agnieszka Nowak Skład i łamanie: Bernard Ptaszyński © Copyright for text by Agnieszka Stelmaszyk, 2017 © Copyrigth by Wydawnictwo Zielona Sowa Sp. z o.o., Warszawa 2017 All rights reserved Wydanie I Wszystkie prawa zastrzeżone. Przedruk lub kopiowanie całości albo fragmentów książki możliwe jest tylko na podstawie pisemnej zgody wydawcy. ISBN 978-83-8073-364-0 Wydawnictwo Zielona Sowa Sp. z o.o. 00-807 Warszawa, Al. Jerozolimskie 94 tel. 22 379 85 50, fax 22 379 85 51 wydawnictwo@zielonasowa.pl www.zielonasowa.pl

The uncertain fate of an emigrant Milo got off the bike and leant it against the wall of the Workshop under the Clock. He stood at the front door above which there was a beautiful, hand forged clock made out of multiple cogs. He could hear Marianne’s (or Mary’s, as her close ones used to call her) voice come from the workshop. ‘Voltage adjuster… Yes! Actuator…’ she mumbled leaning over a strange machine. ‘Hmm, I also need a converter.’ Free from school duties, Marianne did what she liked best since the early June morning: tinkering and constructing various devices. She dreamed of becoming an inventor, just like her mum. ‘Now I need to tighten this screw on… here and there… and… done!’ she smiled. She wiped her dirty hands on the green overalls and with satisfaction on her face, she looked at her newest creation. Suddenly, another bold thought crossed her mind. ‘And what if I add… Hmm...’ she frowned. She often delivered such monologues that made her father Stephen shiver with dismay. Stephen would much rather see his only child happily chatter with other girls than run around with a hammer and smoky soldering iron in her

hand. He had spent many sleepless nights thinking how to turn that energetic and disobedient girl into a well-mannered lady. Milo liked Marianne the way she was, that is a little bit crazy and a little bit different than other girls. ‘Theoretically, it should fly!’ Marianne announced with joy and pride in her voice. She brushed a lock of her curly ginger hair from her forehand. ‘Hey, how’s it going? What are you working on?’ Milo said and he stopped at the workshop’s threshold, petrified. ‘What is that?’ he looked at his friend. ‘Cool, isn’t it?’ Marianne sniffled. ‘It’s my newest creation’ she said proudly. Milo walked closer to the creation, his eyes were getting bigger and bigger as was admiring it. Now he knew why for the last few days they had been bringing in lots of junk form the scrapheap. He recognized cogs, pipes, rods, and elements of a rusty bicycle. ‘Just a few more welds and it’s ready’ Marianne put the welding mask on. ‘Whoa, you want to weld it now?’ Milo was always scared of those tiny, shiny sparks flying in all directions. His mum did not allow him to even touch a hammer, while Marianne could use freely much more dangerous tools. ‘One day that girl will burn her house down, with her father inside!’ Halina Pcinska, Milo’s mum predicted. ‘Poor

Stephen… yes, I’m telling you’ she said once over the dinner. ‘She is strange, just as crazy as her mother, may she rest in peace’ she sighed. ‘And you, little Milo, if you don’t stop seeing her, you will end up like her.’ “Little Milo” was not convinced if that was true. He learned a lot from Marianne, much more than he had ever learned at home. He did not dare to confess that thanks to her he knew how to use a drill-driver, a tool that his mum deemed as just as dangerous as a hammer drill or a jackhammer. Sometimes he would rebel against his overprotective mother, just like he did the day before when his mum pointed out for the hundredth time that he hangs out with that girl. ‘Mom, sometimes I would like to build something too, a birdfeeder at least, please! I’m twelve, almost thirteen years old!’ ‘It’s out of the question. You can go to any department store and buy a birdfeeder. You could saw off your finger. Your uncle Leon is missing one finger…’ Mum started to bring the most bloody visions of all the accidents her family members had had. And her memory for those type of situations was really exceptional. And she could tell those stories so well, that usually after hearing one of them Milo was so scared that he would get goose bumps and he would not even touch nails for a while. His father, Mr Gustav, sometimes interfered: ‘Darling, it’s

a miracle that everyone in your family lives for so long considering just how unlucky they are.’ It’s too bad that dad wasn’t home that often. He was a truck driver and spent many hours behind the wheel. Milo’s Mom used to say that it’s because of that ‘on this ship’ (of course she meant the house) she was a sole leader. She was the admiral, commander and keeper of home fires burning. And she was making all the decisions for her crew, that is a husband, son and annoying five years old twins. Younger siblings could really get on Milo’s nerves. It’s because of them it was forbidden to use any dangerous tools in the house. Milo thought that it was unfair, twins should watch for themselves, but the admiral, that is mum, saw it differently. That’s why whenever he could, he went to Workshop under the Clock, which was fill of ‘awfully dangerous tools’ (as Mrs Halina used to say), for him it was a magical, unusual place where one could create marvels. During the work sometimes he got scratches or a splinter, but Marianne always had a first aid kit handy, band-aid and peroxide. Kids were never hurt badly, but every time Mrs Pcinska saw a band-aid on her son’s finger, she would yell that someday they will get seriously injured. At the end of each school year Halina started worrying about the health and life of her firstborn. Unfortunately, that Marianne lived nearby, on Camomile street forty eight, and poor Milo, instead of watching over

the twins, spent his time in the den of all evil, that is in the workshop full of torture tools (that’s how his mum called a toolbox). Halina did not have any hard feelings for poor Stephen (she liked him, as he was a handsome widower). It was uncommon that a single man had to raise a daughter… Sometimes she gave him good advice on how he should handle her, but he just ignored them, and Mrs Pcinska wasn’t happy about that. ‘That Marianne is so spoiled that he can’t handle her’, she said to her friend over the phone while the twins were yelling at the top of their voices fighting over some toys. Her friend’s kids were also yelling, so both ladies had to yell even louder than the kids. ‘What he needs are good, pedagogical methods, and…’ Milo did not hear what else Stephen needed to subjugate his daughter, he made use of his mother’s distraction and went outside, got on his bike and travelled liked a wind to that Marianne, who recently had been a bit secretive and didn’t want to tell him what she was constructing. It had to be something special. So when the boy saw his friend’s creation, at first he was astonished, but after a while he became impatient. He wanted to know what the new machine was capable of. ‘What exactly is this thing?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t name it yet’ Marianne scratched her pointy,

grease-covered nose. ‘Maybe you’ll think of something.’ ‘It looks like a bicycle, glider and motorbike crossover. Hmm, what else? Can this thing fly?’ ‘You bet! What do you say for a small trip?’ ‘Are you sure we’ll be all right?’ Milo asked. No’ Marianne shook her copper-gold hair. ‘”No” as if we’ll be fine or “no” as you are not sure?’ ‘I can’t promise anything, it’s a prototype’ said the girl frankly. ‘I haven’t tested it yet’, she added. ‘So, as usual, I am to be your test subject?’ Milo moaned. ‘Someone has to do it’, Marianne laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll fly with you. I purposely designed this vehicle to be a two-seater.’ ‘You did that for… ‘ Milo gulped. ‘For me…?’ He felt warmth is his heart. Because of the naughty twins, he seldom was on his mom’s priorities list, at least that’s how he felt. That’s why his friend’s gesture, to design such vehicle for him, caused his heart to pump harder. After a second Marianne replied to his question. ‘I designed a two-seater vehicle, because I won’t fly on my own. Besides, I need your legs’. Her blue eyes sparked happily. Milo looked at his tanned calf. ‘My legs?’ ‘You know, propulsion! Unfortunately, the engine doesn’t have sufficient power, so we need additional propulsion, our muscle power’, the young constructor laughed. ‘That’s why

I need a passenger.’ Are you going somewhere?’ ‘Yup’ she nodded. ‘I’m running away.’ ‘Running away?’ Milo opened his mouth. ‘But where?’ ‘I don’t know yet, maybe to Ubbadubbakistan’, the girl scratched her head. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’ There you have it, this time Marianne shocked even Milo himself, who had never been shocked before, even by her craziest ideas. ‘But why Ubbadubbakistan? Is it safe there?’ Whether we wanted it or not, he was a true son of his mother, and sometimes her words would come from his mouth. ‘I don’t know’ Marianne shrugged. Milo decided that at home he will read something about this country of which he had never heard before. He wanted to know if there wasn’t any ongoing war, or whether it was ruled by some cruel regime or something like that. He didn’t want to get involved in fights or go to jail full of criminals. Marianne explained the details of her plan. ‘I think it is sufficiently far from home’ she sighed. ‘You want to run away from home? But why?’ The thought that came into Milo’s mind began to swell, and soon it seemed that it would make his head explode. ‘But you live such a nice life’, he exclaimed. ‘And you have this… wonderful workshop. Do you want to leave all of this?’ he just

couldn’t believe what she had said. Inconceivable! We could give everything (especially those annoying twins…) to have a workshop like this! And on top of that, her quiet house, so very quiet, where no one was yelling, stumping, or crying all night. There was terror on Milo’s face. ‘You clearly don’t know what you are doing! And what about your dad? Does he know?’ ‘Are you crazy? I can’t tell him because I’m running away from him.’ ‘Oh boy, what did he do?’ ‘He wants to take this workshop from me!’ Marianne was grumpy. ‘You’re kidding! It belonged to….’ Milo paused for a moment. ‘It belonged to your mother’ he finished his sentence quietly, this was still a touchy subject. ‘Exactly!’ Marianne stumped her feet. ‘I have the right to it! And dad said, most likely under the influence of good advice from a certain lady’ she looked meaningfully at her friend, who instantly realised who she was referring to, ‘That I’m not girly enough! Can you imagine?’. The tongs that she was waiving with slipped from her hand, flew above Milo, who managed to dodge them, and hit the floor. ‘I’m not girly enough! Am I supposed to be like other girls? How should I be like?’ She asked rhetorically. ‘I’m supposed to backbite other girls, tweet, or talk about clothes?’ she asked in fear.

‘Not all girls are like that’ Milo said, but Marianne wasn’t listening. ‘I’ll run away, that’s what I’ll do!’ she stated, and to emphasize that, she stumped her feet again. ‘And I’ll run away before dad sends me to France for my stupid vacations, to that old and awful aunt!’ ‘To France?’ Milo’s eyes got bigger again. ‘Your dad is sending you to France?’ It was mind-boggling. ‘And you don’t want to go there?’ This he just could not comprehend. If someone wanted to send him abroad, he would not try to run away from home because of that. On the contrary, he would be happy about it! But he will not be happy about that any time soon, because of the twins his parents could not afford any trips abroad. The most important thing for his family were the needs of

Leo and Claire. And because the devourers (he used to call his brother and sister that name because they devoured lots of food and his mum’s time) had really big needs, he could be sure that he will not see Paris, Berlin or London. Well, maybe on TV. But that was nothing compared to the chance Marianne had. ‘You too would rebel if someone wanted to enslave you and took away your workshop’ she grunted. ‘My aunt has been living there for ages and she is half French. Dad said that only she will be able to teach me some manners. Pff!’ She put her hands in her pockets. ‘Dad also said that I should spend some time with aunt, with a woman, and not just with him. He said it’s high time I talked about female stuff with someone, but I don’t care!’ The more of Marianne’s story Milo heard, the more he was sure that Stephen had best intentions. ‘Your dad is worried about you. And he wants you to have a great holidays’ he tried to cheer her up. ‘In fact, it was the aunt who invited me. I don’t know her and I don’t want to meet her. She and dad probably planned all this together. And all this just to take the workshop from me! I see through their lies’ Marianne shook her fist. Milo thought that it was a misinterpretation of Stephen’s plans, but he knew that when Marianne sticks to some idea, it will be very difficult to change her mind. ‘We will run away tomorrow!’ she declared.

Milo was scared. ‘So soon?! But… why should I run away as well?’ Suddenly he felt the uncertain fate of an emigrant to some Ubbadubbakistan is not the thing he looks forward to. In fact, it made him scared. Where was he going to he sleep? What was he going to eat? Where was he going to get money from? Marianne referred to those doubts just by shrugging her shoulders. ‘You ask why you should run as well?’ she hissed. ‘Because that old, awful aunt invited you as well! My dad is most likely discussing that with your mom. So what do you say? Will you run away with me?’ She smiled invitingly. Milo’s face looked as if he had been struck by lightning.