“Hey kid. Kid. Wake up.”
Evan stirred, the world coming into focus: the dark walls and ceiling of the Attic’s storefront, the towering bookshelves of games, a smacking sound as the figure hovering over him slapped at Evan’s cheeks. Evan’s bones and back groaned. Then Evan groaned at the sight of the City Surveyor’s weasel face.
The man’s look of concern faded as he realized Evan was ok, shifting quickly to suspicion.
“Employees sleeping on the floor overnight,” he noted. “Overworked. Underpaid—unpaid, perhaps. Possible child abuse—Not my department, of course, but I can pass it along. Mmm-hmm.”
Evan could hear the scratch of pencil on the man’s mental notepad. “Definitely a violation of workplace safety standards.” The tax man’s sharp, beady eyes hardened as he tallied infractions up on some imaginary ledger.
“I’m not an employee.” Evan raised onto his elbows. Pain swelled in his head and eyes. “I’m a volunteer.”
The man opened his mouth to say something skeptical when Jeremy burst around the corner. Evan wondered how long he’d been lying behind the giant diorama.
“Oh my god, Evan! Are you ok?”
Jeremy helped him up. Pain shot down through his body and seemed to drain out his feet. Slowly, Evan found balance.
“You didn’t know he was here?” the city man sneered.
“No. I didn’t know you were here either,” Jeremy threw back. “How did you get in?”
The man screwed up his face and held out an official envelope. “Notice of the City’s decision,” he said. It had to be good news for Jeremy, judging by the displeased look on the man’s face.
Jeremy took the letter but ignored it. “What happened, Evan? Are you ok?”
“You were muttering in your sleep,” the man said. “Something about school and closets and cards. And wizards. You do go to school, don’t you? Has this man kidnapped you?”
The inspector pulled his checklist from somewhere, pencil ready to strike at its many checkboxes.
Excerpted from The Wizards’ Attic.
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