“You have wings to help,” I grump and wriggle my nose. “Why don’t you carry me?”

“You’ll have your own wings one day. Until then, you need to learn other ways. Sometimes you’ll wish to explore the wilds on your own. I can’t always be there to fly you about.”

“You should save Luna,” I mumble. “You’re faster than me.”

“First off, you’re still the leader. Second, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t offended the creature tome. And third, I have a pact with snicker-snaps. They leave my moths alone, so long as I let them eat whatever else they deem tasty. Now watch and learn.” He bounds across the turtles once more. “Like stepping across rocks in a creek. Simple as that.”

I look at my footed pajamas. “They’ll bite my toes again.”

“They don’t want to bite you. They’ll only turn on you if you turn on them. You need to get on their good side. Give it a try.”

I bury my face deeper into the wet fabric covering my knees.

The leaf I’m on bends slightly as Morpheus settles beside me. I peek with one eye to find him studying me like he often does, his expression serious and full of wonder. His left wing comes to rest on my back, soft and rustling, warming my chilly bones.

“You almost did it,” he says, gentle this time. “You just lost your footing . . . lost your faith. You have to have faith in yourself if you wish to help anyone else. It’s the only way to be a good leader.”

“The turtles keep moving. I don’t trust them. They don’t play fair.”

“You’re right not to trust them. And little in life is fair.”

“Games should be,” I argue. “They should have rules.”

Morpheus snorts. “Not in Wonderland. And by the by, those aren’t turtles, really. They’re playing at being turtles . . . mock turtles, one might say. They’re evolved from what’s left of the snicker-snap’s undigested food. Mostly dead body pieces and such.”

I shudder to think that Luna might be one of the floating mostly deads if I can’t rescue her. “They’re icky. Icky and rotten as snot.” I sniffle and the action sucks the lake scum from my dripping pants into my nose. I swallow it down, coughing. “I don’t want to be the leader anymore. It’s hard.”

“Aw, c’mon. There are so many perks for the leader. First shot with the mallet at dinner . . . a fancy crown of jewels . . . oh, and the only one in Wonderland who can tame a bandersnatch with a secret password. Give it one more try.”

I shake my head. The taste of lake water mixed with fabric softener has settled in the back of my throat. I shiver and think of Mommy and my warm bed. “I want to go home now.”

“So, you will leave Luna to be eaten?”

Tears burn my eyes. “I don’t want to. But what if it’s too late already?”

Luna’s tiny voice pleads from inside the snicker-snap as if in answer.

Morpheus and I meet gazes and I scramble to my feet, though I’m too scared to move.

“What if I lend a bit of magic to help you along?” he asks. “Will you try once more then?”

As always, the offer of magic is too intriguing to ignore. I nod my head and wipe snot from my nose.

Morpheus offers a hanky along with a sideways grin.

After I clean my face and hands, he tugs me to the edge of the leaf. “Mostly deads are close enough to being dead that they’re very grim. And to get on death’s good side, we must share a taste of life.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll show you.” Gripping under my arms, he flies us back to the rock that was my starting point earlier.

I perch at the slippery edge, studying the mock turtles in the stagnant liquid. Now that I know what they really are, I’m even less eager to touch them.

Morpheus settles beside me and lights up a fiery orb in his small hand, blue and electric. It sizzles and smokes. He tosses the ball down and it ignites the lake. Within seconds, moans erupt from the blue flames now spreading to the turtles’ shells.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, backing away from the heat scorching my cheeks.

“Fire is life,” Morpheus says beneath his breath, his porcelain skin lit up with the blaze. His jeweled eye patches glitter a feverish orange.

Hisses and pops rise from the mock turtles, turning into whispers. It’s hard to hear what they’re saying, though Morpheus seems to know. He answers them: “Turn over a new leaf . . . show us your good side.”

The blobs rotate in the water and snuff out the flames on their backs. Only their bellies stick up—too wet to catch fire.

“Now, Alyssa!” Morpheus shouts and pushes me into motion.

Yelping, I leap from one bobbing post to the other, clearing the embers still afloat on the water and making it to the snicker-snap’s mouth without getting any turtle bites. Upon arrival, I pause on my landing spot, unsure how to open the plant’s jaws.

I’m about to pry them apart when the mouth pops open in a hysterical laugh—guffawing and snorting so loud it ripples the water and unbalances my perch. I slip, almost toppling into the snicker-snap’s open jaws. Luna, propelled from the plant’s throat on a loud chortle, catches me and lifts me into the air before I can fall.

Morpheus joins us in flight. “Good show, Luna!” He offers her a carefree, beaming smile that seems to suck out the light from inside me. Why doesn’t he ever smile at me like that?

Luna blushes and nearly drops from midair, but catches herself. I notice she’s covered in glowing goo.

“Should’ve seen your eyes,” she says to me at last as she lands us atop the safety of the fern. “They were almost the size of mine!”

“Wait . . .” I watch as Morpheus helps her scrape thick drool from her green skin and scoop it into a jar. “This was a game? To get the saliva?”

“There’s a trick to snicker-snaps,” Morpheus answers. “If you’d been patient in your lessons today, you would’ve learned it by the eighth lecture. Their throats are ticklish. Luna merely had to play victim long enough to be pulled into its esophagus. Then, it coughed her back out on an irrepressible snicker attack.”

Luna holds up a goop-slicked feather, her giggles tinkling.

“Once you learn the weaknesses of the creatures in this world,” Morpheus says, plugging the jar with a cork lid, “you can trump each and every one, face any danger, and always have a way out. That’s why it’s important for you to pay attention to the droning books. So . . . are you ready to go back to your boring studies, or did you want to give the feather a try and learn things the hard way?”

Without another word, I allow Morpheus to fly us back to the library, watching the landscapes pass below us. Wonderland is fun, but dangerous. For some reason, instead of scaring me, that makes me hungrier to know more.

More about the world and its creatures. More about its landscapes and lore. And most of all, more about my strange playmate. Because one day, I’m going to beat him at his own game. And then he’ll smile at me, just like he did at Luna today.

MEMORY TWO: IN WHICH I BROKE WONDERLAND

Morpheus and I sit inside his flying carriage on seats of red velvet. Fluorescent swirls move along the walls, creating a spinning effect. They glide up and around the roof, stopping only where purple curtains drape either side of the window.