The Jolly Regina Read online

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.

  ISBN: 978-1-4197-2136-6

  eISBN: 978-1-61312-073-6

  Text copyright © 2017 Kara LaReau

  Jacket and interior illustrations copyright © 2017 Jen Hill

  Book design by Pamela Notarantonio

  Published in 2017 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS.

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

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  For CRB, my very own unintentional adventure

  —K.L.

  tepid |'tepid| adjective

  (esp. of a liquid) only slightly warm

  Chapter One

  If you ever find yourself on the road to Dullsville, you might encounter an unassuming house. In it reside the Bland Sisters, Jaundice and Kale.

  You might tell the Bland Sisters apart in several ways.

  First, Jaundice prefers to dress in gray, while Kale favors brown.

  Second, Kale wears her hair parted on the side, while Jaundice parts hers in the middle.

  Third, Jaundice is left-handed while Kale is right-handed.

  Fourth, Kale is seldom seen without her backpack, in which she currently carries Dr. Nathaniel Snoote’s Illustrated Children’s Dictionary, a rather large leather-bound tome with a cracked spine reinforced with many layers of tape, a gold-stamped cover featuring the beatific silhouette of Dr. Snoote himself, and tabs along the side for each letter of the alphabet. The dictionary is the Bland Sisters’ favorite reading material, and their main source of education. Carrying Dr. Snoote in her backpack is Kale’s main source of physical and mental exercise.

  Fifth, Jaundice is known to wear a smock featuring an inordinate number of pockets. Being the more skilled seamstress of the two sisters (a skill learned from one of Dr. Snoote’s Educational Sidebars, called Know Your Stitches), Jaundice sewed this garment herself out of an old curtain and the upholstery of a long-since-discarded couch. Usually the pockets contain such treasures as a sock-darning needle and thread, several milk bottle caps, a long shoelace with various knots tied in it, and half of yesterday’s sandwich wrapped in a napkin. Jaundice tends to forget to empty her pockets before her smock goes into the wash, much to the chagrin of Kale, who does the laundry.

  Other than these few distinctions, the Bland Sisters are just about the same.

  Jaundice and Kale pride themselves on their exacting routine. After breakfast (plain oatmeal with skim milk, a cup of weak, tepid tea on the side) they tend to their business of darning other people’s socks, which takes the better part of the day. Each allows herself one ten-minute break, during which she eats a cheese sandwich on day-old bread and drinks a glass of flat soda while gazing out the window, watching the grass grow.

  The Bland Sisters look forward most to the evenings, when they entertain themselves by reading the dictionary to each other, then staring at the wallpaper until they fall asleep.

  It should be mentioned that Jaundice and Kale have parents. Several years ago, they left quite suddenly to run an errand of an unspecified nature. The Bland Sisters don’t tend to dwell on it too much, as they are sure their parents will return any day now.

  trying |'trī-ng| adjective

  annoying or difficult

  Chapter Two

  “Jaundice?” said Kale one afternoon.

  “Yes, Kale,” said Jaundice.

  “I have a Feeling,” said Kale.

  Jaundice sighed. Kale was always having Feelings. It was very trying.

  “I have a Feeling,” said Kale, “that something is going to happen.”

  “Of course, something is going to happen,” said Jaundice, taking a fresh sock-darning needle from one of her pockets. “Something is always going to happen. Your telling me that something is going to happen is a happening, in and of itself.”

  Kale sighed. Jaundice was always dismissing her. It was very trying.

  “Well, we’re just about to finish the P section of the dictionary,” offered Jaundice. “I know how you love the P section. Also, we have new cheese for our sandwiches.”

  “No,” said Kale. “This is different. Something different is going to happen.”

  “Did I mention the cheese is white, instead of yellow?” said Jaundice.

  Kale picked up another sock. It was no use explaining.

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The Bland Sisters looked at each other. No one came to the door. Ever. Not even to deliver the cheese—the grocer left that in a basket by the mailbox, along with other sundries, like toothbrushes and laundry powder and sock-darning thread.

  “What shall we do?” asked Kale.

  “I’m not sure,” said Jaundice. “Let me think.”

  “Let’s pretend we’re sleeping,” said Kale. “Maybe they’ll go away.”

  This was Kale’s solution for any moment of relative peril. She closed her eyes, tilted her head to one side, and began fake-snoring. Jaundice followed suit.

  The knocking only grew louder.

  “It’s not working,” whispered Jaundice.

  “Shh,” said Kale.

  Knock-knock. Knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock.

  “It’s still not working,” whispered Jaundice.

  “Zzzzzzzzzzz,” said Kale.

  “I have a radical idea,” said Jaundice. She stood up. She walked to the door.

  “You can’t be serious,” said Kale.

  But she was. Jaundice was always serious.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  Finally, the knocking stopped.

  “It’s a surprise!” a cheerful voice said.

  predicament |pri'dikəmənt| noun

  an unpleasant, embarrassing, or difficult situation

  Chapter Three

  The Bland Sisters looked at each other.

  “I didn’t order anything surprising,” said Jaundice. “Did you?”

  Kale shook her head.

  “What is it?” she asked The Voice Behind the Door.

  “I can’t tell you,” The Voice said sweetly. “That’s what makes it a surprise.”

  “I have a Feeling,” said Kale.

  Jaundice sighed. Here we go again, she thought.

  “I have a Feeling we should open the door,” said Kale.

  “We can’t,” said Jaundice. “You know the rule.”

  “Which one?” Kale asked.

  In the absence of parental supervision, the Bland Sisters had established many rules. One was: Don’t Use More than One Slice of Cheese on Your Sandwich. Another was: Don’t Part Your Hair on the Side If You Usually Part It in the Middle, and Vice Versa. A third was: When in a Moment of Relative Peril, Pretend You’re Sleeping.

  But Jaundice had a different rule in mind.

  “Never Open the Door to Strangers,” she said.

  “Right,” s
aid Kale. “I’d forgotten about that one.”

  She addressed the door again.

  “We don’t open the door to strangers,” she informed The Voice.

  For a few moments, the Bland Sisters heard nothing. Then The Voice cleared its throat.

  “I guess you won’t be getting your surprise, then,” it said. “I need you to sign for it.”

  “Well,” said Kale. “This is a predicament.”

  “Not really,” said Jaundice, after giving the situation some thought. “We could bend our rule, just this once. After all, there’s only one of them and two of us. If it means us any harm, we’ll outnumber it.”

  Kale wasn’t sure what Jaundice meant, as she wasn’t very good at numbers. Math Is Fun, Dr. Snoote’s sidebar on mathematics, was very long and involved, and it always gave her a headache. But Kale nodded in agreement anyway.

  Jaundice, being good at numbers (and not being as prone to mathematically induced headaches), counted to three. Then she opened the door.

  On the other side, most definitely, was a surprise.

  insignia |in'signēə| noun

  a badge, mark, or emblem of official rank or membership

  Chapter Four

  On the doorstep of the Bland Sisters’ house was a woman with only one hand. The Bland Sisters surmised this fact because she was wearing a sharp metal hook where her left hand should be. The woman had a black bandanna tied on her head and large hoop earrings in her ears. Her shirt was white and ruffly and cinched with a wide leather belt, and she wore black silk pants tucked into tall black boots. On her belt was an insignia of a skull and crossbones.

  “Well,” said Jaundice. “That’s certainly a look.”

  “I’ve seen that insignia before,” Kale said. “Somewhere.”

  “Are ye the Bland Sisters?” the woman asked.

  “We are,” said Jaundice. “Where is our surprise?”

  The woman brought something out from behind her back.

  “Is that burlap?” Kale exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Burlap is my all-time favorite fabric.”

  “It’s a sack,” said Jaundice. “A burlap sack.”

  “Ye must be the smart one,” the woman said. She smiled, revealing several gold teeth.

  Jaundice blushed. She was the smart one. In her opinion, at least.

  “So where is the surprise?” Kale asked.

  “Inside,” the woman said, opening the sack just a bit.

  The Bland Sisters peered in.

  “I don’t see anything,” said Kale.

  “Me, neither,” said Jaundice.

  “Ye have to look closer,” the woman said, shaking the sack. “It’s at the bottom.”

  The Bland Sisters leaned in.

  “Closer,” the woman said.

  They leaned in farther.

  “I think I see something,” Jaundice said.

  “Me, too,” said Kale. “More burlap!”

  “Gotcha,” said the woman. She drew up the sack and tied it shut, then threw it over her shoulder with remarkable ease.

  The Bland Sisters were trapped.

  “I just remembered something,” said Jaundice, her voice muffled in the folds of burlap. “I don’t like surprises.”

  “Me, neither,” said Kale. “Especially this kind.”

  burlap |'bərlap| noun

  coarse fabric woven from hemp or jute

  Chapter Five

  For a long while, the Bland Sisters were kept in the dark about what the woman was up to, because they were in the dark. Literally.

  “Burlap is not as nice as it looks,” Kale whispered as they bounced along. “It’s actually quite chafing.”

  “Tell me about it,” Jaundice said.

  “I hope they have some salve on hand, wherever we’re going,” said Kale.

  “Where do you think we’re going?” Jaundice asked.

  “I couldn’t guess,” said Kale.

  She really couldn’t. For as long as they could remember, neither of the Bland Sisters had ever been anywhere, other than to the mailbox to fetch their weekly basket of sundries.

  “Pipe down,” the woman said. Her voice was not nearly as sweet as it had been before. “We’re almost there.”

  It was at this point that the Bland Sisters began to notice a Terrible Smell.

  “Is that you?” Kale asked.

  “Certainly not,” said Jaundice.

  “Ah!” the woman said, inhaling deeply. “Like perfume, it is.”

  “It must have been her,” said Jaundice.

  “Heavens,” said Kale. “She must have a serious digestive problem.”

  It was at this point that the Bland Sisters began to notice an Unusual Noise.

  “Do you hear that?” Jaundice asked.

  “I do,” said Kale. “It sounds like someone splashing around in the bathtub.”

  “A very, very big bathtub,” Jaundice said.

  “Here we are!” the woman announced.

  And with that, she let the sack drop to the floor. The Bland Sisters landed with a thud.

  “Oof,” said Jaundice.

  “Ouch,” said Kale.

  Within seconds, the sack was opened. At first, the Bland Sisters thought the sun was playing tricks on their eyes. The sun always seemed so harsh and bright and had a tendency to illuminate things so very much; up till now, Jaundice and Kale preferred to avoid its direct glare whenever possible. They both blinked for a good long while to make sure they were seeing correctly. Because what they were seeing was that they were sitting on the deck of a ship. And what they were smelling was the distinct, briny aroma of the ocean. The Bland Sisters had never been to the ocean before, so the sensory experience was considerably overwhelming.

  “It’s so . . . so . . . blue,” said Kale.

  “And big,” said Jaundice. “Like the sky, only lower and wavier.”

  Above the Bland Sisters loomed a tall woman with long red hair, dressed all in red and black, from her tricorn hat to her high, laced-up boots. On one eye, she wore a black velvet patch bejeweled with a skull and crossbones.

  “Welcome to The Jolly Regina, lassies!” the woman said. “You’re Deadeye Delilah’s swabs now!” She put her hands on her hips and laughed heartily. The skull and crossbones on her eye patch sparkled in the sun. “Let’s weigh anchor, mateys!”

  “Now I remember where I saw that insignia before,” Kale said, reaching for Dr. Snoote and flipping through the pages.

  “Oh?” said Jaundice.

  “It was here, in the P section,” Kale said. “Next to the definition of pirate.”

  “Ah,” said Jaundice, watching the ship pull away from the dock. “Then I can think of another appropriate P word.”

  peril |'perəl| noun

  extreme and immediate danger

  Chapter Six

  That was the P word Jaundice uttered: Peril. On the Peril Continuum, the Bland Sisters had gone from encountering Relative Peril to experiencing Serious, Life-Threatening Peril.

  So what did the sisters do? You guessed it.

  They slumped to the floor and began fake-snoring.

  As ever, this tactic proved futile.

  “Get up, ye lazyboneses!” shouted Deadeye Delilah. She grabbed Jaundice’s and Kale’s heads and rapped them together, which elicited a sound not unlike the knocking together of coconuts.

  After seeing stars for a few seconds, the sisters helped each other up. That’s when they noticed the rest of the crew looking at them.

  “Women can be pirates?” Kale asked, thumbing through her dictionary. “Dr. Snoote doesn’t say anything about that in the definition of pirate. Or in the definition of women.” In fact, all the pirates in front of them were women.

  “Then ye’d best not trust yer dictionary, missy,” Delilah said.

  “The men don’t want anyone to know about us,” said the woman with a hook for a left hand. “They don’t like to admit having their loot plundered by a bunch of saucy wenches.”

  The rest of the cre
w laughed. The hook-handed woman came closer.

  “M’name’s Lefty,” she growled. She extended her hook to Jaundice and Kale, then pulled it away with a smirk and offered her good hand.

  “Jaundice Bland,” said Jaundice. “And this is my sister, Kale.”

  “Right good pirate names,” said a woman with a wooden leg.

  “And your name is?” asked Kale.

  “Peg.”

  “Who’s got Scurvy? Who’s got Scurvy?” Deadeye Delilah bellowed, until a tiny monkey wearing a red vest was brought to her. “There he is, me little bucko.”

  Scurvy perched on Delilah’s shoulder, allowing her to kiss him right on the lips. In return, he handed her a shiny gray button, which Jaundice immediately recognized.

  “Hey,” she said, looking down at the jagged hole in her smock where the button used to be. “That’s mine.”

  “Everything of yers is Deadeye Delilah’s now,” Deadeye Delilah said. “Yer both mine now, see? That’s the deal.”

  “I don’t remember making any deal,” Jaundice said. “Do you, Kale?”

  “No,” said Kale. “All I remember is the promise of a surprise. And then, a lot of burlap.”

  Kale consulted her dictionary again. Surely some answers could be found in Dr. Snoote’s definition of deal, or surprise, or pirate. Or burlap.

  “Oh, the deal wasn’t with ye, missies,” said Deadeye Delilah. “It was with yer parents.”

  “Our parents?!” Jaundice exclaimed. Kale’s eyes widened. Neither she nor her sister had ever spoken at such a volume.

  Scurvy bobbed his head up and down and began screeching.

  spyglass |'spī'glas| noun

  a small telescope

  Chapter Seven

  As you might imagine, there weren’t any answers to the Bland Sisters’ questions in the dictionary or otherwise.