Chapter Seven - Way Back When (Long Time Gone)
Sitting opposite Stingy in the café and enjoying a late-afternoon latte, Pixel felt he was beginning to settle into MIT. He had an apartment in the cool part of town (even if it was the size of a postage stamp), a flatmate he genuinely got on with (even if Stingy did insist on vacuuming the carpet twice a day), and a stake in the white-hot world of personal computing technology (even though Six Thousand Ideas was still mainly a few pieces of paper in Stingy's filing cabinet, plus a lot of burnt-out wires and melted plastic.) Their first weekend, Pixel had got talking with a bunch of aeronautics majors dressed in surfer gear, and scrounged an invite for himself and Stingy - mainly on the basis that Stingy would drive them there in his car - for an afternoon's surfing at the beach. At first, Stingy and the surfers had been completely bewildered by each other. Stingy had sat on the beach in his socks and shoes, engrossed in the Wall Street Journal, stopping only to raise an eyebrow as Pixel, LJ, Drew, Chip and Andy threw themselves into the waves with huge enthusiasm and no perceptible skill. Afterwards they had all sat around a camp fire drinking beer and eating hot dogs heated in their own can of brine, which Stingy refused with a visible shudder. Then, unexpectedly, they had bonded over the bag of marshmallows which Stingy suddenly produced from his blazer pocket. Stingy insisted on referring to them, with great irony, as "the totally radical surfer dudes", while they referred to him, with no irony at all, as "your weird flatmate with the poker up his ass"; but they got on all right.
"Here," said Stingy suddenly, tossing a piece of paper across the table at Pixel. He picked it up; it was a cheque for fifteen hundred dollars. "Your half of the first sale from Six Thousand Ideas. Koduji bought the speaking-toaster concept."
"Really?" Pixel stared at the cheque in awe. "And they paid three thousand dollars for it? Wow."
"Well, we could have got twenty thousand if we'd just sold the entire concept wholesale, but I thought it made more sense to offer them a limited licence for the voice-recognition chip, kitchen appliances only, for the next three years. The three grand is a non-refundable advance against expected future royalties. We're only just starting out, if this one doesn't take off there'll be plenty of others. We're officially in business, Pixel." He smiled his rare, sweet smile, before returning to the page of figures on the cafeteria table before him.
Pixel picked up the cheque as if it might bite him.
"By the way," continued Stingy, "you might want to think about investing that in aluminium futures. It'll mean it's tied up for the next seventeen months, but I'm eighty per cent confident you'll double your money by the end of it. The Chinese aerospace market is going to send prices sky-high pretty soon."
"Huh. Okay. I'll get right on it," said Pixel, vaguely. He saw Chip and LJ weaving their lanky way through the tables and waved to them.
"Pixel!" they shouted, and gave him extravagant high-fives. "How you doing, man? Hey, Stingy, got that poker out of your ass yet?"
"How's it hanging, surfer dudes?" replied Stingy dryly, without raising his eyes from his papers. "Still wishing you'd signed on at Cal-Tech instead? Caught any wicked peaks lately?"
"You're really pretty funny, Stingy," said LJ. "Uptight, but funny. Hey, Pixel, there were these, like, totally cute rock chicks looking for you in the courtyard earlier. Asked for you by name. They said they'd be by the fountain for the next hour or so, otherwise they'd see you back at your place."
"Really?" Pixel looked eager; Stingy rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should go and see…what did they look like?"
"One was tiny with these, like, little pig-tails all twisted around themselves? Really emo-looking. And the other one was a bit taller, fabulous build, skinny but enough in the right places, you know? - and this totally wild hair. Seriously, dude…respect." He held out his clenched fist. Stingy laughed and muttered "over-sexed retards" to the universe at large, but shuffled his papers together, put on his blazer and followed Pixel out of the café.
Pixel led the way out to the courtyard. To his joy, he could see two girls sitting at the base of the fountain. The smaller, dark-haired one was sitting with one hand trailing in the fountain, smiling up provocatively at Drew, who was plainly smitten. The other one, sitting with her slender arms wrapped around her knees and gazing pensively into the falling water, had bright pink hair cut in a dainty, elfin shape that emphasised her delicate features…then suddenly they looked up at him and smiled, and he realised they were Trixie and Stephanie.
"Hey!" he shouted, his momentary disappointment wiped out by pleasure at seeing his oldest friends. "Wow! You made it! Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" They laughed and hugged each other. Drew grinned and mouthed "hot" at Stingy, who, just to see if Drew would fall for it, glared and mouthed back "my sisters, you pervert". Drew blushed, held up his hands in apology and sloped hastily off to join the rest of the surfer dudes in the café. Stingy smiled to himself and gave both girls a conservative peck on the cheek.
"So what are you doing here?" asked Pixel, sitting down between Trixie and Stephanie. "Stephanie, it's so great to see you…what happened that week before we went away, anyway? Bessie wouldn't let us see you, she said you were sick…didn't you get the emails? We were really worried."
"I need you to help me," she said, looking straight into his face. "I need you to help me save Lazytown."
Pixel looked blank.
"What?"
"My uncle…he's done something really dumb…he banished Sportacus - he sent him away. And I don't think the town can survive without him."
"Oh, come on, Stephanie," said Stingy uncomfortably. "I know how, er, how fond of him you are - we all are - but don't you think that's a bit dramatic?"
She ran her fingers through her hair. "Do you remember how it was when we were little, when I first moved there?"
Hardly anyone lived there any more; no-one knew each other or went out much. It was just another tired, lifeless, hopeless little town slowly falling apart. They had been bored and lonely and their parents had kept them inside a lot, and the days were long and dull and filled with emptiness.
"Yes," said Pixel slowly, remembering. "But then…"
Then, a little girl posted a letter, and out of the sky a Hero arrived. A joyful, innocent, exuberant man who never walked if he could run, who never ran if he could handspring and cartwheel, who talked to them with no self-consciousness or embarrassment. An adult who didn't preach or lecture; who, just by being there, somehow charmed them all into being their very best selves. Who made their ordinary, quiet little town an enchanted place.
"I don't really understand how it works," said Stephanie. "I don't think he does either. But, somehow, he's the heart and soul of Lazytown. And you all know it too, don't you?"
They looked at each other.
"But why did the Mayor do it?" asked Pixel. "We knew Sportacus left town suddenly, but no-one knew why. What happened?"
A tide of crimson washed up over Stephanie's face and neck, and she had to turn away. Pixel looked completely baffled, but Stingy nodded wearily.
"Got together at last?" he murmured. Trixie nodded, and Pixel looked enlightened. "Meanswells not happy?" Another nod. Stingy shrugged. "Figures. Still," he added under his breath, glancing at Stephanie, "probably worth it. On balance. If you like that sort of thing." Trixie raised an amused eyebrow.
"But what is it that you think we can do, Stephanie?" Pixel asked.
Stephanie wrapped her arms around her knees again.
"There's a filing cabinet in my Uncle's office," she said. "I know he's got my birth certificate in there, and all sorts of photographs and family letters and things. It's the only thing I've ever seen him lock. I need to get into it. There's something about my family that's important, something that means there might be a chance to fix all of this."
"How do you know?" asked Stingy curiously. Stephanie sighed: she had promised herself to be absolutely honest.
"Robbie Rotten told me," she said. "I know, I know, but please, trust me on this. I need to know what's in that cabinet, whatever it is that my uncle's been hiding."
They all looked at each other. It was undeniable that, over the years, they had all thought there was something mightily peculiar about the way an eight-year-old Stephanie had been foisted on her uncle, ostensibly just for a few weeks one summer, and - aside from the odd two-week vacation - had never left. None of them had ever liked to ask, but still, there was clearly a mystery there, and it was very tempting to have the chance to find out…
"Well…" said Pixel. "What can I do to help?"
For the first time, Stephanie smiled.
"You remember the summer you invented the Lockmaster Six Thousand?"
Pixel winced at the memory. The Lockmaster Six Thousand, built in response to a fervent request from Stingy, was a fingerprint-controlled lock that could be programmed so that it would open only for each individual owner, setting off an incredibly loud alarm if anyone else tried to access it. It worked perfectly until Robbie had found Pixel's master encoder and reprogrammed every single one of them to open for him alone. The only place in town Robbie hadn't locked everyone out of had been Sportacus's airship, because Sportacus had declined to have one on the grounds that he didn't actually mind people dropping in unexpectedly.
"Well, the only one left is the one you gave Uncle Milford. He didn't really know what to do with it, so he put it in a drawer. And then, a few years ago, he must have found it again, because now it's on the filing cabinet in his office."
"So let me see if I've got this right," said Stingy slowly. "You want us to break into your Uncle's office, open a locked drawer - a drawer which is locked with one of Pixel's loudest and most temperamental inventions - and rummage through his files, looking for skeletons in your family closet will somehow tell you how you can save the town. And you believe this because Robbie Rotten, who has been doing his best to get rid of Sportacus since the day he arrived, told you so." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Okay. Let's go."
"You'll help?" asked Stephanie, amazed.
"Given that it there's only one train a week from Boston to Lazytown, and it takes seven hours, and we've missed it, I imagine the use of my car would be a useful part of this ingenious plan. And you need someone there with half a brain in their heads." He looked at Stephanie quizzically. "You know, you didn't have to come all the way here just to ask us…you could have just phoned."
"I know," said Stephanie hesitantly. "But - I've been so - so completely rude and selfish these last couple of weeks. No, don't argue with me, I know I have. You both tried and tried to get in touch with me, and I just hid in my room and refused to answer." She ducked her head down, a gesture left over from the days when she had soft curtains of hair to hide behind. "I thought the least I could do was come down here and - apologise in person."
"Hey, Stephanie," said Pixel softly. "We know how you feel. We've all been there, you know. Every one of us. We love you." He took her hand awkwardly. "We understand."
"Time to go," said Trixie and Stingy simultaneously. Pixel dropped Stephanie's hand and they disappeared across the campus. In the cafeteria above, the surfer dudes watched enviously from the window.
"Hot - as - hell," concluded Drew. "Who knew Poker-Ass would have such totally fuckable sisters?"
They crept quietly along the streets of Lazytown. They passed a car with a window smashed, and noticed that little pools of rubbish were collecting in the corners of some of the gardens.
"I haven't seen anything like that for years," said Trixie sadly. They looked at each other, and drew closer together.
"So what's in the rucksack, then, partner?" Stingy asked Pixel, trying to lighten the mood.
"Oh, I've got a gadget that should get the lock open," Pixel whispered back confidently. "And also I thought we could try these out." He rummaged in his rucksack and produced a tangle of wires and earphones. "I came up with the idea a few months ago. I call it the Voicemaster 6000. You put on the headphones, and - " they watched in puzzlement as Pixel continued to talk, but no sound came out. Hastily they all put on the other headsets.
"…like a private radio network," finished Pixel happily. "Can you all hear each other?"
"Yes," said Stephanie, holding her ears in amazement.
"Very cool," said Trixie, laughing.
"You're a complete idiot, Pixel," said Stingy bitterly.
They set off down the street again.
"For God's sake," Stingy was berating Pixel. "What's wrong with you? Do you actually live on the same planet as the rest of us? You come up with a totally new kind of mobile communications network, guaranteed silence except between users, and what do you give me to sell? Toasters you can have a conversation with. You are hopeless! I swear, sometimes I wonder why I even - do you know what blue-chip America would pay for this? And I can't even begin to figure out what the military would give for - "
"No military," Pixel said firmly. "We agreed. Anyway, I liked the toaster. We got three thousand dollars for it, didn't we?"
Stingy rolled his eyes.
"Hey, you guys," said a cheerful voice right by Stingy's ear. Everyone jumped.
"What are all you doing here?" Ziggy, tall and thin and adolescent, hopped from foot to foot, grinning and chewing maniacally. "Why didn't you tell me you were in town? Hey, does anyone want some sugar-free gum?"
They all frantically shushed him. Pixel rummaged in his rucksack and found one more headset, and popped it over Ziggy's head.
"So what are we doing?" Ziggy asked sweetly. "It is all right if I come along, isn't it?"
"Of course it is," said Stephanie firmly. "We're…erm…we'll tell you on the way."
The Town Hall was silent and full of whispering shadows. They crept inside, closing the door behind them. Pixel, Stingy and Ziggy crouched over the last remaining Lockmaster 6000, while Trixie and Stephanie leaned against the railing waiting.
"Got it," said Pixel suddenly. "Oh, no, oh, hell, I haven't got it. Oh, shit, shit, shit, it's going to go off…here!" He grabbed the nearest hand to him, which happened to be Ziggy's. "Keep your finger right here on this wire. We're all right, as long as you stand there with your finger exactly there. Oh, and you can't move it around or the motion sensor will go off."
Ziggy looked at him in disbelief.
"This is my job for the night?"
"It's important stuff, Ziggy," laughed Trixie, ruffling his hair.
"Right," said Pixel simply, pulling open the drawer. "We're in."
They crowded round the row of files. The first folder contained page after page of accounts and reports -
"Mine, I think," said Stingy calmly, taking them out of Pixel's hands. He took them to a table, turned on a pocket torch and began to scan through the ledgers.
- and the second contained endless crayoned pictures of girls in pink dresses that Stephanie remembered walking down the road to post when she was small. The third, headed, "Family Correspondence", contained a stack of letters, written in a dashing, careless hand that Stephanie recognised as her father's.
"Milford old boy,
So, good God! It's happened! I've finally been given the keys to Lazytown, so to speak. Obviously we're going to have a huge party to celebrate - I need to do something to get me over the shock of responsibility!
What a funny business this Mayoral thing is. I've got the keys to the office, the round-and-round leather chair, the account books, and the sworn loyalty - honestly, that's what he said - of Number Nine. You remember him? Built like a track superstar, lives in an airship, looks out for everyone, got on really well with my dad. Apparently he works for the town? - although he doesn't seem to get paid. Can't get a straight answer out of him. I asked him where he came from and he smiled and said "a small island in the North Atlantic". Asked him why he did it - all that superhero stuff - and he said, "because it's what I do". Very strange.
Come for a visit soon. You're all the family I've got left now, cousin Milford; we have to stick together.
Stephen"
"Dear Milford,
I can't thank you enough for taking on the old family firm like this. Helen and I just had to get out of town. She's not been well since that terrific fuss over Robert and Number Nine (did I tell you about that? - Not having that sort of thing in the town if I can help it, especially not with the high-schoolers, for God's sake). And after that business in the stairwell, we just couldn't stay in that house any longer.
Afraid things are in a bit of a mess. Don't know what's been going wrong, to be honest with you; we just can't seem to stay on top of things somehow.
Anyway, I'm sure you're the man to sort it out.
Love and best wishes,
Stephen"
"Dear Milford,
Thanks for your last letter and the accounts for the year. (Has it really been a year already since we left? It hardly seems like two months.) Not the best, are they? Still if people don't want to live out in the boondocks, I personally can't say I blame them.
Helen sends her best.
Love,
Stephen"
"Dear Milford,
Well, here's a shocker for you…it turns out that Helen is pregnant.
Of course I'm acting as pleased as Punch. Between you and me, it's not exactly in the life-plan, but I'm sure I'll come around to the idea in the end. As you're the only family we've got left in the world - will you be her godfather? Let me know.
With love,
Stephen"
"Dear Milford,
Snaps enclosed of the New Arrival. What a funny little object she is…can't quite believe it, really. And I thought running Lazytown was a big responsibility…
With love,
Stephen"
"Dear Milford,
You're a godsend, you know that? Can't thank you enough.
Yes, do please have Stephanie to stay with for the summer. She's a darling, but we haven't got a clue what to do with her all day. (Any chance of you keeping her for good? - joke!)
What's all this about another Hero? Are you sure it's a good idea?
Well, I'll leave it up to you.
I.O.U. (big-time)
Stephen"
At the bottom of the stack was one in a plain brown envelope, marked:
"TO BE OPENED ONLY IN THE EVENT OF MY DEATH"
"Dear Milford,
Well, this is a laugh, isn't it? Hopefully you won't actually be reading this ever, but still, I've fallen off mountains, nearly drowned scuba-diving, got hit by two cars, escaped from a hotel fire, crashed a motorbike…I guess at some point my luck as to run out, right?!
Anyway. If by some god-awful chance you are reading this…take care of Stephanie, okay? She's a good girl, even if she does drive me and Helen mad with all that jumping and twirling when we're trying to read the papers.
You know, Milford, I know I haven't been much of a man, what with one thing and another. Lazytown was fine when I took over, then it all went wrong, I don't know why. You're bringing up our daughter for us, and doing a much better job of it than we could. I don't think there are too many people who will miss me when I'm gone.
I think what I'm saying is; thank you for picking up after me.
Okay, if you're reading this - one more thing I'd kind of like you to pick up for me. We've never told Stephanie about who she is - who her family is, I mean. Could you keep it that way, please? Let her have a life instead of an inheritance. I don't think it did me much good. You're doing a good job of running things: any chance you could carry on minding the store on her behalf?
Thanks old boy. See you again some time.
Stephen"
"So your father was the Mayor before Mayor Meanswell?" said Trixie. "Talk about nepotism…"
"Come and have a look at this," said Stingy, abruptly. "It's fascinating."
"It's accounts," protested Trixie.
"No, seriously. Come and look."
Reluctantly, they crowded around the desk.
"Look," he said. "The books go back for nearly a hundred years, it's incredible. The whole town is basically run as a charitable foundation, with all profits going back into the improvement of the town. It was doing really well for a long time - great rental income, low overheads, plenty of money for infrastructure projects, people moving here and staying here for years and years…then, here, about twenty years ago - " he turned to a page covered in red ink - "it suddenly all started to go wrong."
"Twenty years ago," repeated Stephanie.
"Yes. Look. Rents drop through the floor, massive maintenance bills. The reports are full of awful news - Pipeline disaster. Bus crash. Subsidence under the castle. Fire in the park. Hospital generator problems. Flooding. Road collapse. Rail collapse. Car crash. Plane crash…It goes on and on and on, for years - nothing but losses and heartbreak and bad luck."
The jigsaw was coming together, the pieces dropping into place. My father was the Mayor. My father banished Number Nine. Then Lazytown started to fall apart, so he ran away, and Uncle Milford took over for him. But however hard he worked, he couldn't bring it back to life, because this town has a soul, and my father destroyed it when he sent Number Nine away…
"And then, ten years ago, it all stops. The town starts to get back on its feet again. New families moving in. Suddenly people are building things, opening new businesses, the school has to expand. Then, two years ago, it suddenly all goes ballistic…"
Ten years and two years. Ten years ago, Sportacus came to Lazytown. Two years ago, my parents died, and - what did Robbie say? The curse faded away…
"My God," said Trixie. "These are odd." She held out another folder full of letters, all written in a strange, old-fashioned hand on thick cream paper:
"Dear Mayor Meanswell,
We thank you for your letters - all of them - and appreciate your keen interest in meeting.
However, frankly, the contract was cancelled by Mayor Milford, and you are not empowered to renew it. Sorry, but there it is.
By the way, how did you know how to contact us?"
The signature was indecipherable.
A year later:
"Dear Mayor Meanswell,
Really, I must insist. This correspondence is taking up a great deal of time and effort on both sides.
You are a good man, Mayor Meanswell, but I cannot help you."
"Dear Milford,
Have we really been corresponding for five years now? I share your sadness that we have done nothing but review the same points over and over; however, there really is nothing I can do."
A few years after that:
"Milford,
No, no, no, no, no. Be told. Please."
"Dear Milford,
Thank you for the photographs. I agree that she is a dear little thing.
I, too, wish there was a way to resolve this. It was a wonderful partnership which brought nothing but joy to both our peoples.
But please understand that all conditions must be fulfilled, and I cannot disclose what these conditions are. Our people are not the same as yours, Milford. Our laws are not the same. For you, they are guidelines laid down by other men which can be bent and twisted as you please. For us, they are unbreakable natural phenomena which we cannot escape.
Sorry again. I have been saying it for so many years that I wonder if I would be disappointed if the time finally came for me to stop."
"Oh Milford,
Bless you. You are a very dear man, and I am looking forward to meeting you. How did you do it? Is it usual among your people for a little girl to live with adults who are not her parents?
Please find meeting instructions enclosed."
MEETING INSTRUCTIONS
Wait alone at the top of the Waterfall. Under no circumstances must anyone accompany you.
Someone will meet you at midnight with transport to guide you through the gateway.
Under no circumstances should you attempt to cross the gateway alone.
CONTRACT OF EMPLOYMENT
This confirms that NUMBER 10 (Sportacus) is hereby appointed as TOWN HERO for the geographical area known as "Lazytown".
Term of employment: lifetime contract
Signed: Mayor Milford Meanswell (trustee)
Number 10 (Sportacus)
And a note on the bottom, in familiar, large, flamboyant writing: "I'm happy to sign this, but why do you need it?! What does it prove?! S."
Stingy was now leafing through a thick wedge of legal documents entitled "Articles of Association." Trixie and Ziggy were bored and bickering.
"Will you shut up about teeth for just one minute, please!"
"I'm sorry, I just think they're really interesting…did you know that you don't get your wisdom teeth until you're at least seventeen? Sometimes much later?"
"Did you know that I couldn't possibly care less?"
"And a lot of us don't actually have enough room in our jaws for our wisdom teeth - "
"Yeah. Just like I don't have enough room in my head for any more information about wisdom teeth -"
"I said," said Stingy loudly and clearly, "that Stephanie is the heir to Lazytown."
Everyone stopped talking and stared at Stingy. Then they all turned and looked half-accusingly at Stephanie.
"Blimey," said Ziggy at last. "You'd better marry her quick, Stingy."
"Tempting, of course," said Stingy, smiling, "but not the best decision financially, since it's a non-profit-making organisation. Okay, so the company was founded by an immigrant called Liefur Johansson."
Trixie sighed impatiently over the Voicemaster.
"Don't breathe down my ear like that, Trix, it's disturbing. Important thing to note - he came here from Iceland."
In the silence, they heard the clock striking midnight.
"Get to the part where Stephanie owns Lazytown," said Trixie.
"Okay. He sets up this charitable foundation, sort of. The purpose is to provide a nice, safe, clean-living place to bring up your children, fresh air and exercise, that sort of thing. But the difference is…well, okay, this sounds insane, but I'm going to say it - it's a sort of - a sort of partnership. With, er…"
"With the Haldufolk," said Stephanie. Stingy looked at her in surprise.
"Yes. Who I think are…well, not exactly human. Special grace and protection is the phrase they use in the articles of association, for as long as the Lazytown project endures. Anyway. Straight line of inheritance. Leifur passes his inheritance to his daughter Sarah. Sarah marries Jacob Milford, has a son Andrew. Andrew passes it on to his son Stephen. And Stephen's inheritance passes to…Stephanie. Your Uncle Milford is the company manager - they call it the Mayor, but in practice he's an unelected company official - and your trustee for as long as you remained a minor. But that's not the important part -"
"Clearly not," said Trixie ironically.
"You see, the thing is, as Leifur's great-great-grand-daughter…" he hesitated. "I think you're the one person who the Haldufolk will take any notice of. Mayor Meanswell couldn't even get their attention until you were born. He only managed to persuade them to send Sportacus when you came to live with him. If you want Sportacus back…you're over eighteen, so you can act on behalf of the company. And I think…well, to be honest, Stephanie, I think you're the only one they'll listen to."
Feeling as if she was watching herself from very far away, Stephanie opened the top drawer of her Uncle's desk. She reached into the very back, and felt her fingers close around the crystal Bessie had taken from Sportacus, two weeks and a million years ago.
"What are you going to do now?" asked Ziggy, leaping up.
"No, don't move - " Pixel screamed.
The Lockmaster 6000 fell to the floor. The noise was unbearable, skull-shattering; they fled the Town Hall at top speed, Ziggy yelling, "sorry, sorry, sorry," over the Voicemaster.
"Go on," said Stingy urgently. "The Mayor will be here soon, that racket's enough to wake the dead. I'll stay here and explain. Stephanie - " he hesitated, then hugged her. "Good luck."
They fled around the corner just as Mayor Meanswell appeared, bemused.
"Hello, Mayor Meanswell," said Stingy suavely. "I'm so terribly sorry. I remembered that I'd left some folders of mine in your office while I was working for you over the summer, and I thought I'd come and collect them, and I accidentally set off that stupid lock…"
"What are you going to do?" Pixel asked curiously as they hid around the corner and waited for their hearts to stop pounding.
She lifted her chin.
"I'm going to find him."
"Oh, nononnono," said Trixie firmly. "I didn't like the sound of that whole waterfall thing. Pinkie, this is such a bad idea. Don't do it. No-one expects you to."
Remembering the look on Robbie's face
(no-one ever gets past the waterfall)
Stephanie knew she was as scared as she had ever been in her life. But beneath the fear was a bedrock of certainty.
"He spent years doing the impossible to keep Lazytown safe," she said, hoping her voice would not quiver. "Now it's my turn."
Pixel nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, in that case you might want to take this." He held out an envelope. "Stingy told me to give it to you. It's the money from the first sale from Six Thousand Ideas. He said to warn you to be careful with it, because it's - "
"I know…it's his," sighed Stephanie. "Pixel, really, I can't take this, it's too much…"
"No, he said because it's only just enough to get you to Reykjavik," said Pixel softly. "Take it, please. You're going to need it."
When the Meanswells woke up the next morning, they found the table laid for breakfast, with a bunch of sunflowers in a jug on the table. Propped against the jug was a note.
Dearest Uncle Milford, dearest Auntie Bessie,
Firstly, I want to say sorry. I truly do need to apologise for putting you both through so much worry these last two weeks.
Secondly, I want to say thank you. Thank you for trying to protect me. I understand now what you were trying to save me from.
But I have to tell you that I'm going to find Sportacus, and, if I can - if he'll come with me - I'm going to bring him back.
Uncle Milford, I know my father asked you to make sure that I wasn't tied down to Lazytown, and that being with Sportacus would mean exactly that. Auntie Bessie - forgive me - I know what happened between you and Robbie and Number Nine, and how afraid you were that it might happen to me too. And Sportacus - well, he did everything he could to keep me safe, to leave me free to choose, because he just didn't believe I'd choose him.
But the fact is that you've got it all wrong. Sportacus is the soul of this town, and when you sent him away, you sent my heart away with him. Lazytown can't survive without its hero, and I'm not sure I can survive either.
All three of you have worked so hard to protect me, but you've all been working against each other. Now it's my time to try and put it right.
I love you, I will write to you along the way, and I will see you soon.
Stephanie.
