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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Downes, Alice.

  Lucy and the magic loom / Alice Downes.

  pages cm. -- (A rainbow loomer’s adventure story ; 1)

  Summary: “Meet Lucy--twelve years old, missing her best friend, and just waiting for an adventure to come her way. When she discovers a golden magic loom, it leads her into an enchanted world”-- Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-63450-137-8 (paperback)

  [1. Magic--Fiction. 2. Friendship--Fiction. 3. Adventure and adventurers--Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.D75767Ls 2015

  [Fic]--dc23

  2015001027

  Cover design and illustration by Jan Gerardi

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-63450-891-9

  Chapter One

  It was raining. Twelve-year-old Lucy Stillwater-Smith was sitting at her favorite window seat on the second floor of 163 Terrier Square, writing a letter to her best friend. Alyssa Jones had moved to America in July. It was November now, and Lucy missed her best friend every minute of the day. But rainy, dark, damp Saturday afternoons were the absolute worst. The girls texted each other at least ten times a day during the week, and spoke on the phone every Tuesday night. On the day Alyssa left, the girls swore they would exchange letters every Saturday, and, so far, they’d kept their promise.

  Dear Alyssa,

  I miss you horribly. I really, really do. It has rained every day in London since the first of November—it feels damp all the time! Everyone at Saint Chester’s sends love and kisses—even Mrs. Cheeks the librarian asked about you this week. Meanie Sondra White asked me for your address in New York. Can you believe it? I told her I’d lost it. LOL! I will write again just as soon as something interesting happens here—not! You would never hear from me again if I did that! I plan on enjoying a strawberry and banana smoothie this afternoon in honor of your favorite colors—pink and yellow. My favorite color remains lavender, just so you know. The Doctors continue to work all the time. If I ever see them again in the flesh, I’m sure they would send you greetings. Ha! Ha! Ha! Did you like the glow-in-the-dark Rainbow Loom bracelet I sent you last week? I thought it was awesome—just like you. I LOVED the pink and purple headband you made me. Really! It doesn’t look nearly as silly as you worried it might.

  Your true best friend forever,

  Lucy Stillwater-Smith

  Lucy put down her purple gel pen and stared out the window to the park across the street. The little tea shop was closed because of the rain, and her friendly neighbor, old Mrs. Gloucester, who could usually be found in the park walking her dog, Mr. Poppins, this time of day, was nowhere to be seen. The windows of the two hundred-year-old white stone town house in which Lucy sat seemed to shake with the harsh November wind. “Maybe the ghosts miss Alyssa as well,” Lucy said out loud, turning from the window to peer expectantly around the empty room. She waited for a response, holding her breath, but nothing happened. “Nothing interesting ever happens here,” Lucy sighed, suddenly exasperated and lonely. She missed Alyssa so much her stomach hurt. Lucy turned back to the window.

  “The Doctors” were Lucy’s parents. Her father was the Stillwater in Lucy’s last name, and her mother was the Smith. Lucy’s mother looked after children with cancer and Lucy’s father was attempting to cure a collection of terrifying infectious diseases with scary-sounding names. The Doctors were very, very, very, very busy. They left the town house on the square together before the sun came up every morning and rode their bicycles to the hospital. They came home long after Lucy was in bed, even on weekends. The Doctors communicated with their daughter via note: they left little sticky note missives on the kitchen counter, on Lucy’s toothbrush, or on the milk jug in the fridge. Sometimes her father hid notes in the pages of the books Lucy read. It was all very sweet, but if truth be told, Lucy was over the notes. She missed hanging out with her parents. She’d trade all of their cute messages for one lazy Sunday afternoon of family time.

  Miss Abigail Sanders had minded Lucy since before time began. White-haired, twinkly-eyed, with massive, jiggly arms, Abigail smelled like a freshly baked cake and her laugh sounded like Christmas bells. Lucy didn’t need “minding” anymore, but she was glad to have Abigail’s company—Lucy loved her more than chocolate and summer holidays put together.

  Besides keeping Lucy company, Abigail was also responsible for ensuring the Stillwater-Smith family had everything they needed to survive: endless tins of green tea, tea biscuits, bananas, strawberries, school supplies and Rainbow Loom elastics for Lucy, Wi-Fi, freshly plumped-up bicycle tires, and bottles of water and clean gym shorts so Dr. Stillwater could go running on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the same for Dr. Smith, who practiced hot yoga on Mondays and Wednesdays. Lucy didn’t like to run or do hot yoga. Abigail and Lucy liked to eat tea biscuits or grapes in the kitchen most afternoons after school and read. The two of them were awed by the discipline of Lucy’s parents—their dedication was impressive, but it was also massively boring at times. And nothing ever changed.

  As much as her parents loved exercise and spending time at the hospital, Lucy loved creating beautiful things. Before Alyssa moved, Lucy made her a collage. She printed pictures from her camera and the Internet, of the people and places Alyssa loved most—Poppins the dog, Lucy, the table in the Stillwater-Smith kitchen. Next, she painted the background blue—to represent the ocean. When it dried, she created a collage bridge between London and New York and added the pictures she printed. Abigail had it framed at the shop on High Street. Alyssa cried when Lucy gave it to her. A few days later, Lucy’s mum left a note in her lunch bag, signed with extra hugs and kisses, asking Lucy to consider creating pictures for the rooms of her sick patients. Instead, Lucy came up with the idea of making double-width Rainbow Loom friendship bracelets. Her mother was delighted.

  Maybe that’s what she would do for the rest of this rainy afternoon! Lucy’s mum always said the best thing to do when you feel lonely is be kind to someone else. Before she got started, Lucy took one more look out the window—just to make sure it was still raining, and that’s when she saw it.

  On the town house stoop far below—and just visible from her window perch—Lucy saw a large package, intricately wrapped with green string and gray duct tape, resting against the front door of the town house, just out of the rain. She jumped from her seat and flew down the two flights of stairs to the front door—it had to be a surprise from Alyssa! What else could it be?

  “What’s going on out there?” Abigail called from the kitchen. “Don’t make such a racket, Lucy. You’ll cause my cake to fall and ruin our tea.”

  “I’ll explain in a minute, Abigail,” Lucy laughed as s
he slid across the entry hall floor and threw open the front door.

  The package on the front step was huge—two feet by two feet—and covered in brown recycled paper that seemed to glow with a soft lavender color. Lucy had the strange sensation of knowing without a doubt that whatever was inside the package was important and beautiful and hers. She leaned down to pick it up with both hands. Just then, a powerful wet gust of wind wrapped itself around the package and Lucy, sending them both tumbling backward into the front hall. The front door slammed shut and Lucy found herself eye-to-eye with the address label on the box. Strangely, the package wasn’t the least bit wet.

  The lettering on the address label was written by hand, wonderfully pretty, and sparkled in a glittering rainbow of bright primary colors. Lucy stared at it. She blinked. How was it possible? The package wasn’t for her! This stunning bit of information was a physical shock, as sharp and startling as if someone had tugged on her ponytail. The label read:

  MISS SALLEE RATCHFORD-JONES III

  163 AND ½ TERRIER SQUARE

  LONDON

  UNITED KINGDOM

  THE WORLD

  INCREDIBLY FRAGILE

  Lucy, the Doctors, and Abigail lived at 163 Terrier Square, not 163 and ½ Terrier Square. Addresses didn’t come in halves! Everybody knew that.

  Suddenly Lucy was overcome with a tidal wave of sadness—if Alyssa still lived around the corner, Lucy would throw on her purple rain slicker, grab her yellow umbrella and the box, and run to Alyssa’s house to discuss their options. Together the girls would make a list of possible solutions and pick their favorite. They would settle on the details of a complete plan—including what to wear and who to share the secret with—after they ate their afternoon rainy-day cake and tea.

  But Alyssa wasn’t around the corner anymore. Lucy’s phone was out of juice (and charging upstairs on the second floor). The Doctors weren’t home (surprise, surprise), and Abigail was distracted in the kitchen. The package Lucy was nose-to-nose with on the marble floor was clearly meant for her—Lucy could feel this deep down in her bones—but it was addressed to someone else.

  Lucy closed her eyes and pictured Alyssa’s serious and trustworthy face. She could almost hear Alyssa saying what she always said: “Trust your instincts, Lucy. I have never known your instincts to be anything but spot-on.” Lucy kept her eyes closed and began to count backward from fifty. Abigail had taught Lucy to do this when she was little—if you had a perfect idea but you weren’t sure if it was the best idea, distract yourself by counting backward from fifty. If, when you were done, your perfect idea was still there, at the front and center of your brain, it was possible it was a good idea after all. Next, you were supposed to ask someone else their opinion of your good idea.

  Lucy thought about it. She still wasn’t quite sure, and clearly there was no one around to ask. She took a deep breath and counted backward from ten just to be extra, extra sure she wanted to do what she was planning to do. Then, with a secret little squeal, she tugged the string that held the wrapping on the package together.

  “My goodness, Lucy. What in heaven’s name do you have on your lap?” Lucy’s mum danced through the front door, shaking the rain off her umbrella. She stopped in her tracks and smiled at her daughter, who was sitting on the rain-damp floor with the massive box in her lap, about to tug open the string and the wrapping. Lucy stopped, shocked into stillness: the Doctors never came home in the afternoon. Abigail came running in from the kitchen, wringing her hands together and speaking in that high singsong voice she only ever used when she was discombobulated.

  “Oh, dear me. Is something wrong, Dr. Smith? What are you doing home at this hour?”

  “What do you have there, Lucy?” her mum asked again. She kissed Abigail’s cheek absentmindedly. “I forgot my phone,” she said, reaching down to pluck the box out of Lucy’s lap without taking off her raincoat. The box was so big and the hallway floor was so slippery from the rain and wind, Lucy’s mum almost fell backward. Abigail reached out to help her, but she managed to steady herself. With her one spare hand, she dug around in her backpack, found her glasses, and slid them over her nose. She read the label on the box and frowned.

  “This box isn’t addressed to you, Lucy. You can’t open packages that aren’t meant for you. What are you thinking?” She sounded cross.

  “Where did this package come from, Lucy?” Abigail asked, speaking over Dr. Smith.

  “It magically appeared on the landing, long after today’s mail came. It feels like it belongs to me,” Lucy tried to explain.

  “Things don’t feel like they belong to you Lucy—they do or they don’t. This is clearly someone else’s property,” said her mum.

  “But it’s almost as if it likes me.”

  “Things don’t have feelings, Lucy, obviously. What is wrong with you?”

  “Mum, I know it sounds crazy, but I am positive this package belongs to me.”

  “Lucy, I am disappointed in you. You can’t have everything you want all the time. Whomever this box belongs to is expecting it. You should know better. I am taking it up to my office until we figure this out. I think you should spend the rest of the afternoon in your room—no phone, no games, no TV—don’t make that face, my beautiful girl! What you were about to do was steal. I’m serious. I want you to spend the afternoon thinking about that.”

  Lucy’s mum turned on her heels and began climbing the stairs, cradling the box between her arms. She didn’t look back.

  Lucy felt like she was going to cry.

  “You better do as she says, luv,” Abigail whispered. “Go on with you. She’s right, you know. But don’t worry, I will sneak you some tea just as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Two

  Lucy’s bedroom was located on the second floor of 163 Terrier Square. She had a bed with a soft purple bedspread and a walk-in closet where she sometimes liked to read. In one corner there was a built-in bookcase jam-packed with Lucy’s favorite books. A few dusty old tomes from her mother’s childhood lived on the top shelf. Lucy kept them only because it pleased her mum—she hadn’t actually read them yet.

  In the opposite corner from Lucy’s bookcase, between the window and the window seat that looked out over the park, was more pretty built-in shelving. This was where Lucy kept her trinkets and treasures, including the dolls she loved when she was little and couldn’t part with. It’s there where she displayed pictures of Alyssa and other friends, mementoes from family trips, and her collection of cute fuzzy animal plush toys. Her treasured musical jewelry box lived on the second shelf, along her games and her neatly color-coded boxes of craft supplies—including the Rainbow Loom she loved so much.

  Lucy’s room was directly below the Doctors’ shared home office on the third floor. Lucy wasn’t allowed to go into their office without permission. Even Abigail needed to ask for an OK before stepping in to dust.

  The clock struck two and then the town house was quiet. The silence was broken for a moment by the sound of Lucy’s mum flying down the stairs and charging out the front door into the rain. She didn’t even pop her head in to say goodbye—clearly, she was still upset. Lucy absentmindedly picked at the little balls of fluff on her favorite pink sweater. She had changed with the hope that the pink softness would make her feel better. It didn’t. With nothing to distract her, all she could think about was the package upstairs in her mother’s office. Where had it come from? Who was it really for? Who was the mysterious girl it was addressed to?

  Lucy was lying on her back on the bed, splayed on top of her comforter. She flipped onto her stomach and counted backward from one hundred. Next, she flipped dramatically onto her back and counted forward to two hundred. She did this four more times until she couldn’t stand it anymore—sometimes a girl had to do what a girl had to do! In a flash, Lucy was on her feet, out the door of her room and up the stairs.

  Abigail typically took a long nap in the afternoon. Luckily, once the older woman was down and asleep, nothing could wak
e her. Lucy figured she had a good solid hour before Abigail was up here with an afternoon snack and a cup of tea on a silver tray.

  Lucy’s mother hadn’t tried to hide the package. It was sitting on the top of her desk—Lucy spotted it as soon as she opened the door. She felt its odd magical quality immediately, even from across the room. Filled with courage and vim just a few seconds ago, Lucy was momentarily shaken. By nature, Lucy wasn’t a rule breaker. Alyssa was the one more inclined to poke around in her parents’ closets looking for Christmas treats and birthday presents. Lucy rather liked being surprised and, as a result, didn’t go out of her way to spoil the fun. Sneaking about this way wasn’t like her. Nevertheless, something was calling her to action.

  Slowly and carefully, Lucy walked to the desk. She held the green string again, exactly as she had when her mother arrived home just over an hour ago. This time, the packaging fell away—the string dissolved, the duct tape vanished, and the brown paper evaporated. All that remained on the desk was the address label and a long, narrow black box made of ebony and mother of pearl. In the cool half-light of the gloomy afternoon, it glistened. Lucy gasped. It was beautiful.

  Lucy’s hands were trembling. Holding her breath, the way you do before you jump into a cold mountain lake early in the summer, she placed her hands on either side of the box’s hinged black lid. Lucy counted to three out loud—one, two, three—and opened the box.

  The purple aura that Lucy had sensed when she first saw the box exploded around her. Light bounced around the room while Lucy stood there, eyes wide open. It was as if the light and the color had a personality and was very happy to see her, in the same way a puppy greets you at the door. And just like a puppy, the light and motion seemed to exhaust itself after a few minutes and settled down. Lucy looked into the open box.

  In the box was a gold loom, much like the Rainbow Loom Lucy had upstairs on her craft shelf, but oddly beautiful. Beside the golden loom was a glass hook. Beneath the loom and the hook were a multitude of clear envelopes, each one filled with sparkling elastic bands and labeled in the same handwriting Lucy had seen on the outside of the package. She reached into the box and gently pulled out the envelopes to examine them more closely. One was labeled See in the Dark and another was labeled Invisible. Another package was filled with emerald green elastics and labeled Breathe Under Water. Yet another was bursting with exquisite turquoise blue bands and the label read Walk Through Walls.