Pip and the Additon Spell

For Oakley Cartwright

Pip set off for the Moonberry Fair in a red raincoat with a satchel full of chalk and a pocket full of courage.
Well. A small pocket.

The path through Turnip Wood was quiet.

Too quiet.

Then—POP! POP! POP!
Out bounced a band of bristly hobgoblins in button coats and crooked boots.

They grinned. They snickered. They blocked the road.

Pip knew many useful things.

Pip knew where blackberries grew sweetest.
Pip knew how to whistle through an acorn cap.
Pip knew that 2 raindrops on a snail look like tiny spectacles.

And Pip knew simple addition.

But hobgoblins?

Hobgoblins were another matter.

The smallest hobgoblin snatched Pip’s snack basket.

“Ha!” he cackled. “I stole 1 apple tart and 1 jam bun. How many treats have I got?”

Pip swallowed.

Then Pip whispered,
“1 and 1 make 2.”

At once, two bright stepping-stones blinked into the muddy road.

The hobgoblin’s hat spun sideways.

Pip blinked too.

“Count it quick, count it true—little sums can see you through!”

A taller hobgoblin leapt onto the stepping-stones.

“Then answer this! 2 frogs sat on a log, and 1 more frog jumped up. How many frogs?”

Pip tapped a finger on the satchel strap.

“2 and 1 make 3.”

THRUM!

Three blue lanterns lit in the trees.
The frogs croaked in a perfect chorus.
The hobgoblin’s ears drooped.

Pip stood a little straighter.

Another goblin cartwheeled from a bush with glowbugs in a jar.

“I caught 2 glowbugs, then 2 more flew in. How many now?”

Pip answered faster this time.

“2 and 2 make 4.”

FLASH!

Four turnip lanterns bobbed overhead like moons on strings.
The goblin yelped and hid under a leaf.

“Count it quick, count it true—little sums can see you through!”

At the crooked bridge, a mossy hobgoblin dumped acorns into a boot.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “What about 3 acorns and 2 acorns?”

Pip could almost feel the answer lining up in neat little marching boots.

“3 and 2 make 5.”

CLACK!

Five silver bridge-planks slid into place across the stream.
The water below burbled, as if it approved.

Pip crossed one careful step at a time.

On the other side waited two drumming hobgoblins and a circle of mushrooms.

They boomed, “We picked 3 mushrooms here and 3 mushrooms there. How many mushrooms?”

Pip took a breath.
This one felt friendly somehow. Easy. Round.

“3 and 3 make 6.”

BUM-BUM-BUM!

Six mushrooms sprang up in a neat row like little stools.
The drumming stopped.
The hobgoblins stared.

Pip didn’t just stand straighter now.

Pip grinned.

But then came the biggest hobgoblin yet, riding a wheelbarrow like a king.

He flung feathers everywhere.

“Add 4 feathers and 3 feathers, if you’re so clever!”

The feathers whirled.
The leaves swirled.
Pip’s heart did a nervous somersault.

Still—Pip counted.

“4 and 3 make 7.”

WHOOSH!

Seven windy kites burst from the trees and tugged the wheelbarrow right into a blackberry bush.

The kingly hobgoblin was no longer kingly.

He was mostly prickly.

At the gate to the fair, the path went dark.

A whispery hobgoblin rattled a tin full of buttons.

“Last few, little counter. 4 buttons and 4 buttons. How many?”

Pip opened their mouth—

and nothing came out.

The woods felt big.
The gate felt far.
The hobgoblins leaned in.

Then Pip remembered the chalk.

Pip drew 4 little circles.
Then 4 more.

“Oh,” Pip said, smiling. “I can see it.”

“4 and 4 make 8.”

Eight golden sparks skipped around the gate latch.

Now the latch was glowing, but still it would not open.

From above, a goblin dangled upside down from a branch.

“One more! 5 blackberries in one hand and 4 blackberries in the other. How many berries?”

Pip didn’t even flinch.

“5 and 4 make 9.”

PING!

Nine bells rang across the fairground fence.
The gate shivered.
The hobgoblins shuffled backward.

Pip laughed. A real laugh this time.

Then the Hobgoblin Chief stomped out, wearing a fern cape and a crown made of spoons.

“You may know sums,” he growled, “but you cannot defeat all of us!”

Pip looked carefully.

There were 5 hobgoblins on the gate, and 5 hobgoblins on the wall.

Pip pointed.

“5 and 5 make 10.”

BOOM!

Ten bright number-stars burst above the path.
The spoon-crown spun.
The fern cape flipped.
Every hobgoblin tumbled into a soft pile of turnip leaves with a shocked little oof.

The gate swung open.

Moonberry Fair sparkled ahead.

Pip could have marched in alone.

But behind came ten rumpled hobgoblins, looking suddenly less fierce and more… embarrassed.

The Chief cleared his throat.
“Would,” he muttered, “would you teach us the berry sums?”

Pip smiled and held the gate wide.

“Of course.”

And all the way to the bun stall, Pip sang,

“Count it quick, count it true—little sums can see us through!”