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gargoyle statues with water-spouts. I remove them when the real gargoyles want to sit there,” she said, then she vanished into her store with a little tinkle of the bell.
    Christopher didn’t say a word at dinner. He was too busy mulling over the facts.
    Fact number one: there were two gargoyles living in the park next door to his house.
    Fact number two: it was likely going to be quite interesting.

Chapter Twelve
    The English Garden: Arabella
    James was lying on the grass, looking up into the autumn sky. The days were already shorter, the nights just a little cooler than they had been, and he was going home, back to Toronto in a few days time. His summer visit with his grandfather was coming to an end.
    He listened to bees still busy in the flowers and the sound of the fountain in the pond, spouting water onto the dark lily pads and lurking frogs. He was going to miss the place. It was nothing like his busy life back in Toronto.
    He knew he was going to miss his grandfather, too, even with his odd wardrobe and his obsession with statues.
    They had spent all summer scanning newspapers and books from all over the globe, from Italy and England, Canada and Japan, searching for “what’s lost.” It seemed like an impossible task, especially since his grandfather wasn’t all that entirely clear about WHAT was lost, exactly.
    James heard a noise and sat up.
    WHIZZ! He ducked just in time: an apple shot right past his head and crashed into the garden seat, spraying shattered apple pieces all over him.
    â€œHey! Cut it out, whoever you are!” He scrambled on all fours across the grass, and dove for cover behind a half-finished statue of flowers. Apple after apple smashed into the statue above his head. He peeked out and caught a glimpse of a leathery arm and a horned head.
    â€œArabella! I’m leaving soon, don’t you want to make friends with me before I go?”
    The apples stopped. A sweet, whispery gargoyle voice called back, “Mashrad bellatro!” but James heard it say, “Defend yourself, boy!”
    James gulped. He knew what was coming. Still hiding, he scooped all the apples he could, lobbing them back in the direction of the thrower in the trees. The garden rang with the sound of apples, apples everywhere! The apple war raged until James thought his arms would give out.
    But finally the apples stopped coming (there weren’t any more in easy reach). He heard a strange, raspy sound then, which took him a moment to understand: the gargoyle Arabella was laughing !
    Have you ever heard a gargoyle laugh? Imagine a sound something between a small, barking dog and a rattling bag of bones. James lay exhausted among the apples listening to laughing Arabella, and found that he was laughing, too.
    They might be naughty. They could be surprising. They might bury you in leaves, drench you with water, and wing apples at you when you weren’t looking.
    But James was NOT expecting that a gargoyle could make you laugh .

Chapter Thirteen
    Candles by Daye, in the Afternoon
    The next day at school, Christopher avoided Katherine. He didn’t know if she knew he’d been in the park again, and he really didn’t want to find out. He did his best to stay out of her sight.
    After school though, it was obvious he wasn’t going to be able to avoid Katherine any longer. He was late leaving his classroom and when he got to the streetcar stop, Katherine was standing there.
    He didn’t have any choice, he had to wait with her.
    â€œHi,” he mumbled.
    She looked at him, and looked away. “Hi,” she said quietly.
    They waited in total silence. Katherine read a book, ignoring him. Christopher looked at the sky. Looked at his shoes. Was very interested in the dirt under his fingernail. Stared straight ahead. And sighed with relief when the streetcar finally came.
    Katherine went to the back of the streetcar. Christopher sat right behind the driver, as far from her as