Alex took another deep breath as he looked first at Meghan to his right in the doorway, then at Sky on the other side of him. He nodded. “Ready.”

Sky nodded back, touched her finger to her temple and fluttered her fingers away from her head to remind him.

Alex felt faint. But he began nevertheless. “Imagine.” The word wavered a bit in his throat but it seemed clear enough, so he continued. “Believe.”

And then he paused. “No, wait. I need to start over.”

Repeat Times

Three Meghan rolled her eyes. Sky raised a brow. “I think I need to do more than say the words,” Alex explained. “I need to act them out in my head, like when I made the hospital wing.

I bet that’s what Mr. Today did when he first created Artimé.” So he closed his eyes and imagined Artimé, the way it had been, the way he wanted it to be again. His hands reached out to include the entire plot of land. “Imagine,” he said in a soft voice, picturing it all, room by room, the lawn with the fountains, the trees, the creatures. When he was certain he’d imagined it all, he went on.

“Believe.” He believed with all his heart that Artimé could exist again. Believed that when he was finished with the spell and he opened his eyes, it would be there.

“Whisper.” Alex imagined Mr. Today whispering these words over the desolate plot of land so many years ago, calling it to live a new, vibrant life, and he realized that he’d been whispering the words all along.

“Breathe.” Alex took in a deep, satisfying breath and let it out slowly. He didn’t forget it this time. He pictured himself breathing life into the world, giving it the air it needed to flourish once again.

And then: “Commence.” The command to make it all happen. The beginning of everything.

Alex waited a moment, and very nearly opened his eyes before he remembered the clue. Utter in order, repeat times three.

Hoping he hadn’t messed anything up, he began the second round and went through the five words in order, all the while imagining, believing, whispering, breathing, and commencing with all his might.

When he finished the second round, he started one last time, his voice remaining soft. “Imagine. Believe. Whisper. Breathe.” He hesitated, swallowing hard, before the last one.

And finally: “Commence.”

Nothing happened. All was deathly silent.

Alex remained very still, eyes closed, arms outstretched, feeling a sort of calmness inside him that he hadn’t felt ever before. It almost seemed like he was beginning to float, peacefully alone in the world.

And then something did happen. The light through his closed lids grew pinkish-white, bright, and soon lights swirled around him, faster and faster, with colors joining in and growing stronger. He opened his eyes just as the land in front of him turned a luscious green and, with a great rumble, the enormous fountain broke through the ground, spewing up from the earth, the growing expanse of lawn rippling and resettling around it. The land spread farther, making Unwanteds along the shore lose their footing and tumble to the ground. Trees popped up to dot the lawn and form the jungle on the opposite side of Artimé. The gray shack spun and grew into the enormous mansion once again. The heat dissipated in an instant, and a cool breeze rushed in from the sea.

Alex gaped. “I did it,” he whispered. And then he yelled at the top of his voice, “I did it!” He began to run toward the center of the lawn so he could see if all was in order as people along the shore sprang to their feet, annoyed at first, then their faces awash in joy. “I did it!” he screamed once more, his voice growing ragged. He gripped his head and stared all around. The Artiméans jumped and danced, laughing and shouting the news to their friends, as if their friends weren’t seeing it just as they were. Dozens of them raced for the fountain and threw themselves in to celebrate, cool off, and quench their thirst. A number of Artiméans saw Alex standing in the center of Artimé, turning slowly, taking it all in. They surrounded him, hugging him and patting him on the back and lifting him in the air, praising and thanking him, all the frustration of the past weeks forgotten. Alex felt all the anxieties of the world wash away as a surge of joy rushed through him. “I did it,” he repeated softly as the crowd set him down and went on celebrating. “I actually did it.” He rubbed his eyes and slapped his own cheek to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, and indeed, he had done it. Artimé was back, and everything was good. Well, not quite everything. All around, reminders of things gone wrong pelted him again, and Alex knew he had other extremely important things to tend to. He broke free from the crowd and ran smack into the biggest, hardest, movingest statue he’d ever run into. He reeled back, not quite catching himself before he fell to the grass. “Florence!” he cried out. He scrambled to his feet.

She looked about, bewildered at the commotion. “What on earth is happening? Are we under attack?”

“No—” Alex opened his mouth to tell her, having nearly forgotten that she and all the creatures and statues had no idea that Mr. Today was . . . gone. “Oh,” he said. A fresh wave of grief flooded through him alongside the rush of relief at Artimé’s grand return, and with so much emotion of so many kinds, the overwhelmingness of it all threatened to overflow from his body into a soggy mess at Alex’s feet. Tears formed and dripped from his eyes. “Find Sean or Mr. Appleblossom. Hurry.” It was all he could squeak out.

Florence, alarmed, nearly took a step toward Alex to comfort him, but the look on his face told her to do as he’d asked.