Charlie was quite uncertain whether or not it was legal to take a gun on a bus, but Greyhounds were notoriously lax. Even compared to airports! It was really frightful, Charlie thought, what you could get away with, if you wanted to.After all, she knew from experience.

She stood in front of the gun cabinet, extremely grateful that she could be trusted enough for her mother to disappear on short notice and leave it unlocked. Bentley watched her, concerned, but saying nothing as she perused the pistol shelves. “So Robin already has a revolver, right, since it was in the dream?”

Bentley shrugged. “Dreams are different. It’s not accurate to say that they’re completely different, but they don’t work the same way. She seemed to have it as a spare, since she wasn’t using it.”

“Sure,” Charlie said. “They kick too hard and don’t have enough capacity.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Bentley growled. “I leave the guns to the people with fingers.”

She turned around and grinned at him. “We could get you some string! Tie it around your paw, put the other end on the trigger. Maybe get you an M60, if I can get Mom to buy it for us somehow.”

“And what makes you think she’d buy a…belt fed machine gun for me to use?”

Charlie shrugged. “She’ll pay for me to go to that festival they’re hyping up in New York state later this year, too. And she’ll let me start fights in school whenever I want. I mean, I’m a magical girl, she kinda has to change how she approaches things, right?”

“Your optimism is really refreshing,” Bentley said drily. “In all seriousness, parental reactions…vary. We’ve taken to no longer recruiting as heavily in the developing world for precisely that reason.”

Charlie shivered. “Kinda prejudiced, don’t you think?”

“We prefer not to expose children to danger they’re not ready for.”

“Well, I’m ready for it.” Charlie finally made her selection: a SIG P210 that her mother had had imported, special. It was one of her mother’s favorite guns. “Most of it.”

“May I submit that you are not actually ready to antagonize your mother?”

“You would know?” She quirked her lips in a frowning smile that might have gotten her slapped at the dinner table.

“I know everything,” Bentley said with a bored affectation.

“I need good hardware. This is going to be a disaster.”

“If you know that, why not just stay home and read a good book?”

“Bentley.” charlie clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Why do you think? It’ll be fun, that’s why. Also, what the heck was that? A numbers station, right?”

“Yes. One not very well encrypted, if only because you and Robin could hear it so easily. You might ask why no one else has noticed it before.”

She shrugged, rummaging through the shelf for spare magazines. Checking these (they were loaded), she tossed the lot in her knapsack. It was military surplus, very affordably priced. She’d bought it with her own money, and it was one of her prized possessions. “You’re riding in here once we get to the station,” she said.

“You’re just going to ignore that observation?”

“”No.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. You think it was magical?”

“I don’t see what else it could have been,” he said. “In my experience if someone is allowing you to hear their encrypted communications they’re leading you into a trap.”

“I feel bad for them, you know?” She grinned toothily, relishing the pained expression on Bentley’s face.

*****

The bus ride was quiet, with Bentley folded over double and cinched up tight. Albuquerque to Houston was a very short ride, all things considered – when she finally woke, smacking chapped lips and stretching, there was a faint trace of pink sunrise in the pale blue-white sky. “I’m looking forward to this,” she said, untying the flap of her backpack and shaking it a bit, as if Bentley needed waking up. “You think she knows any astronauts?”

“You might ask if she knows any cattle farmers,” Bentley said in a groggy and grumpy tone. “Too many bumps. I do not want to do that again.”

“Sure, or mission control guys. Or rocket scientists.” She tweaked his button nose. “They’re called ranchers, silly bear.”

“I don’t exactly care,” Bentley said.

She didn’t either, so she looked across the empty bus station, first to her right and then to her left. She had observed that it was empty, and it actually was – usually you’d find a few stragglers, or people waiting for transfers, or a hobo trying to catch some warmth. But no one was here. She wasn’t sure if that was unusual. But, “Robin didn’t come to meet me,” she said dourly. “You’d think she’d have figured that out, since she’s playing hooky tomorrow.”

Bentley sighed. “Or you could have thought for two seconds about the possibility that magical influence was being applied to more than one kind of electronic communication.”

Charlie wrinkled up her nose. “You mean the phone call might have been fake? Like it wasn’t actually her?”

“Or she’s lying to you, about something significant.”

She shook her head vehemently, whipping her hair and buffeting her neck. She really needed a hat, so she could keep the unruly mop stuck down tight. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“And how,” Bentley said, “do you know that?”

She fixed him with a steely glare. “I have a sense for these things.”

He nodded. “I was going to talk to you, before this all happened. About the ghosts. About the Dweller. You’re operating in the dark, here.”

She tied the flap shut. “And whose fault is that,” she said to no one in particular. Then she proceeded to the women’s bathroom at a brisk march. Over the PA, the Hollies could be heard, faint, with static. It was definitely morning. It felt like morning. If Robin was here, she might be in the bathroom. If not, she’d turn up.

There was no towel. Apparently it had been cut loose and stolen. She flicked her hands off, in Bentley’s general direction. “How can I be operating in the dark,” she said with a practiced huff. “The sun just came up!”

The bathroom door slammed behind her, and she squinted. The sun really had come up, and it poured in like an army with banners, through a large picture window. She put a hand over her eyes.

There was a tap on her shoulder, and she whirled, bringing a balled fist up and settling into a half-decent stance for so little breakfast.

“You’ll go blind doing that,” a cheery female voice said.

Charlie squinted, blinking the dark purple sunspots away. “Robin!”

“Had to sneak out.” Robin tossed her a –

“A pancake?” Charlie worked her mouth, barely comprehending.

“Yeah. I already ate the others. Sorry I don’t have any syrup.”

“You’re weird,” Charlie said with her mouth full.

Robin nodded. “That’s what they all say. I mean, they’re probably right. So are you mad at me, or what?”

Charlie would have been shocked at such a question, but she supposed she had been putting on a big tantrum just now. “No, Bentley. He’s such a jerk. I was worried you might not be coming, though?”

“Yeah.” Robin brushed her hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry! I can only imagine. You got off the bus and you said ‘I bet she isn’t even real,’ huh?”

Charlie smiled wryly with the side of her mouth not weighed down by pancake. “Nah. That was Bentley. He’s all oh no, don’t trust anyone but me, you know?”

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“I can see it. The bears are tricky. They have their own ways of doing things. That’s why I’m glad I got a dinosaur.”

Charlie blinked. “Species? There are like, species of…of…”

Robin nodded. “They say Guardian, but I say handler. Like a spy movie, you know? But you gotta let ‘em know who’s handling who.”

“I do.”

There was a coughing noise from inside her bag.

Robin looked at the bag, then at Charlie. “Please tell me he deserves being stuffed in there?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie said.

“Good. Scooter’s pretty well behaved, on account of not being able to hide in plain sight as well.” She held up a small plastic dinosaur, which looked as if it might be to scale with a Hot Wheels car.

Charlie studied the toy keenly. There was, she thought, no difference between it and any other plastic toy dinosaur of the same kind. Not that she had any familiarity with plastic dinosaurs, not anymore. “So when she ‘comes out’--”

Robin grinned. “Yeah. We try to keep that quiet and away from people. The Store-boughts are very, very fond of being their true selves and they don’t like the way the Handmades are comfortable pretending to actually be a teddy bear.”

Her bag insisted, muffled and sotto voce, that it was a real teddy bear. “I have no idea what’s going on, but should we be talking about it in public?”

“No,” Robin said. “We shouldn’t. Come on, I know a spot.”

Charlie followed, and they went down what looked like a fairly major street before heading down a side street, then a footpath, then into the woods. On second thought, “woods” was very charitable. This was a copse, left standing by the grace of property developers. Soon, Charlie thought, looking at the signs they’d passed on the way in, this would be an office building. Or, perhaps, Tranquility Business Park. She did not approve. The Sea of Tranquility would one day be a National Park, and commercializing that while the guys were freezing to death and rationing oxygen instead of landing on it made her angry. The world was changing, and she had to watch. It was the thing, she thought, that made her angriest of all.

“You okay?” Robin touched her arm briefly, bringing her back.

“Just…didn’t sleep much. And worrying about Apollo 4.”

Robin smiled warmly. “Aw. It’s all anyone can talk about down here. I worry too, but we got bigger problems. Okay, Bentley. You gonna behave?”

“Not for you,” he growled, poking his head out of the backpack.

“I love him already.”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s not permanent,” Charlie grunted. “Bentley, wanna tell me about Handmades? Or should Robin?”

Bentley rubbed his brow with a paw. “I believe I alluded to this earlier. She’s a thing. An object. She is made of artificial substances, a depiction of an artist’s imagining of a paleontologist’s description of the memory of bones. She can’t become real, not as easily.”

“Wow,” Robin said, producing a bag of chips and a Coke and tossing them to Charlie. “I brought lunch, he brought race hatred. What a catch.”

“I said not as easily. You know it’s true.”

“No, I know you assholes keep saying it because you know she can’t talk back. Not without turning into, as you so poetically put it, a memory of bones. A whirlwind of teeth, furball. Don’t you forget it. Not around me.” Robin leaned forward until she was almost nose to nose with the teddy bear. “Meanwhile, you’re stuck. You might be real, but not with your attitude. And you’ll never change form.”

There was a growl. A real one, bearlike and quite frightening. The air went cold and still, chilling Charlie’s bones.She looked at Robin, a pained grimace attempting to excuse the latest antic, but Robin smiled placidly, unperturbed. “Do not,” a ghostly voice said quite loudly, in both of their ears, “be too sure of that.”

Charlie blinked. “Bentley, excuse you?”

“There’s no excuse for him,” Robin said.

Charlie giggled.

The air returned to the warmth of a Texan spring. Bentley leaned back, languid, and rested his head on his paws. He crossed one leg over another. “I merely am trying to suggest that suspicion and fear go both ways. All bigotry comes from another emotion, misunderstood.”

“Nope.” Robin shook her head. “Not having this conversation.”

“Yes.” Charlie didn’t want to deal with any of this right now, but it was dealing with her, and she’d better learn as much as she could. “You mentioned ‘becoming real’. Is that like, you know. The Velveteen Rabbit? Seriously?”

Robin grinned. “I was gonna explain it to you if you didn’t know. How could Scooter not be real? I do love her, even if she’s got her own agenda. I’d worry, if she didn’t. You know?”

“I don’t. That seems really worrying.” She inclined her head gently toward her own “handler”. “He was a teddy bear. A toy. They’re not supposed to have agendas.”

“He was always more than that. Always will be. Whether or not he’s real is up to you. And frankly if he’s like this, he doesn’t deserve it.”

Charlie nodded. “So what happens? He becomes indistinguishable from a real talking teddy bear? Or am I going to wake up one morning and find out I have a real adult male grizzly in my living room?”

Robin giggled, somehow producing sandwich ingredients and a butterknife from her coat. She began to make sandwiches as she spoke. “Nope. He’s still him. It’s just about synergy between you. Love. Ability to affect the world. Is he doing ‘being a magical girl is boring, you only get powers when you’re dead’?”

Charlie nodded. “Walked me past what he said was one getting run over by a car. Was going to tell me about ghosts, or whatever they are. Apparently you can see them?”

“I can. I don’t like them. You know every town in the United States is built on an Indian burial ground?”

“Not every one, surely?”

“Close enough.” Robin handed her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Someone had to wish the Indians would stop raiding their cabins, and someone else had to wish for reservations instead of…worse. For every historical force, a girl. Either dreaming of it or having nightmares about it. Taking credit for it. I see them, occasionally.”

Charlie swallowed. The peanut butter stuck in her throat. “He was talking about shadows on the wall, at Hiroshima.”

“And the official story is that Enola Gay was named after the pilot’s mother. It is, of course. I don’t even think they know the rest.”

Charlie gasped in horror. “Someone wished for that?!”

“Mhm.” Robin munched her own sandwich, apparently much more comfortable speaking about this openly than Charlie was. “People want the suffering they’re experiencing to stop. They’re like your bear. They don’t always think.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Charlie said, almost whispering.

“You just might get it. Yeah.” Robin sighed. “Anyway, I don’t like seeing it, as often as I do. It’s bad juju. I want nice things. I’m just…alone in that, it seems.”

Charlie found herself putting a reassuring hand on Robin’s own. “I don’t think so.”

Robin met her eyes warily. “Careful. A lady might get the wrong idea.”

Charlie pulled her hand back, as if she’d been burned. “You were just lecturing Bentley, and I thought…I didn’t mean anything by it, anyway!”

Robin laughed aloud. “I wish you had. I was kidding. You’re great. I’m keeping you.”

Charlie sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Robin looked at her with a twinkle in her eye.

Charlie, who hadn’t even talked to her mother about this particular secret of hers (or its role in the flak she caught at school), could do nothing else. So she forced herself to pretend that…that hadn’t just happened, which took severe effort and discipline. “Anyway, becoming real.”

“Margery was one of your number,” Bentley said.

Charlie jumped, having almost forgotten he was there. She scratched her head. “Margery?”

“Yeah,” Robin said excitedly. “Margery Williams, author of the book. It’s a sort of…you know what a limited hangout is?”

Charlie did. She nodded, leaning forward. “It’s when you tell the truth, or part of it, in such a way as to warm people up but also obscure what’s going on.” Was this real? She felt like another fictional girl, who had gone down the rabbit hole. Every new thing she learned had her convinced that she was, well, surrounded by mad talking animals and the like. Which seemed, frankly, to be the actual facts of the situation, rather than a cute analogy.

“Yep. She wrote Velveteen as a straightforward allegory for what we do. But now, people believe that her wish was to give back, to our little friends. Their version of becoming real is a parallel of ours. Not a shallow echo, or an imitation. It’s not the same thing. How could it be? But that’s why I feel so strongly about it, and why the Handmades are so jealous.”

Charlie shook her head, trying to catch up. “Why are they jealous? What’s to be jealous of?”

“They can build a shopping mall in a place where two friends had a picnic,” Bentley said. “They can stop making your favorite comics. They can even cancel the moon landings before the astronauts are home, if they so wish. What can be given by artifice and manufacture can be taken just as simply. We Handmade believe that Scooter’s existence is a product of black magic.” He folded his arms, doubtless attempting to appear confident, but he looked like nothing so much as a petulant child, and Charlie felt sorry for him.

She reached over and ruffled his fur, resisting an impulse to point out that he was no more a real bear than Scooter was a real dinosaur. That wasn’t the point of the dispute, and she knew it was more complicated than that. Worse, it was very important to him. But it was so silly, and she wanted to laugh in his face. “What, she’s plastic so she can’t be burned if Robin gets scarlet fever?”

Something happened, then, which surprised her. Bentley and Robin found enough in common to speak, at the same time, in the same words. “When,” they said. But Robin’s eyes twinkled, and she rubbed the plastic toy in her hand softly. Charlie felt the summer heat on her back, and she thought, sharing this moment with her new friends –

Maybe being real wasn’t so bad after all.