“But it cannot be,” my father whispers. “It cannot.”
“Dad?”
My father takes me by the shoulders. “Lola, continue on. I will rendezvous with you shortly.”
“Wait! What is going on? When?” But he’s gone, swimming through the tide of people toward whatever he thinks he heard. What on earth is this about?
My friends, bent over the flyer, miss this entire exchange. Hannah glances up to see the back of my father’s head as he vanishes into the crowd. “Where is he going?” she asks.
“To get doughnuts?” Jin adds hopefully.
“No doughnuts,” I say. “He just… thought he heard something weird. I think? Anyway, he said he’d catch up, and we have work to do. What are we missing on the flyer? There has to be something.” We plunge deeper into the terminal, and as we pass the information desk, I swipe a map. But nothing on it sparks a connection. Did Lipstick get it wrong? Where is Dad when we really could use his help? Hopelessness begins to seep in right at the moment when Jin abruptly stops, and I crash into him. He, in turn, bursts out laughing. “Not funny,” I say. “Not funny at all.”
“Duh,” he says, eyes tilted skyward. “The ceiling.” I follow his gaze and… oh… wow. Twelve stories above unfolds an aquamarine sky upon which the constellations of Orion, Taurus, and Gemini float in yellow starry relief. The expanse is enormous. I hold up the tattered flyer to see if the stars align.
“It doesn’t match any of the constellations,” Hannah says, puzzled. “I checked them. Double-checked them. Triple-checked them!”
“Maybe it’s not specific?” I suggest.
The giant clock is about to strike three. The concourse is a cacophony of sound, voices, pounding feet, train engines. The dull roar makes it hard to think. “The 3:02 express train to White Plains is now leaving from the lower level, track number 110,” booms a voice. We stare at the ceiling. Nothing happens.
“What do we do?” asks Jin.
“Do you see anything?” asks Hannah.
“Nope,” Jin replies.
I glance at my watch. 3:01. Now what? But then Jin points. “Look!” A single star in one of the constellations is suddenly aglow, illuminated by a dozen bright lights. As the station is flooded with afternoon sun, it would be impossible to see if you weren’t already looking.
“It’s the Northern Fly!” Hannah shouts, pumping her fist in the air. “The constellation that got fired!”
Great! But what does it mean? A bead of sweat rolls down my back. The lights stop flickering, and the ceiling returns to normal.
“That was kind of interesting,” Jin says. “But how does it help us find the Midnight Market?”
A detail nudges me, and a thought is glued together. The terminal map. I hold it right up to my nose.
“Northern Fly,” I mutter.
“What is she doing?” Jin asks Hannah.
“Talking to herself,” Hannah replies.
“Here! Look!” I jab the spot on the map labeled Northern Fly Cupcakes.
Jin grins. “Cupcakes. Rad.”
“Cupcakes!” Zeus hollers, waking from his snooze. Food always gets his attention.
“It has to be connected,” I say. “Right?” Plus, cupcakes are whimsical by their very nature, and Lipstick said the organizers were whimsical.
“Finally, something real!” Hannah yelps, and takes off for the lower-level food court.
“Hungry!” shrieks Zeus, loud enough to attract the attention of a school group. The kids “oh” and “ah” over him, and he preens like royalty. That bird is a show-off.
“You have to wait,” I tell Zeus. “Your belly is not priority one right now.”
Jin strokes Zeus’s ruffled feathers. “It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “We will get you a snack soon. I promise.” Boy, Zeus is getting so spoiled he might actually be ruined.
Northern Fly Cupcakes is a small kiosk located across from track 102. Inside the glass display case is a dazzling array of beautiful cupcakes, each one more delightful than the next. They wink with sparkling sprinkles and swirling clouds of creamy frosting. My teeth ache just looking at them.
Behind the counter is a man with a long beard and a red bandanna covering his bald head. His beady eyes are dark and hooded. Unsmiling, he cleans the glass display case while flexing thick forearms covered in bright tattoos. But instead of snarling tigers or creepy snakes or whatever, the tattoos are all images of sweets. There are Hershey’s Kisses, cake slices topped with whipped cream, lollipops, and cookies. Mmmmmm. Yum.
Stop it right now, Lola! Focus!
Right. On it. The man sees us standing before him but doesn’t acknowledge our existence. I inhale sharply and stride forward, unsure of what I’m supposed to be looking for but with no time left to be cautious.
“Excuse me?” I ask. “Do you have any cupcakes?” The man glances at me, at the cupcake display, and back at me. He doesn’t say “duh,” but that is what he’s thinking. “Maybe a special one called the Midnight or the Market or something?”
His eyebrows shoot up. He stops cleaning the glass and tosses the dirty towel over his shoulder. He narrows his gaze. “Is that a parrot?” he asks.
Jin swallows hard and inches forward, like the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz. “Yes,” he says, his voice quaking. “A parrot. Absolutely.”
Zeus knows he is the subject of conversation, and this perks him right up. He’s a diva, as I’ve said. “Cupcake!” he squawks. “Immediately!” The man’s eyes go wide. This rude parrot is going to ruin everything! But instead, the man breaks into a wide grin. His beady eyes grow warm.
“I do so love me a talking parrot,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Do you like carrot cake, little bird?”
Does Zeus like carrot cake? What a question! Zeus is basically an avian goat. He will eat anything, even shoelaces. The man carefully extracts a perfect cupcake wrapped in pink paper and holds it out to Jin, who takes the precious offering tentatively.
Zeus, however, does not respect the presentation of beautiful food. He just wants to eat it. Like a lunatic, he launches himself into the cupcake, beak first, and tears it apart. I fully expect the tattooed baker to pound us with those massive forearms, but he cracks up.
“A talking bird with taste,” he says, wiping his eyes. “Here. You might need this. You have a job ahead of you.” He holds out a napkin. Oh, we’re going to need more than one. We’re going to need a whole stack. And possibly a hose. Bits of frosting fly everywhere. What a mess. But as I attempt to wipe down Zeus’s greasy feathers with the napkin, I realize it is not a napkin at all. It’s a flyer, much like the one Lipstick gave us, except with different images.
When I look behind the counter for the man, he’s gone.
CHAPTER 26 FOLLOW THE CLUES
THE FLYER IS SMEARED WITH frosting, but I manage to pull it away before Zeus pecks it full of holes. The design includes clouds, trees, and train tracks that appear to be floating in an iridescent sky.
“The last flyer had a bunch of stars,” Hannah says, brows furrowed. “And it was about the landmark ceiling in Grand Central. Professor Benko said they liked landmarks, right?”
“They have flying train tracks in New York City?” Jin asks. “Wild.”
“You are being literal,” Hannah replies with a grimace. “Be abstract.”
“Got it.” But he’s not being either. Instead, he’s cleaning the bird, who is covered in brightly colored frosting and sprinkles.
We study the flyer some more. Are we meant to check every track in Grand Central? With sixty-seven tracks, that could take some time. Or maybe it’s a subway station? There are 472 of those. That would also take a while.
We scrounge up some money and buy a black-and-white cookie to share while we walk around the station searching for inspiration or my dad. We find neither. We stand on a really long line to use the bathrooms. We scan book covers at a bookstore and eyeball giant lollipops at a candy vendor. We watch a lady yell and curse at her ex
ploding suitcase. Eventually, we end up out front, by the main entrance, our backs to the hot concrete wall as we watch people stream by.
“Did he say where he was going?” Jin asks.
“I think he saw someone he thought he knew,” I reply. “But it was weird, like he was freaked out.”
“I guess we wait for him?” Hannah asks.
“I guess?” But it’s four o’clock now and the Midnight Market happens tonight, with or without us.
A flushed man wearing a sandwich-board sign advertising Big Red Bus Tours shoves a handful of brochures in my hands. “Discounted tours right here! See the sights! Visit the museums! Live the dream! Twenty percent off! Full AC! Thrill of a lifetime!”
I’m about to toss the brochures in the trash when Hannah suddenly grabs one. “Wait!”
And there it is. The floating-train-track image, printed in bright colors. “What the heck is the High Line?” I ask. Fortunately, the brochure has all the answers.
“The High Line is a 1.45-mile-long elevated linear park,” Hannah reads aloud, “created on the former New York Central Railroad spur on the west side of Manhattan in New York City. It’s a ‘rails to trails’ thing. You know, taking abandoned train tracks and turning them into paths for biking and walking and stuff. It’s not that far from here. We could walk to it easy.”
“But what about Professor Benko?” Jin asks.
“He specifically said continue on, didn’t he?” Hannah replies. I nod. “Well, that means we go!”
Jin looks unsure, but Hannah is right—our next step involves this park floating above the city. “My dad will find us. Remember the bird tracker? Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” Jin asks. “This feels weird.”
“Jin,” I say in all seriousness. “If you lived a moment in my life before I ended up in San Francisco, you would not find any of this weird. Believe me.”
Of course, the last time my father mysteriously vanished, things went seriously sideways and the entire world was at risk. I certainly hope we are not traveling down that path again. There is only so much a girl can be expected to take when it comes to disappearing fathers.
CHAPTER 27 STAR AND FISH CATCH A BREAK
STAR: Do you think Moose did the… you know… thing?
FISH: He confirmed he did. I got a text from him. Coast is clear of annoying brats. Thank goodness.
STAR: But a bridge? Was that necessary?
FISH: We do what we have to do. Are you turning chicken again?
STAR: No! But it would help if I knew what we were doing in Grand Central Terminal and what I was supposed to be looking for.
FISH: You will know it when you see it. Pay attention.
STAR: All I see are people.
FISH: That’s because Grand Central is one of the busiest train stations in the world. Are you still at your lookout post?
STAR: Yes. I’m standing on the staircase, pretending to text. Actually, I am texting.
FISH: Keep your eyes open.
STAR: They are. And you don’t need to tell me that every two seconds. I’m not twelve.
FISH: Fine. What do you see?
STAR: I told you already! People! Can I take five minutes to get a cup of coffee? All this travel has made me tired. My eyeballs feel like sticky, itchy marbles in my head. It’s not okay.
FISH: Quit whining! Being a treasure hunter means you never get tired! No coffee breaks! Marbles open!
STAR: I’m starting to regret agreeing to this boondoggle. Was Siberia that bad? I mean, yes, it’s cold and everything is frozen, including the residents, but still, I was starting to adjust.
FISH: I cannot believe what I am hearing. From the moment you stepped foot on Siberian soil, all you did was complain, complain, complain.
STAR: Did not!
FISH: Did too!
FISH: Are you giving me the silent treatment? Grow up already. And remember, you will change your tune when you are on the beach. Eyes on the prize.
STAR: You are obsessed with eyes.
FISH: Do you see anything?
STAR: No! What am I looking for?
FISH: I already told you! The first clue to the location of the Midnight Market will be revealed here in Grand Central.
STAR: You are aware that this place is huge? Can you be more specific?
FISH: I wish.
STAR: So that is a no?
FISH: Oh wait! I see something! She’s headed for the 42nd Street exit. Silver hair. White dress. Bracelets. She looks so familiar. Where have I seen her before? I don’t know, but it has to mean something! Meet me down by the information booth clock. It’s time to move.
STAR: Thank goodness. Can I grab a coffee first?
FISH: NO!
STAR: Jeez. Okay. Relax. I’m coming.
CHAPTER 28 DEPLOY THE PARROT
IT IS SEVENTEEN BLOCKS FROM Grand Central Terminal to the High Line entrance on 34th Street. Thirty-five minutes of walking and I’m so sweaty you’d think I took a dip in the Hudson River, which is right there in front of us. We are about as far west as we can go on Manhattan Island without falling in the water. During the walk, Zeus, riding along with Jin, worries a clump of feathers under his right wing, nipping and pecking at it until we have words.
“Is this because of stress?” I ask. Parrots are prone to repetitive self-harm when they are stressed. “Are you anxious?” He blinks at me a few times as if I am an idiot and returns to pecking his bird armpit. Okay. Maybe not that. “Is there still frosting stuck under there? Or sprinkles? If you didn’t eat like such a maniac, maybe this wouldn’t happen.” He pirouettes on Jin’s shoulder and shakes his tail feathers at me, and I bet you know what that means.
“Zeus.” I grab him, intending to take a look at the spot, but my fingers come away with a smudge of blood. “You did not.”
Oh, but he did! Cocking his head to one side, he spits a tiny silver disc into the gutter, where it immediately slides down a drainage opening. No! “You guys,” I say. “Zeus is no longer chipped.” Can parrots smile? Maybe.
“But how is Professor Benko going to find us?” Hannah yells.
“Zeus tired,” the bird mutters, and noses his way into Jin’s backpack for a nap. Well, this part of our hunt is off to a roaring good start. I should have stuffed Zeus in a FedEx box and mailed him back to San Francisco the moment I realized he was a stowaway. But now it’s too late.
“Come on,” I say, resigned. “This way.”
The entrance to the High Line is a curved walkway leading up to the old elevated train tracks. The Hudson River glitters in the sun, and sailboats dot the water. The main path is about forty feet wide, full of plants and trees, like a garden oasis floating above the chaos. Once again, we have no idea what we are looking for. At least this is something we are getting used to.
“Do we wander around like usual?” Jin asks.
Hannah gulps from her water bottle and looks around. “Keep your eyes open,” she says, “and look for anything, you know, weird.”
“This is New York City,” I reply. “Everything is weird. They do it on purpose.”
Zeus pops his head out of Jin’s backpack, cheery and refreshed after his cupcake and power nap. Surveying the scene, he’s completely delighted. “Ohhhhhh,” he coos, eyeballing the trees and blooming flowers.
“No running away,” I say sharply. “Or flying away. Or whatever.” We do not have time in the schedule to search for a lost bird, and without the chip he is a free agent.
“Why do you keep ordering him around?” Jin asks. “He can’t understand you.”
“That’s what you think,” I say. “Let’s get going.” It’s close to five o’clock. We need to make progress. The Midnight Market is not going to find us.
The High Line is pretty but not exactly fun. “So many trees,” Hannah groans as we trudge down the path. She’s unimpressed by the fact that we are basically a few stories off the ground, where trees don’t normally grow. “This is the kind of place parents bring kids on vaca
tion when they want to torture them.”
“We went to Disneyland once,” Jin offers. “I waited two hours for a four-minute ride. That was torture.”
Dad and I didn’t vacation like normal people because we were always somewhere exotic or strange to begin with. And Dad is not the vacationing type. He can’t sit on a beach, reading a book with his toes dipped in the water. Or spend an afternoon making sandcastles. He’s much too restless.
“You guys!” Hannah shouts suddenly. “Look!”
Jin and I pull to an abrupt stop and follow the direction where Hannah points. “What is it?” I ask, my pulse leaping. Has she found the clue we’ve been searching for?
“More trees,” she says with a sly smile.
“Don’t do that again,” Jin fumes. “This is serious.”
“Believe me, I know that,” Hannah shoots back. “Seriously dull.” As it turns out, adrenaline junkies are crabby when things get slow.
“Walk faster,” I instruct. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
We fan out, me and Hannah on the far edges of the path and Jin straight down the middle, scanning everything as we go. Which is not easy. The High Line is teeming with tourists. They stop and gawk and point and block our way and talk too much. We pass a fifteen-foot sculpture of a telescope made out of metal. I bet it’s valuable but much too big for my backpack. We pass a food vendor selling homemade ice cream. Jin eyes the cart longingly. “Don’t get distracted,” I say, more to myself than to him.
“Sure. Right.” But his gaze stays glued to the cart of frozen treats. Dad calls New York an “empty pocket” city because it’s expensive and you inevitably leave with no money in your pocket. Our mistake was starting with empty pockets.
Focus, Lola! Pining for ice cream is not going to find you the Midnight Market!
Hannah is right about the trees. There are a lot of them. And plants and sculptures and a big lawn section completely covered in sweaty bodies, lounging on the grass. We pass a water feature and oversize wooden deck chairs. But no signs of the Midnight Market or anything else that might be a clue. I push back on the creeping despair, but it is persistent and stubborn and heavy. This would not be so bad if it were fifteen degrees cooler. I’m getting a sunburn.
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