by Gilbert Ford
Mrs. Fisher reached out to stop Maria. “I didn’t mean to upset—”
But Maria brushed past her.
“If you hear anything about Robert again, please do pay me another visit!” Mrs. Fisher called after her.
Maria shook her head. She knew the widow didn’t believe her. Why would she ever come back?
Maria stomped down the hallway, nearly knocking over a Grecian vase. She tore past photos of Mr. and Mrs. Fisher by a pyramid, in a gondola, and on an elephant.
“Oh! Before you go,” Mrs. Fisher called out from the living room. She shuffled down the hallway and grabbed her purse by the door. Then she dug through it.
Maria stopped, her hand on the knob, ready to fling open the door.
Mrs. Fisher pulled out her MetroCard and handed it to Maria. “This is to get you home safely.” Mrs. Fisher lifted a brow. “I don’t want you hopping any more turnstiles.” Then her face softened to a smile. “Maybe I’ll see you again?”
Maria snatched the card and murmured, “Thank you.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs. Fisher had known all along that she was being followed.
It didn’t matter. She let the door shut behind her and stormed down the stairs. Then she tucked the MetroCard into her pocket and took one last glance up the stairs leading to Mrs. Fisher’s apartment. She sensed she was leaving something strange and wonderful behind.
Maria turned around and discovered Sebastian waiting for her.
8
Two Rings
“Why did you follow me again?” asked Maria. “I told you to go away!”
“I was making sure you were all right!” Sebastian said. “First I find you waiting in a dangerous alley. Then you hop a turnstile. Then you go into this stranger’s house and disappear for an hour. I was seriously thinking of getting help.”
“Well, now you see I’m okay,” said Maria, folding her arms. “I don’t need your help.”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” said Sebastian, flashing his gap-toothed grin. “You need someone like me.”
“Oh?” said Maria. She gave a fake laugh. “You mean like a sidekick?”
“Sure,” said Sebastian, patting Maria’s back, guiding her away from Mrs. Fisher’s building. “The way I see it, everyone needs a friend.”
Maria didn’t like the sound of this. Sebastian could get her into a lot of trouble at home. They weaved through the hustle of students and street vendors as they turned onto Sixth Avenue. “I prefer to be alone,” said Maria before stopping by a vendor with books laid out on a flattened cardboard box. It was true that books were her only friends, but something deep inside her told her to give Sebastian a chance. She thumbed through novels by Jack Kerouac, Paul Bowles, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti, but didn’t recognize any of their names. Next to the books were stacks of used records. She searched for Mrs. Fisher’s album in the pile but could feel Sebastian hovering near her.
“Well, are you going to tell me who she was?” asked Sebastian.
Maria looked up. “Who?”
“The old lady you followed home!” Sebastian crouched down beside her and began thumbing through records, too. “Who was she?”
Maria thought about ignoring him, but a burning question still lingered after she’d left Mrs. Fisher’s apartment. Why would Edward lure her to the widow’s home to find buried treasure but not tell her how to find it? Could he be playing a cruel joke on her? It didn’t seem like Edward.
“Do you think people still bury treasures?” said Maria. “Today? In this city?” She knew that she was being a little cryptic, but for all practical purposes, Sebastian was as much a stranger to her as Mrs. Fisher.
“What do you mean?” Sebastian asked. “Like pirate’s treasure?”
“Sure. I guess,” said Maria. She didn’t recognize any of the records.
“Probably not pirate’s gold, but my dad tells me some of his clients have secret rooms in their apartments to hide with their valuables in case of a break-in. Does that count?” The two began to walk toward the train together. “Does this have something to do with the lady you visited?” he asked.
Maria shrugged. “I don’t know. Have you ever had someone play a mean trick on you?”
Sebastian paused for a minute while they descended the stairs. Maria swiped her card through the turnstile, and Sebastian did the same. “Sure,” he said, before catching up with her on the slanted walkway to the Brooklyn tracks. “Once when I used to play soccer, my team decided to completely ignore me. You know, because I’m no good.”
Maria remembered how bad Sebastian was at throwing and catching, so she nodded.
“One day, I got an invitation to a birthday party by one of the players on the team. I was so excited because I really wanted the team to like me. When my mom took me to Chuck E. Cheese, we couldn’t find the party.”
“Why couldn’t you find them?” asked Maria as they stepped onto the train.
“She called the kid’s mom to find out where they were,” said Sebastian, “and his mother had no idea what my mom was talking about. Ricky’s birthday wasn’t until summer. It had all been a mean trick.”
“That’s terrible,” said Maria. She felt bad for Sebastian. She’d always wanted to be around other kids—even join a team—but maybe it wasn’t worth it if kids weren’t nice. After a few stops, Maria said, “I think someone played a trick on me. Someone very close to me.”
“Well, this is why we should stick together,” said Sebastian. “Like outcasts.”
Maria didn’t like the sound of being an outcast, but she was beginning to warm up to Sebastian. By the time they reached Fulton, the two were able to grab seats as the train headed to Brooklyn.
When they exited the train, Maria stalled.
“Are you coming with me?” asked Sebastian.
“No,” Maria said. She knew better than to let her mother see the two of them returning together. “I forgot my books at the library. You go on!” she said, motioning with her hand.
“Okay,” said Sebastian. “But I think the library will be closed by the time you get there.”
“I’ll hurry,” she said. And then she ran ahead, leaving Sebastian outside the subway station.
Maria discovered that the library was, indeed, closed, so she doubled back for home. It wasn’t long before she stood outside her building. The autumn sun had sunk behind her, and a chilling wind blew leaves around. She turned the knob before the door creaked open.
She’d tell her mom she had an overdue library book. It was a flimsy excuse for being gone for so long, but since she was holding no books, it would have to do.
Maria stopped in the hallway and listened for signs of life. Distant squawks of Houdini rang between the slamming of cabinets at the far end of the apartment.
Her home felt drabber than ever. Maria dragged herself through the parlor, down the dark hallway where not a single picture hung, through her mother’s bedroom where the newspaper clippings fluttered as she whooshed by. If only there were the promise of hot tea whistling in the next room.
She paused before the only thing that gave her hope: a poster of her grandmother. For a split second, she thought her grandmother’s portrait winked at her. She glanced again, at the slight smile on her grandmother’s face, her warm eyes motionless. She was imagining things.
She barely remembered her grandmother. Just her soft hands on her head, tucking her in at night. And stories she’d whisper to her about the crystal blue ocean along San Juan, the home she’d left before migrating to Brooklyn. After her grandmother’s death, her mother assumed her psychic title and continued the family business.
Maria took a deep breath before she pushed open the door to the kitchen.
“There’s my girl!” sang Madame Destine. “You’re just in time to celebrate!” She threw a bag of chips at Maria. They hit her in the chest before she fumbled and dropped them.
Madame Destine danced around the kitchen, the warm light casting jubilant shadows. She
flung open the doors to the cabinets. The hinges squeaked as bags of chips, Ding Dongs, and beef jerky—more food than Maria had ever seen—spilled to the floor; the kitchen had been transformed into a cornucopia of abundance.
“The ring came through, and Fox pawned it this afternoon.” Madame Destine threw her arms in the air. “What do you wanna eat for dinner, Maria? Ice cream?” She opened the freezer. “Here’s a tub of chocolate mint! You don’t like mint? Then cookie dough! We’re saved, I tell ya! SAVED!” Madame Destine grabbed Mr. Fox by his arms and waltzed around the kitchen.
“Stealing from that lady was nothing,” he said. “I was taking candy from a baby!” Mr. Fox laughed and dipped Madame Destine so low her turban scraped the floor. Houdini fluttered about the kitchen in dismay.
Maria grabbed the bag of chips from the floor and carefully opened them. She thought of the baguette she’d consumed earlier. She wasn’t so hungry anymore, but she ate a few chips anyway.
“How was the library?” asked Madame Destine, releasing Mr. Fox from her embrace. Houdini settled back onto her shoulder.
Maria flinched and quickly said, “Fine.”
“Oh? Find anything interesting?” She seemed only half present as she popped open the fridge. The light hummed as it displayed an array of soft drinks. Madame Destine found a cherry soda and brought it to the table. Then she poured a bag of chips into the fruit bowl and offered them to Mr. Fox and Maria.
“I ordered some books from the other branches,” Maria lied. “They should arrive in a few weeks.” Her shoulders were tense as she waited for another question, but her mother seemed satisfied.
“John, pass me the salsa,” said Madame Destine, and crammed six more chips into her mouth, the crumbs spilling into her lap.
Madame Destine poured everyone a glass of cherry soda. Then she popped up from the table and gave a toast. “This meal could not have happened without the help of my comrades. You both have been real troupers through this.” She turned to Mr. Fox and tilted her head with a warm smile. “John, you sly dog. Your delivery on the phone was impeccable, and you really came through with snatching the ring from our target.”
Mr. Fox blushed, tilting his cap. “Anything for you, Destine.”
“And my darling Maria.” Madame Destine swung her glass of fizzy soda at her with wild, excited eyes. “My clever little student. You assisted in designing a website AND a business card. You followed your cues like a real pro. I’m SO proud of you.”
The three of them clinked their cups in unison and sipped their sodas. Madame Destine was in a rare good mood, and it was contagious. Maria looked at her empty bowl. The white ceramic smiled back at her. She felt slightly guilty at celebrating over conning a poor lady out of her possession, but she shook off her worries with a scoop of cookie dough ice cream and plopped it into her bowl. Then she poured the rest of her soda over it.
But ever so faintly, a muffled noise sounded in the kitchen: ring ring.
“Shh! What’s that?” Madame Destine brought her hand to her ear and waved the others to stop moving.
Ring ring.
“I hear it, too,” said Maria.
Mr. Fox dug through his pockets and pulled out his cell phone.
RING RING! The three of them jumped.
“Answer it!” commanded Madame Destine.
Mr. Fox pressed the button and brought the phone up to his face. “Brooklyn Urban Youth Initiative for Tomorrow, this is Ben speaking.”
Madame Destine watched Mr. Fox with eager eyes.
“She just stepped out to eat dinner. May I ask who’s calling…? Yes, then please call back another time. Goodbye.”
“Who was that?” asked Madame Destine. “What did they want?”
Mr. Fox crammed his mouth full of chips and mumbled, “Someone looking for ya.” He chewed a little more before he said, “An Officer O’Malley, but we’re celebrating. I told ’em you were out.”
Madame Destine sat very still. Her pale face boiled over into a hot fury. “An OFFICER asked for ME?”
Mr. Fox stopped chewing and slapped his forehead. “Ooops!”
Maria dropped her spoon in her bowl and held on to the bottom of her chair. The party was about to end.
“How has SOMEONE connected ME to the charity line?” she said. Madame Destine narrowed her eyes at Mr. Fox. “You told them I was out? You tell them they have the wrong number!”
Mr. Fox slapped his forehead again with his palm.
She narrowed her eyes. “No one’s supposed to ask for Destine on the charity line. We’re not connected, remember?”
Madame Destine swung her arms across the table, knocking the ice cream, the bowl of chips, and the sodas onto the floor. She bolted from the table and backed into the cabinets like a hunted animal cornered by her predator. “They’ve figured it out. They’re coming for me!” Her eyes were filled with paranoia.
Maria was afraid to move, and so was Mr. Fox. They were caught in the storm, and they would have to sit through it.
Madame Destine glared at Maria. “You been talking to someone!”
Maria broke out into a sweat. “No. No one.” But suddenly Ms. Madigan and Officer O’Malley flashed before her eyes. She remembered holding the bait with the phone number, but she’d put it back in her pocket. She quickly stuffed her hand in her dirty jeans pocket, pulling out her library card and nothing else. It must have fallen out with her change! Maybe she should speak up and tell her mother it could only be Ms. Madigan, concerned for her welfare.
“Then HOW did someone ask for me on the charity line?”
“CHARITY LINE! CHARITY LINE!” squawked Houdini.
Maria sank into her chair. It was better to say nothing than to tell her the truth. She wished Edward were with her now.
“One of you has been an informant,” said Madame Destine. “I will find out who has leaked our secret, and I will SQUASH YOU!”
“SQUASH YOU! SQUASH YOU!” mimicked Houdini.
Madame Destine gave Houdini a kiss. “That’s right,” she said. Then she took a deep breath and fluffed her coat collar. Ever so gently, she said, “But seeing as I have no proof, I’ll have to suspect that the widow has put two and two together.” Madame Destine approached the table, grabbing it with both hands, and leaned forward. “From now on we need to watch our backs. If you see anything strange, I want you to tell me. We keep to ourselves. We talk to no one. You hear me?”
Madame Destine backed into the doorway before she smoothed down her sweaty hair under her turban. “Mama’s worked up a headache,” Madame Destine whimpered before she shot a glance at Maria. “Don’t disturb me!” She flung open the door and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her.
Mr. Fox hit the table with his fist. “Who you been talking to?”
Maria shook her head. “No one.”
“Don’t mess this up, girl. I got a good thing going with Destine. If I find out you been talking, I’ll personally see to it you never open your mouth again.” Mr. Fox hit his fist in his hand, making a loud smack. Then he jerked up from the table and exited the kitchen door to the courtyard.
Maria glanced out the window at Mr. Fox, who kicked at the converted shed where he kept his tools, before disappearing inside.
Her stomach ached from all the junk food, and she was thirsty from the salty chips and the ice cream. She poured herself a glass of water from the kitchen sink and glanced around at the remains of the party. The abandoned chairs were lost in a pile of chips that had been stomped into the floor. An overturned bottle wept soda. The floor was a sticky goop of melted ice cream. She realized she had no place to go but the kitchen until her mother was sound asleep. Only then would it be safe to sneak into her closet.
Maria pulled out a broom and dustpan and tried to understand the mess that she was in.
9
Mystifying Messages
Hours later, in the still of the night, Maria squatted on her mattress in the walk-in closet. Thunderous snoring from her mother’s bedroom s
hook her doorknob. The cool tingle of Edward settled over the back of her neck. She closed her eyes at his reassuring touch.
His presence had always comforted her, ever since his first visit when she was tiny, no older than three. That day, the light in her bedroom flickered, as if gasping for its last breath. Maria sat on her mattress. She held a pen in her hand and was scribbling back and forth on a piece of paper.
Suddenly, the light died, and Maria stared into blackness.
Before she had time to cry, something otherworldly—something cool and gentle—took over her hand and held the pen in place. Maria’s tiny hand made swoops and swishes across the page while she settled into a slumber.
When she awakened some hours later, she felt around her room for the door until she found it. She turned the knob, and daylight flooded her bedroom.
Three pages of strange markings lay on the floor by her bed. Maria held the pages up to her face and examined the beautiful penmanship.
They were words!
But the young Maria couldn’t read, so she begged her mother to teach her. It turned out Maria was a quick learner.
That was how it all began with her and Edward. If it wasn’t for him, she would never have become a reader; she never would have found the library, Ms. Madigan, or even this new friend, Sebastian.
Maria shook her head in the dark closet. She opened her eyes to glance up at her mother’s furs hovering high above her like storm clouds threatening to downpour. She swallowed and eased back on her elbows. “It’s my fault! I gave her away.” Maria felt Edward’s cool touch on her head again.
“Edward,” Maria whispered, changing the subject, “I saw her today. Mrs. Fisher.” Maria brought her arm behind her and felt around her bed for some paper. She placed a sheet directly in front of her. “And I liked her. But I don’t think she believed me. What should I do?” Maria felt the cool chill of Edward around her and worried he would be angry.
Cautiously, she placed the pen between her knuckles, took a deep breath, and let her hand rest on top of the paper. She felt Edward’s frosty touch moving her hand at his will, but it was not a harsh touch. When her hand stopped, Maria glanced at the message:
