It felt weird to throw away perfectly good clothes. “Are you sure?” I said, looking back at her over my shoulder as I prepared to bury the wet clothes in the bin. “It’s such a waste.”
“I’ve plenty more,” she said. “We don’t want anyone to find them down here, do we?”
“I guess not.” I crammed the wet things down with a broom handle.
By the time I turned around, Molly had walked over to the other end of the room. I watched as she climbed onto a pile of crumpled sheets and reached for a square hole in the brick wall. “Now, here we go,” she said proudly.
“What is it?” I asked, peering up into the hole.
“It’s a laundry chute,” Molly said over her shoulder. “Haven’t you been inside one before?”
“I’ve never even seen one.”
“Really?” Molly looked surprised. “They’re very good for getting around. Maggie and Ginny showed me how, a long time ago. I’ll go first, and you can follow. All right?” Before I could answer, she climbed headfirst into the yawning mouth of the laundry chute and disappeared. I could just make out the soles of her shoes.
I stepped closer and looked up the chute. It was pitch-black in there. I reached out a hand and felt a slanted piece of metal. It was like Molly was climbing up a slide.
“Hey,” I called up after her. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“Shhh,” warned Molly from inside the chute. Then I heard only the faint squeak of her shoes and hands rubbing against metal. At last Molly’s whisper echoed down tinnily, “I’m here! I made it! Now you!”
I climbed up into the dark square hole and made my way slowly. It was a little tight and I couldn’t turn around. Briefly I thought about what would happen if I got stuck. But I kept climbing, even though the chute smelled like sweaty gym clothes and dirty pennies.
When I got to the top and peeked out, Molly wasn’t there. I only saw more linens piled on the floor. Napkins, stained tablecloths, dishrags. In the next room I could hear a clatter.
“Molly?” I called softly.
“Who’s there?” shouted back a man’s voice.
“Oh!” I said without meaning to.
“Hello?” called the man again.
From above me in the chute I heard Molly’s voice. “Hurry!” she urged.
“I’m trying,” I whispered.
The second story took even longer because my arms and legs were tired and shaky from the strain of climbing. But this time when I stuck my head out, I found Molly smiling at me.
“Now jump!” she said.
With tired arms, I pulled myself that last foot up the chute, then sat in the little door hole cut into the wall, my wet shoes dangling. I looked around. Tables and chairs were strewn about. One entire wall of the room was covered in plush green velvet curtains. The other walls were dark wood. The ceiling was high, which made the whole thing feel like a throne room in a castle.
“Come on.” Molly beckoned below me.
I sprang down about three feet and landed on the purple carpet. My feet prickled.
Right away I could hear music, but it was smothered by the chatter of people talking. There were thumps and scrapes, chairs being pushed in and out, and forks clattering against dishes. The music floated softly beneath these other, sharper noises.
“Oh, Molly!” I said, reaching out and squeezing her hand. This was nothing like the dusty hotel I’d seen back in my own time.
Molly beamed at me proudly, bouncing on her toes. “We’re in the banquet hall,” she said. “On the balcony above the ballroom. We never use this room when there’s something happening below, because you can hear everything. Come on!”
I ran across the room after her and together we peeked through a slit in the heavy green curtains. The music swelled up at us. It was the song Molly had sung to Friend just the day before. “Can’t take that away from me,” we both sang softly.
“Jinx!” I said.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “What’s jinx?”
“It’s just this thing my friends and I do. If you say something at the exact same time as someone, you say ‘jinx.’ Then you get a wish. Or a Pepsi. Or a pizza. Except you never really get it.”
Molly laughed. “That makes no sense at all. Also, what’s a peet-za?”
I stared. This I could not believe. “You don’t have pizza?”
Molly shook her head. “I don’t think so. What is it?”
“Only the best food in the world. Food from heaven. Promise me that as soon as possible you’ll eat a pizza.”
“I promise,” said Molly, nodding solemnly. “I do.”
After that, the two of us turned our attention back to the scene below.
“Ooh,” whispered Molly. “It’s a wedding! Look.”
I looked. Waiters were scurrying around with bottles and silver trays. There was smoke, so much smoke, drifting, rising from cigars and cigarettes up to the chandeliers. I swallowed a cough.
The men were nice-looking, with their suits and slicked-back hair, but the ladies were even better in their pale drapey dresses. Some had tiny furs hung around their necks. A few wore flowers, or had hats perched on their heads with feathers that shook when they danced. The bride, in white lace, was darting around, hugging everyone.
“I’ve never been to a wedding,” I said. “It’s so pretty!”
“Really?” Molly looked at me curiously. “There are loads of things I’ve never done, but I’ve been to weddings. What about your aunts and cousins? Surely they get married.”
“I don’t have any aunts or cousins,” I said, shaking my head.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone not having cousins, except perhaps Little Orphan Annie.”
“Plenty of people don’t have cousins,” I said. Though I couldn’t actually think of any. “Hey, which one is your dad?”
Molly touched her maid’s cap and shook the curls that peeped out from beneath. She scanned the crowd. “He never comes to events. He has things to do.” But then she went rigid beside me and pulled the curtains closed with a shush.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“I was wrong,” she said. “He is there. Papa.”
“Where?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, shaking her curls. “He was talking to a waiter, over in the corner. He didn’t see me. Don’t worry.” But she sounded worried.
I put one careful eye back to the split between the curtains. At last I found the man with the mustache from Molly’s picture.
“Does your dad have a yellow flower?” I whispered.
“Yes,” she said without looking. “He always wears that, so everyone will know him.”
“He doesn’t look mean,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s smiling.”
Molly shot me a funny look. “I never said he was mean. What gave you that idea?”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know much about dads in general. They mow the lawn, right? And play golf? Or go bowling?”
Molly shook her head. “Not mine. He just works. Then he works some more. And more.”
A few minutes later, the music faded and the crowd went silent. A large cake was wheeled into the room on a cart. The bride and groom came together to cut it, and my stomach growled. “There’s the cake,” I whispered. “I wish we had a piece—”
“Ooh! I know something!” shouted Molly suddenly. Her voice rang out above the now-quiet hall.
I froze.
Several people glanced up at the ceiling.
I ducked back behind the curtain.
Molly stood with her hand to her mouth. Her eyes went wide. “Do you suppose they heard that?” she hissed.
“Umm, I think it’s highly possible,” I said.
“Should we go? We should go, shouldn’t we?”
“Probably,” I said. “But why’d you ooh?”
“It was just—I had an idea. I wanted to—” Then she added, “Oh, fiddle! Let’s try it anyway. We�
��ll be quick, come on!” She dashed away from the curtains and back over to the wall, where she stood in front of a painting of an unsmiling woman holding a bouquet of flowers. I followed, then gasped when Molly gripped the picture frame and tugged at it. The frame swung out from the wall, revealing a hole. It was a dumbwaiter, like the one in Harriet the Spy!
“Cool! I wish we had one of those,” I said.
“You don’t? I feel sorry for your maids.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have any of those either,” I said.
“Cross your fingers,” Molly said as she pulled on a thick rope inside the dumbwaiter.
“For what?” I said.
“Cake,” said Molly. “Didn’t you just make a wish?”
After a minute of pulling, a tiny platform arrived from below. Molly reached up to grab the tray in it, but when she lifted the silver dome, it was—not cake.
“Ugh,” said Molly as she stared at the plate in her hand. “Bad timing. Liver and onions?”
I held my nose. The odor in the room was meaty and spoiled. “It smells like the opposite of cake,” I said. “Send it back! Gross.”
“Okay!” She reached up to set the plate in the dumbwaiter. That was when we heard footsteps, someone walking up the stairs.
I froze, but Molly moved fast. She set the plate down on the floor at her feet and hoisted herself up, first onto the table, and then into the dumbwaiter. “Hurry,” she said, poking out her head. “Get in!”
“There’s no room!” I said. I searched around for another place to go, but the laundry chute was over next to the doorway.
“I’ll make room.” She wiggled around.
The footsteps were close. Loud.
In a panic, I scrambled up onto the table, then tried to climb in with Molly. I crammed my body in beside her backward. “Oof!” I said, jamming my rear end in and sitting down. My legs still dangled below me.
“Come on,” she said. “In. Now!” The footsteps were there.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, squished myself in, and wrapped my arms around my neck. “Now,” I whispered. “Now!”
Molly pulled the heavy door, but it didn’t quite close. She took a deep breath and gave one final tug, and it locked with a smooth click.
We were hidden now, but squashed like sardines in a can and pinching our noses against the vile smell of the liver. “What will happen if we get caught?” I whispered, catching a mouthful of her curls.
“They’ll call Papa.” Molly’s voice trembled in my ear.
“What will he do?” I asked.
She didn’t answer me. But I heard the wet sound of Molly chewing her nails. I shifted around, trying to get comfortable.
Then there were voices, men’s voices.
“Mr. Moran thought he saw someone up here,” said one voice. “Probably maids cheating off work. Or maybe it’s nothing.”
The other man snickered. “Well, nothing is more than enough reason for Moran to dock a maid’s pay. The old skinflint.”
I tried to pat Molly’s shoulder. I thought it was her shoulder, anyway. The way we were crammed in, it could have been anything.
We listened to the two men move around. Then the first one said, “C’mon, there’s nothing up here. I’m not wasting my time. Let’s go have a smoke before we report back, hey?”
The other man grunted. “I like the sound of that.”
I was about to heave a sigh of relief when there was a clatter and crash. “Now I’ve gone and done it!” shouted one of the men. “Would you look at this mess, gravy all over! Someone’s been sneaking around up here after all.”
The other man grumbled, “And now we’ve got to clean it. So much for that smoke. How’s about you go and fetch a rag and bucket?”
“How’s about you?” said the other. “I’ll wait here.”
“If I’m going, you’re going.” The two voices became fainter as the men headed away, stomping down the stairs.
Molly opened the door. We gasped for air and stared at each other. Then, at the exact same moment, we both whispered, “That was close!”
Molly paused, then whispered, “Ooh, ooh … jinx!” Then she said, “Like that? Did I do it right? The jinx?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Totally. But now let’s get to the chute and get gone.”
Molly shook her head. “We can’t use it now,” she said. “The things they went to fetch are in the basement, just where the chute comes out. We’ll be in the soup for sure if we slide down.”
“In the soup?”
“In a pickle,” said Molly.
“A pickle?”
“We’ll get in trouble. Just stay put.” She swung the door shut again, and we were back in the stinky darkness. “Now grab the rope,” she said. “We’ve got to go up.”
I reached for the rope but got Molly’s nose instead. “Ouch!” she said.
“Sorry.”
“Shh,” said Molly in a tiny hiss. “Pull.”
We pulled, hard as we could. Inch by inch. It took everything we had to move ourselves at all. I was sweating, and my palms were burning. I was wheezing, and so was Molly. “Did your sisters show you how to do this too?” I asked. “Like the laundry chute?”
“No,” came Molly’s voice. “They showed me how to sneak treats from it. But I guess I invented riding in it all by myself, just now.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, if we do this again, let’s bring a flashlight. It’s too dark!”
“Just pretend you’re wearing your sleeping mask,” said Molly.
“But I don’t actually wear that sleeping ma—” Then I cut myself off. “Oh,” I said out loud, without meaning to. “Oh!”
“Annie! Shhh!” hissed Molly again.
“Sorry,” I whispered. Only I couldn’t stop thinking about it after that, the mask. The mask! Maybe that was why I was still here, still in the past. I’d come back in time wearing the mask. It only stood to reason that I’d need to be wearing the mask to go home again. The bed wasn’t my wardrobe, my talisman. The mask was.
A sense of calm settled over me. It made so much sense! I smiled in the darkness. Nothing was quite so awful anymore. Except maybe the liver.
“Where are we going?” I asked as the dumbwaiter rose slowly through the hotel.
“I don’t know,” hissed Molly. “Not here.”
We kept pulling.
“How do we know when to stop?” I asked.
Molly didn’t answer me.
Up we went, in the smallest, slowest, darkest elevator in the universe. I kept thinking we’d see a door, but with no light, it was impossible to know when we were passing them. The rope groaned and stretched. The metal box scraped against the shaft, but we just kept going blindly. I tried as hard as I could not to think about the rope breaking. I tried not to think about the shaft below us, and how much heavier we were together than a plate of liver and onions. Finally we came to a place where no matter how I pulled, we didn’t move. We were either stuck or done.
“Molly?” I said. “What do we do now?”
“I suppose we push,” said Molly.
So we pushed. At first nothing happened. Then something came loose, and the door made a clicking sound and swung open to reveal, amazingly, Molly’s own canopy bed.
“No way!” I shouted. “How lucky is that?”
“Like magic,” said Molly, letting herself down onto the rug.
I followed, hanging on to the dumbwaiter door, which turned out to be the painting of the chubby dog, set on a hinge in the wall.
“And it was there all this time?” said Molly, shaking her head up at me in disbelief.
“All this time,” echoed a voice.
I turned my head so fast my braid whipped me in the face.
Standing in the doorway, staring at us, was Nora.
Before I had a chance to say a word, Molly’s back went rigid. Her chin lifted. Mistress Mary opened her mouth to speak, but then—
She saw the kitten, and her anger melted. Her face softened.
Friend was curled happily in Nora’s hand, nibbling some tidbit. Molly looked at the ball of fur.
“Oh,” Molly said. “You’re taking care of Friend.”
She stroked the cat’s tiny head. “He’s a sweet little man,” she said.
“I found him,” Molly said. “In a garbage pail.”
Nora paused. Then she gave a pert nod and said, “Lucky for both of you, I’d say. Every child deserves a pet, and every pet deserves a child.”
“I can explain,” said Molly.
Nora shook her head. She handed over Friend. “Isn’t my business, miss.”
“But aren’t you supposed to report things like this to Papa?” Molly asked.
Nora sighed. “Maybe I am, but I won’t. I just won’t. It isn’t right. No child should be so alone. From now on I’ll be minding my own business, I think.”
“Really?”
“All I ask is that you be careful. Can you do that?”
Molly nodded, still looking stunned.
Nora turned to me. “As for you, I don’t know who you are, or quite what you’re doing here. But I’ll trust that you mean well, and that you won’t put Miss Molly in danger. That you’ll help her.”
“I’ll do my best,” I said.
“Lastly,” said Nora as she turned to leave, “I left some newspapers in the bathroom for you. They might come in handy for your little man. I don’t want to be cleaning up any more messes like the one I found in the closet just now, hey? Put those maid uniforms to good use.”
“Oops,” said Molly.
Nora nodded. “Oops is right.”
After dinner, Molly and I played a game of chess. Or we started to, until it became clear I would never, ever win a game. “Molly?” I said, giving up and lying down on the floor. “I wonder, if you could do anything tomorrow, absolutely anything, what would you do?”
“Well,” said Molly, “I suppose to begin with I’d go back to that store, to pay for the lamps. So I could stop feeling so guilty.”
“Okay,” I said. “But besides that, where would you go? For fun?”
“I know!” said Molly. “Let’s make a list. Of all the places we mean to go, all the things we want to do. First thing, Woolworth’s! Second, I want to go to that fair, with the Ferris wheel.”
Seven Stories Up Page 7
