The Quest for the Kid

by Adrienne Kress

  Sebastian nodded and then glanced at Evie. He wasn’t the one who needed things to happen right away. She was the impatient one. He could see her nervous energy manifesting itself right now as her right foot was tapping the ground quickly. It was vibrating the bench they were on.

  “Hey, you’re shaking the whole seat,” he said, leaning over.

  “No, I’m not,” she replied, confused. Then she looked down. “Oh.”

  “It’ll be okay. It’s just a couple more hours.”

  Evie didn’t say anything, just tilted her head forward a little. Sebastian was pretty sure she understood that it would be okay even if it didn’t feel like it was okay.

  But Sebastian honestly didn’t mind taking a bit of a break. It had been a really long time since a day had felt like a day. When they could take a moment, hang out, have conversations. When plans were made and therefore rest was totally cool. And when they could eat three square meals and even snacks!

  * * *

  —

  Sebastian was reading a book he’d found called How to Make Things Move. He was in the sunny spot on the faded flowery couch in the living room when Benedict approached him.

  “When did you last check in with your parents?” he asked, pulling a book off the nearby shelf and reading the title. An Anthology of Back-Cover Descriptions, it said. He flipped it over to read the back cover.

  Sebastian instantly went from peaceful reader to nauseated liar.

  “Uh, I guess it’s been a while,” he said, literally lying through his teeth, as he was barely able to open his mouth. “I could go do it now?” He said it like a question, though he wasn’t sure why.

  “Good idea,” replied Benedict, leaning back and opening the book.

  Sebastian watched him for a moment, but Benedict seemed really into the book, and so Sebastian slowly slipped off the couch and went into the kitchen, where he knew there was one of those older phones plugged into the wall. Kind of like the phone at the airport, actually. Hanging upright. But this one had no graffiti on it. Didn’t look sad. But it did look ominous despite the friendly It’s always teatime even if it isn’t teatime ticking coming from the clock above the stove.

  Phones had never really been a thing for Sebastian. While the other kids at school demanded ones of their own, he was happy without one, instead preferring the graphing calculator he’d gotten for his last birthday. He’d never actually disliked phones. He was really more indifferent to them. But now it felt like phones were the enemy. That they were judging him. And he knew how absurd that was, to think that, but it was hard not to. Especially when it came to older hanging-on-the-wall phones. Those ones really did seem to have a superiority complex.*

  What new lie would he have to come up with now? Would he have to update Evie and Benedict on what his parents were doing? Make stuff up? “Uh, my dad discovered this cool new mind teaser, and my mom has learned how to create matter from nothing.”

  Or he could…he could call them. He could.

  He picked up the receiver.

  He could.

  He dialed.

  The ringing on the other end of the line made his stomach do an interpretative dance that would probably get a B review from the New Yorker.

  “Hello?”

  His mom’s voice. Immediately the guilt washed over him so hard that he felt the undertow pull him into shame. He couldn’t bear the feeling, and he hung up, fast. He was gulping air like he’d just run a race, even though he’d never run a race and could only assume that was how he’d gulp air.

  He couldn’t have a panic attack, not in this moment. Mostly because he didn’t want to, but also because then people would ask him what was wrong and he knew he couldn’t tell them. Couldn’t say the truth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Of course.

  “Nothing,” replied Sebastian, turning abruptly to Evie.

  “Who was on the phone?” she asked, wandering over to the fridge and grabbing some juice.

  “My mom.” That much was true.

  “Oh! How is she?” asked Evie with a smile.

  “Hard to say,” replied Sebastian. That was also true.

  Evie nodded and returned to pouring her juice. Okay, so this was working, this lying-by-telling-the-truth thing. Why did it feel as bad as the lying-by-lying thing? Logically it shouldn’t. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Technically. Yeah, probably having to have the word “technically” in there was the problem.

  Okay. It was time. It was time. He needed to decide if he wanted to go home or not. And he really needed to talk to his parents. He just…he needed to decide.

  * Though they weren’t nearly as full of themselves as rotary phones: Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just going to take as long as I feel like here, spinning back to the start. Just enjoy my magnificence while you wait. If you didn’t want to wait, you shouldn’t have dialed a nine.

  From the first row, the clouds looked even more like they were floating in the air. Without anyone sitting in front blocking them, Evie had a perfectly unobstructed view of large fluffy white puffs hovering before her, their reflections in the water creating a depth of clouds below them.

  The orchestra was in front of her and off to her right, and she could see them now so much better, each instrument: violins, drums, trumpets, flutes, and an interesting-looking horn that she didn’t recognize, which spiraled in on itself.*

  Evie eyed the stage, leaned in, and squinted a bit, trying hard to spot the submarine supporting it all. She thought maybe she saw an outline, but it might have been a trick of the shadows.

  The houselights dimmed. The spotlight lit up the stage. There was a moment of breathless anticipation. For Evie the anticipation was about so much more than waiting for an opera singer to appear. It was about how, when the opera started, her search would be on its way to being over, and when it was over…

  Then it was over.

  But nothing happened. Just another breathless moment of anticipation.

  And another.

  And then another.

  Evie glanced at Sebastian, who furrowed his eyebrows and scratched the top of Orson’s head in a distracted fashion.

  The Valkyrie wasn’t coming onstage.

  There was another moment, and then hesitantly the conductor poked his head around the makeshift wall to Evie’s left. He scanned the crowd and then slowly walked to his spotlit position in front of the orchestra. The audience eagerly applauded, not knowing that something was wrong.

  The conductor bowed, then faced the empty, larger spotlight onstage. There was an excited silence now from the crowd. Evie turned to Doris.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Doris was already rising from her seat, staying hunched low so as not to block the view of the person behind her. The view of the no one onstage. “I don’t know. Excuse me.” She quickly made her way down the aisle and slipped backstage.

  Evie looked at the conductor, who was having a quiet conversation with a violinist. She could feel the energy in the audience shift to one of confusion. Her own energy shifted too. She was getting antsy and a little frustrated. If the lead soprano didn’t show up onstage, what did that mean for the show? What did that mean about their leaving?

  Oh! Maybe they’d cancel it! Maybe the team would be able to leave right away!

  “This could be a good thing,” she said, leaning over to Sebastian.

  Just as she said it, the conductor turned to face the audience. He spoke, his voice thin and high. First he delivered his message in Portuguese, causing the audience members who understood him to mutter to each other. Then he repeated it in English: “Our most esteemed audience, I have learned that there will be a small delay to the start time of our performance this evening. We apologize profusely, and please enjoy some free refreshments while you wait.” He smiled timidly
and then slowly made his way toward the backstage area. Then he began picking up speed, until he pretty much ran out of sight.

  The house lights came on.

  “Delay?” asked Evie. She saw Sebastian looking hard at where the conductor had disappeared, and her gut now clenched with fear.

  “It’s okay. It can’t be long. And if it is, then they’ll cancel. Or maybe they’ll get an understudy,” replied Sebastian. Evie nodded. And then smiled. She couldn’t help it. He’d understood that her question wasn’t about the meaning of the word “delay” but that she was scared of what a delay would mean for them. That was neat. “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing. You’re right. I’ll wait.” She sat upright in her chair, though she still couldn’t help but watch the backstage wall for some kind of sign.

  They sat for about fifteen minutes before Doris returned.

  “What’s going on?” asked the Kid.

  “It’s…very complicated. But in brief, we need to get the soprano’s substitute.”

  “Oh. Is she okay?” asked Evie. This was still fine, everything was fine, it would take a little longer, but that was fine.

  “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

  “When will she get here? Maybe half an hour?” Evie thought that sounded like a long time, but bearable.

  “The understudy is in Lisbon.”

  “That’s two hours away,” said Sebastian.

  “Two hours?” said Evie, in a total panic now.

  “Yes. It’ll be a wait. I’m sorry, Evie. Normally we’d cancel the show, but it’s the last night and there are people who traveled here from all over the world. It’s okay. We’ll get going right after,” said Doris with a smile before heading backstage again.

  Evie turned to Sebastian, who looked just as upset as she felt, which she found comforting. “I…I can’t…,” she said. She couldn’t exactly explain. And instead she was on her feet and rushing after Doris before she could clearly realize that this was the doing that had to be done.

  Behind the makeshift wall, the serenity and magic of the stage and view vanished. Evie was instantly clambering through a jungle of coiled cables and buzzing generators. It felt a bit like the jungle around the Vertiginous Volcano, only in this case human-made. The one good thing was that she didn’t have to fear dangerous beasts attacking her.

  Something furry brushed her leg.

  “Ack!” She jumped and looked down. It was only Orson. Thank goodness, but if Orson was here…She turned and saw Sebastian, red-faced and out of breath, his usual appearance after chasing after her. She grinned.

  “What are we doing?” he asked.

  “Finding out what ‘it’s complicated’ means, why they need an understudy. Maybe we can solve the problem without one,” she replied.

  They made their way toward a series of trailers, which they realized on approach was where the opera company kept costumes and props. Doris wasn’t anywhere. So Evie dashed up a set of stairs and opened a door to one of the trailers.

  The opera chorus of around thirty men and women was crammed into the trailer. A woman with blond hair was standing before them holding a conductor’s stick. They were in the middle of singing and stared at Evie. She stared back. They kept singing the same note as the woman held her stick high above her head, staring at Evie in confusion.

  They held the note.

  And held it.

  Evie almost wanted to see how long they could sing the one note before losing their breath, but she knew that it was impolite to stare.

  “Oh, uh…sorry,” said Evie, backing out slowly and closing the door.

  “Probably shouldn’t just barge into rooms like that,” said Sebastian as she returned to him.

  “Yeah.”

  He pointed at the next trailer. “Knock first?”

  Evie nodded, climbed the little set of stairs, and rapped on the door.

  It swung open, and a tall broad man wearing a tattered uniform and a wig of curly red hair stood before them. Evie instantly recognized him as the baritone lead in the opera, the one the Valkyrie saved from death but who then killed her boyfriend in return.

  “Is it finally time?” he boomed in English. He looked around, confused.

  “Down here,” said Evie.

  He looked down.

  “I don’t remember you, tiny stage manager,” he said, eyeing her with suspicion.

  “I’m not a stage manager. I’m Evie,” she replied.

  “Ah! Evie.” He nodded knowingly.

  “We’ve never met before,” she said, confused.

  “Ah! Yes, good, good,” he replied, and nodded.

  “Uh, so anyway, we were wondering, do you know why the Valkyrie needs an understudy?” asked Sebastian, stepping up beside her.

  The baritone stared at Sebastian as if this was the first time he’d noticed him. Like Sebastian had just appeared out of thin air.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  They waited silently for more. The faint sound of the chorus holding a different single note could be heard, almost like a punctuation mark on the baritone’s pause.

  “And what might the reason be?” prompted Evie hesitantly.

  “In my many years of performing this great art, I have met extraordinary talents. I have worked with men and women, sopranos, mezzos, basses, tenors, who have been charming, frustrating, demanding, shy, talkative, and boring. But never in all my years have I encountered anyone quite so…interesting.” He spoke all the words passionately, but none of them actually answered the question.

  “And?” asked Evie.

  “I will show you, Evie,” replied the baritone, sweeping his hand to one side. She stared at him expectantly. “Could you…could you move, please?” he asked.

  “Oh!” And she hopped off the stairs as the baritone walked with purpose and great drama down the three small steps.

  “I am Roland, the baritone,” said Roland the baritone.

  “I’m Evie,” repeated Evie, not really knowing what else to say.

  “Yes. You are.” He turned to Sebastian and looked down at him now.

  “Uh, I’m Sebastian.”

  “And those are our names. Good. Follow me!” He turned and was striding off before they had a chance to gather themselves. So, quickly, Evie followed him, and Sebastian and Orson joined her. They wandered the row of trailers until it ended, pushed up against the forest that encroached on the backstage area. But Roland the baritone didn’t stop. He continued into the dark forest, and at this point Evie paused.

  “Should we be doing this?” she asked.

  “Generally, I think we shouldn’t be doing many things,” Sebastian replied.

  “I guess we don’t have much of a choice.”

  “We do, though.”

  Evie shrugged and jogged after Roland, hearing Sebastian’s hard sigh behind her. It wasn’t as scary as she’d thought. The trees were fairly far apart, and the glow from the theater shone into the sky, illuminating their path somewhat.

  And it turned out they didn’t have too far to go. Just as the forest was starting to get darker around them, they emerged into a clearing. An ancient-looking wooden house, lit with a single tall spotlight standing beside it, sat in the very middle atop a small mound of earth. It was rather otherworldly, like they had stepped into a dream, and as Evie moved into the light, she could see a fire smoldering in a pit, beside which hung some clothing drying. At her feet lay a large round shield as if it had been dropped there recklessly.

  “She’s in there.” Roland pointed at the house, in case they thought that he meant somewhere else in the otherwise empty clearing.

  “Who is?” asked Evie.

  “The soprano,” said Roland. “The Valkyrie.”

  Evie looked at Sebastian, who looked at her. He looked back at the hut.


  “As I said, interesting, isn’t it?” said the baritone.

  “Yeah,” replied Evie tentatively. “Interesting” was definitely one word for it.

  * Oh, come on! A French horn! It’s a French…Oh, never mind.

  Sebastian stared at the hut.

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Have you ever heard of Method acting?” asked Roland.

  “Not really, no,” he replied.

  “Yes! Method acting. That was the term I was looking for the other day!” said Evie with enthusiasm.

  “It is common in film and television for an actor to get so into their role that they become the character. In opera this is less common because we are far less ridiculous,” explained Roland.

  “Right,” said Evie.

  “More to the point, we need to maintain the quality of our voice, keep the instrument in shape. Our focus usually is on the music.”

  Sebastian nodded. That also made sense.

  “However, it would seem our soprano is a little different. As you can see. The company humored her because she is a genius artist, built her this hut to live in as a Valkyrie for the length of her contract. But tonight…tonight it has gone too far. She has gotten too into character.”

  “How?” asked Sebastian.

  “She refuses to perform. And anyone who attempts to reason with her…” Roland stopped talking and shivered in fear. “In fact, I worry that we have been here too long. Come. We must depart!”

  Sebastian was more than happy to do just that, but as he turned to go, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  Evie.

  “We need her to perform,” said Evie urgently.

  “We can wait two hours for the understudy,” replied Sebastian. He really didn’t want to stick around anymore. He wasn’t feeling good about all this. He didn’t think they were necessarily in danger, but he didn’t trust hanging out in a place where some performer had totally lost her grip on reality and thought she was an actual Valkyrie.