“Don’t touch the Kiehl’s. Check.”
A phone rang. Cath and the boyfriend looked around, patting their pockets, searching through their bags before Tom realised it was the mobile Mere had given him and fished it out of his coat, an apologetic look on his face.
Unsurprisingly, it was Mere. He turned to Cath. “Mere. She wants to know if you’ll have dinner with me and her tonight.”
Cath shook her head. “Got a class till ten. Maybe tomorrow?”
Tom arranged it with Mere and then hung up.
Cath handed Tom a set of keys, showed him how to lock up. Twice. Making him do it in front of her to make sure he followed, which Tom did not enjoy, especially with the smirking boyfriend looking on, and then, mercifully, Cath and her sad wannabe-from-the-eighties boyfriend pointed Tom in the direction of the Issey Miyake store and went off to do whatever it was poseur film students did. Tom wondered how many years it would take off his life if he turned Cath’s boyfriend into a frog.
So here Tom was, rugged up to the point of strangulation, looking for Reason. He walked north up Second Avenue, disappointed by the lack of clothing stores and by the lack of cool in the overcoats people wore. Lots of doona coats, which looked superwarm but were about as stylish as Cath’s boyfriend’s stupid hat. Tom swore he could see the feathers leaking out of them.
To check out interesting clothes, Tom would’ve headed southwest, in the direction of the Issey Miyake store—he wondered if he’d find any clothes by the new Belgian, Dutch, and Moroccan designers he’d been reading so much about—but Mere had said to stay in the East Village for the first week. Her theory was that the bitter cold meant Reason wouldn’t have strayed far from the door.
Where on earth would Ree go? What would she do? If she was alive—and Mere had promised she was—someone must have found her. She couldn’t survive long in a T-shirt, shorts, and no shoes, with no money or food. What if the person who found her was hurting her? Or something worse? Mere had already rung heaps of hospitals. Nothing.
Or maybe Reason had finally figured out how her magic worked. Tom shuddered, thinking of the years you could burn through just keeping yourself warm. They had to find her.
She’d been planning to run away; they knew that. Her backpack was jammed full of running-away necessities: food, money, water, extra clothes, and his dad’s street directory.
When Mere had told him, Tom’s cheeks had burned; he’d felt acid in his stomach. He was hurt. He knew it was dumb feeling that way. Reason wasn’t running away from him, but if she’d liked him even half as much as he liked her, she’d still be in Sydney.
Reason was running away from Mere.
Why? Tom had asked Esmeralda, because it made no sense to him. Reason seemed smart; why hadn’t she realised Mere would look out for her? She’d been looking out for Tom and his mother for well over a year and they weren’t even related. Ree definitely wasn’t better off lost here in the cold.
Mere had explained that she and her daughter, Sarafina, had been estranged for years. Sarafina had been so freaked out by the magic thing she’d done a runner when she was twelve (Tom tried to imagine himself running away at twelve: there was no way—he’d had braces on his teeth and had been barely able to cross the street on his own). She’d convinced herself magic didn’t exist and raised Reason to believe it was crap and Esmeralda was the devil incarnate.
Esmeralda hadn’t told Tom about them because she was ashamed of how badly she’d handled things with her daughter. The mess between them was one of the reasons she’d done so much to help Tom and his family. Which left Tom in the odd position of being grateful things had been so bad for Esmeralda way back when.
New York City was not at its best on a freezing, grey, January afternoon. Tom had learned that spring and autumn were best. Now people only hurried past, their coats buttoned up tight, their heads down. Tom couldn’t help wondering whether one of them was Reason. Under all that winter clothing, how could he tell?
Tom’s head was down too. He’d walked four blocks straight into a headwind. Even through all his clothing, the silver chain Mere had given him hung cold around his neck. His head ached and his eyes stung. He wondered idly if your eyes could freeze. Lots of liquid in eyes. What would happen if they froze? Would they stop seeing? Or only see whatever they’d been looking at when they froze?
Time to get off the street. Tom was hungry anyway, more than ready for bacon and eggs. (It was breakfast time in Sydney and Tom’s stomach was definitely still on Sydney time.) Dumb idea to keep searching when he was about to pass out from lack of nourishment.
Tom walked into the next restaurant he passed, through the double doors, and, obeying the sign telling him to seat himself, sat at one of the tables furthest away from the steamed-up windows and doors. He almost sighed as he sat down, already feeling himself beginning to unthaw. The restaurant was hot and steamy and glorious. Tom leaned back against the wall, peeling off his gloves and hat, loosening his scarf and resting his hands on the table.
That’s when he knew.
He could feel it: Reason had been here. At this very table.
18
Nightmare
The scream was loud enough to wake the dead. It scared Jay-Tee halfway there. She dropped her glass of milk, splattering white liquid all over the green and black tiles of the kitchen floor. Mercifully the glass didn’t break. Jay-Tee didn’t pause to clean it up; she bolted straight into Reason’s room.
Reason stood upright in the middle of the bed, screaming her lungs out, tears rolling down her cheeks. There were creases from her pillow on her face. “Nooooo!”
“Reason?” Jay-Tee said, shaping her words to slip easily into Reason’s mind, pulling at her pajama top gently. “Shhh, Reason. You don’t need to yell. I can hear you.”
The terrified expression slid from Reason’s face, replaced by the openmouthed look of deep sleep. The scream died; the tears stopped.
“What’s happening, Reason? What do you see?”
“Door’s locked,” Reason mumbled, hardly able to open her mouth to let the words out. “It’s a big door.” Her eyes weren’t closed the whole way; a slit of white showed. It made Jay-Tee’s skin crawl.
“Open it, Reason. Find the key and open it.”
Reason shook her head slowly; her lips wobbled, the muscles slack with sleep. “Key’s hidden.”
Clever girl, thought Jay-Tee. “Where’s it hidden, Reason? Is it near?”
Reason moved her head back and forth, up and down, as if she were looking for it, but the rest of her body stayed unmoving. Her eyes were still mostly closed, glinting white. Like a zombie.
“Near. Not near,” she muttered, continuing her blind looking. “Somewhere. I think it’s with the dead boy.”
“Dead boy?” Jay-Tee leaned closer, as if somehow that would make Reason tell her more.
“Dead boy.” Reason whimpered. “I didn’t mean to. It’s not my fault.” She began to cry again, but silently, as if she didn’t know the tears were dripping from her eyes, down her face, onto her pajamas.
“Think about the key, Reason. You know where it is. Think.”
Reason crumpled, almost knocking Jay-Tee over. Her eyes opened all the way. She looked up at Jay-Tee and blinked, half asleep. “Huh?”
“You’re safe,” Jay-Tee said, because that’s what her father used to say to her when she woke from a bad dream. At least he had before he’d become a complete asshole and she’d spent most of her time wishing he was dead. “You’re safe.”
“Jay-Tee?”
“That’s right. I’m Jay-Tee. You ran away and now we’re looking out for each other.” At least I’m looking out for me, she thought. You’d be better off if you kept on running.
Reason nodded and sat up, rubbing her eyes. “My face is wet.”
“You were crying. You had a nightmare. But you’re okay now. It was just a dream.”
“A dream . . .” Reason’s forehead wrinkled as though she were trying to remember. �
�What time is it?”
Jay-Tee almost laughed. She’d been expecting Reason to ask where she was again. “Just before eight. You were asleep for almost five hours.” Jay-Tee hadn’t been able to go anywhere while Reason slept and slept, trapped being the babysitter.
“Five hours?” Reason said unbelievingly.
“Yup. It’s dark now.”
Reason wiped more of the tears from her face and yawned. “Night?” She sounded like she’d expected it to be morning.
“Night.”
Reason smiled. “But I feel like breakfast.”
“It’s dinnertime. But no problem, there are places around here that do breakfast all day. If that’s what you want.”
Reason yawned again.
“Can you remember your dream?” Jay-Tee wondered if Reason remembered about the feathers under her pillow but couldn’t think of an innocent-sounding way to ask.
Reason shook her head slowly. “Just that it was scary.”
“Maybe you’ll remember later.”
Reason shuddered. “Not sure I want to.”
“Dreams tell you stuff about yourself,” Jay-Tee said, hoping she didn’t sound too earnest. “They’re pretty cool. Could be it might help you remember how you got here, you know?”
“I guess.”
“Are you hungry?”
Reason smiled a little, some of the sleepiness disappearing. “Always.”
“Want to go get some pizza?”
Reason rejected the idea of a single slice out of hand. She wanted a whole large pizza—which she was willing to share with Jay-Tee—and she wanted it to have anchovies, pineapple, and “beetroot” on it.
Freddie glared at Reason when she gave him the order. “Beetroot? What’s that?”
Reason smiled back at him. “Beetroot. You know? It’s purple and sweet, comes out of a tin—”
“She means beets, Freddie,” Jay-Tee guessed, conscious that the next customers, a group of college students, were staring at them.
Freddie looked horrified. “Out of a can?” He shook his head. “Anchovies, yes. Beets and pineapple, no. They don’t belong on a pizza. Especially not with anchovies.” He looked at Reason again as if she were demented. “You want peppers?”
Reason started to ask what they were. “They’re sweet,” Jay-Tee said. “You’ll like them. How about mushrooms? You do know what those are, don’t you?”
Reason laughed. “Of course. Okay.”
“One large pizza: anchovies, peppers, mushrooms. That right?” Freddie asked.
Jay-Tee nodded, put her hand on the counter, and looked him in the eyes. As usual, she connected. “Keep the change, Freddie,” she told him. “Next time I’ll bring a friend who understands about pizza.”
“You do that, Jay-Tee,” he said, looking down at the counter and smiling.
She turned to lead Reason to one of the white plastic tables. They sat down on the squeaky plastic chairs.
“Where did the money come from?”
“What do you mean?” Jay-Tee asked. “It was in my hand.”
“Oh.”
Jay-Tee knew that Reason hadn’t bought it. “You don’t put pineapple or beets on a pizza,” she said to change the subject. “That’s just weird.”
“Not at home it isn’t.”
“You’re not at home.”
Reason sighed. “No, I’m not.”
“You’ll like it,” Jay-Tee said quickly. She didn’t want the kid getting all depressed and whiny on her. “This is the best pizza joint in the world. You’re about to eat the best pizza you’ve ever tasted. You’ll see.”
When the door stayed closed for any stretch of time, the place was warm and humid, the smell of pizza coating everything, including the inside of her mouth. Unfortunately, Jay-Tee wasn’t the only one who thought it was the best pizza in town, and every few minutes the door opened and shut, letting in great gusts of cold wind. Jay-Tee pulled her coat up higher. “Doesn’t it smell great in here?”
“It does.” Reason smiled. “All toasty warm. It’s just that anchovies are so good with pineapple and beetroot. It’s all salty and fishy and sweet. I love that.”
“I’m sure.” Jay-Tee wondered if that was normal food in Australia. Maybe they also ate chicken ice cream or liver with licorice. Yuck.
When the pizza arrived, Reason tore into it, eating two slices for every one of Jay-Tee’s.
“Got your appetite back, huh?”
“Food is wonderful,” Reason said in between mouthfuls. “I was still kind of confused when we ate. . . .” She paused. “I guess that was morning, right?”
“It was breakfast, anyway. Told you the pizza here was good, didn’t I?”
“It’s great. Plenty of anchovies. Crust’s a bit thin, though.”
Jay-Tee rolled her eyes. “You want the last piece?”
“Ta.”
Ta? thought Jay-Tee. What the hell does that mean?
Reason picked up the slice and bit in. “Even cold it’s good.”
“Leftover pizza’s the best,” Jay-Tee said. Reason seemed to have recovered from her nightmare. She was much more alert, looking around the pizza place curiously, watching two guys having a spat over an unreturned phone call. “Can you remember any more of your dream? The one that made you scream?”
“I screamed?”
“Uh-huh. You were yelling and crying. You seemed really scared. Do you remember what it was about? I mean, I know you said you don’t have amnesia, but you are kind of . . . confused. Maybe your dream was trying to tell you something.”
Reason ate the last bit of pizza and wiped her hands on a napkin. She shook her head. “I just remember that it felt horrible. Did I say anything?”
“I think you said, ‘No.’ But it was mostly just yelling, not words. You don’t remember anything?”
“I remember being frightened. Nothing else.” She grimaced.
Jay-Tee wondered again who her dead boy was. What had Reason done? And what did it have to do with the key?
“How did you run away?” Reason asked. She spoke into a rare moment of silence: the door was shut, the music was in between songs, customers at the tables were busy eating, and those at the counter had already given their orders. Reason’s question hung in the air. Jay-Tee glanced around, caught Freddie’s eye. Everyone was looking at them.
“Want to get dessert?” she asked quietly after the door had opened, letting in cold and the noise of the street, and talk and music had started up again.
“Sure.”
“There’s a place just across the street.”
Jay-Tee ordered and led them up the back past the glass counters filled with every kind of dessert, picking a table nowhere near anyone else. The place wasn’t nearly as crowded as the pizza joint, but to make extra sure of their privacy, she sat them under a speaker blaring Frank Sinatra.
“Who are all the photos of?”
“Broadway stars who’ve eaten here. Famous ones.”
Reason didn’t look very impressed. She probably didn’t know what Broadway was. “This used to be a mafia hangout.”
“Really?” Now Reason’s eyes were big. At least she’d heard of the mafia. She looked down at the floor like she thought there might still be bloodstains.
“A long time ago. Mostly just locals and tourists now.”
“Jay-Tee . . . what day is it?”
“Tuesday.”
“Still?”
“Uh, yeah, still. You showed up last night. Monday night. Why? What day did you think it was?”
“Wednesday. It should be Wednesday.” Reason sighed. “Of course, it should be summer.”
Jay-Tee smiled. It was summer, back where Reason had come from.
The waitress set their cannoli down on the table. “Enjoy, girls,” she said.
“Thanks,” Reason replied, taking a bite. “It’s really good. Creamy. I love sweet things.”
The waitress smiled indulgently, as if they were still babies. “Don’t we all,” she said, an
d headed back behind the long counter. Hanging with Reason was turning Jay-Tee into a kid by association. Reason had to be the youngest fifteen-year-old she’d ever met. Jay-Tee was going to have to make her grow up. Or at least she would if they were going to be living together for more than a few days. Not that that was going to happen. Not if things went how he wanted them to, which they would. They always did. It wasn’t like Jay-Tee could stop him.
“So,” Reason said when her cannoli was history, “how’d you run away?”
“I just left.”
“Me too.” Reason giggled. “Not quite as dramatic as I’d planned. I just opened the door . . .” She stopped. Jay-Tee didn’t have to guess why.
“For me too,” Jay-Tee said. “It was much easier than I thought.”
Reason scraped her fork across the bottom of her plate, trying for the last dregs of custard. She looked like she wanted more. Reason sure could eat.
“You seem to be doing great,” she said, licking the fork. “Your own place and everything.”
Jay-Tee took a deep breath and took the opening given her. “Well, the apartment isn’t mine, exactly. There’s this guy. . . .”
Reason’s eyes widened.
“No, no, it’s not what you think. He’s a . . .” Jay-Tee paused, not wanting to lay it on too thick, and crossed her fingers under the table. “He’s a nice guy. He looks out for me, makes sure I don’t get into trouble. Lets me live in his apartment. I just have to do him favors every so often. Nothing terrible. Run a few errands. It’s easy.”
“Like what?” Reason didn’t sound suspicious so much as curious. She had to be the most gullible person Jay-Tee had ever met.
“Like shopping. That kind of thing. It’s not a big deal. He rescued me, kind of like I rescued you. Saved me from having to live on the streets. I owe him, big time. And he doesn’t come around that often. At most I see him once a week. Mostly not even. Anyways, I thought I should let you know. ’Cause you’ll see him and you should be nice to him. He’s the one letting you stay with me.”
Magic or Madness Page 12
