Cape

by Kate Hannigan

  She let out another sneeze as we all shook hands, then adjusted a tortoiseshell barrette in her short black hair. I wasn’t sure what to make of Akiko. With the war raging in the Pacific, meeting a Japanese kid trying out for a government job, well . . . Weren’t we at war with them? I thought about my dad and his bomber plane and the battle reports on the radio.

  My heart jumped to my throat.

  I decided to fix my eyes on the arrow above the elevator door, which ticked off the floors we were passing. And I sneaked a glance at Akiko.

  She was only an inch or so shorter than me and just as bony. Her orange skirt and blouse were faded and seemed a size too large. I figured that, like me, she was wearing hand-me-downs. She carried a canvas pouch printed with a comic book cover—Hauntima, Mystery Woman of the Jungle—at her hip, the wide strap slung diagonally across her chest. That was encouraging. Like me, she was interested in comic books. She pulled a hankie out of the bag and noisily began to blow her nose.

  I watched her steady brown eyes studying me, from the cuffs of my wide-legged denim pants to the collar of my Gerda’s Diner shirt. I might not have looked like a great puzzler either. But with the war on, I preferred to dress like the people I’d seen in the newsreels at the movie theater—like the land girls over in England. Now, those girls were helping fight the war, even if growing cucumbers and tending sheep didn’t seem like much either.

  “I’m Josephine O’Malley,” I said. “But everybody calls me Josie.”

  “You sound a little like Winston Churchill,” Akiko said. “Are you really a Brit? Or just pretending to be one?”

  “Irish,” I said, a little thrown off that she could hear an accent. I didn’t know I had one. “We’ve lived in America since I was eight.”

  “I’m from San Francisco, but I don’t think I have a California accent,” Akiko said. “Best city in America, though I’ve only been to two others before now. Everybody like me was moved into camps, so I had to come live with cousins here in Philadelphia now.”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and stared into Akiko’s itchy allergy eyes. I’d heard what happened to the Japanese on the West Coast, but I didn’t really understand it. Since Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii and started a war with us, President Roosevelt had everyone of Japanese blood who was living out West rounded up and locked up behind barbed wire in camps—whether they were American-born citizens or not.

  I looked at her and imagined my dad and his plane taking fire from the Japanese gunners in the Pacific Ocean. What if they brought the fighting to San Francisco or Los Angeles or any of the cities out West?

  I didn’t know what to say, so I kicked my foot and avoided her gaze.

  Thankfully, the curtsy dropper chimed in.

  “I’m Mae Eugenia Crumpler of Chicago, Illinois,” she said in a dignified sort of way that reminded me of charm school rather than puzzle solving. Then she shook my hand too in an awkward, formal sort of way. “Pleased to make your acquaintances. I don’t know a thing about San Francisco, and I’m only visiting Philadelphia for the summer. But I do know puzzles. That’s why I tried out for the job.”

  Akiko rubbed her itchy eyes, then began fumbling with the strap on her bag.

  “I’m really good at figuring things out too,” she said. “That’s why I answered the ad.” Akiko’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “My brother is fighting against the Nazis in Europe—he’s in the 442nd. That’s the army’s all-Japanese regiment of soldiers. I just want to be like Tommy and do my part too.”

  My stomach flipped. And it wasn’t just because the elevator came to a sudden stop as it reached the lobby. Like Akiko, I’d come here today to try for the puzzler job so that I could do something for the war.

  Maybe this itchy asthmatic and I weren’t that different after all.

  “What do you know about Room Twelve?” I whispered as we stepped into the lobby. “What do you think that man—Mr. Hissler—was talking about?”

  Akiko shrugged dramatically, but Mae ducked like she didn’t want anybody to notice us. “Room Twelve is pretty secret,” she whispered, stepping closer to Akiko and me as we crossed the marble floor. “We shouldn’t speak of it in the open like this.”

  “Then let’s go someplace where we can talk without being overheard,” croaked Akiko.

  “Libraries are quiet places,” offered Mae as we pushed through the Carson Building’s fancy revolving door and out into the sunshine. “But I don’t really want to go back to the library where my granny’s working and have her shush us. I told Granny Crumpler I’d be gone all day, so I’m happy to find somewhere else to talk.”

  “Same,” said Akiko, itching one eye. “My aunt and uncle’s store is so busy. I’m not up for another day of stocking shelves.”

  “Let’s go to the park,” I said. “We can find a spot where nobody will overhear us but the squirrels.”

  So we set out together, Akiko, Mae, and I, walking a handful of blocks until we reached the iron gates that opened into Cosmo the Ultra Wizard Park. I looked around for a place where we could be alone, no distractions. Akiko and I sat down on a tree stump, eager to hear what Mae could tell us about this mysterious Room Twelve. I spied a pack of kids at the far end near a pond, but otherwise nobody was around to overhear us.

  Mae began pacing back and forth, weaving her hands together as she collected her thoughts. Her hair was black like Akiko’s and curly like mine. But her curls seemed to have a strategy—rolls and loops in an organized pattern. My curls tended more toward chaos. Mae’s eyes were dark brown and her skin even darker. I noticed her flowery purple skirt was ironed to perfection, and her shoes were polished bright like she was going to church. I wondered if everybody from Chicago dressed so nicely.

  “I know that telling secrets is not polite,” she began. “However, since you both were as insulted as I was by that Hank Hissler, I believe it’s all right to share a bit.”

  “From the way Josie answered his question about her friend Emmett, I’d say she’s not too worried about politeness,” Akiko joked. And jabbing my ribs with her bony elbow, she issued a laugh that sounded like air escaping from a tire. Then she reached into her canvas pouch and pulled out a pair of sandals. Mae and I watched her kick off her black-and-white saddle shoes, then her socks, and tuck them into the bag before slipping into the sandals.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what else she carried around in that Hauntima pouch.

  “Okay, let’s get down to business. Can you tell us about Room Twelve?” I asked, eager to learn what I could. “Like where is it? On the first floor of the Carson Building? Or the seventh floor? And can we see what Mr. Hissler is up to if we sneak back over there? Spill it, already, will you?”

  Mae stopped her pacing, then perched on the edge of a round rock across from where we were on the stump. She leaned in closer, so Akiko and I did too. Our three heads were nearly touching.

  “You have to raise your right hands and take a vow of secrecy about Room Twelve,” she said, “because this is top secret business. Granny Crumpler came across some classified documents at the library, and I took a peek.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her, not sure if I was ready to believe there actually was a real live “Granny Crumpler,” let alone one who stumbled onto classified documents.

  “Granny is a librarian,” Mae said flatly, as if that explained everything. She blinked her long lashes a few times, waiting for Akiko and me to show our understanding. “Have you never met a librarian? They read the most surprising things.”

  Suddenly something caught my eye over Mae’s shoulder. I saw movement on the path, and I leapt to my feet in alarm.

  The kids I’d noticed at the pond along the far end of the park were approaching now, and I could see their gang leader: Toby Hunter. It came as no surprise to me that they were skipping school. I counted five of them pedaling bicycles, and the two smallest bullies were on shiny, candy-apple red ones—my brothers’ bikes.

  Anger sparked inside me. T
hose bikes had been a gift from our cousin Kay.

  Kay’s work at the neighborhood market helped Mam take care of us. She gave a little from her paychecks to chip in on the rent and the groceries—just like I was doing with the money I earned working at Gerda’s Diner. Only Kay made better money. And sometimes she did wonderful things for my brothers and me with it.

  I couldn’t bear to see these mean kids on my brothers’ bikes—Kay’s bikes.

  “It’s time to right a wrong.” I gulped, stepping toward the approaching gang. “I’m not going to let the meanies win anymore.”

  “Meanies?” whispered Akiko to Mae. “Did she just say meanies? What is she, five years old?”

  “Whatever you want to call them,” I snapped, shooting Akiko a fierce look. She was one of those people whose whisper is almost exactly as loud as her regular speaking voice. “I am done letting mean people win. Those red bikes belong to my little brothers.”

  “I’m right beside you,” said Mae, jumping to her feet. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had to deal with mean people.”

  Akiko stepped to the other side of me in a flash. “Count me in too. Somebody rode off on my bike before we even left San Francisco. I guess they thought because I was Japanese, stealing didn’t count.”

  The three of us lined up along the path, blocking Toby and his band of bullies.

  “What have we got here? A blockade? What do you want, Josie? To intimidate us?” His words stung like a smack on the cheek. “This is a joke, right? You’re a bunch of fleas.” Then he and his pals began laughing. It reminded me of noisy seagulls picking over garbage at the beach.

  “By the way, Josie, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you about,” Toby said, his eyes fixing on me with a steely coldness. “I saw the Western Union deliveryman going up the stairs to your apartment last week or so. Was he giving your mom a telegram?”

  The sparks ignited now, turning into a full-blown fire.

  “Don’t you dare,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t you dare talk about my father. Not a word.”

  “Seems like you’re keeping a secret—”

  “I don’t want to hear your insults, Toby,” I snapped, talking over his horrible words. “I just want the bikes you stole from my brothers. Give them back.”

  “What’re you talking about, Josie?” he asked in an innocent-sounding voice, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “We found these bikes, so they’re ours fair and square. Now get out of our way or we’ll pancake you.”

  “Like I said, I don’t want a fuss.” I grabbed the handlebars of what I knew was Vinnie’s bike. “I just want what’s fair. You took the bikes; now you need to give them back.”

  “Did your church’s priest come with the telegram delivery?” said Toby, pushing me to the very brink of what I could take. “I thought I saw a white collar trailing behind the Western Union boy.”

  “Enough,” I growled, yanking the handlebars.

  Angry now, Toby shoved me back. I stumbled a few steps but caught myself. Without thinking twice, I dove for him, knocking him to the ground.

  Suddenly Mae and Akiko were beside me, pulling my arms and shouting for me to stop fighting. But I was done playing nice. I could taste the gritty dust from the path. It mixed with the bitter words and flying elbows. Things were getting ugly, fast.

  As Akiko and Mae pushed and pulled against Toby and the others, I grabbed the handlebars of Baby Lou’s bike this time. But as I started to drag it to the side, one of Toby’s bullies ripped it from my hands and sent me tumbling. He pedaled away with a noisy laugh, stirring up a cloud of dirt that made me choke.

  Toby and the others knocked Akiko to the ground, and as Mae held on to Vinnie’s handlebars, the boy now on that bike kicked at her. Mae stumbled onto the pathway, scraping one of her knees.

  Cheering and chortling and pumping their fists in the air, Toby and his gang of goons sped off. I watched Vinnie’s and Baby Lou’s bikes disappear, a streak of candy-apple red cutting the horizon. I closed my eyes, hoping to keep the hot tears of frustration from burning my cheeks.

  “Hauntima’s ghost!” heaved Akiko, noisily catching her breath. “I can’t believe what a bully that kid is! He kept those bikes! Your bikes! Josie, you must be so angry.”

  Mae helped me to my feet, even though her knee was bleeding. “You can’t let it get the best of you, Josie. A kid like that, he’s not worth it.”

  I stared off at the dust cloud, my hand reaching to my back pocket. At least they didn’t take my Zenobia comic book.

  “One of these days . . . ,” I said, trying hard to keep my voice steady. Just as I’d done this morning when they’d first stolen the bikes, I wished somebody would come along and put a stop to bullies like Toby. “One of these days can’t get here fast enough.”

  Eight

  AKIKO, MAE, AND I RINSED our knees and elbows in the nearby fountain. My hands were shaking as I cupped them, splashing water on my face. The thought of letting Vinnie and Baby Lou down twisted my stomach like a dish towel. And telling Cousin Kay and Mam that those beautiful red bikes were gone? My heart climbed into my throat.

  I sat there quiet for a while.

  “Forget about those mean kids,” Mae said, wincing at her scraped knee as she perched at the edge of the water, the tall fountain spraying behind her. “Let’s get over to Room Twelve. Mrs. Boudica said to come back this afternoon.”

  “And we need to find out more about that Mr. Hissler and what he’s up to with the puzzler tryout,” added Akiko. “Why would he want just the boys?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t think girls can solve puzzles,” said Mae, wrinkling her forehead. “I can operate a cipher wheel. Can you?”

  “Of course I can,” Akiko said, pushing back a strand of her hair and giving Mae a confident look. “What kind of puzzler can’t?”

  “Before we get sidetracked proving our puzzling skills, go on, Mae,” I urged. “You were about to tell us everything you know.”

  We had been in the middle of promising not to share these secrets with anybody. Sitting beside Mae on the fountain’s marble rim, Akiko and I raised our right hands and began our pledge.

  “I, state your name,” Mae recited formally, as if she were swearing us in to the Supreme Court.

  “I, Akiko Nakano.”

  “I, state your name,” I repeated.

  Mae stared at me, and Akiko smacked her hand to her face.

  “Don’t you know how an oath works?” Mae said gently, like I was three years old and needed the world explained to me. “When I say ‘state your name,’ you state your name.”

  Akiko’s eyes peeked out from behind her fingers, and I knew she was questioning my smarts. “She’s a few colors short of a rainbow,” I heard her mumble to Mae.

  “Sorry,” I said, cringing. I sat up straighter and rattled my head back and forth. If I wanted to keep up with Mae and Akiko, I’d better step it up. “I, Josephine Mary Maeve O’Malley.”

  Mae went on leading the pledge, her expression earnest and sweet.

  “I do solemnly swear to keep the secrets I am about to hear and any others I might learn about henceforth, so help me Zenobia, Protector of Innocents!”

  Akiko and I dropped our hands.

  “Zenobia?” said Akiko, pulling a hankie from her canvas pouch and blowing her nose. “What about the other great superheroes? Like Hauntima? Or Hopscotch? Even Nova the Sunchaser?”

  “Zenobia?” I asked too, jumping to my feet in excitement. “Are you talking about the superhero who used to fly over Philadelphia? That Zenobia?”

  Mae nodded, her face lighting up like a Ferris wheel. “Zenobia saved the Liberty Bell from being stolen,” she said, ticking off a list with her fingers, “after some supervillain tried to wreck parts of Independence Hall. Then she pushed the Statue of Liberty back onto her feet after another baddie knocked her over. And then—”

  “Didn’t President Roosevelt award the Medal of Brave Deeds to Zenobia?” i
nterrupted Akiko.

  “Yes! Zenobia won it after she was injured in a battle called the Triple Threat—three villains, it happened in the third month of 1933,” I said, my words tumbling out almost faster than I could form them. “President Roosevelt said he was awarding it because of her courage and selflessness in protecting so many innocent people when those bad guys tried to run that train off the tracks.

  “There’s even a big marble statue of her here in the city,” I continued. “It’s in the middle of a fountain in a park not far from . . .”

  And suddenly all three of us turned our heads to gaze up at the carved stone figure looking down on us.

  “Zenobia!” we shrieked, jumping together.

  Standing right in the middle of the fountain and chiseled in white marble was the figure of a warrior, one arm raised as if in flight, the other cradling an orb—was that supposed to be Earth? Though her cape was made of stone too, it seemed to ripple gracefully behind her.

  “That’s the thing with superheroes these days,” said Mae with a sad shake of her head. “Seems like they can only be found in statues and comic books. Not flying over cities and battling evil like they used to.”

  “You mean they’re not in Chicago anymore either?” I asked. “Or San Francisco?”

  Mae and Akiko shook their heads.

  Where had all the superheroes gone? And why had they disappeared?

  “It’s easy to see why everyone loves Zenobia and her sister, the Palomino,” Akiko said, wiping her nose. She tucked her hankie back into her pouch and pulled out a peppermint candy. Then she ran her fingers across the lettering that decorated the bag’s front: HAUNTIMA. “But let’s face it, Hauntima had the best powers of all. She could fly. She could make things levitate, read minds, control the weather, summon animals to fight for her.”

  “Sure, Hauntima was great and all.” Mae shrugged. “But how could anybody fight crime in a nightgown? And barefoot? She needed a cape! And some boots!”

  “And maybe a good mask like Hopscotch’s,” agreed Akiko. “When Hauntima’s face transformed from human into that angry skull, it was a little creepy.”