A Quill Ladder

by Jennifer Ellis

“We’ll see,” her mother said, slamming the computer closed.

  Abbey was pouring granola into her bowl when the real screaming started. Caleb dropped his toast and ran to the top of the stairs. “That’s Mark!”

  Their parents appeared around the corner of the living room holding their coffee mugs, and they all descended the stairs together, with the exception of Simon, who was probably in his room with his headphones on.

  Mark stood outside his room, clutching his own chest with one arm and pulling at his hair with the other.

  “They’re gone. Gone!”

  “What’s gone, Mark?” Abbey’s mother asked, pulling the ties on her green silk housecoat tighter.

  “My maps. My special maps. They were mine, and they’re gone. They’re very important maps.”

  Abbey’s mother peered into Mark’s room. “Are you sure you haven’t just misplaced them?” Seeing the utter tidiness and order of the room, she added, “Like maybe in a file or something.”

  Mark started to twitch and breathe heavily through his nose. “I left them on my desk last night. Right in the middle. I didn’t put them in a file. I left them on the desk. They were perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk.”

  Abbey’s parents exchanged looks.

  Abbey’s dad reached out a hand to touch Mark’s arm, but he flinched away and bolted back into his room, where he sat on the edge of the bed and started to rock and pull at his ears. “It was the very bad man. He took them.”

  Peter Sinclair raked his fingers through his hair in a move that reminded Abbey very much of Caleb. She thought again of Selena’s words, of her apparent friendship with Abbey’s dad.

  “Is it possible you misplaced them somewhere else, buddy?” Abbey’s dad said.

  Mark didn’t answer. He just let out a strangled scream.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” her mom said. “We can leave Dad and Mark to sort this out.”

  Her mother turned and started walking up the stairs, giving Caleb and Abbey pointed looks to follow her. Caleb trudged up the stairs behind her, but Abbey lingered behind. “Mark, you could just redraw the maps,” Abbey said. “I know you know exactly what they look like. Just redraw them, like you did with the map of Coventry Hill. I can help you if you don’t remember something. I looked at them too, and maybe when you’re done, we could go and look at Kasey’s map. You should start now, while they’re still fresh in your mind.” She smiled broadly at Mark, and hoped that her dad didn’t ask who Kasey was.

  Mark quieted a bit, but continued to rock. Abbey nodded at him encouragingly. Mark pursed his lips. “I won’t be able to get them perfect, and I’ll need to ground-truth the locations,” he said. “And I require the bad man or the very bad man’s map.”

  “Let’s go with the bad man,” Abbey said. “He seems friendlier.”

  “Who’s the bad man?” her dad said.

  “Sylvain, I think,” Abbey said.

  “Right, I see. And the very bad man?”

  “Dr. Ford.”

  Her dad laughed. “Well, he’s probably got his ordering correct. Who’s Kasey?”

  “Just the map guy at the library,” Abbey lied.

  “All right, well, by ground-truth the locations, I assume you mean going around town. You may go, Mark, but please don’t take Abbey, Caleb, or Simon with you. They’re pretty much grounded until further notice. I’ll give Sylvain a call about the map.” Her dad flashed her a hint of a sad smile.

  Mark nodded and rose from the bed. “I will draw the maps. The hachures are going to be very challenging, as is the watermark.” He settled at his desk, pulled out a piece of 11 by 14 inch paper, and started drawing.

  Abbey’s father made his way out of the room, and Abbey followed him out into the basement hall.

  “Thanks for being so good with Mark, honey,” he said quietly. “I know none of this has been easy on the three of you either.”

  Abbey opened her mouth to ask her dad about Selena, but then, thinking better of it, decided to stick to the maps. “Dad, Mark did have some maps. I saw them. Someone must have broken in and taken them.”

  “Not with Farley around. Are you sure Mark hasn’t just misplaced them? Where did you see them last?”

  She had seen the maps at the college last, with the dogs. So maybe Mark had just dropped them. But Farley went up Coventry Hill with her mother this morning, so there was definitely a window of time when the house wasn’t guarded.

  “Dad, we need to know more about what’s going on.”

  There was an ache of exhaustion around her father’s eyes. “I know. But your mother and I are trying to decide what to tell you, and the events of the past few days have kind of prevented us from fully working it out. And now we have to focus on Simon for the next little bit. Just stay away from the stones, and strangers, and we’ll figure something out in terms of what we’re going to tell you after Christmas. The stones, and this whole witchcraft thing, have an addictive quality. The more you know about them, the more you can’t help but use them, and we’d just rather if the three of you didn’t have to go down that path. It’s just too dangerous. Please, just go about your normal life. Try to forget you ever even saw the stones, and as soon as your mother and I have resolved some things, we’ll talk. I promise.”

  Her dad looked so sincere, so worried, that Abbey forced a smile.

  She went back upstairs to her room, flipped on her computer, opened Facebook, and saw with relief that Sam had replied to her note. He provided a few suggested references, and then came the part that made Abbey’s stomach do a flip.

  < I’m going to be out your way in three weeks just before the holidays, heading home to my folks for Christmas. Want to meet for coffee, or tea? We can talk about your paper. If it’s not too late. >

  Abbey’s fingers fell over themselves in her reply.

  < Not too late at all. Text me as soon as u r in town. >

  “It feels tight,” Abbey said as she pulled the emerald green dress up for the third time.

  “You look lovely,” her mother said.

  “It’s pretty short, don’t you think?”

  “Abbey, it almost touches your knees. Based on what I’ve seen the other girls wearing around town, I think you’ll be fine.”

  Abbey stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her kohl-lined eyes looked enormous in her wan face, and her mutinous expression was probably far from appealing, but she had to admit, the dress matched her eyes perfectly and the crisscrossed fabric that formed the sweetheart neckline almost made it look like she had a chest. Thank God it had straps.

  The Snowflake Dance had been her mother’s idea, and the dress a surprise. Caleb, thrilled to be getting out of lockdown, was dancing in front of the bathroom mirror in a tie, plastering excessive amounts of aftershave on his unshaven face.

  Abbey turned once more. The way the skirt swished was somewhat mollifying, but it didn’t make up for the fact that she was going to have to spend the night in a room full of sweating, swaying teenagers making out while she watched.

  Her mother rose and kissed Abbey’s forehead. “I know you plan to be the smartest woman in the world, honey. But that doesn’t mean you can’t also enjoy being beautiful on occasion.”

  “Well, that’s never going to happen.”

  Her mother gave a patient smile. “I think we might need to get you some glasses.”

  Abbey turned back to the mirror. Objectively, her mother’s efforts to tame Abbey’s hair and add some vibrancy to her eyes hadn’t been completely ineffectual. Abbey just had no idea what to do with pretty. That was all.

  “Okay, so, do not, under any circumstances, leave the school. No trips to the stones. No going to the hospital. No going to the college library,” Abbey’s dad said as he drove. Caleb flipped through radio stations.

  “Dad, most parents are lecturing their children on not going to back alleys or to parties right now,” Abbey said.

  “Well, I guess that makes
us unique then. Don’t go to back alleys or parties either.”

  “Groovy,” Abbey said to the window. Maybe she’d at least get the chance to talk to Jake.

  The dance was, as Abbey had predicted, a sea of bodies in a variety of blacks and fruity colors pinned tightly together on the dance floor, and it wasn’t even a slow song. Caleb issued a perfunctory “See ya later” before vanishing, leaving Abbey to skirt the dance floor feeling like the biggest sore thumb in the world. She might as well be carrying a placard. “Brainac geek-loser genius—in a dress.” She would just look for Jake, see if she could chat with him, and then slip out to the hallway to read the book she had stowed in her evening bag.

  Becca’s blond hair was piled high on her head in a poof of curls that reminded Abbey a bit of a cocker spaniel. She had her hands clasped tightly around Jake’s neck and her head nestled against his chest. Abbey froze. What had she been thinking—that she could talk business with Jake at a school dance? That he would care, even remotely, about the stones at this point in time? Becca and Jake rotated so that Abbey was directly in his line of vision. She turned away and peered at the red and green lines that marked “keys” and “three-point lines” and other sport-related zones that she could never keep track of. When she looked back, Jake was staring at her.

  “Do you want to dance?”

  Abbey jumped and let out a yelp of surprise. Russell Andrews stood at her elbow in a fitted white shirt and navy pinstriped pants, his green eyes almost as intense as Jake’s.

  She was too dumbstruck to answer. Russell took her silence as a yes and guided her out onto the floor. Jake, she noticed, had narrowed his eyes. Abbey blinked at the expanse of white of Russell’s shirt as he placed his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his body and started moving in time to the music. At least this song was actually a slow song. Abbey fluttered about with her hands before finally letting them come to rest against the outer part of Russell’s shoulders. The book in her bag banged against his elbow. Then she tipped her face up to Russell’s. Surely he must want to talk, to find out what she thought might be on the Physics final, or something like that.

  Russell rewarded her with a faintly leering smile, and his breath smelled a bit like licorice, which seemed odd.

  “You’re looking good, Einstein,” he said, drawing her a little more snugly against his groin. “Very good.”

  “Thanks?” Abbey said, realizing it was more a question than an answer.

  “I was thinking that maybe the two of us could spend a bit more time together, get to know each other.” Russell arched an eyebrow. “If you know what I mean.”

  Abbey decided that although she wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he meant, it likely involved her being very uncomfortable a lot of the time.

  “What do you say?”

  “Umm… I’m afraid I’m grounded right now,” Abbey said. “Except for this dance, of course,” she added lamely.

  “You’re not saying no, are you?”

  “Well… sort of. I’m very focused on school right now, Russell. I don’t think you’d like hanging out with me. I’m kind of a wet blanket.”

  “Just one little kiss?” The smile Russell gave her was strangely hypnotic, and when he leaned closer, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. She lifted her chin slightly, almost automatically. He was very good-looking.

  The scream that echoed around the dance floor snapped them apart.

  “EEEAHHH! I just got bitten by a rat!” Becca’s voice. “A RAT!”

  The music stopped. Everyone stopped. Russell released Abbey, and they stood watching as teachers moved in to lead Becca away and the floor became a wave of skirts being lifted in search of the rat. More screams broke out as the rodent was sighted bolting for the exit.

  Abbey turned and ran for the bathrooms.

  While the teachers tried to restore order and calm everyone’s nerves, and Mr. Filpot, the shop teacher, looked for the rat while wearing his very large work gloves, Abbey hunted for Caleb and tried to avoid Russell. Maybe they could go home early. But Caleb’s fiery orange hair was nowhere to be found. She finally resorted to pacing up and down the wheelchair refuge area in the hall around the corner from the girl’s bathroom, just out of sight.

  When she heard Caleb’s familiar voice, Abbey nearly leapt out of the alcove. But he had his back to her in the dim hallway and was leaning against a locker—and was deep in conversation with a girl with long brown hair, their faces close, their voices low.

  Abbey sighed, returned to the refuge area, and withdrew her book.

  The last two weeks before holidays were uneventful—relatively. Their parents kept a close eye on them, and there were no more babysitters. Russell had avoided Abbey at school, and although she caught him watching her sometimes, he hadn’t approached her again. Simon’s arraignment hearing didn’t go well, and his case was going to an adjudicatory hearing in early January. Their parents wore strained and grim expressions as they tried to maintain daily life and go to work while still ensuring one of them was always home after school to look after Abbey, Caleb, and Simon.

  They also had to attend a lot of mysterious meetings in the evenings, which they claimed were about work and the dam expansion, but which Abbey was sure were about the stones or parallel universes.

  A tree was cut down in the middle of the night in a neighborhood east of them. The Coventry News showed the clean-up crews removing branches covered with the big fat lush leaves of a Madrona. Farley continued to have barking spells in the night, and it occurred to Abbey that her parents’ ever-presence might be less about keeping them from the stones, and more about protecting them from someone or something.

  As a condition of Simon’s release before his hearing, he wasn’t permitted to use a computer or any electronics. He lapsed back into the dark mood that he had so often sported before they’d found the stones, and spent hours in his room reading The Ender Quintet and Game of Thrones, rejecting most of Abbey’s advances. “He just needs some space, dear,” Abbey’s mother said repeatedly.

  But Abbey’s mother didn’t seem much better, and had become obsessed with finding some old photo of Sandy. She had decided to reorganize the storage room while she was looking, so she’d taken to spending hours down in the crypt in the late evenings, going through old boxes, emerging only periodically to deposit Christmas decorations at the top of the stairs with instructions for Abbey and Caleb to start putting them up. Abbey and Caleb tried sneaking down to the storage room to look for the files that Caleb thought might be down there, but their mother had put “Do Not Touch” signs all over the boxes, and they were never unsupervised long enough to make any headway with the piles of paper that were spread all around the room.

  Their dad tried to be cheery and proposed board games most nights. Simon declined, and Caleb and Abbey halfheartedly played crib and poker. But Abbey had exams to prepare for, and the atmosphere was a little too gloomy to really get into the spirit of the upcoming holiday or to enjoy board games. Two weeks before Christmas, they put up a tree, and Farley promptly ate one of the garlands and barfed all over the carpet.

  Sylvain had made promises about the map, but he never turned up with it, and their dad said something about him being “very busy” and out of town right now. Busy hoping that his finger replantation takes, and hiding from whoever tried to take it in the first place, Abbey thought grimly. Mark had spent the first week after Sylvain said he would bring the map waiting in the living room, lurching at the door at every slight sound. But he eventually gave up, and now he came and went, riding the bus downtown for hours, returning muttering about maps and dots.

  Ian also came and went, with the Franks, and Abbey watched them, wondering what they could be up to. Once, when she managed to catch up with Ian on her way to school as he stepped jauntily down the hill, she asked him if he was going to give them any more lessons on witchcraft. He asked if she had figured out the second lesson, and when she said no, he i
ndicated that the third lesson would be available only once she had solved the second. He also introduced her to his rat, Digby, a sleek brown and white creature who poked out of Ian’s jacket pocket, its whiskers trembling.

  And all the while, her mother used the stones almost every morning.

  Abbey had grown used to the sound of the door opening and closing in the early hours. It barely woke her anymore. What could her mother be doing?

  Gretchen Leer had moved the rezoning for Coventry Hill through first, second, and third reading in record time, and two days before Christmas holidays started, two city workers arrived early in the morning to nail up a rezoning sign to a post at the entrance to the path leading up the hill, indicating that the area was slated to be developed, and that there would be a public hearing on the matter in the first week of January. Abbey’s mother swore when she saw it, then went outside and paced around the city workers while they nailed it up.

  Abbey had decided to use the time when she wasn’t studying—or counting down the days to Sam’s visit—to work through her list of assigned research items, try to figure out the drawings Mrs. Forrester had given her, and stare at the second lesson card until her eyes burned. Caleb had raised his eyebrows at the porcupine, the ladder, and the five sticks, but had no suggestions. His football team had made the regional finals, so he was tied up in final games and road trips to nearby communities, and had been spending a lot of time on the phone with a new girl. Abbey could hear him chatting late into the evening sometimes, and she wondered if he had totally forgotten that he had research to do on Quentin Steinam.

  Abbey was in her room late one night, reviewing her notes about aluminum mining. It was the night before she was to see Sam. Not that she was counting the days or anything. It was also the night before the last day of school before the holidays, and she had a physics test the next day on vector dynamics, which she had barely studied for.