Spell and Spindle

by Michelle Schusterman

  “Have you and Chance ever been to this neighborhood?” Penny asked.

  Constance shook her head. “My mother says it’s ‘shady.’ Really she just means it’s old, you know? It hasn’t gone all modern like our neighborhood. But I’m not lost, if that’s what you’re worried about. If we keep walking south, we’ll hit the north end of the park eventually.”

  Penny was not worried about being lost. She was wondering if this déjà vu could be attributed to Chance’s having been here before. And perhaps he had. Penny would not be surprised if Chance had visited this neighborhood without his mother’s permission. It seemed like a very Chance thing to do.

  They passed the market, and the feeling grew stronger. Penny actually began to wonder if she had the power of premonition, like the Storm—it was as if she could predict what she would see next. A small bank across the street. A patio with chipped blue paint and potted sunflowers. A five-and-dime store next to a firehouse.

  No sooner did she imagine each of these things than her eyes found them. They stood out among the other businesses and brownstones. They were different.

  They were older.

  This was not déjà vu. Penny knew it was impossible, but she felt certain she’d seen this neighborhood before, she’d been here before. She said nothing to Constance, just picked up her pace. Without thinking about it, Penny began to lead instead of follow.

  “No, we need to go this way,” Constance said when Penny turned sharply at the next corner. “Wait, where are you going?”

  “I don’t know!” Penny cried, which was the truth. And yet she had a destination in mind. With each step, the image became just a little bit clearer. It was like a word on the tip of her tongue, just seconds away from fully forming.

  At the sight of a furniture store across the intersection, Penny broke into a run. She might as well have still had her strings; the pull she felt was physical. It was just up ahead, this place she couldn’t quite name; it would be sandwiched between the furniture store and a café, a squat brick building painted blue with swirls of white like clouds, and a silver awning with fancy script:

  Club Heavenly Blues.

  Penny came to an abrupt halt, gazing at the jazz club across the street. She’d never seen it before, but every detail was achingly familiar. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and her heart hammered in her chest. She had to go inside. There were answers in that club, answers to questions she’d never asked, and darned if that didn’t make any sense at all, but if she could just—

  “Penny?”

  Constance touched her arm, jolting Penny from her thoughts.

  “I know this place, Lottie,” she whispered.

  A beat passed, then another. The two girls looked at one another.

  “Constance,” Penny corrected herself. “Sorry, I—I meant Constance.”

  She did not know where Lottie had come from. But she remembered, very suddenly, that she had yelled that name when she awoke in the church pew.

  And here it was again, that feeling of having experienced something before. Only now it really was déjà vu. Because Penny had witnessed this before—someone else in distress, crying out a name that was not the right name, a name that had been plucked from some locked-away part of his soul in a moment of panic.

  She heard, in her head, Fortunato crying out “Nicolette!” as Penny had tumbled off her shelf.

  She had no idea what any of this could mean. Her brain was connecting dots, but the dots were failing to form a complete picture.

  Thankfully, Constance did not ask Penny to share her thoughts. Instead, she squinted at the building across the street.

  “Isn’t this the club with the live music that comes on after Storm at Dawn?”

  Penny nodded. “Yes. It’s my favorite radio program. But I—I knew it would be here. Because of the déjà vu. But I don’t think it’s déjà vu. I just…I have to go inside. Just for a second.”

  She glanced up and down the street, then hurried across. All sorts of emotions were roiling around inside her now, just like they had in her dream. What would she find inside?

  Or whom?

  Eagerly Penny grasped the doors and tugged. They didn’t budge.

  “Closed,” Constance said softly behind her. Looking down, Penny saw the sign taped to the glass door: OPEN SEVEN DAYS A WEEK, 6 P.M. TO 4 A.M. Her eyes started to burn, and she pressed her face to the door, straining to see something, anything. But the darkness was absolute.

  A tear trickled down Penny’s cheek. Her vision blurred. She took a step back, overwhelmed and exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball on the sidewalk and sleep. Something soft touched her cheek, and Penny blinked rapidly.

  Gently Constance wiped her tears away with a handkerchief. “You cried in the car, too,” she said. “When that song came on.”

  Penny swallowed. “I know. But I don’t know why.”

  “Hmm.” Constance folded the handkerchief and began tucking it back into her bag. “Do you remember anything from before the museum?”

  “No.” Penny closed her eyes, picturing the dusty shelves and glass cases. “I know I’ve forgotten things. Because all I remember is being on the shelf, and a little bit about a stage, and someone holding my strings, but—what’s wrong?”

  Constance, who had been rummaging around the inside of her bag, knelt down and dumped its contents onto the ground. Penny watched as she separated the items: a dress, socks, underwear, shoes, book, bananas. Then, with a deep sigh, Constance looked up at her.

  “My coin purse is gone,” she said. “It must have fallen out in the church.”

  They were silent for a moment, absorbing the full impact. No money meant no food, no transportation, and most devastatingly, no carnival tickets. They could go back to the church, but then they would risk running into the nun, who might have called the police.

  “We can’t go back there,” Constance decided. “We can’t risk getting caught, because then we’ll never find Chance.”

  “But we’ll never find Chance if we can’t get into the carnival,” Penny pointed out.

  “We need to keep heading for the park, and…”

  A shadow fell over the two before Constance could finish. They both looked up into the frowning faces of two police officers, and suddenly the park seemed as distant as the moon.

  The Princess Penny Puppet Show made its debut at ten o’clock.

  While the puppeteer had had different marionettes in the past, the story in his show remained the same. It began with a slightly scratchy trumpet fanfare piping through the speakers hidden under the stage. The children, bright-eyed with anticipation, quieted immediately and settled on the grass. Behind them, the adults smiled uneasily at one another, each overcome with nostalgia and a vague sense of wariness they didn’t quite understand.

  The curtain rose, and the children, most of whom had never seen one of the puppeteer’s lifelike, life-size marionettes up close, gasped in awe at the sight of Princess Penny. Her curly black hair hung in a thick braid over one shoulder, a tiara gleaming on top of her head. Her dress was lavender silk with white lace trim, and she clutched a tiny bouquet of daisies, which mostly hid her mangled fingers. A beam of sunlight hit her face like a spotlight, drawing a golden hue from the dark brown wood and making her eyes sparkle and dance. The screen behind her featured a painted field of flowers and served to hide the platform where the puppeteer stood, holding her strings.

  For a moment, Princess Penny hung in dignified silence as the fanfare finished.

  Then a tinkly waltz began to play, and the princess sang:

  “What a pretty day! What a pretty day! What a pretty day-y-y!”

  The children shrieked with laughter. The puppeteer was, of course, providing Penny’s voice, and it was high and shrill. The lyrics, too, were almost self-mocking in their simplicity
as the princess explained that all she wanted to do every day was pick flowers. She skipped and spun in circles in front of the painted screen, which slowly moved to the side, giving the effect that she was dancing through the field. When the Sheepherder appeared, the children cheered and clapped.

  Like Princess Penny, this marionette was extraordinarily realistic. His hair was black and wavy, and his dark eyes seemed to be lit from within. He was made from cherry wood a much lighter shade of brown than Penny’s. He wore a cinnamon-colored robe and carried a staff, and the cotton-ball sheep at his side drew “awws” from the younger children in the audience.

  Princess Penny and the Sheepherder sang a duet together, during which he explained to her how fulfilling it was to herd sheep. The puppeteer gave him a mild voice, almost dignified in comparison with the princess’s silly squeak. They frolicked off the stage as the happy melody came to an end. The applause quickly turned to “oohs” and “aahs” as the screen rotated to reveal a dungeon background.

  The Evil Witch dropped down suddenly, and the children screamed in delight and fear. This marionette was painted green, but she was otherwise just as lifelike as the first two had been. Her eyes were bright blue, and though her face was smooth and youthful, she wore a frizzy gray wig. The music turned ominous as she flew back and forth across the stage on her broom, then fretted over her cauldron, cooking up a plan to capture the princess and singing her spells in a crackly, cackly voice.

  Once the audience was informed of the Evil Witch’s plan, the scene shifted back to the field. Princess Penny came across a bottle of green liquid in the flowers and, despite warnings from the Sheepherder and shouts of despair from the children, decided there would be no harm in trying a sip. She instantly fell into a deep sleep, and the Sheepherder sang a song of regret and gentle admonishment.

  The screen rotated again, and now the Brave Knight took the stage to loud cheers. He declared in a rousing chant that he would rescue the princess with sinew and steel—but first he would have to consult the wisest man in the land for advice.

  In a poof of smoke, the Wise Wizard appeared. His eyes were the same bright blue as the Evil Witch’s, and a long white wig and fake beard obscured most of his face.

  Through song the Wise Wizard informed the Brave Knight about the Evil Witch’s one weakness: sunlight. She remained in her dungeon, brewing potions and casting spells to carry out her nefarious plans for the kingdom. The only way to defeat her was to draw her outside of her dungeon into the light. But even getting into her dungeon would be next to impossible, as it was guarded by a fearsome dragon.

  For the Brave Knight, a dragon posed no threat. He charged into the cave that served as an entrance to the witch’s dungeon, sword drawn. A spark of flames and a distant roar just offstage caused the children to gasp. But their whimpers quickly turned to giggles when the dragon bobbed into view. Even the scariest of creatures didn’t seem frightening at all when they were made from twisted balloons.

  The battle was brief, and soon the Brave Knight’s sword found its mark, destroying the dragon with a loud POP that elicited more screams from the giddy audience. He soon found Princess Penny locked in a tower, and upon seeing one another for the first time, they sang a song of true love. The Brave Knight freed the princess, and they fled the tower, seemingly unaware that the Evil Witch was watching them go.

  But thanks to the Wise Wizard, the Brave Knight had planned for this in secret. He stopped just outside the cave, taunting the Evil Witch, who of course could not step out into the sunlight. “You fool!” she cackled, for her powers extended everywhere, and there was no escape for the princess. But then the Sheepherder, who had been hiding behind a rock, leaped out behind the Evil Witch and pushed her out of the cave! She screeched horribly as steam rose around her, and then she collapsed and vanished, dropping into a trapdoor beneath the stage.

  Princess Penny sang her gratitude for the Brave Knight, the Sheepherder, and the Wise Wizard. Then she danced one last time through the field of flowers, and the curtain began to lower. The children clapped and cried for more. They did not want the show to end.

  Neither did the soul inside the princess.

  He did not want the adoring audience to disappear behind that curtain. He wanted to keep dancing on the stage forever. It made him feel alive again. He could almost convince himself he was really breathing and moving. Not like when he was in the cupboard in the trailer, with nothing to do but look and think and let the mind fog dull his emotions and swallow his memories one by one.

  The fog kept trying to take his name. He kept that important piece of himself tucked into the safest corner of his mind and guarded it as best he could. This wasn’t the kind of adventure he had wanted, paralyzed and powerless, fighting off an invisible demon hell-bent on stealing his very identity. With every passing minute, it seemed easier to just let it happen. Maybe he used to be a real, living boy, but not anymore.

  Now he was just a marionette.

  Inside the local police station a few blocks west of Club Heavenly Blues, three children sat on a bench in the hallway. The receptionist had been asked to keep an eye on them, which was proving to be an easy task. On the left, a white girl with a remarkably cheery disposition given her surroundings sat lost in thoughts that caused her mouth to smile but her eyes to flash like steel. Next to her was a boy who was clearly her brother, fidgeting and shifting like his skeleton wanted to shake loose of his skin. And on the far right, a little separate from those two, was a tall black boy of about fourteen who stared at his hands, which were clasped in his lap as if in prayer.

  “Constance and Chance Bonvillain?”

  All three heads snapped up as the police chief stepped out of his office. Constance’s smile broadened.

  “Yes, sir?”

  The man’s face softened a bit. “I’ve spoken with your parents, hon, and they’re on their way. Gave them quite a fright, you two. Running off like that.”

  Constance’s expression was contrite. “I know, sir. We’re sorry, sir. We just moved out to Daystar Meadows, you see, and my brother insisted on coming back to say goodbye to a friend of ours, and we ended up getting lost, and—”

  The police chief raised his hand. “You’ve told me, yes. We’ll all sit down when your parents get here and talk this through. As for you,” he added, turning to the tall boy on the right side of the bench. “This is strike three, son. Mrs. Pepperton will be here in a few minutes.”

  The boy drew a deep breath before lifting his eyes. “It’s my brother, sir. He’s been missing for over a month now, and I just—”

  “You just thought you’d run off to find him yourself?” The chief’s face held no kindness now. “Howard, believe me, we’ve been looking for Jack. But he’s not the only child who’s run off. And you aren’t doing Mrs. Pepperton any favors by doing the same. That’s what got Jack in trouble in the first—”

  “My brother didn’t run away,” Howard interrupted. He didn’t raise his voice at all, but anger radiated off him. The police chief waved a dismissive hand and returned to his office, muttering under his breath.

  The three children sat in silence for a long minute. Penny kept stealing sidelong glances at Howard. Perhaps this déjà vu thing was truly driving her mad, but even this boy seemed familiar. Not his face, specifically. Just…something about him.

  Howard noticed Penny staring and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. At last Constance turned to him.

  “You’re looking for your brother?”

  Howard swallowed. “Yes. He disappeared last month.”

  “I’m very sorry. My brother…” Pausing, Constance pressed her lips together. “So you ran away to look for him? What about your parents—aren’t they looking too?”

  “My parents are dead.” Howard stared down at his clasped hands again. “We live at Mrs. Pepperton’s—she runs an orphanage on One Hundred Tenth Street.
And I know the police think that’s why Jack ran away. But he’d never run off without me. We’re family—we don’t have anyone else. I don’t know what happened to him. He just disappeared one day. No one saw anything suspicious; it was like he just…he was gone. Like magic.”

  Howard spoke slowly, and every word sank into Penny’s mind like heavy rocks tossed into a pond. She sat up slowly, her eyes fixed on Howard’s face.

  “I have to find him,” Howard told his hands. His voice quivered. “I have to. And I can’t do that just sitting around at Mrs. Pepperton’s.”

  “Of course you can’t,” Constance agreed. “We need to leave, right now. All of us.”

  Howard blinked at her. “What?”

  “My brother is missing too,” Constance told him. “But my parents will never believe me. We have to leave before they get here.”

  “Isn’t that your brother?” Howard pointed at Penny.

  “No. It’s a long story.” Constance peered up and down the hall. At one end was a door marked EXIT, with a sign beneath that read EMERGENCY ONLY: ALARM WILL SOUND. At the other end was the lobby, where the watchful receptionist monitored everyone who came and went.

  “We need a distraction,” Penny said. She still felt a lingering drowsiness from the strange events of the last few hours: the dream she’d had in the church, finding Club Heavenly Blues, and now this boy, Howard, a familiar stranger. But there was no time to dwell on those feelings, much as she wanted to explore them. Their current situation was dire, and they needed to escape.

  Thanks to Storm at Dawn, Penny knew exactly how they were going to do it.

  * * *

  • • •

  Not more than five minutes later, alarms began to wail. All along the hall, curious heads poked out of their doorways. The police chief hurried out of his office. His eyes flickered from the empty bench over to the door marked EXIT, which was slowly closing. He ran down the hall and burst outside, shading his eyes from the bright silver sky and glancing around. The alley was empty.