by Barbara Dee
Zoe looked up at Isadora’s bedsprings. They made a fishy sort of pattern. It was funny that she’d never noticed it before. “It’s weird,” she said at last. “I thought I didn’t care. I thought I wanted to get kicked out. There’s a lot about that place that drives me crazy, actually. But when Owen acted like I didn’t belong there, and he said that thing about the ‘whole picture,’ I got really, really, really—” She considered the perfect word. “Angry,” she said.
“Hmm,” Mom said, smiling a little. “Sounds like you have plenty to think about. I guess we all do.” Then she leaned over and kissed Zoe’s hair. “And now if you will excuse me, I have some overbites to correct. Call me later if you get lonely, sweetheart.”
And then Mom walked out. There was more whispering in the hallway, but this time the only word she could definitely understand was “Zoe.”
She picked up her paperback copy of The Golden Compass and stared at a couple of chapters. But her brain refused to focus; the words bled into one another like damp watercolors left in the rain. What else was there to distract her? She didn’t feel like doodling. And of course she couldn’t call Dara, because Dara was at school. And anyway, it didn’t matter, because as soon as Dara saw the call was from Zoe, she probably wouldn’t even answer the phone.
Which is more horrible? she asked herself. Getting kicked out of school, or losing your absolute best friend?
Losing your absolute best friend.
Suddenly she realized that Dad was standing in her doorway, holding his sketch pad. “Thought I’d pop over to Isaac’s and do some preliminaries for Lizard World,” he said casually. “Want to come?”
“You mean now?”
“Why not. You have school or something?”
“No. But I’m not supposed to feed the lizards until the afternoon. Isaac said to keep them on a strict schedule.”
“Isaac’s tough,” Dad said, smiling. Then his smile faded. “It was funny about that gecko reference, wasn’t it?”
“I didn’t write it.”
“I know. I’m just saying it was funny.” He didn’t move.
“Dad,” Zoe blurted out. “I know who wrote it. I know who wrote all the notes, but I didn’t want to get him in trouble. I can’t explain the whole thing, but it doesn’t even matter anyway, because he confessed. So I’m sure everybody knows the truth by now, including Owen.” Also Dara, she thought with a strange pang.
“Wow,” Dad said, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “Well, that’s certainly very good news, Zozo. I’m happy to hear it.”
He walked to the bed and reached down and gave her a hug. Then he left too. When she was sure she’d heard the apartment door finally click shut, Zoe got out of bed and walked into the living room. Two weeks, she thought. What am I going to do hanging around here by myself for two weeks?
She turned on the TV. It was some dumb reality show about a bunch of skinny, nasty people sharing an apartment, but she watched the whole thing anyway. Then she switched over to a science fiction movie, but it wasn’t even the kind you could make fun of, so after a while she shut it off.
She yawned. How long had she been sitting there? She checked her watch: something like two hours. At school it was time for lunch. Maybe later in Ancient Civs there’d be another message on her desk. Maybe Lucas would ask her the color for eight.
The phone rang. Who could be calling in the middle of the afternoon? “Hello?”
“Zoe?” someone shouted. “It’s Isaac. What are you doing home?”
“Isaac?” she repeated stupidly.
“Yeah. Wakefield. You okay?”
“Oh, yes!” she said. “Totally normal.”
“That’s good, that’s good. Your dad there?”
“He’s at your house, actually. He’s starting the bedrooms.”
“Cool. It’s about time. So anyway, I just talked to Kravitz.”
“Who?”
“The vet, Zoe. Remember?”
“Oh, right!” Finally she was completely awake. “Is Iguana Number Three okay?”
“Yeah. Just some trouble laying an egg.”
Zoe gasped. “She’s having a baby?”
“Yeah, a cuddly little iguana baby with great big eyes and teeny tiny booties…No. No baby.”
“But didn’t you just say—”
“I said an egg. Don’t get so overheated, kiddo. Sometimes an egg just means an egg.” He made a throat-clearing sound. When he spoke again, his voice was definitely gentler. “Lizards do that, you know, lay unfertilized eggs once in awhile. Usually it goes fine, but sometimes they get sick, trying to get that egg out. So then the vet has to help.”
“And Dr. Kravitz did? Get it out, I mean?”
“Yeah.” Isaac cleared his throat again, as if he were unused to talking this much. “It was good you brought her in. Sometimes you just have to go with your gut, right? Anyway, you were smart not to listen to me. You probably saved her life, and I wanted to say thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Zoe said, completely amazed.
“But I have to tell you, Ruby’s out. How about Winona?”
“Winona? Why Winona?”
“I don’t know. I just like it, maybe.”
Zoe laughed. “Okay, fine. Her name is Winona.” Then before she knew what she was doing, she added, “Isaac? You need to come home. There’s a lot going on around here. I don’t just mean with the lizards.”
“Yeah, I know. Walker Robbins tracked me down somehow, and I called Deb back. I just bought my ticket to New York. I’ll be home in two days.”
“You will be? That’s wonderful! I’m so glad!”
“Calm down, kiddo. Just tell your dad for me, okay?”
Then he simply hung up. Zoe stood in the kitchen, grinning. So she hadn’t acted like an overheated preteen, after all. Her feeling hadn’t been stupid, she’d seen everything the right way, and Isaac knew it. And was grateful! And Ruby/Winona was going to be okay, thanks to her, and all the phone callers were happy, and in two days Isaac would be back in Brooklyn, where he belonged.
“Hurray, hurray, hurray,” she sang under her breath. She spun around the kitchen, then stopped. Spinning was baby stuff; she wasn’t Spencer.
Still. This was fantastic! Hubbard was a disaster, but Lizard World—well, wasn’t. She needed to celebrate, didn’t she? Of course.
So she got herself a big bowl of chocolate ice cream, and microwaved some hot fudge.
A few hours later, Dara called.
“Zoe?” she said in a scared-sounding voice. “Are you expelled?”
“No! Who told you that?”
“Everybody.” She paused. “I’m really sorry I blamed you, Zoe. It was Lucas. He put up a sign.”
“Yeah, I know. I saw it this morning. Actually, I suspected him the whole time.”
“You did? How did you—?”
“Long story. And the gecko business gave it away.”
For a second or two Dara was speechless. “But then why didn’t you say something? At the lockers? Or in the gym?”
“So everyone could pounce all over Lucas? Like they did to Ezra? And to me?”
“Sigh,” Dara said. “Well, I’m really sorry people were mean to you, Zoe. It wasn’t fair, but you know, everyone was incredibly upset. I was upset.”
“So was I.”
“Well, then, why would you stick up for that obnoxious little—”
“It’s complicated.”
“How is it complicated?” But Dara didn’t wait for a reply. “Oh, great, Zoe. Are you saying you’re friends with Lucas now?”
“No,” Zoe said carefully. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
“Well, what would you call it?” There was a weird pause. “Do you mean he’s like your boyfriend?”
“No, of course not! Don’t be crazy, Dara.”
Another weird pause. Then Dara sighed. A real sigh, not a word-sigh. “Anyway, whatever he is, you’re protecting him, right? And after everything he did at school? I totally don’t get
you, Zoe.”
“Yeah,” Zoe said. “I pretty much figured that out.”
Zoe hung up the phone.
And that was when she knew, officially knew, that Dara was swimming away. She’d left Zoe behind in the shallow end, and she wasn’t coming back. Or maybe Zoe was swimming away; that was another way to look at it. But whichever version you picked, one thing was clear: They weren’t friends anymore. The amazing thing was that Lucas—crazy, hallucinating Lucas—had been right all along.
Her eyes began to sting, but she didn’t cry. Instead she went into her bedroom, reached into her hoodie pocket, and took out Lucas’s crumpled letter.
22
Dear Zoe,
I thought about it and I think you’re right. Maybe I was trying to get you in trouble because I’m so mad at you. You could possibly have a one-in-a-billion gift for cryptanalysis and you don’t even care. But whatever. If you want to be like everybody else, or PRETEND to be like everybody else, that’s your business. Anyway, sorry. I won’t write those (as you put it) “weirdo notes” anymore.
Lucas
Zoe frowned thoughtfully at the carefully printed shapes. This was that cipher he’d tried to show her in the cafeteria; she was sure of it now. It didn’t look anything like that stuff in his notebook. But she’d read her name in his notebook. She couldn’t explain how or why, but she really had. There was no point denying it anymore. If she tried, if she concentrated really, really hard, could she read her name here, too? And if she could—if her brain was damaged the way Lucas’s was damaged, if she could actually do this one-in-a-billion incredibly amazing thing, why was she keeping it locked up inside?
The door banged open. It was Isadora.
“Zoe!” she cried. “Someone told me you got kicked out of school!”
“I didn’t,” Zoe said firmly. “Big misunderstanding. Listen, I have to do something. If Dad gets back from Isaac’s, can you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
“That I needed to go to Hubbard. I can’t explain right now. Sorry!”
Then she stuffed the note back into her pocket and flew out of the apartment.
By the time she got to school, Hubbard was in full after-school mode. Three different singing groups had taken over the lobby, warming up with competing extraterrestrial syllables (“FWA fwa fwa fwa, fwa fwa FWAAA,” “SKA ska ska ska, ska ska SKAAA”). As Zoe climbed the stairs to the third floor, some kid ran past her in fencing gear, shouting, “I CAN’T LOCATE MY SABER! TELL THEM TO WAIT!” She couldn’t hear the response, just violins screeching and trumpets bleating, and tap shoes clattering in near-precision. The whole building vibrated with a strange, incomprehensible energy. It barely even seemed like school.
Signe’s classroom door was open. Still, Zoe knocked on it lightly.
“Come in, whoever-you-are,” called Signe’s crackly voice.
Zoe stepped inside. Right away she noticed Signe’s surprise. For a second Zoe couldn’t figure out what she had done that was so shocking. And then she realized: I’m not supposed to be here. I’ve been not-exactly-suspended for two weeks.
“Sorry,” Zoe said hurriedly. “I just came back to talk to Lucas a minute. Do you know where he is?”
“Back here,” someone called. Zoe looked. There was Lucas, seated behind a laptop. “Be right with you; I’m just logging off,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Okay.” She stuck her hands into her hoodie pocket, and smiled vaguely in Signe’s direction.
“We missed you in class today,” Signe said.
“I wasn’t cutting.”
“Yes, I know.” Signe cocked her head. “I hope your time off is productive, Zoe dear. But I also believe that time off for sheer contemplation is time well spent. As the great English poet Milton once wrote: ‘And Wisdom’s self / Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, / Where with her best nurse Contemplation / She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings.’”
Oh no, Zoe thought frantically. Now Signe was quoting Milton Somebody at her. Next she’d probably start lecturing about School Suspensions in Ancient History! What could possibly be taking Lucas so long?
Finally he shut his laptop and stood. “Hi, Zoe,” he said brightly, as if he’d just noticed she was there.
“Hi,” she said. “Can I talk to you a minute, Lucas? In private?” She said the last two words as softly as possible, because Signe was standing right there, adjusting a paisley shawl. Or maybe pluming her feathers.
“Sure,” Lucas said. “Where should we go?”
“I have a wonderful idea,” Signe said, nodding slowly, as if she were agreeing with herself. “Why don’t you come home with us this afternoon, Zoe. My apartment is just eight blocks from here, and it’s a lovely day for a walk.”
Zoe looked at Lucas. He shrugged, so she said, “Why not.” Which wasn’t very polite, probably, but Signe merely smiled.
The walk to Signe’s apartment took forever, both because Signe toddled and because she insisted on pointing out the architectural curiosities of every other brownstone. Most of what Signe was saying Zoe already knew, because Dad was equally enthusiastic about the neighborhood, but Zoe was too nervous to say anything. So she just let Signe explain the buildings and kept her head down, every once in a while stealing a glance at Lucas, who seemed to be absorbed in his own fascinating thoughts.
Finally they arrived at Signe’s building, a tiny narrow town house the color of rose quartz. Signe led them through an iron gate and up a dim flight of stairs. “Shoes off,” she commanded as soon as they reached the only apartment on the second floor. Zoe kicked off her sneakers and lined them up outside the door the way Lucas did, and then followed him inside.
If Zoe had ever imagined Signe living anywhere (and right up to this minute, she really hadn’t), this was exactly what she would have come up with: a dark but cozy apartment crammed with books and maps and primitive statuettes and eerie masks and complicated rugs. And if it all seemed a little—to use one of Mom’s words—cluttered, it was supposed to be, Zoe thought approvingly. It was the home of somebody who considered the whole world her home, who traveled to exotic places, and actually studied things, and then shipped home meaningful works of art she’d probably been given as presents.
“Sorry for the mess,” Signe was saying. “I wasn’t expecting guests today. Although I probably wouldn’t have tidied up, anyway. Ask Lucas. He’ll tell you what a wretched housekeeper I am.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lucas insisted. “Nobody cares about that.”
“Aren’t you sweet,” said Signe. “You’re the nicest guest I ever had, Lucas. I wish you could stay forever, but alas.” She kissed the top of his head. “Well, Zoe, I know you wanted to speak to Lucas in private”—she peered over her glasses when she said it—“so I’ll be in my library if you need me. And, Lucas, perhaps you can teach Zoe some Pigpen while she’s here.”
“Some what?” Zoe asked. “Excuse me, but did you say ‘Pigpen’?”
Lucas smiled uncomfortably. “It’s just the name of a very basic cipher, Zoe. When I called you a Pigpen in the cafeteria, I just meant you were a beginner. But you totally freaked out before I could explain.”
“I didn’t totally freak out.”
“Oh, yes, you did!”
“Well, lovely, then,” said Signe, who clearly didn’t want any part of this conversation. “Why don’t you settle yourselves in the guest room—Lucas’s room, I mean. Come and get me if you need anything.” She toddled off.
Zoe followed Lucas down the hall to a small denlike room with a massive mahogany desk and a red futon. Lucas went off into another room to get an intricately carved wooden chair, which he brought over to his desk and gestured for Zoe to take. Then he sat in his own much plainer desk chair and looked at her expectantly.
“Um,” said Zoe. “Can I ask you a question, Lucas? Does Signe know I read my name?”
“What difference does it make?”
“It doesn’t. She said you sh
ould teach me that Pigpen code, so I was just wondering.”
“Pigpen’s a cipher, Zoe. Not a code. You need to get that straight.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing! And forget about Signe. Did you get that note I wrote this morning?”
“Yes, actually.” She could have told him she’d seen it right before meeting Owen, but suddenly all that seemed irrelevant.
“Well? Could you read the last part?” he was asking.
She pulled it out of her pocket and flattened it on his desk. “That’s really what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “I can’t, but I feel as if I could. That probably sounds stupid.”
“Not at all.” He reached into his desk drawer and took out two red mechanical pencils and a stack of paper. “Okay,” he said, grinning. “The Pigpen cipher. Very old, not that interesting, but a good place to start.”
Then he hunched over the stack of paper and began drawing four funny-looking grids: two tic-tac-toe boards and two X’s. He filled each box with a letter of the alphabet, sometimes adding a dot, sometimes not.
“Now do you get it?” he asked immediately.
“No,” Zoe answered, feeling alarmed. “Should I? You haven’t even explained it yet.”
“Relax. It’s very simple.” He raked his floppy blond hair out of his eyes. “You encrypt a message by sketching the part of the grid corresponding to the letter.” He wrote, “A is A, N is N, S is S,” and then said, “See?”
Zoe nodded. She grabbed the other pencil and rapidly wrote, in cipher: “MY NAME IS ZOE. I GO TO HUBBARD. I HAVE TWO BROTHERS, ONE SISTER, AND NO DOG.”
Lucas glanced at her message. “DO YOU WANT A DOG?” he wrote back without even consulting the grids.
“NO, BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO WALK IT AND WE LIVE IN AN APT AND MY LITTLE BROTHER WANTS TO CALL IT SIX,” Zoe wrote.
“I DON’T UNDERSTAND. REWRITE, PLEASE,” Lucas responded in cipher.
“SIX IS ORANGE. REMEMBER THAT WRITING ON MY DESK?” Zoe continued writing.
Lucas crumpled the page and tossed it into a small trash can under his desk. “Enough Pigpen,” he said impatiently. “Way too basic. Look at this.”
