Eden's Escape

by M. Tara Crowl

  “Wouldn’t that be expensive?”

  “Don’t worry about that!” Pepper said. “I told you, Xavier and Goldie want me to quit my job so I can look after you full-time. They’re going to make sure we have enough money.”

  “How?”

  “They set up a fund at the bank. Every week, money will be automatically transferred into my account. It’ll be more than enough for us to live on. And more than enough for an occasional trip to California.” She winked. “Come on. It’ll be so much fun!”

  “I don’t know their phone numbers,” Eden protested. “Or their address.”

  “But you know their last name, and the city they live in.”

  “What good does that do?”

  “Hello! Remember what we were just talking about? The Internet?”

  Eden shrugged. Xavier regarded the Internet with disdain, and had covered it only briefly in the lamp, so Eden knew very little about it. Perhaps it could provide a way to get in touch with the Rockwells.

  If she was honest, the bigger problem was that she was afraid. She’d caused so much trouble in their lives. Because of her, their father had been taken hostage by Electra. Because of her, they’d nearly lost the only parent they had left.

  What kind of a friend did things like that?

  Pepper pulled out her phone. “What are their names?”

  They searched Tyler’s name first. There were results for a character in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, an electrician in St. Louis, a professor at the University of Wisconsin, and a boy who’d won a spelling bee in Baltimore. “Nope, none of these is him.” Eden tried not to sound relieved.

  “That’s okay—I’ve just got to add that he’s in San Diego.” Pepper typed in something else and touched one of the search results. “Here he is!”

  When Eden saw the screen, her heart leapt into her throat.

  It was him.

  Tan skin with freckles, shiny straight chestnut-brown hair. A wide smile that showed his slightly crooked teeth.

  Seeing his face made Eden feel a little dizzy.

  “It is him, isn’t it?” Pepper grinned. Eden swallowed and nodded.

  The photo was on a profile page about him. It listed his name, his school, and where he lived. Pepper scrolled down to show more photos. One of him laughing by his locker at school. One of him and Devin, hoisting their surfboards over their heads. One with his arm hooked around Sasha’s neck.

  “That’s Sasha,” Eden said.

  Pepper tapped the screen, and there was a profile page for her, too. In the main photo, she wore her volleyball uniform and stood in front of a net with a ball tucked under her arm.

  “Let’s send them a message!” Pepper said. “Do you want to set up a profile?”

  “I probably shouldn’t,” Eden said quickly. “What if the Electric see it?”

  “Good point. We’ll message them from mine.”

  “Maybe,” Eden said uncertainly. “Can I think about it first?”

  Pepper’s eyebrows lifted quizzically. “Sure you can.” She stretched her arms and yawned. “Look, kid, it’s been a gorgeous day, but I’m exhausted. What do you say we get some sleep?”

  Her apartment was on the building’s top floor. It was tiny—a studio, Pepper called it. That meant that a single room served as the living room, bedroom, and kitchen. A big bed hid most of the dull wood that covered the floor. In the “kitchen” was a refrigerator that was shorter than Eden, a sink, and about a square foot of counter space that an old coffeemaker barely fit on. The only other piece of furniture was a stool with a black cushioned seat, pulled up to a large window.

  The window redeemed the whole apartment. Through it was a direct view of an old Broadway theater where a large sign said MATILDA was currently playing. You could also see other theaters with titles of different shows, all the way down the block. A show must have just ended, because theatergoers streamed down the street, many of them arm in arm. Eden had a feeling that when Pepper was home, she was usually sitting on that stool.

  “It’s not much,” Pepper said when they walked in. Suddenly, she seemed insecure. “After the lamp—”

  “It’s perfect,” Eden said.

  “Really?” Pepper’s eyes were hopeful. It was hard to believe an ages-old alum who’d performed onstage for millions of people could be affected by Eden’s opinion, but clearly she was.

  “Really. Look at this view! It’s almost like you’re at the theater.”

  “That’s my favorite part.” Pepper seemed grateful that Eden understood. “I’d live in a closet if it meant I was on Broadway.”

  They took turns washing up in the sliver of a bathroom, then lay together under a thin cotton sheet in Pepper’s bed. It was sort of like when Goldie used to come to Eden’s room in the lamp for girls’ sleepovers, except that this time, sound and light from the restless city bled through the curtain. It seemed Manhattan wouldn’t let you forget that even when you slept, it raged on—and there was nothing you could do about it.

  All at once, fatigue hit Eden like a sinking, falling feeling.

  “Good night,” said Pepper softly.

  “Good night, Pepper.” Even as she said it, Eden was drifting away, here in this slip of an apartment hovering above New York City, to one of the sweetest sleeps of her life.

  Over the next two weeks, Pepper educated Eden in the magic of New York.

  Technically—well, legally, at least—Eden should have been in school. Just like in San Diego, schools in New York had resumed following summer break this week. But neither Eden nor Pepper was in a rush to get her there. “I’m your private tutor,” Pepper justified. “Pepper’s school of street smarts. It’s more useful than anything they’d teach you. You already know it all anyway.”

  It was a good point. Very quickly it had become clear that despite the days she’d spent in San Diego, Eden didn’t know much about living on Earth. Pepper insisted that was completely normal. There was a sharp learning curve for every genie when she retired. Life on Earth was a far cry from the insulated, isolated life inside the lamp. And although Xavier’s schooling had provided more than enough knowledge about earthly things, a lot of it hadn’t proven very practical. Being able to determine the weather pattern that caused a rainstorm didn’t do much good if you didn’t know where to buy an umbrella—or, once you had one, how to open it.

  But Pepper was an excellent teacher: patient, understanding, and always entertaining. Her lessons took place as they covered the city, laughing and exploring. They picked up bagels for breakfast, dodged street vendors on Canal Street, eyed tigers in the Central Park Zoo, skipped across the Brooklyn Bridge, ate spaghetti in Little Italy, discussed art at the Met, and cheered and jeered at a Yankees game.

  One day, while they window-shopped in SoHo, Pepper explained how she’d come to live where she did.

  “Lots of New Yorkers turn up their noses at my neighborhood,” she said. “They say Times Square is too hectic, and the Theater District is packed with tourists.” She shrugged. “I felt that way too, for a while. I’ve lived in nooks and crannies all over the city, from the Financial District to Harlem. Even Brooklyn for a year.” She wrinkled her nose. “Never again,” she whispered, then giggled. “But the Theater District called me back. For me, it’s the heart of the city. It’s everything I love most about Manhattan. Plus, I like having people around me. Being immortal has its perks, but it can also be lonely. You can’t get close to many people. It’s hard to have friends.”

  “But you do have friends,” Eden said. “A lot of them.”

  She’d noticed that the couple in the apartment across the hall, neighbors washing their clothes at the Laundromat, and even people begging for money on the street lit up when they saw her. “Quincy!” they’d say, like they’d been waiting for her all day. Somehow she remembered all their names, and asked about their children, their dogs, or their sick great-aunts.

  “Well, there are a lot of people in this city!” Pepper said. “Hey, guess what! I�
��ve got a surprise for you.”

  “What is it?”

  Smiling slyly, Pepper slipped two rectangular pieces of paper from her wallet and handed them to Eden.

  “Tickets?”

  “Broadway tickets,” she said grandly. “For tomorrow night.”

  “Pepper!” Eden looked at them closely. “For My Fair Lady!”

  “You’re going to love it!” Pepper did a happy little spin on the sidewalk.

  Eden was giddy with joy. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Except, thank you.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Pepper grinned. “It’s for me, too! I get to go see a show with my friend!”

  And that was, Eden realized, what they’d become. Pepper wasn’t just a guardian; she was her friend.

  That evening, Eden wore a light-pink-and-white-striped sundress Pepper had bought for her. Its thin straps crossed between her shoulders; the bodice was fitted but not too tight, and the loose skirt was exactly the right length. Eden liked it better than any other dress she’d ever owned.

  Instead of braiding her long blond hair like usual, she pulled it into a high ponytail. Pepper had been vigilant about making sure her lamp-protected skin was covered with sunscreen, but she was pretty sure she’d tanned at least a fraction of a shade. Examining herself in Pepper’s cloudy bathroom mirror, Eden decided she looked like a normal, happy mortal. And she had to marvel at that. A few weeks ago, who’d have guessed she’d be here?

  “Ready?” Pepper had taken a curling iron to her hair, making her normally unruly curls full and defined. In her Grecian-style white dress, she looked like a grown-up cherub.

  “I don’t have any pockets to put my cell phone in.”

  “Put it in my purse,” said Pepper, holding it open. “You won’t need it anyway. You’ll be with me.”

  They were meeting Pepper’s friends in the East Village for something called karaoke. Eden wasn’t sure what karaoke was, but with Pepper, it was bound to be fun.

  They took the subway downtown, then walked past redbrick buildings with ground-floor tattoo shops and delis. Finally they arrived at one with a sign that read TRA LA LA KARAOKE in bold green letters on a yellow field.

  The entrance led into a darkened, dingy sort of room. On the left, a tattooed girl stood behind a bar. Throughout the room, people huddled around scuffed black tables, laughing and drinking. On the walls were faded posters of what seemed to be album covers. Squinting through the semi-dark, Eden read the names on them: Prince, Boyz II Men, Mariah Carey.

  In the back of the room was a small stage raised a step above the floor. Behind it was a TV screen that displayed song lyrics in blue, superimposed over a romantic scene on a beach.

  On the stage, a heavyset man was crooning a horribly out-of-tune love song into a microphone.

  Eden clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back a giggle. She glanced at Pepper and saw that she was doing the exact same thing.

  “Quincy!” called a voice. A dark-haired man and woman were waving from one of the tables.

  But the security guard posted inside the door held out a thick arm to stop them. “No kids in here,” he grunted.

  Pepper shot him her sweetest smile. “What’s your name?”

  Within a minute, she’d changed his mind.

  Her friends at the table were Eduardo and Felicia, a married couple from Argentina. Two skinny, bearded guys named Oliver and Sebastian soon joined them too. The six of them discussed politics, the economy, and the Matisse exhibit Eden and Pepper had just seen at the Met. The adults sipped beers while Eden drank a Shirley Temple. But even though she was decades (or, in Pepper’s case, centuries) younger than the others, they didn’t treat her like a kid. They made her feel like she belonged.

  As they talked, various people took the stage and sang. Some of them didn’t sound bad, but others were downright awful. Either way, it was entertaining.

  When a woman onstage began wailing a horribly off-key country ballad, Oliver smiled at Pepper. “Isn’t it about time you got up there?” Eden noticed that his teeth were slightly crooked, just like Tyler’s.

  “You first,” Pepper said with a wink.

  “You’ve heard her sing, right?” Felicia asked Eden, leaning toward her. She closed her eyes and clutched her heart. “I have never heard anything so beautiful in my life!”

  “Actually, no,” Eden realized. Considering all Pepper’s success through the years, Eden had to assume she had talent—but she’d never seen or heard it for herself.

  “Seriously?” Oliver said. “Wait till you hear this. She’s unbelievable.”

  “You two first,” Pepper insisted. “While I get us another round.”

  Oliver and Sebastian performed a song called “Ice Ice Baby,” including a few choreographed dance moves. They got the whole room laughing and singing along. Pepper laughed so hard, she nearly fell off her chair. Then the woman from before got up for yet another out-of-tune country ballad. But finally, it was Pepper’s turn.

  Even as she took the stage, something in the atmosphere changed. Conversations came to a halt, and every eye turned toward her.

  It wasn’t just that she looked pretty, though she was a vision in her white dress. There was something else about Pepper. It was the same quality people responded to on the street when she passed, and the reason she collected friends the way sun-ripened fruit collects bees.

  That special presence of hers. That irresistible, radiant joy.

  Maybe it was that mysterious thing Marilyn Monroe had wished for from Faye in 1945: star quality.

  As the opening notes played, Pepper closed her eyes and swayed. There was a dreamy smile on her face. She looked happier—and, somehow, more like herself—than Eden had ever seen her before.

  She raised the mike to her mouth and started to sing.

  “I have often walked down this street before

  But the pavement always stayed beneath my feet before

  All at once am I several stories high

  Knowing I’m on the street where you live…”

  Eden’s heart pounded. Unbelievably, she knew this one.

  Of all the songs in the world, Pepper had chosen one for her.

  And she was incredible. She cast a spell on the room. A quick glance around confirmed that she’d mesmerized every last person. Eden suspected they felt the way she did: desperate to soak in every second. Nothing could make her look away.

  “Oh! The towering feeling

  Just to know somehow you are near.

  The overpowering feeling

  That any second you may suddenly appear!”

  With Pepper onstage, the dingy karaoke bar was suddenly glamorous. No longer was Tra La La a hole-in-the-wall with happy-hour specials and dirty floors. Pepper made it the stuff of legends.

  Eden was keenly aware that this—the room of fifty people, most of whom didn’t know each other, sharing in the marvel of this performance; the voice that came from the lungs of her guardian, breathing and singing and swaying onstage—this was life! Life had never been sweeter or truer than in this moment.

  She didn’t want the moment to end.

  “People stop and stare, they don’t bother me

  For there’s nowhere else on Earth that I would rather be,” Pepper belted.

  By now the whole bar was clapping and cheering. Some audience members had gotten to their feet.

  “Let the time go by, I won’t care if I

  Can be here on the street where you live!”

  “What did I tell you?” Oliver whispered.

  Eden shook her head, speechless. She couldn’t stop smiling. Pepper locked eyes with her and grinned back. She extended an arm and pointed straight at her.

  “People stop and stare, they don’t bother me

  For there’s nowhere else on Earth that I would rather be

  Let the time go by, I won’t care if I

  Can be here on the street where you live!”

  Happiness pulsed through Eden’s veins. She fe
lt like the luckiest girl in the world.

  The song ended in an uproar of applause, whistles, cheers, and shouts of “Bravo!” Laughing, Pepper curtsied and hurried off the stage.

  “Pepper!” Eden said as Pepper reached the table. “You were amazing!”

  “Do you really think so?” Out of the spotlight, she was still the same old Pepper. And just like in the apartment, she actually cared what Eden thought.

  “Are you kidding? That was the best thing I’ve ever heard!”

  Pepper hugged her tight. “It was all for you, kid.”

  She settled back into her chair, and three men appeared, each from a different part of the room. Each of them looked desperate to meet her.

  As the first man introduced himself, Eden felt a strange shudder through her body. There was a sense of acceleration in her chest—a distinct feeling that she knew well.

  It was a good thing all eyes were on Pepper, because that meant no one was watching when Eden disappeared.

  “Well, I’ll be!”

  Eden was face-to-face with her new wisher. He was clutching the lamp in hands that were covered by latex gloves. He looked younger than forty, but older than thirty. His thick dark-blond hair was parted on one side. He was small in stature, short and slight, wearing blue jeans and a faded red sweatshirt emblazoned with the word STANFORD. But he wore big, round-lensed eyeglasses, and his mouth was full of big white teeth.

  “It’s true!” he marveled. He spoke English with an American accent. In fact, it was a variety of American accent that Eden hadn’t heard much of. He spoke more slowly and stretched his vowels out longer than most people in New York. In the lamp, she’d learned about common linguistic patterns in different regions. She was pretty sure that this was the way people spoke in the southeastern United States.

  Eden looked around. They were in a windowless white box of a room. Long fluorescent lights striped the smooth white ceiling and bathed the space in a harsh, unnatural glow. It was profoundly different from the crowded karaoke bar she’d been whisked away from.

  A woman and two men flanked the wisher. Both men wore white lab coats. One was tall and blond. There was a stethoscope around his neck, and a surgical mask over his mouth. The other man was small and dark-skinned. Like the wisher, he was wearing latex gloves.