I lay on the chair and looked up.
“Now then,” continued Mandrake. “You are a Capricorn. Do you know where your constellation lies?”
“I can barely find the Big Dipper,” I said.
“Ursa Major! The great bear. We’ll be staying away from her. Tonight, we look for Capricornus, the mighty Sea Goat!”
“You don’t usually hear mighty and goat in the same sentence,” said Joanna.
Mandrake glared at her, then turned his eyes upward. “First, we find Cygnus, the boy who was transformed into a swan. Can you see the swan there? It looks like a cross of bright stars.”
“If it looks like a cross, why do they call it a swan?” asked Joanna.
“Because, unlike you, the ancients had imaginations. Yours has probably been ruined by staring at your phone too long. Now then, the bright star at the top of the cross is called Deneb. Draw an imaginary line from that through Epsilon Cygni—the bright one on the left tip of the cross. Then follow that line rather close to the horizon—and there! There it is! Capricornus the Sea Goat! Do you see it?”
“I’m still looking for the swan,” I said.
Mandrake sighed and walked me through the process again and again until I finally spotted a crooked triangle that he assured me represented a goat.
“That is Capricorn there. Imagine how glorious it must have looked to the ancients. And now, thousands of years later, it still tells us what lies before you.”
“Oh, brother,” said Joanna. “You really believe in this mumbo jumbo?”
“I certainly believe it. And it is not, as you say, mumbo jumbo.”
“I believe in science,” Joanna said. Then she bit her lip. “I mean, yes, there’s things that I don’t understand—”
“Which is precisely the purpose of my studies,” said Mandrake. “To make sense of what we don’t understand. But of course, science has the same goal. Do you know, my dear, that in the ancient days—in the days of Solomon—astronomers and scientists were one and the same?”
“You mean back in the days when they thought the earth was flat?”
“And did you know that the wise men—the very wise men mentioned in the Bible—they read the stars just like me?”
“I don’t believe in that stuff, either. At least—at least not most of the time.”
“Ahh—you are what I like to call a rational man.”
“I’m not a man, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m a girl. And I believe what I see.” She paused. “Even if sometimes I wish I’d never seen it.”
“Because your so-called rational mind is closed to all that is invisible.”
“Definitely.”
“Yet most of the universe is invisible. The stars above our heads hold our gaze, but most of the sky is blackness. It is empty space. Do you believe in it?”
“Do I believe in what?” said Joanna.
“Do you believe in the empty space? Because you cannot see it. Now then, enough debating. Sea Goat, let’s get on with your reading.”
Mandrake cleared his throat and spread his arms. “You will soon make a new start, Sea Goat, if you let your heart be your guide. Your friends and family will support you in a grand way, and together you will forge new paths. It is time to leave the past in the past and press on. Remember, your effort is not failure if it doesn’t work the first time. Persist, young Sea Goat! Persist!”
Mandrake bowed in my direction, as if waiting for me to applaud. I nodded from my lounger. “Umm, thanks, I guess.”
“You are very welcome.”
“This is mumbo jumbo,” said Joanna. “Forge new paths. You could say that garbage about anyone.”
“Joanna,” I said, “you promised to be quiet.”
“I know, but I can’t help it. It’s a bunch of hooey. It’s so vague it means nothing. We shouldn’t encourage him.”
Mandrake spun toward her. “My dear young lady, you assume I depend upon your encouragement. I do not. Many more substantial beings than you have doubted my powers.”
“I bet they have.”
“And many came to believe. You are a Taurus. Born between April the twenty-first and May the twentieth.”
“Who told you that?”
“You did, my dear, by your excessively obstinate nature. I would bet that you were born in late April around the twenty-fifth. Or perhaps a bit later.”
“The twenty-seventh,” said Joanna, “but that doesn’t prove anything.”
“It proves I’m right about two things—your astrological sign and your obstinate personality. Would you like me to do a reading for you?”
“Why bother?” said Joanna. “It’ll be so vague that it could be about anyone.”
“I reject the term vague in favor of the term high-minded. I prefer to keep my readings at a higher level, to allow for interpretation. To allow for wisdom. But if that is too challenging for your narrow view, I can get much more specific.”
“Go for it,” Joanna dared him, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips.
“I warn you, you may not like it.”
“I’ll be fine. Do your worst.”
Mandrake nodded, then looked up to the sky. “Taurus the bull is easy to find. You simply follow Orion’s belt—those three bright stars right there in a line.”
Even I could see those stars—three bright spots lined up straight. They really did look like a belt.
“Just move up the sky along that straight line to that bright cluster. That’s Taurus. That bright star in the middle is called Aldebaran. It’s the bull’s fiery eye. It’s easier than almost any constellation to read. Most people born under Taurus are quite obvious. An open book on a starlit table, you might say.”
Mandrake put his hands together. “Now then, Saturn is moving out of your relationship zone and Jupiter is moving in. That means you will make new relationships this year—either friendly or romantic, I can’t quite tell. You will feel torn between your desire for independence and your longing to stay by the side of the one you love the most.”
“I thought you said you were going to get specific,” said Joanna.
“That was quite specific.”
“That was mush.”
Mandrake said, “To get more specific is not recommended.”
“Cop-out. You can’t do it.”
“You are a difficult child. Very well.” Mandrake tightened the belt around his robe. He stared first at the constellation and then at Joanna. “You will meet an old enemy on a white ship. Oh, and as much as it galls me to say so, you will come into a significant sum of money. Fifty thousand dollars. And—ohh—what is this? Hmm. Ahh…” Mandrake’s voice trailed off.
“What?” asked Joanna.
“Nothing. I thought I saw something. It’s nothing.”
“You did see something. You’re just not saying. What did you see?”
“It’s nothing.”
“What is it?”
“What difference does it make? You don’t believe it, anyway.”
“You’re right. It makes no difference. So tell me.”
Mandrake sighed. “You are forcing me. Very well. I see a woman. She is broken. Destroyed. You are standing beside her, but she is broken. Beyond repair.”
“What woman?” Joanna’s voice sounded small.
“A mother.”
“Whose mother?”
“Your very own.”
“What?” said Joanna. Her voice cracked. “Why would you say that?” A sob came out between the words. “It’s not true. My mother is not broken—not beyond repair. She’s—she’s gonna get better. You—you—stupid phony!”
Joanna ran to the hatch and disappeared from the roof. I ran after her, then stopped and turned toward Mandrake. “You know her mom has cancer, don’t you? Why’d you have to do that?”
“Why?” said Mandrake. “Because it is true.”
I CHA
SED JOANNA DOWN TO HER APARTMENT, but she wouldn’t answer the door. Her mom did. Mrs. Sedley called for Joanna, but Joanna wouldn’t come. Mrs. Sedley said, “What’s going on, Gabe? Did you do something to upset her?” I didn’t know how to answer the question, so I just said I’d come back later.
I texted Joanna the next morning, but she didn’t reply. I even knocked on her door again, but no one answered, not even her mom. At school, I looked for her at lunch, but didn’t see her. I went to language arts class a few minutes early, hoping I could talk to her before class started, but she wasn’t there.
The bell rang. There was still no sign of Joanna. Or Miss Kratz. My classmates started throwing balls of paper around and checking their phones. I watched the door, hoping Miss Kratz would stay away, and hoping Joanna would show.
Suddenly the door burst open. A woman stood there. She had blond hair, sunglasses studded with diamonds, and a floor-length fur coat. “Hello, children,” she said. Only then did I realize it was Miss Kratz.
She slammed the door with a bang and walked to the front of the room. As she walked by, I noticed sparkly rings on at least half of her fingers. She wrapped the fur coat tightly around her and smiled at us. “Guess what? I’m rich.”
No one said anything.
“See this coat? It’s made from the hides of cute little dead animals called minks. Isn’t that awful? It cost twenty-seven thousand dollars. And the jewelry on just this hand cost more than I make at this crummy school in a year. The other hand is even worse. Oh, I want to show you something—” She reached into the pockets of her coat and pulled out wads of cash. “Hundred-dollar bills. Who wants one?”
Nearly every hand in the room shot up.
“You each want one? Should I hand them out by rows or in alphabetical order? Or should I just keep them all for myself? I think I’ll keep them. Do you know why? Because it’s my money. Mine.” She jammed the money back into her pockets and walked to her desk. She opened and closed a drawer. “I thought there’d be something here I’d miss. But guess what? There isn’t. Except for all of you, of course. I’ll miss you children.” She grinned. “Just kidding! I won’t miss you, either!”
Miss Kratz began walking slowly toward the back of the room, swinging her ring-covered hands. “If you thought you were my favorite, you probably weren’t. If you thought I actually read your essays, I probably didn’t. And if you thought Shakespeare was boring, I agree with you. Shakespeare is boring. Who talks like that? But money—money is delightful! Oh, and before I forget, I quit. If you see Principal What’s-His-Face, tell him I said so.”
Miss Kratz blew us a kiss, walked out, and slammed the door again.
The rest of the class period was total chaos. I couldn’t help wondering where Miss Kratz had gotten her money. I couldn’t help wondering if I would see her again.
Dear Reader, I would see her again, sitting on the deck of her own yacht.
I decided to go to Joanna’s apartment after school. Before I went inside the Bright House, I saw Jimmy Hyde on the side of our gross, flaking building using the water hose. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn’t see me.
At his feet, Jimmy had an old coffee can filled with paintbrushes. He was carefully washing the brushes one by one in the stream of the hose. “Hey Jimmy,” I said. “Been doing a little handyman work?”
Jimmy jumped. He spun around, kicking over his can of brushes as he did so. He smiled, but it didn’t make his face any more appealing. He quickly gathered the brushes up and ran around the corner and into the building. I heard his door slam. I turned off the water and hung up the hose. I was tired of people running away from me and slamming doors.
When I entered the lobby, I heard Jimmy Hyde’s music click off. A few seconds later, Hashimoto stepped out of her studio, closing the door quickly behind her and leaning against it. Today she was sporting a red plastic dress. She wore pure white stockings, white leather boots, and white gloves. Even her wig was white.
“Darling.” She walked up and took both of my hands. “Hashimoto is delighted to see you. Where have you been hiding lately? And where is your lovely lady friend?”
“You mean Joanna?”
“That one. Don’t tell me you two are having a lover’s spat.”
“We’re not, umm—”
“I told you not to tell me! Don’t tell me! I have been so busy painting today—so focused—like a terrier chasing a rat. But not an ugly rat. A beautiful rat.”
“You don’t really look like you’ve been working very hard.”
Hashimoto’s whole face puckered, as if she’d just bit into a lemon. “What do you mean?”
“I mean your clothes. White gloves and boots and all that. You don’t have a speck of paint on you.”
“Can’t a woman change her clothes?”
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just, you know, making an observation.”
“Are you nosey? If I thought you were nosey, I never would have invited you into my studio.”
“I’m not nosey.”
“But here you are, examining my wardrobe to verify that I have been working. I thought we were friends, Gabriel Silver.”
She turned and locked her studio door with a key, then marched past me.
I stood outside her door for half a minute, listening. I heard a series of small thumps, like someone was walking around inside her studio. I was nearly certain of it.
I ran up to Joanna’s apartment and knocked on the door. It took a minute of knocking, but finally Joanna answered. “Would you just go away? I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I want to break into Hashimoto’s studio,” I said.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I want to go inside her studio when she’s not there.”
“You an art thief now?”
“No. I just want to look around. You wanna help?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe you could use—you know—a distraction.”
“From what?”
“From worrying about your mom dying.”
Joanna clenched her teeth and stared at me. I was so sure she was going to slug me that I braced myself for the pain. She said, “Let me put some shoes on.”
We walked downstairs together and stood silently outside the studio door. Alejandro came out of his tiny room holding a pipe wrench and a blowtorch. He smiled at us. “Are you ever going to fix the hole in our ceiling?” I asked. Alejandro shrugged. When he left, we went back to listening at Hashimoto’s door. Now I was completely certain of it. Someone or something was definitely moving inside the studio.
“Do you hear that?” I whispered. Joanna nodded.
We heard what sounded like a door opening and closing. The studio went silent.
“I think whoever it was left,” said Joanna. She pulled me outside. “I wonder if there’s some kind of secret door to the studio we don’t know about.”
Joanna and I walked around the building. Even though we’d never seen one, we looked for another door, just to be sure. We found nothing.
“I don’t think we’re going to be breaking in anywhere today,” Joanna said.
We sat on the porch steps. “How’s your mom doing?” I asked.
“Not good. For a while there, it looked like she was in full remission.”
“What’s that?”
“Remission means the cancer is gone. But it came back. And it’s spread. To her kidneys. It’s at stage four now.”
“And that’s bad?”
“Practically no one survives stage four. So Mandrake was right. My mother is broken beyond repair.”
“Don’t believe that stuff,” I said.
“It’s true. She’s broken. And no one can fix her.”
I stared at the sidewalk, my mind swirling back. “I could have.”
“Could have w
hat?”
“I could have fixed her. Could have wished for her to be cured.”
“Yeah. You could have.”
“You thought about it, too, huh?”
“Of course I did. You could have wished for her to get better. If I’d bought the bottle from you, I could have, too. And now she’s not better. She’s worse.”
“But if you’d asked me to wish for that it would have been like asking me to give someone else cancer.”
“How do you know that? How do you know it wouldn’t just mean someone else, like, breaks their arm. Or maybe just stubs their toe. I mean, you asked for a pizza and caused a car wreck. It wasn’t a one-for-one deal.”
“Right, but—”
“But what?” Joanna’s voice started rising. “You were afraid that by helping my mom, you might hurt someone else. But you know what? You know what really bothers me? By not helping, you still chose. You chose to let my mom die. You chose a stranger over my mom.”
Joanna left. I sat alone on the porch, watching the occasional car drive by. Each car contained a stranger or two—some person I had never met. Had I chosen these people over Mrs. Sedley?
It didn’t matter now. The bottle was gone. Joanna would probably hate me forever. Unless…
I walked slowly inside and up the stairs, arguing with myself at every step. I knocked on Joanna’s door. I had to knock for more than a minute before it opened.
“What?” said Joanna.
“I want to help your mom,” I said.
“Bit late for that now. The bottle’s long gone.”
“So let’s get it back.”
WE INVITED HENRY OVER and I explained my half-formed plan. It was simple. We’d find the Brackleys and ask to buy the bottle back.
“You think someone like Lancaster is going to part with something like that?” said Joanna.
“He might. That bottle wears on you, believe me.”
“Yeah, but more likely he’ll wish us to go away forever.”
“I thought you wanted to save your mom,” I said.
“I just don’t think this is gonna work.”
The Bottle Imp of Bright House Page 11
