by Pam Brondos
“Um, can I make an appointment with you to go over loan options?”
“I’ve got a few moments right now.”
Nat glanced at her watch. Thirty minutes before her Plant Morphology class. She nodded.
Twenty-five minutes later, Nat pushed open the administration building’s doors and took off across the quad toward the Science Center. She and the adviser had submitted an application for two low-interest loans totaling three thousand dollars. She hated loans but had no choice. In her bag, she had an application for an additional scholarship for one thousand dollars, which she had a chance of getting. Now she needed to find another job, keep her grades up, and hope something miraculous happened before next semester.
The cavernous library reference room was quiet until Viv pushed through the glass doors. She dropped her bag across from Nat. “I’ve got some—”
“Just a sec.” Nat held up a finger while she finished an equation. She looked up. Viv’s hair was no longer moss green but aqua. “When did you do that?” she asked. Her roommate’s hair changed color more often than a chameleon.
“Yesterday. We were experimenting with fabric dyes, and I tried some on my hair. I had a shade picked for you if you’d been home at a reasonable hour. You missed out.”
“Lucky me.”
“Probably, my pillowcase was kind of disgusting this morning. But you wouldn’t know that since you were gone when I got up. Where have you been?”
“I took another work-study shift.” Nat flipped a page.
“Shh!” A boy with a spiky shock of red hair glared at the pair.
“Shh?” Viv repeated.
“This is a library.” His face turned as red as his hair.
“No, you must have missed the memo. This room”—she waved her hand in the air—“is the romper room. You romp in this room. You don’t ‘shh.’ If you want a quiet place to study, find a tidy table on the third floor next to the little boys’ room.”
He slammed his books shut and shoved them into his bag. “Grow up, freak,” he snarled.
“Bathroom’s on the third floor!” Viv yelled after him. “Hope you get that problem taken care of!” He blew by the tables and slammed into the door.
“That was unnecessary,” Nat said. Her eyes traveled down the room to see who had watched the outburst. A few tables away, Estos leaned back in a chair, the front legs tipped up. Annin shuffled a sheaf of papers across from him. Her mouth moved as if she were talking to herself. Estos set his chair back down and pointed to what looked like a map. Annin pushed her curly hair away from her face. The eye patch didn’t hide her scowl. Nat stared at Estos. He gestured to a corner of the map with his long fingers, his attention focused in front of him.
“Viv, what do you know about those two?” Nat asked in a hushed voice.
“Who?” She turned. “The townie twins?”
“They’re not townies, and they’re definitely not twins. Impossible.”
“Are too. At least townies. They’re related to one of the professors in the theater department. I don’t know anything about her other than she has a bizarre tattoo on her arm and is channeling an inner pirate. Estos was in my physics class last semester. I switched lab partners so I could watch his angular velocity.” She winked at Nat, then curved her lips into a smile. “Are you interested in him?” Her chin jutted forward.
“No,” Nat answered defensively. “He’s just different.”
“Caviar on cheese in a can is different, Nat.” Viv rolled her eyes. “Ask him out.” She nudged Nat’s textbook. “It wouldn’t hurt you to pursue a life.”
Nat glared at Viv and stuck her face back in her book.
Viv shoved the book gently aside. “Who cares about them? You’re making me forget what I wanted to tell you.”
“Which is?”
“Okay, good news or bad news first?”
“Bad news.”
“Your turtle is dead.”
“I can live with that, especially since it isn’t or wasn’t my turtle.” Nat began reading the next page.
“I know, but I can’t bring myself to dispose of him. Since you have all that circle-of-life farm-girl experience, will you take care of it?” Viv leaned against the table and inserted her head between the book and Nat.
“Fine.” Nat knew the pestering would continue until she gave in. “I’ll do it this evening. But you have to do my laundry this week.”
“Deal. Maybe you should do it this afternoon, because the aquarium is starting to stink.”
“I was wondering what that smell was. What’s the good news?”
Viv held out a bright-yellow sticky note. “I was surfing Bloomers and saw your name.” Nat snatched the paper from her finger and stared at Viv’s scribbling.
“How did this . . . ? I didn’t even submit my query.”
“The response is for you. How many other Natalie Barnses do you know? I wrote it down word for word.” Viv read the note in a deep voice. “‘Natalie Barns: See Barba Gate in the costume division of the theater department.’ Are you looking for a Halloween costume? I’m offended you didn’t come to me first.”
“No, I was looking for another job, but I didn’t post my search, unless . . .” She looked across the room. Estos and Annin were gone.
“What are you waiting for? Go find”—Viv grabbed the note—“Barba Gate. The costume department could be a sweet job.” She handed the note back to Nat. “But you probably want to take care of our turtle first.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The door in the bowels of the theater department was slightly ajar. Angry voices erupted from the other side. Nat knocked gently. The voices stopped.
“Come in,” a female voice responded in a high, light tone.
Nat pushed the door open and walked around a packed clothing rack. She paused when she saw Estos standing next to a woman with loose red hair who was perched behind a wide white cutting table. She wore a green tunic and held a brown garment in one hand and a needle and thread in the other. She looked vaguely familiar. Estos was leaning toward her, his hands flat against the end of the cutting table. He straightened when he saw Nat. She stared at him for a moment and had a suspicious feeling that his presence was not a coincidence. She cleared her throat.
“I’m looking for Barba Gate,” Nat said. “I was told I could find her here.” She suddenly remembered where she’d seen the wisp of a woman. She’d been in Nat’s theater class at the beginning of the semester when they were working on set design. She’d watched Nat and Butler construct a complicated pyramid set and helped them locate a materials reference book in the small theater library.
“I’m Barba Gate.” She placed the fabric on the table and extended a hand. The movement exposed the markings of two entwined green vines on the inside of her right arm. Nat hesitated. She adjusted her books, stepped forward, and shook Barba Gate’s hand. Barba held it longer than Nat expected.
“Natalie Barns,” Nat said.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Nat returned her smile, surprised the woman remembered her.
“I assume you’re here about the position?” Barba resumed her work, eyeing Nat between stitches.
“Yes.” Nat glanced at Estos, who picked at a chip in the corner of the table. Did he see my job search query and tell her? Nat wondered.
Barba turned to Estos as if suddenly remembering he was there. “Estos, let’s finish our conversation this evening, with the others.”
“I can come back later,” Nat said, backing away.
“No.” Estos rounded the table. “The Sister and I are done.” He paused in front of Nat and regarded her with his pale eyes. “Good luck.”
A look of irritation crossed Barba’s face when Estos slammed the door behind him. Nat waited. Barba pursed her lips and resumed sewing.
“Professor Gate, I—”
“Just Barba, I’m not a professor. You know my husband, Professor Cairn Gate.” Nat nodded. “I have a costume shop in town and help with the costumes and set design when the department needs me.”
“Is the job with the theater department?” Nat asked.
“No, it’s in my shop. Here, write your name and e-mail on this.” She handed Nat a crumpled brown paper sack and motioned to a pen on the table.
“You’re a biology major, aren’t you?” she asked as Nat wrote her name.
“Yes,” Nat said brightly, hoping Barba Gate wasn’t wanting a theater major.
“Good. Ethet will appreciate a similar mind. Do you have any skills?”
“Do you mean work experience?” Nat handed her the brown paper, wondering who Ethet was.
Barba examined Nat’s signature, then corrected herself. “Yes, work experience.”
“I work in the cafeteria.” Barba peered at her. Nat moved on quickly. “Before I came to school, I helped my father with his woodworking business, I waitressed, and I had my own business selling eggs and fresh produce.” None of that had anything remotely to do with costumes, but Nat was proud of it. She’d made decent money. If Cal had been willing to actually work instead of complain about working, she could’ve taken over the business and kept it going after Nat left for college. Now, MC delivered the occasional dozen eggs but could handle little more.
“You lived on a farm?” Barba interrupted Nat’s thoughts and brought her back to the interview.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“How old are you?” Barba took a closer look at Nat.
“Nineteen.”
“I assume you are familiar with computers?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard you run.” Barba wiggled the fingers of her left hand in the air.
“What? Run? Yes, I run.” What does that have to do with anything? she wondered.
“Can you run far?” Barba placed the brown fabric on the table and smoothed the finished seam with her hand.
“I suppose I can.” Nat thought back to the three miles she’d put in before Viv woke up, before classes, before work. It was one of the few things that kept her sane. “Is running part of the job?”
“Not really. Can you sew little things like buttons?” Barba held up a knobby-looking button.
“Yes, of course.” Before Barba could begin another barrage of strange questions, Nat continued, “Profes—Mrs. Gate, I’m not exactly sure what the job is. I am quick to learn. But . . .” She paused. “Before I waste both our time, I need something that pays more than the $7.81 I make an hour in the cafeteria.” Nat knew the next bit wasn’t going to go down well but thought it was better to be honest up front. “And I may also have to study part of the time while I’m working to keep my grades up, so I don’t lose my scholarships. If the pay and study requirements don’t work for you, I understand.” She braced herself for rejection.
“You’re honest in your intentions. A refreshing change from some of my previous apprentices.” Barba placed the button on the table. “Let me explain the position, and then you can tell me if it will work for you.”
“Okay.” Nat let out a little sigh of relief.
“Several of my . . . relatives work with me in the shop. Some will be gone during the Halloween rental season. Those who will be there are not the most adept at dealing with customers and computers. I need someone during the busy season to handle front-of-house duties. October and the beginning of November will be very busy. You may not have much time to study at work right now, but you would after early November. I promise to keep you on at the same hours and the same rate of pay after Halloween if everything works out.” Barba placed her hands flat on the table. Nat noticed the marking did not extend over her forearm.
“What hours?”
“Assuming you don’t have evening classes, I could use you a few weeknights and Saturday. And I would pay you fifteen dollars an hour.” She picked up the brown garment and started ripping out a hem.
Nat did not hesitate. “I’ll take it.” But I may not sleep between now and mid-November, she thought.
“Good. Come tomorrow after your classes. Take the bus into town to the last stop on Grand Street. You’ll need to walk a few minutes from the bus stop. The shop is at the end of Grand next to a warehouse.” Barba drew a crude map on the brown paper and ripped it off. Nat took the paper and waited for a moment.
“Go on, then,” Barba said and gestured to the door.
“Thank you,” Nat managed to respond as she hurried out the door quickly, hoping the stroke of luck was real.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next day, Nat boarded the old maroon van that served as the college town’s bus. It made six lurching stops before reaching the end of Grand Street. She stuffed her Plant Morphology notes into her backpack, jumped off the bus, and unhooked Viv’s bike from the bus’s bike rack. Viv had agreed to let her borrow the bike as an additional favor in return for her disposing of the dead turtle.
Nat rode down Grand Street parallel to the river until the street curved north toward a limestone cliff. Solid gray clouds spread across the sky. Her cheeks stung slightly in the chill wind as she cycled past car-repair shops and small warehouses. She adjusted the strap of her backpack and scanned the mishmash of buildings along the road. In the distance, she spotted an illuminated oval sign that said “Gate’s Costumes” jutting out from a stucco building. The sign blinked erratically, and a tall warehouse loomed behind the building’s facade. The backside of the warehouse appeared to be built into the cliff wall. In the shop’s large plate-glass window, a zombie playing chess with an angel peered out at her.
A harsh chime rang as she opened the door. The shop smelled of musty clothes.
“Hello?”
No one was behind the glass-case counter. Nat walked past two changing rooms separated by a full-length mirror and display shelves laden with accessories ranging from wigs to glowing red teeth. Row after row of long garment racks, heavy with costumes, filled a room to the right. Another door behind the counter was closed.
“Hello?” she called out again and turned. A mannequin wearing a bear costume, a chef’s hat, and a checked apron loomed in a corner of the shop. The mannequin next to it wore leather lace-up boots, leggings, a belt, a sword sheath, and a sand-colored tunic trimmed with a vine pattern.
“Do you need something?” the mannequin in the tunic said.
Nat jumped. “You startled me! I thought you were just a dummy dressed up.” She laughed but stopped when she saw the man’s expression. A neatly trimmed beard and mustache surrounded his frown, and his blond hair was slick with sweat.
“Natalie.” Estos popped his head from behind an open door. He turned to the man. “Andris, this is Natalie, the woman Sister Barba hired.”
Andris wiped his brow. “Another mistake.” He turned and stepped into the room with the costume racks. “You have thirty minutes, Estos.” A door slammed shut in the distance.
“Don’t mind him,” Estos said. His cheeks were red, and the front of his shirt was drenched with sweat.
“I see what your sister meant about needing a little help with customer service.” Nat tilted her chin in the direction Andris had disappeared.
“My sister?” The flush drained from his face.
“Mrs. Gate. You called her your sister,” Nat said quickly, sensing she’d said something very wrong.
“No, she’s not my sister. She’s my aunt. Where we come from we call some women ‘Sister.’ Like Sister Barba. It doesn’t mean she is my actual sister.” Estos took Nat’s backpack from her hand and carried it behind the counter.
“Where are you from?”
“Canada.” He shuffled a few papers on the counter.
“Canada? Really?” She leaned against the glass top of the counter and tried not to stare into his eyes. “Not
what I would have guessed.”
“It’s a big country.” Estos shrugged. “Barba’s tied up right now. She asked me to show you around.”
As Estos began explaining the rental system, Nat pulled out a green spiral notebook and started scribbling.
He paused. “What are you writing?”
“What you’re telling me.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t forget and have to ask someone.”
“I always ask, at least two or three times a day,” a deep voice boomed behind Nat. She turned. The squarest-looking person she’d even seen stood in the doorway leading to the room with the costume racks. His head was as bald as a plastic block and nearly the same shape. He wore a loose brown shirt embroidered with a vine, a bird, a sun, and a sword. The vine was the same pattern she’d seen on the inside of Barba’s arm.
“Natalie, Oberfisk.” Estos gestured between them.
The stocky man took a step forward and enveloped Nat’s hand with his, his meaty fingers squeezing tightly. “Nice to meet you.” His smile was wide and warm.
“You, too,” she said, returning the smile.
“Oberfisk will help you when you’re busy up here.” Estos pointed to the empty shop.
Oberfisk continued to grin. “Come with me, Ms. Natalie. I’ll give you the tour.” He extended a thick arm. Nat hesitated, then placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Estos, you’re needed in the back.” He nodded to Estos and his grin disappeared.
Estos vanished through the doorway without another word. Nat remembered Barba’s comments. Maybe the entire family, including Estos, were lacking in social graces.
The front door chimed. A short woman holding a gnome costume entered the shop.
“Perfect,” Oberfisk said, dropping Nat’s arm and rubbing his hands together. “Watch me run through this one, and then you can do the next on your own.” She followed Oberfisk around the counter. He limped slightly. Nat watched and scribbled more notes in her notebook as he accepted the costume return.
