by Pam Brondos
“Clear?” Oberfisk asked after the woman departed.
“Clear as mud,” Nat responded, smiling. Oberfisk’s face fell. “No, it really is clear. I’ve got it.” Nat tapped the notebook.
“All right, then,” Oberfisk said, looking relieved. “Let’s move on. The room to your right has all the costumes.” He limped to the doorway. Rows of costumes greeted Nat when she peeked through the entrance. She ran her hands over the gaudy fabrics as they walked past.
“It’s all alphabetical.” He pointed to the crudely laminated paper hanging from the end of each rack. A sign with a thick black P hung from one rack. “That’s the pirate rack. Needed a whole row for them. Never understood the allure myself.” He rubbed his bald chin. “Q through Z”—he pointed to the remaining rows—“ending with some fellow named ‘Zorro.’”
Nat pulled a fake foil from a Zorro costume and flicked her wrist, making a Z in the air.
“Why does everyone do that?” Oberfisk asked.
She dropped her hand and blushed. Oberfisk continued in his booming voice. “This door leads to the laundry room behind the counter.” He pointed to a door across from the row of pirate costumes. “And that door”—he gestured to a thick metal one at the back of the room—“leads to the workshop where Professor Gate and his assistants work on sets and special costumes for productions and such. The rest of the area back there is basically our house. If I’m not out here and you ever need any help, just ring the bell under the counter or knock on that back door. Someone is always on guard. No reason for you to come busting through there.” He laughed nervously.
“On guard?” Nat asked, wondering why they needed a guard.
“Well, er, Sister Barba and Sister Ethet are a little protective of their costumes and sets,” Oberfisk responded before turning toward the front of the shop.
That was the second time Nat had heard the name Ethet. The fact that they guarded their costumes was a little weird, but Nat could put up with a little weirdness for fifteen dollars an hour. The door chime interrupted her thoughts. She hurried to catch up with Oberfisk.
CHAPTER SIX
As Halloween approached, customers streamed in and out of the store, reserving and picking up costumes and buying accessories. The moment Nat passed through the shop’s door, it was a flurry of pulling costumes, writing rental tickets, ringing sales, and mending anything that needed mending. If she was lucky, Oberfisk would be behind the counter to greet her with a cheerful “Huya,” load her down with pull orders or mending, and send her into the back room with a slap on the shoulder. She’d slip on her earphones and replay a lecture while she pulled costumes, or she’d reread class notes while she mended, washed, and ironed.
The timing on other days was not so opportune. Three times she arrived to find Andris lurking near the door to the costume room. He would glare at her with his mud-green eyes for a few minutes and then disappear, leaving her to handle the store on her own.
On her first Saturday at work, Cairn—Professor Gate had told Nat to please call him by his first name—walked in laden with bags from a local drugstore. An even taller silver-haired woman was close on his heels. Nat recognized the angular woman with ebony skin immediately. She’d been introduced as a visiting professor during Nat’s freshman chemistry class and had observed a handful of Nat’s labs, including one where Nat had substituted for an absent teaching assistant. The lab was one Nat had conducted during high school and was simple enough to teach, but the woman had grilled her after class, questioning her on every detail of the experiment. After the barrage of questions, Nat had steered clear of the woman.
“Another trip to the greenhouse should provide all we need. At least, all I can get here,” the woman said as Cairn held open the front door. She paused and looked at Nat with her round brown eyes behind half-moon glasses. Nat felt like she was standing in the principal’s office. The woman kept her keen eyes on her as Cairn fumbled with his bags and shut the door.
“Natalie, this is Ethet Nightswain.” He gestured to the woman, who gave Nat a slight nod of acknowledgment. Nat noticed a small sun pattern on Ethet’s inner arm when she reached to relieve Cairn of a bag he was about to drop.
“Do you need help?” Nat asked, but Ethet and Cairn were already out of earshot. Nat heard the metal door to the workshop area slam shut.
The faces of Barba’s relatives became more familiar as the month passed. Besides Barba, Cairn, Ethet, Estos, Andris, and Oberfisk, Nat knew that at least two other men, Kroner and Riler, lived or worked in the back. They would quietly leave the store with Cairn or Barba and then return with groceries or other supplies.
One afternoon, as the sky was beginning to darken, Estos walked into the shop from the costume room. A puffy red welt encircled his right eye, and he favored his right leg as he rounded the counter.
“Oberfisk, Andris is ready for you,” he said in a strained voice.
Oberfisk took off the reading spectacles he used when he rang up tickets. “Fine, then. And I’ll remind him to go a little lighter next round.” Oberfisk gestured to Estos’ leg.
Estos laughed. “Do you think Mudug or the Nala will go easy on me, Oberfisk?”
“It’s not going to do any of us good if you go in injured.” He glanced at Nat, crossed the room, and was out the door before Estos could reply.
“Go in where?” Nat snipped the end of a thread she’d used to sew up a small hole in a raccoon costume.
“Martial-arts competitions.” His pale eyes darted from her to the door and then to the counter.
He was lying. She set down the raccoon costume she was brushing. Estos’ back was to her as he mindlessly scrolled through costume orders on the computer.
“Do all of you compete?”
“In some form or another.”
“Is that what you do back there in the warehouse? Train for competitions? I thought it was for Cairn’s sets.”
“We use the warehouse for a lot of things.” Estos faced her. “Andris likes creative anachronism and period fighting. He trains us in sword fighting, close combat. We use some of the space for that kind of thing.” He turned back around, punched the keyboard, and printed a list. “Barba wants these costumes pulled and ready for tomorrow.” He stepped aside, allowing her to go ahead of him. “Lady before the limp.”
Nat shook her head and slid off her stool. She crossed in front of Estos just as he took a step. His leg buckled, sending him stumbling into her. She grasped him around the waist. He grimaced and pressed his hands against the counter.
“You can let go, Natalie,” he said, looking down at her arms. She dropped her hands and hustled into the costume room before he could see her cheeks burning.
Estos limped behind her. “Let’s see, one Zorro and two medium zombies.” He started down the row, holding the list.
Even though she knew he’d lied, Nat felt some sympathy for his physical state and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“You tag, I’ll retrieve.” She squeezed down the narrow row, pulled the three costumes from the tight rack, and hung them on an empty rack by the door. “What’s next?”
“Large umpire and a transient.”
She worked her way down the next packed aisle. “Is Annin at a competition?” She held the umpire costume. Is he going to lie again? she wondered. “I haven’t seen her here or in class for weeks.”
“No. She had to go back to Canada to care for an ill Sister. She should be back soon.” He glanced toward the door at the back of the room. The scar below his ear stretched thin and pink.
Canada. Martial-arts competitions. Creative anachronism. She hung up the costumes and dusted off her hands. “How does she pass if she misses so many classes?”
Estos studied the list and answered without looking at her. “Sometimes she watches a podcast of the class. But she usually doesn’t take her classes for a grade. Medium tarantula, sm
all taco.”
She pushed her way down the next aisle and flipped through the hangers.
“Do you like working here, Nat?” Estos asked.
The question surprised her. “Sure.”
“I know we’re a bit different.” He sounded apologetic.
She hung up the taco and held out the tarantula costume for Estos to hang on the next rack.
He stepped back, holding up his hands. “I’m not much for spiders.”
“Come on, Estos, spiders? They eat insects and are easy to kill.” She dangled the costume in front of him.
“Not where I come from.”
“One of these days when I’m not working two jobs and going to school, I’d like to visit where you’re from. Weird accents, big spiders. Sounds like paradise.” She hung the tarantula costume on the rack. “What’s next?” She waited for a response. “What’s the look for?” He had a funny expression on his face.
He smiled. “I was just imagining you in my home country.”
“I’ve been to Canada before. I hate to burst your bubble, but it’s not that different from here.” She leaned against the end of the costume rack. “Where exactly in Canada are you from?”
“North.”
“North, that’s pretty specific.” She rolled her eyes.
“You wouldn’t recognize the name,” Estos countered. He shoved costumes to the side, the hangers grinding against the rack. “My home is beautiful. Like nothing you’ve ever seen.” He gave Nat a challenging look. Her lips parted, but something about his expression stopped her from saying anything. He dropped his head, his voice breaking. “Some nights I dream that I’m home, and I can hear the horns from the trading boats, the bells of the Wisdom House, and my sister Emilia calling me to come in from practice.” He brushed his hand across his eyes.
Nat looked away, toward the massive metal door. After a moment, she took the list from him and made her way down an aisle. “Is Emilia your sister? Or a sister like Barba?” she asked, trying to keep the interest out of her voice. She knew he wasn’t lying to her about his home this time.
“Emilia is my sister.” He cleared his throat.
“Does she still live in Canada?”
“No, she moved on,” he said in a cheerless tone. He limped down the aisle and yanked another costume off a rack. They worked side by side in silence. When all the costumes were pulled, Estos asked if she could watch the front by herself.
“Of course.” She leaned against one of the racks, watching him limp toward the metal door. He paused with his hand on the worn knob.
“You would like my home, I think,” he said with his back to her. The door clanked shut behind him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Nat! Wake up! Get up now! You have a midterm in thirty minutes!” Viv hung over her, a halo of magenta hair surrounding her face like a cloud of cotton candy.
“What!” Nat sat upright in her chair and scanned the room for Viv’s creepy cat clock. It grinned at her. “Nine thirty! Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” she yelled at Viv and scrambled up.
“I just got back from breakfast. You were still sleeping at your desk when I left, and I didn’t want to wake you since you were up so late. I figured you’d be up and gone by now.” Viv grabbed a granola bar and rummaged in the minifridge for an energy drink. She flipped the tab and shoved the drink into Nat’s hand. “You didn’t get back from wherever you were until midnight. Here.” She placed the unwrapped granola bar in Nat’s other hand. “Rally, zombie girl. If you fail this one and lose your scholarships, I’ll have to find a new roommate when you get kicked out.” She tossed Nat a sweatshirt. “It took me too long to break you in to have to go through that again.”
“Thanks for the words of encouragement.” Nat clipped back her hair while shoving her feet into a worn pair of sneakers.
“Don’t mention it. Seriously, though, after you get through this exam, maybe you need to rethink your work-life balance. I’ve hardly seen you this month except when you’re drooling on your pillow—or your desk.” Viv handed Nat her backpack.
Nat quickly riffled through its contents, then swung it over her shoulder. “Don’t have much choice right now,” she said, her mouth full of granola bar. She zipped up her blue plaid coat. “They can kick me out just as easily for not paying the rest of my tuition. I’ve got this exam down. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, I’m worrying. Don’t forget, you’re coming home with me for the weekend.”
Nat stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Viv, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to work tonight, tomorrow, and this whole weekend.”
“All right, fine.” Viv blew the bangs from her face with an exasperated breath. “I knew you were going to bail on me. Bad news for you is I’m taking my bike back to get the gear fixed. Get going.” She pointed to the door.
Nat nodded and headed out the door. A burst of cold wind stung her skin and pushed her slightly to the side as she left the dorm building. She pulled up the collar of her coat, then shoved her bare hands into the fleece pockets. The weather woke her up quickly. She hastened through the quad to the thick glass doors of the Science Center. She paused while looking at the reflection of a hollow-eyed girl clutching the neck of her coat. She could sleep later. Now she needed to push everything but this exam out of her mind, including the late-tuition notice she’d received in her mailbox yesterday. Her cheeks puffed out as she exhaled and opened the door. Let’s go nail this and move on, she thought.
Two customers were waiting with returns when Nat rushed into the shop, her head pounding. She felt like little fingers were digging into her forehead. She brushed the light snow off her shoulders while averting her eyes from the bright fluorescent light that hung from the ceiling. Andris stormed in from the costume room.
“You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago,” he growled.
Her cheeks burned. “I told Estos I would be late. I had to walk from the bus stop.”
Andris ignored her excuse, dumped a load of costumes in her arms, and stormed off.
“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Nat said over the pile to a young couple holding two matching starfish costumes. She dropped the load on the worktable and shoved her coat and bag under the counter. The back door in the costume room slammed shut. Good riddance, she thought. She’d rather work alone with her head about to explode than be subjected to Andris’ icy glares and guttural responses.
A few more customers trickled in with costumes to return. She accepted them with as little interaction as possible. The headache was unrelenting. She dug through her bag, found an old bottle of painkillers, and swallowed two pills dry. They stuck in her throat, sending her into a coughing fit.
When the store quieted, Nat reluctantly turned her attention to the packed return rack. She replayed the morning’s exam in her mind as she halfheartedly checked the costumes for stains. Five questions with two lab experiments. She knew she’d failed at least one of the labs by mistakenly using vinegar to distill the plant oil from the unidentified leaf she’d been given. The vinegar corroded the sample and caused the lab to reek like a pickling plant. How could she have made such a rookie mistake? If she received anything below a B on the midterm, she’d have no room to breathe for the rest of the semester. She had to maintain an A to keep her scholarships.
She sat back, surveying the heap of costumes, and sighed. Thanksgiving break was coming. The thought of going home brought her headache surging forward. Her family was a train wreck right now, and there was not a single thing she could do about it. She couldn’t heal her dad or meet any of his work orders. The last time she’d tried his lathe, she’d nearly lost her thumb. Conversations with Cal led to nothing but arguments. Her mom was already on her about how she was treating her sister. Nat fumed. Her mom was blind to how Cal manipulated her and wheedled her way out of any responsibility or chore. She couldn’t help herself. Someone had
to get her to step up.
Nat laid her head on the counter and considered her options. The best thing for her and her family would be if she stayed on campus over break and tried to catch up on her studies. She gazed absentmindedly at the front door as she imagined her mom’s reaction to her not coming home. Splatters of snow covered the gold lettering painted onto the glass. The chime sounded, and Nat jerked awake. She feigned a cough to suppress a yawn as the customer walked into the store. Snow blew in, leaving a light cover on the doormat.
At seven p.m., Nat locked the front door and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed.” She pressed her face against the glass. She was so tired. The glass fogged around her face. The sky was already dark, but she could see heavy snow whipping against the door. If she left now, she would have to wait for the seven forty-five bus in the snow. I may as well get through more of this pile before I go, she thought.
Nat separated the costumes that needed washing or dry cleaning, started a load of laundry, and began returning other costumes to their racks. She glanced at the back door of the costume room and remembered Andris’ tantrum. Hopefully someone other than Andris would come to lock the shop behind her as usual.
At seven twenty-five, she pushed the button under the counter and waited near the back door. The knob remained motionless. She glanced at her watch. She was going to have to run to catch the bus. A thin line of light shone underneath the door. Her knock was soft at first but then grew louder. She tried the knob and to her surprise it turned.
The door opened, revealing an empty hallway. The unadorned walls led to the most intricately carved doors she’d ever seen. Thick and made of dark wood, they stood like sentinels at the end of the hall. Carvings of vines, swords, birds, and suns covered their surface, and the handles were shaped like enormous flowers with their petals curved back. She could barely close her fingers around the handles, but they turned easily. She stepped into a foyer with a stairwell at one end and a smaller open door covered with entwined vines at the other end. The smell of rosemary and roast meat filled the room. Nat’s mouth began to water.
