by Lisa Yee
My journal was lying on the bed. I picked it up and then got under the covers, burrowing in. I fished a pen out of my nightstand and started writing. I didn’t even write “Dear Journal.” I just put down everything I was feeling in that moment.
Maybe I’ll never figure out who Hallie was. And Camila and Abby might not even want to help me at all. They’re too busy having fun without me.
I turned my head. On the nightstand was one of my favorite photos of Ama, beaming with a Masai guide in front of Mount Kilimanjaro in Kenya. Her face shone with confidence. I longed to talk to her. I knew she would understand. Usually, looking at that photo made me happy, but this time all I could see was how far away Ama seemed.
n our way to camp the next morning, Dad mentioned he’d be giving Abby a ride to our house after camp. “Her mom has to work late at the veterinary clinic, and her dad’s at a conference,” he explained. “Besides, I figured you three girls would want to hang out after camp anyway. This way, you don’t have to waste time asking if Abby can come over,” he added with a wink.
I smiled, but inside I felt a twinge of worry. Ever since Camila arrived, things between Abby and me had been kind of odd. I was glad that the two of them were hitting it off, but when Abby had invited Camila to go to the Cardinals game with her, she hadn’t even bothered to check if I wanted to come, too. Just thinking about that hurt my feelings all over again.
I was hoping I’d get a moment to talk to Abby about it on our own before camp started, but when Dad rolled into the parking lot, everyone except us was already boarding the class van. After we got in, Ms. Garcia told the class we were going to City Museum. We all got really excited, except for Camila, who looked curious.
“What is City Museum?” she asked.
“The MOST amazingly weird place in all of St. Louis,” I told her. “Possibly in the world,” added Abby.
We looked at each other knowingly, and for that brief moment I felt close to her again.
When we got to the museum, Camila finally understood what we meant. There is nothing subtle about City Museum, from the school bus teetering on the edge of the roof, to the giant crane with two half-finished airplanes hanging from it next to a medieval stone tower—and that’s just outside! Inside it’s even crazier. There’s the 10 Story Slide made of old metal mail chutes that spirals from the top floor of the building all the way down to the ground. For those unafraid of heights, there are twisting metal tunnels that extend across the building in midair for people to climb through. Camila paled when she saw those.
More to her liking were the caves covered in broken mirror pieces, and signs directing you to “The World’s Largest Underpants!” The whole place is like someone’s hyper imagination exploded into reality.
As the class headed through the lobby, everyone kept bumping into one another as we tried to take in everything at once. “This entire museum is a work of art,” Ms. Garcia told us. “Almost everything you see has been thrown away, then rediscovered and given new life as part of a ride or exhibit.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked around. “City Museum itself is the definition of seeing the world in a new way, so it should be easy for you to take some unique photographs here.”
We had forty-five minutes to take pictures. I headed to the roof. Beside the school bus hanging off the roof’s edge, there was a giant dome, and an old-fashioned Ferris wheel. I was trying to capture the color and action around me—like the excited kids and adults running around discovering creativity at every turn. Here, the impossible seemed totally normal.
I spent a lot of time waiting for the right moment to take pictures. After half a dozen shots, I scrolled back through my pictures. There were some good details, but none of them really captured the rush of energy I felt. Instead, they just looked jumbled, like I didn’t know what I wanted to photograph. It was frustrating. I didn’t feel like I was “seeing in a new way” at all.
I came back inside, disappointed. Camp would be ending in a few days. If I didn’t improve, maybe it was a sign that I wasn’t really that good at photography after all. Who had I been trying to kid?
My eyes drifted across the room. Camila was standing alone by the entrance to the 10 Story Slide, watching kids walk in.
“Camila!” I said. “What are you doing up here?”
“Oh, Lea,” she said, looking happy to see me. “Abby is insisting that I go down the slide, because it is the most fun thing to do here. But when I went to the entrance and looked down…” She shivered. “Abby has already gone down,” she said, twisting her long hair tightly around a finger. “I want to go too, but I don’t think I can do it.”
“Sure you can!” I said. “Once you start, it goes really fast, so you’ll be at the bottom before you know it. Besides, being a little scared is part of what makes it fun.” I was trying to reassure her, but she looked even more anxious. “You know what my grandmother Ama always said?” I added, hoping to encourage her. “She said, ‘I’m not fearless, but I don’t let my fears stop me.’ Camila, if you really want to go down the slide, don’t let being afraid stop you.”
“Your grandmother was brave,” Camila said, but her eyes still looked worried.
“Do you want me to go with you?” I offered.
Camila looked surprised, and then she nodded. “Yes!” she said, adding, “But you go in front.”
The entrance to the 10 Story Slide was steep, and when I peered in, all I could see was blackness twisting downward. I sat down, and Camila sat behind me, hugging my waist with both hands. In the distance, we could hear the echo of kids screaming with frightened delight as they wound their way down toward the bottom. For a second, I wished I could see what was ahead, and I felt a delicious tingle of fear. I turned and glanced back at Camila. Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed. Suddenly I had an idea. Pulling out my camera, I told Camila I was going to take some pictures as we went down.
“Okay,” she said, her eyes still clamped shut.
“Ready?” I asked. Camila nodded and gripped my shoulders hard. “One, two, THREE!” I shouted, and we launched ourselves down the slide.
Metal spun by above me. Camila was shrieking, but she sounded more thrilled than afraid. As the sides of the slide flew by, I held my camera in front of me and pressed the shutter button down and held it, so burst mode kicked in. I looked upside down at Camila, and took a photo of her screaming and laughing at the same time. I kept pressing the button until we flew out the end of the slide and onto some giant beanbags, breathless.
Camila went down the slide three more times after our first ride, all by herself. “They must build one just like it in Brazil!” she exclaimed as the van pulled away from City Museum. It made me feel warm inside to think that I’d helped Camila face her fear of heights.
I felt even better when I started looking through the photographs I’d taken on the slide. Most of the shots were blurry or showed nothing but darkness, since the slide was a tunnel of metal twists and turns, but one photo was a strange combination of Camila’s face and the darkness surrounding her. The camera flash made Camila’s eyes shine in a spooky way, and her expression was a jumble of joy and fear. I’d never taken a photo that looked like that before. That afternoon, Ms. Garcia taught us how to crop photos, fix red-eye, airbrush, and shift color in Photoshop. She walked around as we worked at our computers, looking at our pictures and offering suggestions. When she saw the photo I’d taken of Camila on the slide, she stopped.
“Wow,” she said. “You were on the slide when you took that?”
I nodded.
Ms. Garcia folded her arms, impressed. “So did the photo turn out the way you expected?”
“I didn’t really know what to expect,” I confessed. “I think that’s why I like it so much.”
“That’s a great thing to realize,” Ms. Garcia said, nodding. “Sometimes the best photographs we take come from experimenting, and not being afraid to try new ways of using the camera. This photograph shows real creativity, Lea. You approached taking t
he photo in a new way, and you really captured all the emotions people feel when they go down the slide.
“Not only that, but your photo made me feel fear and joy, too. Keep it up,” she said, and gave me a pat on the shoulder. I felt tingly and happy as she walked off. Maybe by “seeing in a new way,” Ms. Garcia wasn’t talking about what was in front of my eyes, but how I thought about what I saw. In any case, I felt like I’d made a breakthrough. Now, if only I could somehow have a breakthrough and figure out the mystery of Hallie.
After class, Abby, Camila, and I waited outside COCA for Dad to pick us up. Abby pulled out a piece of scratch paper, crumpled it up, and started bouncing it on her knees, practicing her soccer moves. I watched for a few minutes. I had been waiting most of the day for Abby to ask me how my search for Hallie was going, but she still hadn’t, so I decided to mention it.
“Um, so, I was thinking we could go back to the archives and look through their photos for Hallie,” I suggested. “Maybe we can find something new.”
Abby shrugged and kept bouncing the paper ball on her knees. It was getting sort of annoying. “Maybe,” she said, passing the paper ball to Camila using the side of her foot.
Camila bounced it back. “I think we should go to Coventry House,” she said. “We can see Dodger.”
“Yes!” Abby chimed in. She kicked the paper ball back to Camila. “That’s what we should do!”
“I don’t think we have time,” I said as I watched them pass the ball back and forth. “We need to work on finding Hallie.”
“We can do that another day,” said Abby, without looking at me. “Let’s ask your dad to take us to Coventry House. Then I can use my cat-whispering skills to save Dodger.”
I felt myself getting upset. Abby wasn’t listening to me. Neither was Camila, because she clapped her hands and said, “Yes!” She turned to me. “Lea, will you ask your dad?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to be mean, but I really wanted to keep trying to find Hallie. “Does it have to be today?” I asked.
Abby caught her paper ball and turned to me. “Of course it does! Dodger is a stray. At any moment he could be hurt or run over. He needs our help.”
She said it as if I didn’t want to help Dodger, which bothered me even more. “Abby, just because you think you can get Dodger to come to you doesn’t mean you will.”
Abby crossed her arms over her chest, the way she does whenever someone tells her she can’t do something. “Just because you’re trying to find Hallie doesn’t mean you will,” she retorted.
I gasped. It felt as if she’d just pushed me, hard. I looked from Abby to Camila, who was watching with round eyes. “That was mean,” I said, my voice quavering.
Abby uncrossed her arms. “I just meant that it’s kind of a long shot,” she said more softly.
“What do you think, Camila?” I asked.
Camila looked from Abby to me. “I am not sure,” she said uncomfortably.
I felt my lower lip start to tremble. I’d been hoping Camila would defend me, but I could see that wasn’t going to happen.
“Lea, why are you upset?” asked Camila. She looked worried.
“Yes, why?” asked Abby, which just made it worse. Suddenly everything I’d been feeling and wanting to say for the last few days started to rush through me—and spilled out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“I know you guys don’t care about finding Hallie,” I said. “I can tell you just want to play soccer and go to Cardinals games and eat frozen custard and have fun without me.”
Both looked startled. “That’s not true,” Abby said, but I cut her off.
“Yes, it is,” I said, feeling tears starting.
“No, it’s not,” insisted Camila, “but all you want to do is look for Hallie.”
“What?!” I asked, feeling defensive.
Camila twisted her hair. “You said we were going to explore St. Louis together—but I don’t think you really want to explore with me. You don’t want to go back to Coventry House, or visit the Arch or the Mississippi River…”
“I’ve been to those places!” I said.
“I haven’t,” Camila said, almost apologetically. “You say you want to be an explorer, Lea, but you only want to explore the things you want, not what anyone else wants.”
“That’s not true!” I shouted.
My face felt like it was burning up. Before anyone could say anything else, I turned my back on them and hurried toward COCA, breaking into a run so they wouldn’t see the hot tears spill down my cheeks.
locked myself in a stall in the lobby bathroom and cried. It didn’t make me feel much better. Taking a deep breath, I thought about the last few days and how I’d acted with Camila. I remembered how she’d kept mentioning going to see the Arch, or Dodger—and how I’d brushed her off. I felt awful when I realized that I had been thinking so much about finding Hallie, I’d forgotten to be a good host to Camila. She was only here for a week, and I hadn’t been listening to her at all! No wonder Camila was having more fun with Abby.
After a few minutes, Abby knocked softly on the bathroom door and told me my dad was there to pick us up. We walked to the station wagon in awkward silence. No one spoke once we got into the car, but if Dad noticed anything was wrong, he didn’t mention it. Instead, as he pulled out of the parking lot, he said, “We need to swing by Coventry House, girls. I have to drop something off for Lea’s mom.”
Camila perked up. “We can see Dodger!” she said to Abby. Even though I didn’t smile with them, the thought of maybe petting a kitten made me feel a little better, too.
“This is Coventry House?” exclaimed Abby when we pulled up outside the old mansion my mom was restoring. “It’s like a castle,” she whispered. By the time we passed through the main entrance into the front hall with its curving double staircase, Abby’s eyes were wide with wonder.
“Dad,” I asked, “can we show Abby around?”
“Sure,” he said, “but only if it’s a quick tour. I need you to be back here, ready to go in fifteen minutes.” We nodded, and he disappeared into the Great Room.
Camila walked around the main entry area, checking all the nooks. “I don’t see Dodger,” she said, letting go of a huge sigh.
“It’s a big building,” I replied. “And he’s a cat—he could be anywhere.”
Camila nodded and sat down next to Abby at the base of the double staircase. Abby looked sad. For a moment, I forgot that we were in a fight. I just wanted Abby to see some of what made Coventry House so unique.
“Hey,” I said to her, “do you want to see something?”
Abby’s face lit up when Camila and I showed her the hidden door by the foyer. “Whoa,” she said. “A secret room!”
“It’s a morning room,” I told her, “and it has a hidden mural they’re restoring. Want to see?”
Abby nodded eagerly.
The minute we walked in, it was obvious things had changed. A few days ago, the mural had been covered in cloudy plaster. Now, the wall it was on was exploding with color: swirling purples, golds, bronzes, and blues.
Sarah the art restorer was standing on a ladder nearby with a small tray of water, dabbing part of the wall with a wet cloth. Seeing us, she waved and took out her earbuds. “Hey there! What do you think?” she asked.
“It looks incredible!” I exclaimed. Sarah grinned.
As we got closer, she stepped off the ladder and pushed it back, exposing the full mural. Beneath the painting’s bright blue sky and whirling cloud were three girls in a field of flowers, wearing identical, old-fashioned dresses with wide square collars and knee-length skirts. One held an open book in her lap, another stood playing the violin, and a third danced. The wind blew back their dresses and hair in waves, and the field they stood in was full of ruddy, star-shaped flowers that I immediately recognized.
“Copper irises!” I whispered.
Sarah tilted her head at me. “How’d you know that?” she asked.
Abby and Ca
mila’s eyes were round with recognition.
“Copper irises!” Abby stammered out. “Hallie’s corsage is a copper iris, in her photo!”
“Right, and Ama wrote in her diary that they were her favorite flowers,” I reminded them.
“It cannot be a coincidence,” Camila declared.
“I know,” I said. I turned to Sarah, who looked confused. “My mom said the mural was commissioned by Francis Coventry, right?”
“Well, yes and no,” Sarah said. “At first, we thought the mural was painted when the house was built in the late 1880s. But as we restored it, we noticed the style of dresses the girls are wearing isn’t from that period. So we did some digging. It turns out the mural was partially repainted in 1922, when the house became a school for girls.
“This room was a silent study room during that time,” Sarah continued. “We think the figures of the girls in the mural were altered so they would represent students. See?” She pointed to a tiny gold fleur-de-lis, barely visible on the violin player’s collar. “All the Coventry School girls wore these. The mural was plastered over when the school closed and the building was turned into a boardinghouse. This room became an office, and all the old stuff from the school and before was either sold or sent to the Missouri History Museum’s archives.”
I barely heard her. I was staring at the golden fleur-de-lis on the girl’s collar. I studied the other two girls in the mural—they were wearing identical fleur-de-lis pins. Something about the pins looked familiar.
“Hallie’s wearing a pin like this in her photo!” I told Camila and Abby. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, an idea hit me like a bolt of lightning. In a flash, I knew how everything—Hallie, Ama, the copper irises, the compass, and the fleur-de-lis pins—could be connected. “Maybe Ama and Hallie went to the Coventry School together?” I blurted out.
