I’m done.
No longer was she going to fight the panic. No longer going to chase after oxygen. No longer going to try to hang on to normal and to try to control . . . well, anything!
If she lost her mind, so be it.
She let go.
And it felt as though fifty-two tons of weight simultaneously lifted off her shoulders.
“Hey, Little Orphan Annie. Why you slouched on the floor?”
Natalie?
Caitlin leaped up. She seized her kid sister like a drowning person seizing a life jacket.
Natalie winced. “You’re crushing my intercostal muscles.”
“Where were you?” Caitlin cried out.
“Emptying my bladder. Why the freak-out? Because of Dad? Or because we’re languishing away in some nineteenth-century orphanage instead of a nice, middle-class foster home?”
“Yessss!” Caitlin shouted with glee. She ran to the wall, kissed it, patted it, and danced with delight. “It is an orphanage! A beautiful, safe, nurturing orphanage!”
Natalie just shook her head and said, “Indeed it is.” She waved a pamphlet. “I’ve been reading about this place. It’s for children who are bereaved and grieving. Except, sweet sibling, you’re neither bereaving nor grieving.”
Caitlin yanked Natalie by the arm, pulling her close. She crumpled the pamphlet against her body and wrapped her arms around her sister.
“I think you just dislocated my shoulder. Have you lost it?”
“Totally! Kids across planet Earth now think I’m certifiably crazy. And I couldn’t be happier!”
Caitlin squeezed her sister tighter, inhaling the raspberry aroma of her curly flop top.
Natalie managed to nudge her mouth free from Caitlin’s smothering embrace. “You have lost it.”
“I’d rather be sane and ridiculed than praised and outta my mind!”
“Too late.”
Caitlin would’ve normally slam-dunked Natalie with an even snarkier comment, but she was too relieved to be angry. Besides, Caitlin had heard her little sister crying herself to sleep last night. She just didn’t have the heart to snap back.
“Promise me something, Nat,” Caitlin said as she let go. She put her hands on her sister’s shoulders and stared intently into her eyes.
“Depends what it is.”
“I’m serious. Will you promise me something?”
Natalie could obviously see the water welling in her sister’s eyes. “Okay. What’s the promise?”
“Always be careful. And always stay close.”
Natalie nodded. “That’s two promises. But of course.” Natalie paused a moment. She replied, “Do something for me in return?”
“Sure,” Caitlin said.
The expression on Natalie’s face suddenly seemed odd, something totally unfamiliar to Caitlin.
Natalie went uncharacteristically silent. She simply stared into Caitlin’s eyes.
This is, like, totally weird, because wordlessness and prolonged stares into her sister’s eyes are not Nataliesque things to do.
Caitlin was about to crack a remark when she saw Natalie’s lower lip quiver.
“Natalie, what is it?” Caitlin asked as her heart began to drum.
Her kid sister was struggling to hold back her feelings. Then a sliver of sadness touched the corners of her mouth; a slight crack of emotion showed in her full-moon eyes. Her words came unguarded, in a trembling whisper.
“Can you keep holding me, just for a bit longer?”
Caitlin clutched her sister. Natalie showed vulnerability and returned the embrace with uncharacteristic warmth, and this shattered Caitlin.
“Don’t worry, twerp. I’m here for you. Always! And I’ll hug you whenever you want.”
Natalie’s fragility was devastating. “Promise?”
Now Caitlin’s voice quavered. “Promise!”
After a lingering hug, Natalie pulled back and wiped the wet from her cherry-red cheeks. Caitlin smiled at her. Natalie giggled.
“Know what else?” Girl Wonder said.
“What?”
“I find it kinda sad. And strange.”
“What?”
“So many orphans. Kids who are parentless.”
Caitlin nodded warmly. “In the world?”
“Well, that too. But I meant in stories. Oliver Twist. Peter Pan. Pip from Great Expectations. Little Orphan Annie. Tom Sawyer. Huckleberry Finn. Harry Potter.”
Caitlin added, “Mowgli, from The Jungle Book.”
Natalie’s lip quivered again as the heartache overwhelmed her. “And now you and I. Caity-Cakes, I really never thought this would ever happen to us.”
Caitlin wrapped her baby sister in her arms and pulled her close to her heart. Her body was shaking against
Caitlin’s with intermittent convulsive sobs and suppressed sniffles.
But this is good. This is very good. It needs to come out.
When Natalie’s body finally calmed, Caitlin leaned back and planted a kiss on her sister’s forehead. She handed her a wad of tissues.
Natalie smiled appreciatively. She blew her nose with a resounding honk that probably woke up all of England.
How does such a booming foghorn blare out of such a small
nose?
Natalie unfolded the crumpled pamphlet. “By the way, you’ll never guess who the managing director of this place is.”
Why would I care?
“Okay, who?”
“Your therapist, Doctor J. L. Kyle.”
Chills ran cold down the back of Caitlin’s neck and shoulders.
No! No! This can’t be!
Her fingers tugged at her collar, which suddenly felt like a noose.
Natalie’s brow crinkled as she muttered to herself, “There’s something peculiar about his name.”
No—there’s something peculiar about him! And he’s dangerous.
Then it came from out of nowhere.
A feeling.
Inside Caitlin.
Something from somewhere else was suddenly summoning her. Something deep inside, calling to her from a faraway place, a distant land, an otherworldly kingdom. . . .
Except the summons was also coming from. . . .
Right outside the orphanage!
Caitlin moved swiftly to the window. She peered out between the iron bars. Dawn had broken, and standing in the street in the early morning light was. . . .
Oh. My. God!
It’s him!
Jack!
He waved.
Then he pointed to his watch. Held up both hands. Flashed ten fingers.
He mouthed the words: Halloween night. Mount Cemetery.
Caitlin smiled. Winked. Fist-pumped the air.
I’ll meet Jack at ten p.m.! At Mount Cemetery. October thirty-first. My birthday!
That was just four days away. Her bright smile was as sweet as ripened fruit fresh off the tree. She gave Jack the thumbs-up.
Finally!
Jack Spriggins nodded assuredly, then happily dashed off.
“Who’s out there?” Natalie asked.
Caitlin was speechless. Giddy. Eleven long months had passed without a word from Jack—or anyone from that other world. Doubt had been creeping in. Only a few minutes ago, she had had the fright of her life, convinced that she was losing her mind—and had lost her sister.
But now Jack had shown up. And just in time. Caitlin was beside herself with anticipation.
So much had gone tragically wrong in her life these last few days. Her dad. Her confidential file leaked online. Her reputation ruined beyond repair. And now her imprisonment in an orphanage where the warden was Dr. Kyle!
Caitlin felt a welcome surge of hope from seeing Jack.
Perhaps the recent string of d
evastating misfortune is finally over. Maybe things are about to turn around.
“You girls are up early!”
Mrs. Kraggins had just walked into the room, a fresh smile upon her face. “And I’m glad. Because I’ve brought good news!”
Caitlin couldn’t contain her grin. Another fist pump.
I was right!
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” Mrs. Kraggins said, “but for the last few days we’ve been working on your file and trying to find your uncle in Amsterdam, but to no avail. However, we did locate some cousins.”
Yessss—I’m outta here!
“They’re in California,” Mrs. Kraggins continued. “And they’ve agreed to take you temporarily while we track down your uncle. Yesterday afternoon, the court appointed them as legal guardians. You’ll both be on a flight back to America later this afternoon.”
Caitlin thwacked her forehead, leaving a bright-red palm mark.
She glanced at the window where she had seen Jack a moment earlier. Then she shifted her eyes back to Mrs. Kraggins. Caitlin had to escape the orphanage before Dr. Kyle moved in on her. And she had to meet Jack on Halloween night.
Which means only one thing is absolutely certain, Caitlin realized with great fury and fierce defiance.
There’s no way on earth I can move to California!
CHAPTER Nine
The double-decker British Airways A380 took off from Heathrow Airport at 7:31 p.m., en route to Los Angeles.
Natalie had a window seat on the first level, near the back of the plane. She watched a few sitcom episodes. Ate dinner. Munched a few snacks, then slept.
Caitlin had the aisle seat in the same row.
During the last few hours, she had shifted restlessly in her seat, shook her head, and fought to stop herself from pulling out every one of her precious strands of cinnamon-colored hair. To stem the frustration, she began plotting how to get back to London to meet Jack on Halloween night.
She glanced at the entertainment screen in front of her. It was tracking the flight. The plane was halfway across the Atlantic Ocean.
Uh-oh.
The map triggered a barrage of disturbing thoughts that interrupted her strategizing.
This plane cannot land even if there’s an emergency, because . . . there’s no land to land on!
If she had to get off the plane, if she started freaking
out and panicking . . . there was no way out of the flying tin can.
The double-decker airliner suddenly felt the size of a closet to Caitlin.
What if I need an emergency appendectomy? Or one of the engines blows, and we need to make an emergency landing?
On the ocean?
Far worse than the claustrophobic feeling of being imprisoned on a plane over water was the feeling of being totally and helplessly out of control.
Her breaths became short and clipped.
Oh God, this is not the time to start hyperventilating.
At least when she had a panic attacks usually, she was . . . on the ground!
Now she was panicking at forty thousand feet.
Everyone will stare at me if I start breathing heavy and perspiring.
This thought made her breathe heavily and perspire.
She glanced up at the oxygen mask compartment.
The plane jolted.
The dreaded ding rang through the cabin as the seat belt sign lit up.
I knew I shouldn’t have looked at the oxygen compartment!
Life is punishing me. For looking at the oxygen compartment. I shouldn’t have. Now I’m going to need it.
Life often punished her like this. So much so, she was afraid of not being afraid. Weeks before a flight, she would agonize. Darkness would swallow her the way it swallowed up the light in a closet when the door was shut.
But this is good, she thought. Because the flights are never that bad when I agonize over them in advance.
So it became a habit. A superstitious methodology for coping. If she was happy and calm and relaxed like her friends—like normal people were before a flight—the odds were the flight would scare the living hell out of her.
She’d fought to remain calm during the drive to Heathrow. And now the turbulence was happening.
I should’ve been more afraid. I should have worried more. I shouldn’t have looked at that stupid oxygen compartment.
More bumps rattled the cabin. The aircraft dropped into another air pocket. Caitlin’s tummy leaped into her chest.
“Flight attendants, take your seats,” came the pilot’s deep voice. Caitlin began rubbing a fingernail, resisting the irresistible compulsion to pick it till it bled.
Lord Amethyst Bartholomew!
She remembered that the sage caterpillar had revealed a great secret to her. But she couldn’t recall it now. She was too busy breathing.
A shrill cry from a few rows ahead caught her attention. She wanted to lean out to see, but she was paralyzed in her seat, too scared to move a muscle. She’d be punished if she relaxed her body, so she remained taut as a high wire. That was how she would control the plane and her anxiety.
Her fingernails clawed at her armrest.
The crying from a few rows up intensified.
Somehow, Caitlin forced herself to lean into the aisle and sneak a look.
A little girl was in tears. She was around five or six. Her plush rabbit was lying in the aisle, a foot away from her outstretched fingers. Obviously frightened by the turbulence, the poor kid likely wanted to hang on to that bunny for dear life. So did Caitlin.
Flight attendants couldn’t help. They were buckled into their seats. The kid’s mom was buckled into a middle seat.
Tears glistened on that poor girl’s face.
The plane dropped again. Then it swerved right. Left. Caitlin peered out her window. Dark clouds flickered with electricity in the distance.
Caitlin undid her seat belt.
“You are not going to the cockpit,” Natalie shouted, obviously woken by the turbulence. “It’s just a storm and a few air pockets. Nothing to freak out over.”
Caitlin rose, clutching the top of the seat in front of her. Then she stepped out into the aisle. She made her way toward the teary-eyed kid, rocking and bouncing as the plane shimmied.
“Please return to your seat immediately!” shouted a flight attendant sitting by the emergency exit.
As the airliner swayed and Caitlin wobbled, she managed her way over to the rabbit. She kneeled, snatched it, and handed it back to the girl.
“Here you go,” Caitlin said, gripping an armrest for support. “And there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a storm and a few air pockets. Nothing to freak out over.”
The girl sniffled and smiled thankfully. Caitlin winked, then turned to head back to her seat. The plane hit another air pocket, jolting Caitlin a good foot in the air.
She laughed aloud. “Totally crazy!”
She rushed back to her seat, buckled up, and experienced an enthralling sense of freedom that she had never felt before.
Like, who freaking cares if this plane bumps and bobs around like a buoy in a rough sea?
She had no control, so she just let go and allowed the magic of the violet-blue spectrum to fill her with calm, confidence, and the conviction that all was well on this flight. She told herself that was simply the way it was going to be.
Something wholly unexpected happened next: the air smoothed out, and the plane began cruising like a ship on calm waters.
I remember!
“Don’t chase after the sunlight,” Amethyst the caterpillar had told Caitlin. “Rather, chase the clouds that hide it.”
Caitlin had helped another person when it was most difficult for her. She did it by charging right through the dark clouds of fear that were trying to smother her.
Natalie nudged her sister. “I forgot to tell you something.”
“What?” Caitlin asked.
“I was having a weird dream about you. Just before the turbulence woke me up.”
“And?”
“There was a girl. Dressed in lacy white. Calling for you. Standing by a black iron gate leading to some kind of weird or magical forest. She wanted to you to follow her. She said you were in mortal danger.”
Turbulence—or even appendicitis at forty thousand feet—suddenly seemed positively trivial.
* * *
Mount Vaea, Samoan Islands, the South Pacific
Janus and the others had traveled up the portal from Treasure Island and emerged onto an island. They had been there for two days now, sleeping in the woods and feeding on reptiles, grasshopper eggs, even shark—courtesy of
the South Pacific. They were waiting for the Enchanter to appear.
The island was the site of a portal called Robert Louis Stevenson. Stevenson was the creator of various worlds, including Treasure Island and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
On the morning of the second day, Janus and his flock had stumbled upon an anthill. They quickly began to dig it up. What a glorious morning it would be for them if they struck pay dirt as they waited for the Lord of the Curtain.
After unearthing their find, Janus was more than pleased. The colony contained more than a million restless ants whose sweet, golden color reminded him of a Samoan island sunset.
Janus had to calm his brethren for, in their feverish excitement, they had pulled off their long, black overcoats and begun to strip bare. Truth be told, Janus was also finding it
difficult to control the primal urges bubbling like a volcano inside him.
But if the Enchanter appeared while they were indulging, that could prove to be a serious problem for—
Janus lost control!
He surrendered to the lure of the ant colony.
“Be quick,” he instructed his crew.
Janus stripped down. With their sharp ebony beaks, the seven crowmen crushed hordes of ants, smearing their excretions and fluids all over their black-feathered arms and shoulders, then rolling onto their backs in orgiastic rapture.
The rest of their day passed without incident. The Enchanter finally arrived just after nightfall.
The Lord of the Curtain Page 7
