by Jane Kelley
Sixteen
On Wednesday Lanora appeared before the judge. She wore a white blouse and a navy blue skirt. Only her patterned tights reminded her that she was still Lanora. Unfortunately the tights itched. She kept her hands folded so she wouldn’t scratch her legs as she sat between her mother and the lawyer.
Her father wasn’t there. He had sent the lawyer in his place. The lawyer looked very much like her father. He wore a pale blue tie with his dark gray suit. His hair was cut as short as her father’s. The back of his neck was shaved. Black dots showed where hair would have been, without the barber’s razor. The lawyer’s watch was slightly smaller than her father’s. But the main difference between the men was that the lawyer smiled at Lanora. Once he even patted her shoulder, while the judge read out loud what Lanora had done.
It was strange to hear them discussing this Lanora, who had no previous offenses. Who had been tempted by a cute kitty. Who would never, ever do anything like this again. Who was sorry. Who would do community service. And never step inside that store for as long as she lived.
Well, at least that last part was true.
And then it was over. The lawyer shook hands with Lanora and then Emma. He closed his brown briefcase (it was the box kind with metal latches that snapped into place). He hurried from the room to his next appointment.
Lanora hurried, too. She had to wait outside the courtroom for her mom, who was saying an emotional thank-you to the judge.
Once they had escaped from the halls of justice and were standing on the sidewalk, Emma blew her nose and said, “I hope you learned your lesson.”
“Oh, sure,” Lanora said.
“Don’t take that tone with me,” Emma said.
Lanora said nothing for the entire subway ride home.
Actually she had learned her lesson. Plenty of lessons. She reviewed them when she was safely in her room, as her mom searched the kitchen cupboards for Tension Tamer tea.
“I’m sure we still had some. How could it all be gone?” Emma said.
Lesson 1: Maintain Your Guard.
Don’t get tempted by a cat, no matter how adorable and cuddly. Don’t let sentiment stick its grubby little fingers in a crack in the door. Don’t allow a crack in the door. Don’t allow a door. Block it up with bricks.
“I guess it’ll have to be black tea. We’re probably out of honey, too,” Emma said.
Lesson 2: Be Prepared.
If she’d had a good lie, she would have gotten away with it. If she’d said, I only took the kitty for my poor little sister who is dying of cancer. No, that lie was too much. If she’d said, I wanted to cheer up my poor little sister because our parents are getting divorced, that would have totally worked.
“No, there’s still a little in the jar. Of course it’s as hard as a rock,” Emma said.
Lesson 3: Know Who to Blame.
Not Val. Lanora could never blame Val. Val was probably torn up by the whole situation. First that Lanora had lifted something. And second that Val had gotten Lanora caught. Well, Val shouldn’t have followed Lanora. But that small misdemeanor was nothing compared to all the crimes committed by a certain individual. He was so guilty; he didn’t dare come to court—the judge would have sent him straight to jail.
The tea kettle screamed. “Lanora? Sweetie? Come get your tea!” Emma said.
“In a minute!” Lanora called.
Lesson 4: Harden Your Heart.
She kind of thought she had done that. Wasn’t that why she hung around the A Team? They helped her get to the level where she didn’t even feel Val looking at her anymore. Oh, yes. Lanora had been untouchable as she walked through the halls of M.S. 10. She would be again. When she returned tomorrow.
She examined her face in the mirror. Her hair was still perfectly sleek. She had gotten up extra early that morning to have time to blow-dry it. But there was something unfortunate about her eyes.
The dark places were still there. She knew they were the pupils. She knew their purpose was to let in light and whatever images were out there in the world. She knew everything except why they had to look like such horrible, big black holes.
She turned away from her mirror, opened her window, and climbed out onto the fire escape.
The days were getting colder. That was a good thing. She liked the air to be brisk. She liked to feel invigorated. She looked up at the lights just starting to come on in the tall building. Soon there would be a sprinkle of stars beyond. She climbed up one step. Then another. And another.
She was in command. As long as she kept climbing. As long as she didn’t look down. Or back. There was no point in that. Who would want to remember that moment when she had begged her father not to move away and he had patted her on the head or given her a lollipop or something. And she had crumpled to the floor. Like she had lost control of everything—even her own legs. Who would ever want to think about that except to remind herself.
Lesson 5: Harden Your Heart Even Harder.
Seventeen
Starting school the second time was much more difficult than it had been the first.
Lanora felt too nervous to eat the breakfast her mom insisted upon. Then the cereal got soggy and her mom wouldn’t let her dump it out and pour a new bowl.
She couldn’t decide what to wear. The bold skirt and jagged top she had laid out so carefully the night before totally failed to express her defiance. Her old clothes were old. Her new ones reminded her too much of QXR. In the end, she had settled for black leggings and a black dress, even though it was the New York cliché.
As she hugged her mom good-bye, she saw her reflection in the mirror. She tried the smile. The one she would need to navigate the halls of M.S. 10. Yes, there it was. The curl of her lip. She still had it. She turned her head slightly to get a different angle. She saw the piece of her hair sticking out. One stray curl, as wispy as the feather of a baby robin.
Lanora ducked under her mom’s hands. She selected a scissors from her desk organizer. She snipped off the offensive curl and let it fall to the floor. She faced the mirror again. She was ready now.
She really was. But she didn’t want to have to stand around waiting for the door to open. She wanted to walk right in, without having time for conversations or explanations. She thought she planned it right, but she must have made a miscalculation.
By the time Lanora arrived, the door was already shut. The guard was gone. The kids were all inside—laughing, talking, probably about her.
She stared at the door. If it opened, she would walk in. It would be a sign. A message from the great beyond. She didn’t believe in things like that. She certainly didn’t believe that her bad luck had begun when she buried the lilac butterfly at the Bower. She wondered what would happen if she retrieved it. Nothing. Except that she would have in her possession a filthy bit of plush fabric.
The door stayed shut. Those who were in stayed in. Those who had been absent for the past two days (so they could tell a judge how sorry they were that they tried to take another insignificant bit of plush fabric) stayed out.
Lanora looped her fingers through the chain-link fence and stared at the brick walls. She had heard of a certain kind of bomb, invented by a diabolically clever person, that destroyed people and left the buildings intact.
“Boom,” she whispered.
She straightened the strap of her book bag and walked away, as briskly as if she knew exactly where she was going. She made sure her grim smile was in place. If she saw anyone, anyone at all, even the lamest of the losers, she would have to pretend she had recently been hit on the head by a rock and was enjoying amnesia.
She thought she would be safe until lunchtime. After all, she was outside. And every other kid in the city was stuck inside.
She tried to enjoy this freedom. She could go anywhere in New York City! Yippee! Anywhere except her apartment. Or Val’s apartment. Or the Bower. In short, anywhere except places where she might have wanted to be.
She tossed her head, gripped he
r bag, squared her shoulders, and strode down the sidewalk. She turned away from each orange DON’T WALK sign and crossed the street in the other direction. For the next few hours, she allowed fate to guide her. She shouldn’t have.
* * *
The gang loitering outside the deli were drinking Cokes and eating chips. Lanora checked her phone in surprise. The hours seemed to be passing so slowly, and yet it was lunchtime. The kids might not recognize her. After all, she didn’t really know them. When she was part of the A Team, she glided past kids like these. But she wasn’t part of the A Team anymore.
The one with the Yankees baseball cap incorrectly colored red pointed at her with his can of Coke. “Look. It’s Lanora the lifter,” he said.
“Lanora the lousy lifter,” another said.
She couldn’t retreat. If she showed them she cared, she would never be able to go back to school. But she didn’t feel able to walk past them. Her hair wasn’t right. Her armpits were sweaty. She had no idea what had happened to her contemptuous smile.
“Hey, Lanora. They let you out of jail?”
“She wasn’t in jail.”
“She was in the psych ward.”
She ducked through the nearest door and entered a hardware store. The shelves were crammed with pots, tools, paintbrushes, and a multitude of things she would never want. She slunk past a large woman sitting on a stool by the entrance. She wandered through the aisles until she found a secluded corner near the back of the store. She could wait there until lunch was over and it would be safe to leave.
Above her was a rack of shiny golden keys. The shiny bits of metal mesmerized her with their possibilities. What treasure chests could she open? She trailed her finger along the keys, keys, keys. The musical jingling brought back the thrill of that other day, in that other store, when she had felt so powerful.
It would be so much easier to go back to school with a golden key. She could wear it on a chain around her neck. Like a medal to show the world she didn’t care that she got caught. She had persisted and won the game.
She stroked the keys. The shimmering sound was so magical. But she stopped the vibration so she could listen.
The store was silent. The woman at the front was probably keeping her eye on the things kids usually wanted—spray paint, glue, batteries. The woman at the front didn’t know what really mattered. Keys could open doors. Keys could lock them. Keys were proof of ownership. Could there be anything more important?
Lanora glanced left and then right. No one was watching her. Val wasn’t here to ruin everything. Lanora looked up to decide. At the very top was a dark gold key with an elegantly curved head. She stood on her tiptoes to take it off the hook. As usual, she knew exactly what she wanted.
At least she thought she did.
Eighteen
As Val came back from lunch, there was a commotion outside the school. A kid Val didn’t know very well was telling everybody a story. His red baseball cap was on crooked. His hands were high in the air, as if he were holding on to an imaginary stick.
“The old lady is holding a broom like this. She chases Lanora down the sidewalk and smacks Lanora on the head.”
The kids groaned. “Whoa.”
Val pushed closer so she could hear. She found herself standing next to the A Team. They were all sipping drinks through green straws.
“Wham, wham, wham! The old lady hits Lanora with the broom until she drops what she lifted.”
“What was it this time? Another toy?”
“Nope. A key.”
The kids all laughed. “Lanora the lame lifter.”
The A Team smiled as they turned away.
Val stepped in front of them. “Don’t you care that she’s in trouble? Wasn’t she your friend?”
Alicia raised an eyebrow. “The woman with the broom?”
Ariel tossed her cup toward a trash can that was overflowing with uneaten lunches. The cup missed, of course. The girls kept walking. Like they hadn’t done anything. Like they were not responsible. Like even the laws of gravity didn’t apply to them.
So Val picked up the cup and tapped Ariel on the shoulder. “You dropped this.”
Ariel raised one eyebrow.
April smiled.
Anna tossed back her hair. “She picks up trash.”
“Like Lanora.” Their lips curled in something that wasn’t really a smile.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Val said.
The girls tilted their heads. They never explained. Why should they? They understood themselves perfectly.
The bell rang. They went inside. Val stood there, still holding the cup. It was sticky. She threw it at the trash can. The cup bounced to the sidewalk. Then she had to pick it up again. Then she had to cross the street to throw it in a can that wasn’t overflowing with garbage.
By then, she was so angry that she kept going.
* * *
The iron gate was locked. Val rattled the bars so fiercely that the wooden sign started to swing. She rapped on the window. Mau was sleeping next to the statue of the man without a nose. She looked up at Val in surprise and then stretched and jumped off the display shelf.
After a few moments, Tasman came to unlock the gate. “What are you doing here? I’m of course glad to see you. But isn’t this a school day?”
“They threw a cup on the ground and they didn’t pick it up.” Val’s anger had only increased. She pushed past Tasman and walked through the maze of boxes. “Where’s the Captain?”
“He’s communing with spirits.” Tasman followed after her. “Of the alcoholic variety. He can’t be interrupted.”
“Good. Then he won’t stop us.” Val stood on her tiptoes to peer into a crate.
“From doing what?”
“Finding The Book of Dares and the incantation bowl.”
“Shhh,” Tasman said.
It was too late. Those words could not be unsaid. They were too powerful. Too dangerous. Or too loud.
“What’s this ruckus?” the Captain shouted.
Tasman grabbed Val’s arm and tried to drag her into an alcove. She shrugged off his hand and waited for the Captain to come.
The Captain had a large, white cloth tied around his neck. He held a chicken leg in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to get The Book of Dares and the incantation bowl,” Val said.
The Captain waved his chicken leg dismissively. “Bah. No such thing.”
“Of course there is. Tasman told me about it.”
The Captain glared at Tasman. Tasman looked at his boots.
“I just need to borrow them for my friend,” Val said.
“You can’t borrow things like that,” the Captain said.
“Why not?” Val said.
“Because you don’t know what you’re doing. Those kind of powers are too easy to abuse.” The Captain shook his finger at Tasman. “You of all people should know that some medicine is also a poison.”
Tasman shut his eyes.
“Then you should help us use it properly,” Val said.
The Captain snorted and took a sip from his wine. “Where did this girl come from again?”
“Mau brought her,” Tasman said.
“That good-for-nothing mangy beast.”
As if in response, Mau trotted over and sat at the Captain’s feet. She stared at the chicken leg.
“Bah.” The Captain tossed the leg into a corner. Mau pounced on it. The Captain ripped the cloth from his neck and wiped his hands on it. “I’m a fool to let you talk me into this.”
“We can borrow the bowl?” Val said.
Tasman’s eyes got wide.
“Not the bowl. The Book of Dares.” The Captain threw the cloth in the corner and lurched along the aisle toward a glass cabinet.
“But we need the bowl, too,” Val said.
“There is no bowl. You hear me? I do not have the incantation bowl.” The Captain jabbed his finger at Tasman with each
syllable.
There was no sound except the crunch of Mau’s teeth as she ate the chicken bone.
Finally Tasman muttered, “I hear you.”
The Captain took a key from his pocket and unlocked a glass cabinet. He put on a pair of grimy white gloves. He picked up a thick volume with deckled edges bound in faded red leather. He carefully placed the book on a reading stand.
“I’ll give you ten minutes to look at it. But no touching the pages.”
“How can we look at it without touching the pages?” Val said.
The Captain gave Tasman a thin brass stick. At one end, a miniature hand pointed its index finger.
Val leaned closer to the book. She couldn’t read what was written on the cover. Some of the gold lettering had worn away. The scribbles could have meant anything. What if this old book wasn’t what she hoped? And even if it was, could it really help Lanora?
The Captain carefully lifted the thick cover.
Tasman didn’t move.
“Come on, then. You’re wasting time,” the Captain said.
Tasman looked at Val. He took a deep breath. He walked over to the book and flipped the first page with the brass finger.
Standing there, in the shop, surrounded by so many relics, Val thought of how many other people had sought answers from that book. For a thousand years, people had opened it. But how many had found the kind of wisdom that they needed? And how many had found something entirely different?
The pages whispered as Tasman turned them. Shush, shush, shush, as if the words imprisoned there rose up from the paper as puffs of smoke. Tasman kept turning pages. Somewhere in the shop, a clock ticked loudly. Val had never noticed it before. She felt her heartbeat bump against the tick, trying to hold back the march of time. Why didn’t Tasman hurry?
“What are you looking for? It’s all the same gobbledygook, isn’t it?” the Captain said.
Tasman frowned and flipped three more pages. The brass hand trembled. Then it dropped decisively onto the book. He stopped.
Val glanced at the page. There were no letters or words that she could see. The marks were beautiful, but they didn’t look like writing. They reminded her of paths marked on a map. Where they led, she had no idea.
