by Diane Zahler
Text copyright © 2017 Diane Zahler
All rights reserved.
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, contact [email protected].
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Boyds Mills Press
An Imprint of Highlights
815 Church Street
Honesdale, Pennsylvania 18431
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-62979-724-3 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-62979-918-6 (e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017937875
First edition
The text of this book is set in Bembo.
Design by Tim Gillner
H1.0
FOR STAN:
I MISS YOU EVERY DAY
CHAPTER 1
The name of the game was Frog Jump. It looked simple enough: players took a rubber frog and placed it on a platform, then smacked the platform with a mallet to try to make the frog leap over the pond onto a metal lily pad. Mattie knew it was rigged, like all the games in the arcade, but her brother, Bell, had been studying it and playing it at fairs all summer to figure out how to win.
“Hey, Dane,” Bell said to the man in charge. “Can I play?”
“Again, kid? For free?” the man said. His arms, where they showed below the sleeves of his dingy white T-shirt, were completely covered in a tangle of tattoos, but he had a nice smile. “You think I’m in this for my health?”
“Please?” Bell wheedled.
The man grinned and handed Bell a limp rubber frog.
Bell took his time positioning his frog, studying it from one angle, then another. He whacked the mallet down hard. The frog flew across the water and landed right on a lily pad.
“We got a winner, folks!” Dane called out, and people turned to look. “Choose your prize, kid!”
Bell jumped up and down, thrilled, and Mattie wondered how he could still be so excited about winning one of the moth-eaten stuffed animals they gave out at the arcade. Then again, just a year ago, she’d been that excited, too. She didn’t know quite when that feeling had stopped.
“You take it, Mattie. It’s for you,” Bell said. Dane held out a little turquoise bear to Mattie, and her hand brushed his. Right away Mattie could read what he was thinking, as clear as anything.
Shouldn’t let the kid play for free, but they’ll never miss one stupid bear, he thought, smiling that sweet smile. The idiots didn’t even miss the money I took. If they paid me what I’m worth, I wouldn’t have to do it. It’s not really stealing.
Mattie stared at him. “Stealing is stealing,” she said before she could stop herself.
Dane flushed, and Mattie took a step back, alarmed by the anger in his eyes.
“What did you say?” he demanded, flexing his biceps so that the painted snakes that wound around them seemed to twitch.
“Nothing. Sorry,” Mattie muttered. She poked Bell and turned to leave.
“Wait a minute, you!” Dane said. He started to come around the frog pond toward them, his face red and furious.
“Run!” Mattie shouted to Bell. She grabbed his hand, and they took off.
They sprinted through the arcade crowds and zigzagged around the booths. A minute later they entered the chicken and rabbit barn, panting, and tried to mingle with the other fairgoers. Mattie let go of Bell’s hand, glad that because he was family, she couldn’t read his mind. Still, she knew what he’d be thinking: Oh boy, Mattie’s done it again!
They made their way past overexcited toddlers begging to play with the rabbits, and cages filled with hundreds of chickens, from the ordinary barnyard variety to striped black-and-white hens to the crazy kind with the leg feathers that looked like the flared pants Mattie had seen in photos from the 1970s. She kept looking behind her, but there was no sign of Dane. They’d lost him—for now. Then she turned to Bell.
He was gone.
“Bell,” Mattie said, and then a little louder, “Bell!” She didn’t want to draw any attention. Luckily, the people around her were enthralled by the chickens, and they didn’t notice when Bell reappeared. He wavered a little, his sandy hair and copper-colored eyes indistinct at first, then solid. His freckles were last to appear.
“Don’t do that!” she hissed at him.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought Dane might be following us.”
“If he was, he’d have seen you go,” Mattie pointed out.
Bell shrugged. He didn’t spend much time thinking about getting found out. “So what did you hear?” he asked. “What did he steal?”
“Money,” she said. “He’s been skimming money off the game for months. A lot, I think. He’s sure to get caught. What an eejit.” That was their father’s word for idiot.
“He was nice to me,” Bell said regretfully. “He let me play for free.”
“I know,” Mattie said. “I’m sorry. Now he’s probably going to make trouble for us. Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut?” She was furious at herself for putting Bell in danger. Carnies were always unpredictable. She should have known better.
Bell patted her arm. “You can’t help it. Come on, let’s go back to the wagon. It’ll be time for Da’s act soon.”
“Don’t tell Maya and Da what happened, okay?” Mattie begged, and Bell pretended to zip his mouth closed.
They passed the food stands where people sold ice cream and sausages and every fried thing on a stick imaginable. A trio of girls holding Italian ices turned to look at them. “Nice outfit,” one of them said to Mattie. The girl’s hair was a golden waterfall across her shoulders, and her clothes were tight and trendy. Her two friends had dark hair, and neither was as pretty and perfect as she was. Mattie had a feeling that the blond girl had planned it that way.
“Thanks,” Mattie said evenly, though she knew the girl was making fun of her. Mattie’s old skirt was much too long for her; its hem swept the dust. Her top was an embroidered peasant blouse, and around her shoulders she clutched a paisley shawl. She refused to wear one of her mother’s gold-embroidered saris when she performed, so after weeks of arguments, the skirt and shawl were what they’d finally settled on.
The blond girl snickered, and Mattie brushed by them, turning to watch as they tossed their barely touched ices into a trash can and linked arms. What would it be like, to spend a day with friends, to wander around with nothing to do? Those girls probably went home every night and ate dinner in a real dining room, with parents who wouldn’t let them have their dessert until they’d eaten their vegetables. She felt a stab of longing so strong that she had to stop, a hand on her chest, to catch her breath.
“Come on, Mattie. We’ll be in trouble if we’re late,” Bell warned. The girls had disappeared into the crowd. Reluctantly, Mattie followed as Bell led her through the fair.
Shrieks came from the rides in the distance, the giant Ferris wheel and the pirate ship that swung back and forth, and Mattie’s absolute least favorite, the Kamikaze, spinning its two little cabins on either side of a giant rotating rod. She’d ridden it once when she was Bell’s age and thrown up for an hour afterward. She hadn’t been on a ride since. Even now she had to turn her eyes away from the Kamikaze when she walked past or she risked feeling a little sick.
The wagon came into sight. It was their home on wheels, their school, and their workplace. From the outside it looked rickety, about to fall apart. Once it had been bright green, but now the paint was faded and peeling. On the side was a sign, and it wasn’t in much better shape than the wagon itself.
THE MARVELWOOD MAGICIANS
it read, in flaking gilt paint. And below, in smaller letters:
MAYA THE FORTUNE-TELLER
SIMON: MASTER OF ILLUSION
MATTIE THE MIND READER
THE DISAPPEARING BELL
Maya was Mattie’s mother, Simon her father. Bell was her younger brother, and she was Mattie the Mind Reader. The sign didn’t mention the youngest Marvelwood, Tibby, but she was only four. Mattie knew that she’d be up there soon enough.
They could see Maya standing out front, her thick black hair blowing in the breeze, her hands on her hips. She looked annoyed, and when she saw them, she called, “Mattie, hurry up! You have clients!”
“Oh no,” Mattie moaned, and Maya frowned.
“You are a member of this family, Mathilda Marvelwood,” she scolded. “You have to do your part.”
“Stop nagging me!” Mattie retorted. “I take care of Bell, and Tibby when you need me to. I help Da. Why isn’t that enough?”
“Hey, I take care of myself,” Bell protested.
Maya sighed. It was a sigh Mattie had heard a thousand times. “You have a talent, Mattie. It is part of who you are, just like mine and Da’s and Bell’s and Tibby’s are part of us. You cannot just pretend it does not exist.”
“Oh, I could,” Mattie assured her. “If you’d let me, I definitely could.” She knew she was stepping over the line. Her mother had a quick temper, though no one would guess it watching her dreamy fortune-telling act.
This time, though, Maya held back. She just pointed to the wagon. “They have already paid.”
Mattie rolled her eyes and climbed up the steps, hitching up her skirt and neatening her hair, long and dark like Maya’s. She pushed open the door and saw that three of the seats around the table were taken, leaving only the last for her. And then, to her dismay, she realized that the customers sitting in them were the three girls she’d passed by earlier. They must have really hurried to get to the wagon before she did.
“See, I told you it was her! Mattie the Mind Reader,” the blond leader said in a mocking voice. “Oh, Mattie, would you read my mind? Please?” She made her eyes big and round and innocent, and she and her curly-haired friend laughed. The other girl looked embarrassed.
Mattie took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. These were clients, nothing more. She’d never have to see them again after today.
“Yes, of course I will,” she said, hoping her voice sounded serene. She closed the door, shutting out the noises of the fair. She walked to the empty chair and sat. Then she passed her hands over the table as if she were pushing away any stray thoughts that might have been lingering there. Clients liked this, she’d learned. Her movements were slow and graceful; she’d practiced them with Maya for years. The room was dark and quiet, and the smell of sandalwood was hypnotic.
“I’ll have to read you one at a time,” Mattie said to the blond. “Otherwise, the thoughts will be too confusing. And I’ll need to touch your hand.”
The girl put out her hand, and Mattie laid her own over it. She was flooded by thoughts. What a loser! came first, and she clenched her teeth. Then: The last fair didn’t have this, it’s kind of stupid. Used to be more fun at these things. So sick of hanging out with these jerks. Maybe next year I’ll go with Ben. Mattie saw an image of Ben, a handsome boy with dark hair kicking a soccer ball. He looked friendly. He looked like the kind of boy Mattie thought about sometimes, the kind of boy she’d never dare talk to if she actually met him.
“Ah, Kira,” Mattie said in a low voice, ignoring the twitch in the girl’s hand when she spoke her name. “I see a schoolyard. There’s a boy in a soccer uniform. He’s cute, with dark hair. I see that you like him, this Ben.” The girl jerked her hand away.
“Wait, how did you know my name? How did you know about Ben?” she demanded.
The other girls exchanged looks. “Maybe she heard us talking,” one of them suggested, the one with curly hair. “That’s how they do it, I think. They eavesdrop, and then they use that.” Kira pursed her lips, her eyes suspicious.
“Do me next!” the curly-haired girl said, and Mattie turned to her and touched her hand. Kind of cool. I wonder if anyone can really read minds? How about a test—hey, girl, Mattie the Mind Reader, read this! I kissed Ben myself, and Kira doesn’t know!
Mattie hated when this happened. People were always trying to test her. If she repeated what she’d heard, there’d be a huge fight, and screaming and crying probably, and usually she was the one who ended up getting in trouble. If she stayed quiet, then the person was convinced she was a fake. Sometimes they even asked for their money back.
“I see that Bette has some secrets,” she murmured. “I see that … no, they’re foggy. You keep your secrets well, Bette. I think … maybe you kissed someone.”
The third girl, the one with short dark hair, squealed, and Kira said, “Who? Wait, you kissed someone and didn’t tell us? Who was it?”
Bette stared at Mattie, and then said, “It was my brother’s friend. You know, Jake. At that party in June.” Mattie looked back at her without blinking, and Bette flushed.
“My turn!” cried the third girl, and Mattie leaned across the table to touch her hand. Her thoughts were all over the place, admiration for Kira mixed with jealousy and even a little fear, and a desperate wondering about whether she’d be invited to a sleepover someone was having the next weekend. She seemed nice, not mean like the other two. Mattie thought that in another world, another life, they might get along.
“I see strong feelings for friends,” Mattie said, “and a worry about an invitation.”
“What will happen?” the girl asked, her eyes wide in her round face.
“Sorry, I can’t read the future,” Mattie replied. “I can only see what you’re thinking right now.” That wasn’t exactly true. If she really concentrated, she could read people’s memories, their fears and longings. But she usually tried not to concentrate. She didn’t want to know.
“Wow.” The girl smiled shyly. “Do you like doing it?”
Mattie paused. Nobody had ever asked her that before. “Sometimes,” she said honestly. “It can be really … interesting.”
“Is that it?” Kira demanded. “Are you done?”
“Do you want me to say more?” Mattie asked her. With her eyes, she tried to convey that she knew what Kira thought about the other girls. Even in the dim light, Mattie could see Kira redden. She stood up, and Bette and the round-faced girl—Wendy—stood, too.
“What a freak,” Kira said. “You’re a whole family of freaks.” The others followed her out, but Wendy paused at the door and turned back. Mattie looked at her, outlined in brightness from the sun outside.
“Thanks. Bye,” Wendy said, and then she was gone.
Mattie sighed. It was hard to imagine what it would be like to know girls like that. Some of them were so nasty, once she read their thoughts, that she was glad she didn’t have to deal with them anyplace but in the wagon. But the ones like Wendy—well, it would be nice to have a friend like her. To go to school and the mall and to wear clothes like other girls wore. To have a normal life and a normal family.
Mattie neatened the cloth that covered the table and started to fold up the chairs. It was almost time for Da’s act. The objects he materialized were only illusions, but they made people gasp with awe. Sometimes he amazed even her, creating a gorgeous vase he’d seen on a museum postcard, or a wizened head from a National Geographic article on headhunters, almost real enough to touch if you dared. The best was when they worked together. Mattie would go through the crowd before the act started, touching people gently to see what was in their thoughts. Then she’d whisper to Da, and he’d make a beloved toy from someone’s childhood appear, or a necklace that had been lost for years, or the dress that an old woman had worn the night she fell in love.
The girls had left the wagon door open, so Mattie heard when the shouting began. Maya was yelling, “No, I will
not let you speak to her! You have no business with an eleven-year-old girl!”
“Oh, I’ve got business, lady,” the other person snarled back. With a start, Mattie realized it was the carnie, Dane. “Your kid sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong, did you know that?”
Mattie sidled over to the door and peeked out. Dane stood in front of Maya, towering over her. Beside him were two equally large and nasty-looking men, their heads shaved and their bulky biceps tattooed. Maya had an arm around Bell, and Da was hurrying toward them, Tibby on his shoulders. You couldn’t tell by looking at them, but it was only Da’s grip on Tibby’s legs that kept her from rising into the air.
“Mama!” Tibby cried, her eyes—one brown and one blue—round with wonder. “That man has a snake on his arm!” She pointed at Dane.
“What’s going on here?” Da asked.
“They said—,” Maya began.
“Your daughter’s been saying things she shouldn’t have,” Dane interrupted. “Spreading lies about me. I think it would be a real good idea if you all just left.”
“I see,” Da said, looking at the three men. Each of them outweighed him by about fifty pounds. “I see,” he said again. “Well, it just so happens that we were planning to leave shortly.”
“Now,” Dane suggested, and Da sighed.
“I meant now,” he agreed. He swung Tibby off his shoulders, whispering what Mattie knew was a command to stay rooted to the ground, and mounted the stairs to the wagon.
“Shhh,” he said when Mattie started to speak, to explain and apologize. “Let’s pack up.”
Silently and swiftly they got ready to go. There wasn’t much to do: they secured the things in the wagon that might fall over and break, and then Da backed the truck onto the wagon hitch. The three men watched without speaking, their arms folded across their broad chests. Maya strapped Tibby into her booster seat in the backseat of the truck, and Bell and Mattie climbed in on either side of her. Maya and Da took their places in the front, and Da turned the key. Luckily, the motor caught, though it coughed and the truck shuddered.
