27 Magic Words

by Sharelle Byars Moranville

  He nodded again.

  Kobi could have floated out of her seat.

  When Uncle Wim got to Sally’s that evening, he looked exhausted. His necktie was rolled up and stuck in his shirt pocket. He wasn’t hungry, even though Sally had baked a squash from the garden and the smell of brown sugar and butter filled the kitchen.

  Kobi wasn’t hungry, either, though she was interested in the squash and had drawn a picture of it after Sally had cut it open to reveal the seeds. She hadn’t cared a thing for the botanical drawings Mademoiselle had encouraged them to do, but Sally’s fruits and vegetables and flowers fascinated her.

  Uncle Wim’s eyes landed on Kobi now and then and she looked away. She told herself it didn’t matter. She’d be leaving Des Moines soon and math worksheets would be no more than a scary dream.

  When they got to Uncle Wim’s house, she went straight upstairs to get the footlocker key out of her keepsake box. Her mother’s books were inside the footlocker. She didn’t want to part with one, but Grandmamma had all of Beatrice Bonnard’s (her mother’s author name) novels in a bookcase in the foyer of her apartment for everyone to see. And she had extra copies in the storage room.

  Kobi’s keepsake box, where she kept pictures and little things, had been under her bed, but now it was on her desk. She went through the box carefully, pausing to look at the picture of herself and Mr. Gyver’s prizewinning pig, taken at his farm outside Paris. She wished Grandmamma would feel better and they could have their honeymoon. She sorted through everything twice and then a third time, but she didn’t find the key.

  She barged into the bathroom, where Brook was getting into the tub.

  “Hey!” Brook said, pulling a towel around herself.

  Kobi rolled her eyes. She’d seen Brook’s naked body twenty million times. “You don’t know where my footlocker key is, do you?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t go anywhere near your precious key.”

  Kobi scowled. She couldn’t remember seeing the key since . . . the Paris airport when she set off the alarm. She had carried the key in the pocket of the white eyelet dress. Dimpling had gotten it safely through security and back into her pocket.

  She found the dress on the rod that Sally had installed for their hanging clothes in their closet. She felt inside the pockets. No key. She tried to remember. She had put the dress in the laundry and Uncle Wim had done the laundry. Maybe the key had fallen out of the pocket in the washer or dryer.

  Although Uncle Wim was on his bed with folders spread out and his laptop open, she asked him to go to the basement with her. He felt around in the washer and took everything out of the dryer and shook it. He pulled the washer and dryer away from the wall.

  “Sorry, kiddo,” he said. “What’s in that footlocker, anyway?”

  Not even Grandmamma or Brook knew.

  “Some things,” she said.

  “Why do you need to get in it tonight?”

  “I just do,” she said.

  “You’re a fount of information.” He touched her head. “What do you think Ms. Carlson said about you during our conference?”

  The bare bulb glared, making the basement laundry room look scary, like a good place for torture.

  But she wanted to find the key right now. School wasn’t that important.

  “Maybe the key got folded up with the laundry. I need to check everything,” she said, turning toward the stairs.

  “Hey, kiddo. Slow down. We’ll find the key or pick the lock.”

  She didn’t want anybody else touching the footlocker.

  “I’ll find it,” she said, running up the stairs. “Don’t worry.”

  In their walk-in closet, she shook out all her clothes, her hands trembling. The footlocker was more than a thing she needed to open to get a book for Norman. It held her parents’ things. Special things they would need when they got home. If she lost the key it would be a sign of something she couldn’t think about.

  She threw a whole load of magic at it—dimpling, honeysuckle, trillium, veronica—and wasn’t surprised that she couldn’t think of where the key might be. Someone else had to want the key.

  Brook. If Brook wanted to see what was in the footlocker . . .

  “Brook!” she said, bursting into the bathroom again.

  Brook was in the tub. She glared at Kobi.

  “I’m sorry,” Kobi said, covering her eyes. “Do you want to see what’s in the footlocker?”

  Brook was silent. “Why are you tormenting me?” she finally said.

  “I’m not. Really. You want to see?”

  “Well, yeah,” Brook said, finally. “Of course.”

  Kobi let out her breath. “Okay.” Now she could use her magic to find the key. Trillium. Veronica. She let out the flower words in a rush. “I have to find the key first, and then I’ll show you.”

  “I know where the key might be. Remember the first night? When you said to throw our dresses over the oryx? The key fell out of your pocket and slid under the tub. I forgot.”

  Kobi let out an explosion of air and kissed her sister’s wet face. Then she lay down and pressed her cheek to the floor. In the shadows, she saw what she was looking for. The key was cobwebby and dusty. She polished it with her fingers. She kissed it, too.

  “Oh, spare me,” Brook said. But she got out of the tub, dried herself off, pulled on her pajamas, and, her eyes shining with curiosity, said, “Show me.”

  Kobi was so relieved to have the key that she’d forgotten why she wanted to open the footlocker. But when the top went back and she saw her mother’s books, she remembered.

  Brook knelt beside her. “I’ve always wanted to know what’s in here.”

  Kobi took out the five books with their mother’s name on the spine and her picture on the back.

  “Mom’s books,” Brook said, sitting cross-legged and holding each one, running her hands over them.

  Kobi sniffed the next thing before handing it to her sister.

  “Mom’s shampoo,” Brook said, her voice catching. “Orange blossom.”

  The next thing rattled when Kobi picked it up.

  “Ramen noodles?” Brook said, reading the package.

  “Mom made me ramen noodles every day when I came home from kindergarten at noon.”

  “Really? She never made ramen noodles for me.”

  Kobi shrugged. “You were eating at school.”

  She lifted out her dad’s huge, heavy, satin-lined magician’s cape with its secret pockets.

  “I wondered what happened to this,” Brook said, hugging it. Her eyes glistened with tears.

  “His hat, his wand,” Kobi said, putting them on the floor. “There’s a white rabbit in our classroom. It’s Dante.”

  Brook looked skeptical.

  “And remember this?” Kobi asked, holding up another book.

  “It’s what Daddy was reading to us at bedtime,” Brook said, taking Mr. Popper’s Penguins from Kobi. “Look. His bookmark is on page thirty-two.” She touched the Post-it.

  The girls sat in silence. Kobi felt their parents right there with them. Brook brushed tears off her face.

  “I’m glad you kept all this, Kobi,” Brook said finally, rising to her knees. “What else is in here? What’s in the bag?”

  Kobi pushed her hand back.

  “Didn’t wooden blocks used to be in that bag?” Brook asked. “Did you save our blocks? I want to see them.”

  “No. You can’t see what’s in the bag.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s private.” That was what Brook had been saying to her lately.

  Brook looked miffed, but she didn’t try to touch the bag again.

  After a while, Brook took both of Kobi’s hands as if they were playing ring-around-the-rosy. Kobi felt how big the world really was. How far away Paris was. And China. She wished Grandmamma and Mr. Gyver wouldn’t go to China. They could honeymoon at Mr. Gyver’s farm. And her parents were such a long way off, on their island.

 
; Finally, Brook let go of Kobi’s hands and stood up. “I need to have Uncle Wim initial my daily planner,” she said.

  “Okay,” Kobi said.

  She put everything in the footlocker except for the book she chose for Norman. She locked the footlocker and put the key in her keepsake box.

  Later, when Kobi was in bed and almost asleep, Brook said, “Are you sure you turned the faucet off all the way?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  Brook padded down the hall and in a few seconds padded back.

  Kobi had almost dozed off when Brook got up again. Kobi knew what was coming. Seeing what was in the footlocker had made Brook worry.

  After Brook’s fifth trip to the bathroom, Kobi dragged herself out of bed and went along.

  As they passed Uncle Wim’s bedroom, where he was reading, he said, “Everything okay? You girls need to get to sleep.”

  “We’re okay,” Kobi said. She wished Grandmamma were here. Grandmamma knew how to comfort Brook.

  Kobi stood by the sink with her sister. The faucet wasn’t dripping. She ran her finger around the tip. It didn’t come away wet. “We’ll stand right here and count five hundred chimpanzees,” Kobi said. “If the faucet hasn’t dripped by then, it’s not going to drip.”

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Brook hesitated. “Five hundred is a good number,” she said. “It can be divided by two, four, five, and ten. Those add up to twenty-one, which can be divided by three and seven, and those add up to ten, which can be divided by five and two. And those are prime numbers.” Brook smiled, looking less pale and stressed.

  Kobi nodded, glad she hadn’t accidentally picked a bad number. “You count,” she said.

  As Brook counted the chimps to five hundred, the oryx gazed at them with his light-up eyes. He had become a friendly beast. Kobi hoped Sally didn’t put him in a garage sale after she married Uncle Wim. Phyllo bundle.

  SIXTEEN

  “YOUR teacher is going to be talking to you about a special math program,” Uncle Wim said on the way to school the next morning. “She says it will bring you up to speed.”

  Kobi felt Brook’s eyes.

  Kobi sighed. “Why? I’ll be going home soon.”

  “They can’t just babysit you, Kobi. They have to actually educate you.”

  “Are you going into remedial math?” Brook asked, horror in her voice.

  “It’s not remedial math,” Uncle Wim said. “It’s a tutorial program. Like you have tutors when you’re with Mom. Your teacher says you’re doing great overall. She says you’re adjusting to the change. She tells me you introduced them to the work of the famous artist Patricia Hancock.”

  The look Uncle Wim gave her in the mirror was so full of affection that Kobi didn’t know what to say. She smiled, hoping he knew she loved the way he didn’t get upset about things. Well, there was the stove the first weekend. But not about the math.

  As they drove past the little brick church, the bells burst forth.

  “Did you remember?” Norman asked the minute she got to her desk.

  “Yes.” When she handed him the book she said quietly, “Please don’t tell anybody. I have just a few left.” She glanced at Anna and Lily, who were feeding the bunny.

  “I won’t. I promise.” He looked so proud it made Kobi hate herself for the way she’d acted.

  When Norman saw her mother’s autograph, he beamed. “Now I have seven author-autographed books, but this is my first adult novel. I’ll read it when I’m an adult,” he said.

  Anna came to them. She ignored Norman. “Look what I did last night. I printed this picture off the Internet so it looks like a postcard.” It was the melting castle with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background. “Is Patricia Hancock still visiting her daughter?”

  Kobi nodded, although visiting wasn’t exactly the right word. Norman walked away, cradling the book.

  “Would you have her autograph this for me? Please?” Anna asked.

  “She doesn’t give autographs.”

  “Oh.” Anna looked disappointed.

  “Her daughter doesn’t like people pestering her.”

  Anna took Kobi’s arm. “You’re so lucky. Imagine knowing a celebrity! Do you think I could meet her? Maybe not meet her exactly. Just look at her.”

  Kobi paled at the thought. But she pretended to be thinking.

  “She doesn’t see her public much. But maybe I could ask her about the autograph.” She stressed the maybe. “Norman is my friend.” It felt good to declare it, like she was telling even herself that she really did have a friend. “I want you to be nice to him if I get you an autograph.”

  “Oh,” Lily said, taking a step back. “To Norman?”

  Kobi nodded. “And I think he should be invited to Lily’s birthday party.”

  Anna looked doubtful.

  “He’s nice,” Kobi said. “He’s kind and smart and interesting. He just has trouble blending in.” She reached for the postcard.

  Anna said, “I’ll see what I can do.” With steel in her voice, she said, “But I want the autograph.” Her look said Or else.

  Ms. Carlson took Kobi aside. She asked if Kobi’s uncle had talked to her about the conference.

  “Yes,” Kobi said. “I’m sorry I cheated on my worksheets.”

  “I wouldn’t call it cheating. You found a creative solution to your problem—though not the best one for the long run. Ms. Lake, who’ll be coming to get you first thing every morning, will help you get up to speed. You’ll be back with us in no time.”

  After school, Kobi showed Sally the postcard Anna had made.

  “Ah,” Sally said, looking at it. “I remember that day. Nancy Phillips invited me to her twelfth birthday party and I didn’t get there until all the other kids were leaving because Mom was mobbed by people wanting her autograph and then we got caught in traffic on the bridge.”

  “The girl who printed this would like your mother to autograph it,” Kobi said.

  “Oh, Kobi, I don’t know . . .”

  “The girl who’s asking says if I can get your mother’s autograph she’ll be nice to someone who’s nice to me.”

  “I’d forgotten what fifth-grade politics are like,” Sally said after a while. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Malleable, Kobi said silently. It was the right thing to do for Norman, and that was what was important.

  Armed with Ms. Lake’s encouragement and explanation, Kobi sat down with Brook at the table and got out her math worksheet. Sally went upstairs with her mother.

  When they came down, Sally gave Kobi the postcard. On the back, in black ink, was scrawled Best, P Hancock.

  “Thank you!” Kobi told Ms. Hancock, but Ms. Hancock was going out the door. In no time, she had taken several chairs from the shed and was dragging them into a formation.

  “Does she need help?” Kobi asked Sally.

  “I don’t think so. Looking at the picture your friend printed . . .” Sally shook her head.

  As she followed Sally outside, Kobi thought about saying Anna wasn’t her friend.

  The neighbor who trimmed trees came out on his porch and asked Sally if her mother needed help.

  “Maybe.”

  Soon his truck was idling in the drive. The truck had a folding arm with a bucket on the end.

  “Thanks,” Sally called.

  The neighbor gave a salute.

  Uncle Wim also arrived about that time, and Brook came outside to see what was going on. Ms. Hancock stood in the late-afternoon sunshine gazing into space. She wore a long orange scarf that ruffled in the breeze.

  Kobi felt uneasy.

  Ms. Hancock came to them. “So glad you could be here,” she said, shaking Kobi’s and Brook’s hands.

  Uncle Wim kissed her cheek.

  Ms. Hancock searched his face. “Do I know you?”

  Sally made a sound it hurt Kobi to hear. Ms. Hancock always knew Uncle Wim.

  “I’m Wim. We met in San Francisc
o a long time ago.”

  “Ah,” Ms. Hancock said. “It’s nice to see you again.” Turning away, she began to build the installation.

  Kobi saw Sally trying to hide her tears. Uncle Wim took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. Kobi was so glad Grandmamma wasn’t dotty. She wanted to put her arms around both Sally and Uncle Wim. She wanted them to get married and make the big house beautiful so when she and Brook went home they’d be all settled with each other. Ms. Hancock could have Brook’s and her bedroom. Phyllo bundle.

  The neighbor got into the bucket on the end of the folding arm. The bucket hummed up and down as he placed the chairs according to Ms. Hancock’s direction.

  A man walking a dog stopped to watch. Sally took her hand from Uncle Wim and wiped her tears away. The carillon rang out, playing a beautiful song. Kobi had never realized that Sally and Ms. Hancock could hear it, too. Ms. Hancock stopped what she was doing for a moment, then went back to arranging the chairs.

  As the installation grew, the breeze became stronger and the sky looked stormy. Uncle Wim went inside to get Sally a sweater.

  Finally, Ms. Hancock pointed to the red chair with fancy legs. She signaled the chair’s placement and, when it was balanced on the very top, let her arms fall at her sides.

  The old installation had been cheerful and full of energy. But this one—maybe because the chairs were faded now and the day was growing cold—gave Kobi a sinking feeling, like those moments on the phone when Grandmamma said, “Well . . .” and Kobi knew their conversation was turning toward the end.

  Kobi didn’t understand how the installation could make her feel torn up. It was a pile of dusty chairs. But she was so full of emotion that she had to stand up and clap, even though she felt sad.

  Sally looked surprised. But then everybody applauded. Ms. Hancock bowed, her orange scarf brushing the grass. Sally hugged Kobi’s shoulders and kissed her temple. Kobi hadn’t thought she wanted anybody but Brook or Grandmamma or Mr. Gyver to kiss her, but she decided she liked Sally’s kiss.

  Uncle Wim’s phone quacked. He glanced at the display and stepped away. Kobi could tell he was talking to Grandmamma. It was late in Paris.