by Laura Ruby
“This isn’t working,” said Theo, shoving a hand in his hair. Then, “Ouch!” because he’d forgotten he was still holding the chisel.
“Don’t chip your head,” said Jaime, but it came out wrong. Not chill or cheerful, not funny at all.
“Hello,” said Tess.
“Sorry?” said Jaime.
“I’m talking to the spiders,” she replied. She pointed at the plants hanging by the window. “They’re looking at us. See?”
Jaime was afraid to turn his head for fear that Tess was hallucinating, but she wasn’t hallucinating. A little crowd of spiders had gathered at the lip of one of the potted plants. And they did seem to watching with their strange, kookoo-bunny eyes.
They had too many eyes, Jaime thought. It wasn’t right.
“Do they . . . do they do this a lot?” Jaime said. “Watch you like that?”
“Well,” said Theo. “Ours mostly laugh.”
“Giggle,” Tess said. “It’s more like a giggle.”
“Okay?” said Jaime. Another couple of spiders joined the bunch at the lip of the pot. Then, a tiny voice said, “Hello.”
“And say ‘hello,’” Theo added.
“Uh-huh,” said Jaime. And flipped right off the couch when one of the spiders suddenly leaped from the potted plant and landed on the table in front of him.
“Don’t be afraid,” Tess murmured.
“. . . of the spiders,” Theo finished.
“Don’t be afraid of the spiders,” Jaime repeated after them, heart thudding anyway.
“The Vigenère cipher,” Tess breathed. “That was the solution to it. Don’t be afraid.”
The little spider giggled. “Hello, hello, hello.” It scuttled toward the center of the table, toward the puzzle, climbed on top of it.
Another spider leaped from the plant to the table, circled the puzzle. Then another. Spider after spider gathered. Jaime knelt in front of the table, brought the magnifying glass over the puzzle to better see what the spiders were doing. They swarmed the silvery cube, their bodies almost blending into the surface. Their tiny legs clicked and worked. Together, they flipped the puzzle over, and once again swarmed the surface. Then, they dropped the cube to the surface of the table with a thud. A shimmering wave of spiders raced across the table, off the edge, and across the floor.
The last spider crouched under the magnifying glass. “Hello!” it warbled. It seemed to Jaime that it had one less eye now—two shimmering green eyes rather than three. Then it giggled, before it jumped from the table and raced away, leaving the puzzle in front of them studded with gleaming, multicolored jewels, just like new.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tess
Tess heard Jaime and Theo exclaim over the puzzle, examine it, wonder aloud if anyone’s spiders would have done what Aunt Esther’s had done or if Aunt Esther’s spiders were special, and what that meant. If the colored stones were real jewels, and if they were, how much the puzzle would be worth. And she saw them scramble to solve it, turning the individual cubes this way and that, trying to match up the stones on each face.
But she didn’t really hear them and she didn’t really see them because she wasn’t really there. She was eleven years old again, and she’d had Nine for only six months. Nine was only twelve pounds then—still just a kitten, really—smart and fast and mischievous. Though she got Nine a license from the city, Tess’s mom hadn’t been convinced that Nine would make a good therapy animal until she saw the cat in training, how attentive and alert she was, how very clever and very strong, how she kept Tess from stumbling into traffic, how she kept Tess from spiraling into an anxiety attack, how she comforted Tess during her endless nightmares. When Nine went missing one snowy winter afternoon, Tess was frantic, but her mother wasn’t worried. Nine was too smart to get lost, she said. She’s playing a game, she said. Until they searched the whole building, the elevator, the roof, and the basement. Until the hours started to tick by, and darkness fell like a rough blanket over their heads as they roamed the alleys outside. Then the expression on her mother’s face moved from concern to alarm to resignation to acceptance, ticking through the emotions quick as the minute hand of a clock.
“Tess, it’s freezing. I need to get you inside. I’m sure Nine has found a place to . . . hide.”
“No,” Tess had said. “She’ll find us. Wherever she is. I know it. We just have to keep calling.”
Her mother touched Tess’s shoulder, must have felt the deep shiver that started at Tess’s knees and vibrated all the way up to Tess’s head. But her mother relented, stayed out with Tess another half hour anyway, shouting over the sounds of cars and Rollers and madly barking dogs until both their voices went dry and hoarse. And even after she forced Tess inside to warm up, she let Tess roam the building, let her search the basement and the elevator and the halls and the roof one more time.
When Tess got back to her apartment, she found her father cooking dinner, Theo doing homework, and her mother folding laundry in front of the TV. Then, it was the rage rather than the radiators that warmed her.
“What are you doing?” she’d shouted at them.
They all stopped, staring.
“She’s out there, and you’re just . . . making stew and folding underwear as if nothing’s wrong!”
“Tess,” her mother began, but Tess roared, “NO!” as loud as she could. With renewed determination, she turned and ran back into the hallway, calling Nine’s name. She knocked on every apartment door, explored every nook and cranny of the building she could think of, including every inch of Grandpa Ben’s place, while Grandpa and Lance watched her, both of them wringing their hands. When she got down to the lobby, she pressed her face to the glass, tears turning to frost on her cheeks, stinging there. Through the glass, she could still hear the incessant barking and whining of the dogs. Why? Why did they keep barking? What were they barking at?
What were they barking at?
She burst from the building, followed the sound of the barks. It led her down the alley along one side, where rows of now-empty cans and dumpsters squatted in the darkness. A lone man pulled at the leashes of a half dozen dogs who were frantically sniffing and barking at one of the dumpsters.
“Will you guys cut it out! LEAVE IT!”
Tess ran up to the man. “What are they barking at?”
“What else? Dog pee, table scraps, garbage. I don’t know! What do you expect from animals with brains the size of baseballs.” He tugged at the leashes again. “I SAID, LEAVE IT!”
The dogs, who ranged in size from teacup to pony, were trying to stick their heads under the dumpster. Tess pushed the pony aside and peered underneath.
“Nine?” she said.
The answer was a frighteningly weak “Mrrow.”
“Oh, Nine!” Tess reached under the dumpster and discovered that Nine was wrapped up in some kind of old net. Volleyball or badminton or something. The more the kitten had struggled against it, the more it must have gotten tangled around her paws and her neck, the tighter it must had bound her. When Tess ripped off the net and pulled her out from underneath the dumpster, tucked the cat inside her coat, the cat was so cold, so, so cold, far more cold than a living thing should ever be and still live.
She ignored the dog walker and his dogs, who yelled and yipped at her back. She ran all the way from the alley to the lobby, from the lobby the elevator, from the elevator to her apartment, could barely speak after she threw open the door, showed her parents what was stowed in her coat. The entire family packed into a cab and raced to the nearest emergency vet. The vet said that if Tess hadn’t found Nine when she did, the cat could have died in the freezing cold.
“You saved her life,” the vet said. “Maybe one day, she’ll return the favor.”
Traffic, anxiety attacks, nightmares. Tess had said, “She already has.”
“Who has what?” Theo and Jaime, both of them huddled around the puzzle, stared at her from their perch on Aunt Esther’s couch.
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sp; “Nothing,” Tess said. She got up and went to the window. She nudged the thin curtains aside. On the street, groups of women pushed strollers, kids ran for the nearest park or basketball court, men hung out on stoops, laughing. A blond woman in a red dress walked by, bright hair bouncing.
Tess bolted for the door.
“Tess!” Theo shouted, but Tess was already outside, already chasing the blond woman. She caught the woman’s arm just as she reached the corner.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Tess yelled. “Where’s Nine? What did you do to my cat?”
The woman turned, wide-eyed. “What? What do you mean?”
She was younger than Tess had expected. Acne dotted her chin. Tiny printed flowers covered the red dress. She looked about as dangerous as a daisy. “Why would I do anything to anyone’s cat? I’m allergic to cats!”
“I . . . ,” Tess started. “I think I might have the wrong person.”
“No duh,” said the girl, rubbing her arm. Footsteps thundered behind them. Theo and Jaime, breathing hard.
“Is everything okay?” Jaime said.
“Your friend needs serious help,” said the girl, before turning and flouncing away.
Tess hugged herself. “I saw the red dress and I thought . . .”
“We know,” said Jaime.
Theo said, “Let’s go back inside. We almost solved the puzzle.”
Who cares? Tess thought, but she didn’t bother to say it.
“Tess,” said Theo. “She’ll be back. I know it.”
Tess dragged her gaze to her brother. “How do you know?”
Theo thought about this for a moment, searching his brain for evidence to back up his statement, then shrugged helplessly. “I just know.”
“That’s my line,” Tess said.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m learning to trust my gut sometimes.”
“Trust your gut? Who are you?”
“Your brother,” said Theo, holding out his hand.
There was nothing else to do but take it.
Inside, the puzzle sat on the table, just a few stones out of place. Tess tried to trust her own gut, tried to pay attention as Theo and Jaime passed the puzzle back and forth, each of them trying different twists and turns. She watched as Theo tested different maneuvers, talking out loud about how logical and beautiful the puzzle was as he did. Her gaze, however, kept drifting to the window.
Until Theo said, “Got it!”
He placed the silver cube in the center of the table and then sat back. They waited for something to happen. And waited. And waited.
Jaime said, “Should we ask the spiders for help?” A joke, or maybe not.
“What if the spiders didn’t help?” Theo said. “What if they put the jewels in random places and we haven’t really solved anything?”
Jaime shrugged. Theo tugged at his lip. Tess wondered whether she should check behind the house. Maybe Nine was stuck behind one of the cans back there, or tangled in one of the bushes. But then, how would she have gotten across the water from Manhattan? She would have had to hitch a ride somehow. Taxi or car or Underway train. Or Underway tunnel. What if Nine was beneath the city right now? What if she was wandering in the dark? What if she ran into one of those giant ants? Or something much bigger?
Theo squeezed her hand again. Tess squeezed back. He’d done this last night, she remembered suddenly. Sensed when she was spinning, touched her arm, or talked to her. How long had he done that? An hour? All night? Theo? He didn’t look any different—same bushy hair, same frown, same skinny frame, same annoying habits of pulling on his lip and burying his hand in his unruly curls, one elbow sticking out. And yet, in his profile, in the rough, awkward squeeze of his fingers, she got a glimpse of someone older, someone wiser, someone who could focus on whatever technical problem presented itself but who also could tear himself away from technical problems, sense the brokenness in people, and try his best to fix that as well.
The cube rattled. It settled for a few minutes, then rattled again.
“I hope it doesn’t explode,” Jaime said. Another joke. Or not.
“It won’t explode,” said Theo.
It might, Tess thought.
It didn’t. It rattled, then bounced, thudding on the table’s surface. They all jumped.
“It sounds like when Mima makes popcorn,” Jaime said, right before the cube burst, then pulled in on itself, combining and recombining. Two short “arms” shot out from its sides, two “feet” erupted from the bottom. A tiny, boxy head, complete with two jeweled blue eyes, popped from the top.
“What is that supposed to be?” Tess said.
“A toy?” Jaime said.
“Doesn’t look like something the Morningstarrs would build,” Theo said.
Jaime knelt next to the table. “Maybe they didn’t build this one. Hey, there, robot. What are you about?”
The little robot shuddered, then spat out what looked like an overlarge jack from a game of jacks. It hit Jaime in the nose.
“Oh, man,” said Theo. “How are we going to return the puzzle now?”
“We can put it back the way it was later,” said Tess.
Jaime picked up the larger silver jack-like piece. “This must be the center axis of the cube.”
Theo said, “Save that. We might need it.”
“I wasn’t going to eat it,” said Jaime, tucking it into one of his many pockets.
But Tess wasn’t looking at the axis; she was watching the robot. It was completely still for a moment, but then the blue eyes flared. It lifted one tiny arm in the direction of the front door. In a tiny, tinny voice, it said, “To the Land of Kings!”
“The land of what?” Jaime said.
It turned its tiny, boxy head and marched its tiny, boxy body across the circular table, a trip that took a rather long time. When it reached the edge of the table, it stopped, looked down.
“Oh no,” it said.
It swiveled, marched in another direction, reached the edge.
“Oh no,” it said again.
A third trip across the table yielded the same result.
“Oh no.”
“This is going well,” Jaime said. He scooped up the robot.
“Don’t touch it! What if it’s dangerous?” Theo said.
“It’s not dangerous,” Jaime said, placing the robot on the floor. “Are you?”
The robot marched across the living room. It reached the door with a little thunk, but kept marching in place, saying “Oh no, oh no, oh no,” the whole time.
“I think it wants us to follow it out the door,” Tess said.
“Yeah,” said Theo, “but we can’t run around outside, not yet. We don’t want more trouble.”
All Tess wanted to do was run around outside. What if Nine was outside? What if she needed help?
“I don’t want to lie low,” Tess said. “I’m tired of lying low.”
“It’s only been a day, Tess,” Theo said.
“I don’t care.”
“We’re already all over the internet with that creepy woman’s video,” Jaime said. He walked to the robot and picked it up, cradled it in the crook of his elbow.
“Oh no,” said the robot forlornly.
At that moment, Aunt Esther opened the door, her arms full of groceries. She regarded the three of them, the little robot in Jaime’s hands. “Have a new friend, I see. What’s its name?”
“Name?”
“Everything has a name.”
“Oh no,” said the robot.
“That’s its name, Aunt Esther,” Tess said, taking one of the grocery bags. “Ono.”
“It’s original at least,” said Aunt Esther. “Any word about Nine?”
“Not yet,” Tess said. “We were thinking of looking for her but . . .”
“But?”
“We don’t want to end up in another video,” said Tess.
“Well, that’s an easy problem to solve,” said Aunt Esther, heading for the kitchen.
“It is?”
“Certainly,” Aunt Esther said. “All you need is the right disguise.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Theo
Theo was not one for disguises. For example, his last seven Halloween costumes were ghost, ghost, ghost, nerd, ghost, nerd ghost, and a bushy-haired TV painter named Bob Ross who liked to paint “happy little trees.” Every October, Theo argued that he didn’t actually need a costume because no one outside of his apartment building knew who he was anyway, so why bother when, technically, he was a mystery to everyone? Which was when his dad draped a sheet over his head and told him to say thank you even if stores on the block gave out candy bars with nougat.
Theo hated nougat. But Tess loved candy bars with nougat, and she loved Aunt Esther’s idea.
“What kind of disguises?” Tess asked, as they all piled into the kitchen to unload the groceries.
“Whatever kind you like,” Aunt Esther said. “I’ve still got three trunks full of costumes from my days in the theater. I could never bring myself to part with them.”
“When were you in the theater?” Theo asked automatically—and pointlessly—because Aunt Esther never explained herself.
“Oh, a long time ago,” Aunt Esther said. “When we’re done putting away the food, we’ll take a look and see.” She eyed the little robot still tucked in Jaime’s arms. “We might even find something for your friend, there.”
Later, after lunch, they traipsed up the stairs to the attic where Aunt Esther kept her trunks. She had dozens and dozens of them in various shapes and sizes and colors. She’d even given Tess her own trunk as a Hanukkah present some five years ago, an old-fashioned brown leather thing that Tess called “The Magix.” Tess would never tell Theo what she kept in there.
Aunt Esther had no such qualms. She threw open a large red trunk and pulled out dresses and suits and leotards and props from it, tossing them to the floor or at Theo, Tess, and Jaime.
She pulled out an elaborate gold gown with a huge skirt. “One of you could go as Lady MacBeth.”
