Death of the Mad Hatter (8 page)

“
I’ll take that under consideration.”

“
Do you have plans this Saturday night?”

“
Yes.”

“
Maybe next weekend?” Mick asked.

“
Maybe.”

He handed
her back the remote. “Let me know.”

He walked out of the room, not bother
ing to talk to me before leaving. Striking out was never pretty. I shut the door when I was sure he was down the hall. I walked past her to the trashcan and picked up her wrapper and the paper ball. I tossed the paper in the trash but held onto the wrapper.

“
Where did you get that bruise on your arm?” I asked, hoping to keep her distracted from my hand.

“You can see them?”

“I’m not blind.”

She narrowed her voltage blue eyes
. “I fell.”

Textbook
batter woman syndrome. I wanted to do something, anything. I was about four seconds from alerting the school counselor. “You fell?” I repeated.

“Down a
rabbit hole.”

“
It must have been a pretty big rabbit to dig—”

“I’m not lying, not about this Ryley, so you can get off your white horse and stop trying to save me.
I don’t need to be saved. I’m perfectly fine managing my own life.” She crossed her arms and glared at me like I’d done something insulting. “Why am I defending myself to you? Something’s seriously Wrong with me! But if you must know, rumperbabbit holes are particularly exorbitant in this part of the country.”

The corners of my mouth twitched
. “Of course they are.”

She turned away from me and
slipped on her oversized t-shirt. I sniffed the wrapper she’d thrown away. A faint cherry scent lingered. I tasted some of the residue. It wasn’t particularly sweet, but I quickly had the biggest sugar rush of my life.

She grabbed her duffle bag and headed for the door. Instinctively, I reached for her bruised arm to stop her, but I hesitated. She stared at my hand, like she was looking for a reason to fight.

“You are really okay? You really just tripped?”
Regardless of her answer, I made a mental note to alert the school counselor.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” she said
, and sighed heavily. “It’s a pity, really.”

“
What’s a pity?” I asked.

She gave me a wide berth as she walked to the door.
I thought for sure that she’d walk out without answering me, but when she reached for the handle, she turned to face me.

“
That Mr. Edgar didn’t tell you more before he became trapped inside the prison of his mind.”

That
was it! I raced toward her and slammed the door shut just as she was opening it. “You know nothing about my dad!”

She gave me a sympathetic look.
“No Ryley, it’s you that knows nothing.”

“
What do you know about him?”

“
Many things, but none of it really matters, not anymore.”

What was that supposed to mean?
“Who is Zola Maude—the lady whose hair he lit on fire?”

“
Vida Maude’s sister.”

“
More information would be abundantly helpful!” I said and slammed my fist against the door, next to her head. She pinched her eyes shut and braced for impact. “For years, no one knows about my dad and then you show up and act like you’ve known him for years! Explain!”

“
Zola Maude and Vida Maude are my aunts,” Alice Mae said, and slowly opened her eyes. “And my legal guardians when I stay in this part of the country.”

“
Where are you from?”

Sucking harder on her candy, she
nervously picked up the edge of her shirt. “I might as well live in a completely different world from you, Ryley. We’re obviously different to understand each other, much less communicate with any measurable civility.”

Suddenly she jerked her head toward
an opened window on the far side of the classroom. She rolled her eyes like it annoyed her that it was open in the first place. “Chez, I don’t need a babysitter!”

S
he looked from the window, to the floor, until she stared at her shoes. It was like she was watching an invisible person crawl through the window, onto the floor and stop at her feet.

“
I’ve already made too many fatal mistakes, I shouldn’t tell him anything else,” she mumbled to herself and then looked back at me like she forgot we had been in the middle of a discussion. “I shouldn’t have piqued your curiosity. It was cruel because I can’t tell you anything else.”

T
he door opened. Mrs. Dotson dropped her sheet music when she saw me and Alice Mae unaccompanied in the classroom. “What are you two doing
alone
?” she asked, suspiciously.

“Practicing,” Alice Mae said at the same time I said, “Just leaving.”

I
quickly shoved my hands into my short pockets and stepped over Mrs. Dotson’s fallen papers. I was halfway down the hall when Alice Mae called out my name. She peered from the door frame.

“
Did you like my dance? I’ve been working on it for years, per the Joker’s request,” she said and bit her bottom lip like she was trying to seduce me.

“
I don’t like you.”

“
That’s not what I asked.”

“
Frustrating isn’t it? Getting answers to questions you didn’t ask, but are noteworthy nonetheless.” Why couldn’t I get this girl out of my head? What was I doing? I asked the first, random question that popped into my head. “Do you like me?”

She smiled, but
I couldn’t tell if it was an
I like you back
smile or
I enjoy messing with you
smile.

“
I never really knew my father, or my mother for that matter,” she said. “I came to live with my aunts when I was just a girl, but I know if I had the chance to see them again, I would take it.”

“
You have no right to tell me how to run my life,” I said, cynically. “You don’t know up from down, so that you have the audacity to offer unwanted advice is comical.”

“
Why would my sense of direction matter when we are discussing family members? Besides, I just thought you might need some advice—you know, from a friend to a friend.”

“
Let’s get this straight right now. We are
not
friends.”

“
I just thought that since you were finding reasons to hang out with me…” Her voice trailed off. Her bottom lip trembled. She pulled out another piece of wrapped candy and popped it in her mouth. The sugar seemed to calm her. When she was no longer shaking, she turned around and walked briskly in the opposite direction. The halls echoed, so I could hear her arguing with Mr. Ruth about the theory of relativity and where jerk-faces fit into the time and space grid.

“
I disagree, Mr. Ruth,” she said, dramatically talking with her hands. “Ryley absorbs more space every time I talk to him. I would suggest that he’s a catalyst, like a black hole to which we will all get discombobulated if we aren’t careful and keep our distance.”

I
wouldn’t have thought Alice Mae had the cognitive ability to understand Einstein’s time and space relativity theory. Discovering that offset my awe because she discussed that theory with a toy.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

(
Ryley: Present Time)

The masonry work
that had been used when building the brick wall next to the AP physics class door was well done. I’d know. I just walked right into it. It hadn’t budged. If I had been walking any faster, I’d probably have a goose egg. Conversely, if I weren’t inspecting Alice Mae’s homemade candy wrapper like it held the secrets to the universe, I probably would have noticed the gigantic wall that had always been there. I heard a few snickers but pretended not to notice and found my way next to Irwin, the smartest guy I knew.

Dumping my bag on the floor, I
shot up a quick prayer that, the physics teacher wouldn’t ask me to read anything. My algebra book wasn’t going to do me much good. Fortunately, I’d grabbed the right notebook. I convinced myself that it was the candy wrapper that had distracted me, not Alice Mae. I tore out my notes from yesterday and handed them to Irwin who was scribbling on his tablet.

“
T-t-thanks,” he said, taking my notes. “I think my oo-orthodontist is trying to run my f-family dry with all these appointments. M-most p-p-p-people don’t have to g-g-go once a week.”

I felt sorry for the kid. He
might as well have a bull’s-eye on him. He was the epitome of a nerd—braces, glasses, curly long hair, plaid shirt with a vest, pants too short and distinct stutter. If we’d have a debate team, he’d be on it. But instead he played chess, was the backstage man for plays, and used his study period to teach mathematics to younger classmen. I had a soft place in my heart for Irwin. If I wasn’t good at baseball, we’d basically be the same person—a geek who was into physics and liked performing on stage.

“
You’re in advanced chemistry, right?” I asked. After he nodded, I handed him the candy wrapper. “Can you tell if there is any substance laced in with this candy?”

He pushed his glasses
up after they had slid down when he inspected the wrapper. “Of c-course I can. Just g-g-give me a few d-a-ays.”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

(
Alice Mae: First visit to Wonderland Continued…)

A
n old hag, whose white hair with purple streaks stuck out in every direction, slammed the door in M.H.’s face. He leaned against the indigo door, chipping the sun-curdled paint with his pointy fingernail. The door was the most presentable aspect of the entire makeshift house. It had been pieced together with twine and duct tape, and painted with giveaway samples from a paint store.

“
You’d have me be publically humiliated rather than help out an old friend?” M.H. asked, so painfully pathetic that I wouldn’t have wasted another minute to open the door.

“
We are not friends,” Genevine called out.

“Friends. Confidants. Buddies… Foes with a common enemy—they all mean the same thing. It’s no secret you and the Queen of Hearts had a falling out,” M.H. said, speaking in his typical happy-go-lucky tone. He enjoyed covering up his true intentions with giddy commentary. “We’re on the same side.”

“
We’re on the same side?” she said, mockingly. “And which side would that be? Clearly not the same side of this door.”

“
The side that is against the Bleeding Heart.”

Genevine cracked the door, but only enough so I could see
one of her sea green eyes. Her soft green eyes turned dark. A parlor trick, no doubt.

She wore enough makeup to
supply a model convention for a year. But she didn’t look out of the ordinary, in this realm. Even M.H. had a particular fondness for the facial application that seemed to be accepted.

“
Admit that I’m the most skillful designer, seamstress, and fashionista in Wonderland—including hat making—and I’ll consider helping you,” Genevine said, peering through the peephole in the door. “You should really just stick to Candy Making. You don’t suck at that.”

“You make candy?” I asked.

“Who do you think created the recipe for the
Drink Me
juice?” he said, rhetorically.

M.H.
turned around and bent over so the grumpy woman could see the fiery hole in his pants. “I just need a patch for my bottoms. It wouldn’t take more than five—six-stitches—tops.”

“
Then drop trou and hand them over,” Genevine said.

“
And prance around half dressed? What will the girl think?” M.H. said and gestured to me.

“
What girl? Does she have a boy’s name?” Genevine asked.

How
hadn’t she noticed me standing next to M.H? “I do not have a boy’s name,” I said when her gaze dropped to me.

A discouraged expression showed on the woman
’s face, which she quickly covered up with a sneer. “Well, the girl must not be very bright if she’s hanging out with the likes of you.”

“
Brightness is not a measure of brilliance, Genevine.”

After an epic eye roll,
she opened the door. M.H. wasn’t kidding when he mentioned that Genevine had a particular fondness for eight legged creatures, or that she wore a large ankle bracelet. It was quite literally a ball and chain. However, M.H. told me not to mention it, so I didn’t.

While the exterior of her home was patched together, inside
was a Fabric Snob’s dream home. Fabric, sewing materials, and thread cluttered the interior… as well as a horde of spiders.

While Genevine went to work finding a fabric that matched
M.H.’s slacks, I clung to his side. Creepy crawlies weren’t exactly my top choice when it came to animals. Most of the spiders sat on the outer edges of the windows and between the cracks in the walls. A few even held picket signs demanding better working conditions. One read:
Sweeter sugar water for flippin’ Flies
. The next read:
More Fly Swatters
. The last read:
Sick of eatin’ flies. Better lunch plan!

“
Why do you work with spiders, Genevine?” I asked.

“
What are you saying, stupid girl? That we’re not good enough for you?” The spider who spoke threw down his sign. After stomping on it with one of his many feet, he crossed two sets of arms.

“
I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” I said.

“
Well, who would you recommend I work with, if not spiders?” Genevine gasped, as if no other creature could compare to the magnificence of her tiny helpers.

I shrugged my shoulders.
“A human?”

“
All high and mighty is she,” a spider said, dangling from the ceiling by a purple colored string. “She should meet the queen. It would be interesting to see whose ego would be bigger. Hers or Hearts’.”

“
Maybe a rabbit,” I said, ignoring the spider’s insult. They were my favorite animal when they weren’t munching in my garden.

“
A rabbit!” The spider gasped, disgusted with my choice in help.

“
Calm down!” Another spider said. It hung from the ceiling just above my head and held the end of a string-like leash that was tied to a pet-fly. A tiny purple ribbon was tied around the flying insect’s neck. It buzzed over the heads of many disapproving spiders. “She can choose whatever figurative helper makes her happy, even if it’s unconventional. Can’t you, little girl. What’s your name anyway? Certainly other humans had given you a proper name?”

“
Alice Mae.”

Each spider
’s hopeful expression immediately dropped into a discouraged frown at the mention of my name.

“
My-oh-my have mercy! That’s a mouthful of a personal identification word,” M.H. said as if it was the very first time he’d considered my name at all. He giddily clapped his hands together like he’d just stumbled upon a marvelous realization. “Let’s call you Al! It’s the most perfect perfected perfectest nickname! Al for Alice Mae. And it uses the first letter in your first name and the last. Don’t you just love it?”

Al? That was a boy
’s name! Ugh, I hated it! But since I had already infuriated a family of lizards, two birds, and offended many dozen spiders, I wasn’t jumping at the bit to lose my only friend in Wonderland by vetoing the awful nickname.

“
It really is excellent,” I lied.

The spider holding the leash to the pet
fly whispered, “You are quite a horrific liar—a poorly chosen competitor to the queen’s wits, but you are a girl with a boy’s name, now Miss Al, and that is important!”

“
The chosen one might still be a boy with a girl’s name,” one of the spiders said. “The Jack was not sure of the identity.”

The clutter of spiders considered this information like it was
crucial on some level. I was still clueless as to why any of it mattered, but the morale of every spider in the room heightened at my new nickname.

“
She looks like a trouble maker,” a spider holding a picket sign said. “We’ll certainly need to keep our eyes on her.”

I didn
’t understand why my wits and the queen’s were being compared, and it seemed I’d entered into a real life chess game, but I didn’t understand the strategy.

“Why, that she is! The greatest trouble maker in all the land!” M.H. exclaimed, like it was a good thing. “Al is to be my apprentice. Even the white rabbit approved. The tWo-eyed hare lured her here.”

I thought the fall down the rabbit hole had been a sheer accident.
“The white rabbit lured me here on purpose?”

Genevine
stopped rummaging through her fabric to laugh at my question. “You’re desperate to make the
Bleeding Hearts Prophecy
come true.”

M.H whispered to Genevine that I wasn’t ready to hear the prophecy yet
, even if everyone in the court had read the script in the
Sweets for the Rabbit Hole Voyager
. “The white rabbit is a wonderful messenger. That’s all that you need to know for now.”

I sighed. What I did know and understand was li
mited. Maybe he was right. I shouldn’t worry about what I didn’t understand. I glanced at the picket signs. “Why don’t you give the spiders better working conditions, Genevine?”

“
Oh, they don’t appreciate my organizational skills,” Genevine said, throwing a ball of yarn across the room as she continued her search for the material.

“
I could help you clean up the place.”

“
Clean all you want, but I’m not going to owe you anything for it,” she said.

That was fine with me. After a few hours of straightening I
understood Genevine’s organizational process. Sticky cloth goes with the non-sticky thread, but only when it was a prime color. The pastels were to be crumbled into balls and shoved into the closets and dark corners of her shack because then the sun wouldn’t fade them. Threads were to be knotted so the integrity of the strings stayed in place. This was her reasoning, not mine. But I understood, and found it particularly marvelous.

I would catch the spiders watching me. Minute after minute
, more and more began fetching things for Genevine. The cleaner I got the room, the more spiders I recruited back for the seamstress.

Once
M.H. was patched up, Genevine turned to me. “I can’t believe this madman let you prance around looking so asinine. He has positively no fashion sense.”

“
We don’t have time for a makeover,” M.H. said, pulling out his watch. “We have a schedule to keep.”

“And I’ll never forgive myself for letting this girl out of my sight looking so silly. It’s clear she’s too stupid to know any better, and I owe her for tidying up my shop,” Genevine said, opening up a drawer full of eye shadows, lipsticks, and containers that I didn’t even know the names. She handed me a tube of blue lipstick and a rose-shaped compact mirror and told me to put it on.

“I’ve never worn makeup before,” I said. She pretended not to hear. I half-heartedly applied it. I glanced in the mirror before handing it back. I hadn’t gotten the edges very well. As a matter of fact, it looked like I’d drawn a heart on my lips with expertise.

Genevine smiled approvingly. “Madness looks good on you.”

She stopped digging through her makeup and told me to take off my shoes quickly. She handed me was a pair of antique shoes. “These will never go out of style, and my anklet is much too distracting to do these shoe justice.”