Seven Stories Up (5 page)

“Lonely Room?” I asked.

Molly sat up higher on her knees. “My sister Ginny named it that. She and Maggie visit every day, when they’re home. You see, I have asthma, and it’s been much
worse since I caught influenza. That’s why I couldn’t go to the wedding.”

“Still, they went off and
left
you? Your whole family? For the
entire
summer?”

Molly shrugged.

“Well, you don’t seem sick now,” I said.

“I
am
better … that’s true. The asthma comes and goes.”

I nodded. “I know. I have asthma too. Of course, we have medicine, in the future, for stuff like that. But I know how it feels. Ugh. It’s the worst.”

“Medicine, for asthma?” Molly looked amazed. “That’s better than silver flying suits.”

“I guess so,” I said. I glanced out the window. “I wonder, what do you do all day, sitting in here with nobody to talk to?”

“I have a radio!” Molly said. “It talks to me. I have loads of books. And Nora comes with my meals. Speaking of which, she could be here any minute. Let’s go wash our teeth.”

As I walked from the room, the thin white socks Molly had given me slid down into my Mary Janes. I stopped to tug them up, then looked around. Everything in the sitting room was different. There were walls in different places and the kitchen was missing. At the center of the
room were a maroon brocade couch and a low table. A big wooden radio sat against one wall, flanked by bookshelves. I walked over to read the spines of the books but only recognized a few.
The Cuckoo Clock … East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon … Roller Skates …
I reached for a copy of
The Secret Garden—the
copy, I supposed. “At least I’ve read this one,” I said.

“Oh, that’s my very favorite,” said Molly. “I’ve read it five times.”

“Five?”

“It’s special,” she said. “Mother gave it to me.” She pointed to a row of well-dressed dolls sitting on the floor against a wall. “And these are from Papa.”

“Funny, I have one exactly like this,” I said, crouching down to stroke the golden hair on one doll in particular.

“You do?” said Molly. “That’s Arabella.”

“Mine’s named Junebug,” I said, noticing a familiar scratch on the doll’s arm. “She belonged to my mom. But I don’t really play with her anymore. I haven’t for years.”

“Oh, me neither,” said Molly. Then we both grinned and I could tell she was lying too.

“Over here is the bathroom,” Molly said as she continued across the room. I followed her into an expanse of shining sea-green tile. Silver fixtures gleamed on a high
sink. “Do you want to share?” said Molly, holding out a toothbrush with dark bristles that looked as if they might be actual hairs.

“Eh, no thanks,” I said. “I’ll use my finger to, umm,
wash
my teeth.”

“Is that how it’s done in the future?” Molly asked. She squirted a thick line of goop onto her brush and began to scrub ferociously.

I read the tube. The label said it would be
Double-Quick
. It also claimed to be delicious, but when I put a little on my finger and touched it to my tongue, I couldn’t help making a face. There were bubbles in my mouth, actual soapsuds.
Blech
. I missed my Aquafresh.

When I was finished rinsing, I reached for a stiff-bristled wooden brush on the edge of the sink and attempted to pull it through my hair, which still had snarls in it from the windy car ride the night before. “Ouch!” I winced.

“Here, let me,” said Molly. Before I could say anything else, she was pushing my shoulders down. I perched on the toilet seat as Molly brushed my hair and then braided it in quick, surprisingly gentle strokes until I had one perfect braid down my back.

“Nice!” I said, standing to look in the mirror. “Now it’s your turn. Sit!”

“Really?” She touched her hair. “You don’t have to. It musses again right away.” She shook her curls. “See?”

“It’s only fair,” I said. “Sit.”

Molly sat as I wet my hands and then finger-combed her curls until they hung in corkscrews. I added a little bit of lotion I found. It said
LEMON VERBENA
and smelled nice. I twisted some gently into each curl until it shone. Then I pulled all of Molly’s hair up into a high side ponytail and tied a ribbon around it tightly, so that it stuck straight out. “Cute!” I said.

“What?” Molly turned her head sharply, so that the ponytail bounced. “Oh my, it feels funny!” She stood up and examined herself in the mirror. “Is this how people wear their hair in the future?” She batted at the bouquet of curls and leaned in for a closer look. “Lopsided?”

“Not
everyone
,” I admitted. “But Valley Girls do. And rock stars. It’s cool. You just need some dangly earrings.”

“Rock stars,” Molly asked, staring at herself. “What’s a rock …?”

Just then we heard a key turn in the lock.

“Nora!” mouthed Molly, looking back at me.

“Nora …,” I repeated. I set down the brush.

“Don’t fret,” Molly hissed. “I have a plan. Follow me.”

We walked back into the sitting room just as a maid
came in, a tall girl in a black dress and white apron, with a white cap on her head. She was carrying a tray on one arm, so she could close the door with the other. When she saw me, her mouth dropped open. She set the tray on the coffee table, brushed her hands against her apron, and looked at Molly.

“Miss?” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t understand—”

“My hair?” Molly said, reaching up to touch her burst of curls. “It’s … new.”

“No, miss,” said the maid. “Not your hair.” She jerked her head in my direction. “Your company!”

“Oh,” said Molly. “
Oh!
This is Annie. She’s visiting. Isn’t that nice?”

Nora took a deep breath. “Miss, you know you aren’t to have visitors. Doctor’s orders. Your father said—”

“Please?” Molly pleaded. “Just this once?”

So far Molly’s plan wasn’t much of a plan, and it wasn’t working.

Nora shook her head. “She’ll have to leave, miss. I
am
sorry.”

“But I’m always by myself,” said Molly, slumping. “Always.”

For a second I thought Nora might change her mind. Then she shook her head again. “I’ll see her out, miss.
And I’ll speak with your father about guests. You’ve been much stronger lately. Perhaps, if the doctor agrees, she might come for an hour, in the afternoon—”

Suddenly Molly’s posture changed. She straightened up and put both fists on her hips. When she spoke, her voice was rigid, scolding. “In that case, Nora, maybe you shouldn’t have been so careless as to leave the door unlocked last night!”

I stared at Molly. She didn’t sound like herself. Was
this
her plan?

Nora was staring too. “But I never did—” she said defensively. “Why, I just now—” She held out her ring of keys.

Molly continued. “Luckily, Annie has turned out to be nice. But she could have been anyone, a thief! We don’t want
Papa
to hear about this, do we?”

Nora stepped back a pace and folded her hands in front of her apron. She leaned against the door. “Why, miss—” she said.

“Poor Annie’s an orphan,” lied Molly. “An orphan with nowhere to go. Last night she snuck into the hotel and found my door open. She came in to escape the rain.”

“But”—Nora looked at the key in her hand—“but, miss, I’m
sure
it wasn’t open. Why, I just unlocked it this minute. Didn’t you hear the key?”

It was true. I’d heard it turn in the lock myself. But Molly didn’t seem bothered by this pesky fact.

“Then how did Annie get in here, do you think?” she asked the maid. “If
you
didn’t leave the door unlocked.”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Nora, shaking her head.

“You’re the only person with a key. You
must
have left it open.”

“I never did!”

Molly drew herself up until she was standing on tiptoe. The glare she shot the maid was almost cruel. “It doesn’t much matter, does it?” she said. “What do you think Papa will do, Nora? What will happen to you if I tell him this story? It would really be a shame to lose you.” Molly’s eyes got squinty as she finished her speech, and it made me nervous. It was like I could see my witchy old grandmother peeking out.

Nora pursed her lips, gave a slight bob of the head, and said as she turned to leave, “All right, miss. Just as you say. I’ll fetch your dishes when I bring lunch, like usual.” Nora slipped away through the door and pulled it behind her. The key turned in the lock.

The minute the door closed, Molly flashed me a guilty smile and shrugged. “Thank goodness
that’s
over.” She sat down on the rug in front of her breakfast tray and started to deal out the cards. “Do you know how to play rummy?”

“I—yeah, of course,” I said, dropping to my knees beside her.

“Oh, good!”

I watched Molly reach for the silver dome on her plate, lift it up, and sniff. She handed me a piece of toast.
“No muffins after all. But mmmm … scrapple! And marmalade, my favorite!”

“Ooh, mine too,” I said, reaching for the jam jar. Just the sight of the oranges painted on the label made my mouth water.

Molly smiled. “Isn’t it funny? Marmalade, asthma,
The Secret Garden
! We
do
have a lot in common.” She reached for her juice glass. “You’re more like me than my own sisters!”

I took a bite of my toast and chewed. “Hey,” I said, “speaking of
The Secret Garden
 …”

“Yes?” Molly cut up a piece of the gray mystery meat I had to assume was scrapple. “What about it?”

I set down my toast. “Why did you have to go all Mistress Mary on your maid just now?”

“Mistress Mary?” Molly looked confused. “I tried to be nice … at first. But she didn’t give me a choice. Anyway, I wasn’t
that
mean.”

“You were
totally
mean. Bossing her like some lowly servant, like your ayah. It was
just
like in the book.”

Molly looked thoughtful. “Well, she
is
a servant. Papa always says you have to be firm with them or—” Then it was as if Molly could hear the words tumbling out of her mouth. Her face changed. “Oh!” she said, blushing. “Oh, I
do
see what you’re saying. It
is
like the book. I guess
I’ve never thought about it that way. That’s—not good. I don’t want to be Mary at the beginning. I want to be Mary
at the end
!” She looked upset.

“Yeah, well,” I said, “I’m not trying to be some Goody Two-shoes, and I appreciate that you were trying to help me.”

“I was!” she said. “Nora was going to make you leave. I had to do something, or you’d have been out in the streets.”

“I guess … that’s true,” I said. “Still, she was only following your dad’s orders.”

A wave of hurt crossed Molly’s face. “That’s
all
she does, follow orders. She never stays to play or chat. She treats me like a chore.”

“Well,” I said, “you
are
a chore, kind of. You’re her job, right?”

“Even so …”

“Sorry,” I said, standing up. “I guess it isn’t really my business. Anyway, nature calls. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Molly didn’t look up as I headed to the bathroom, where I wrestled with my voluminous underpants and the scratchiest toilet paper in the history of the world. But as I was washing my hands, I noticed a breeze from behind the shower curtain. I pushed the curtain back and
climbed into the claw-foot tub to stare through the open window.

Looking up, I noticed a church spire, but just below the window was something even better—a fire escape. It was a long way down to the footpath below, but there was a railing that ran the whole way.

I felt the hairs on my arms rise. Off in the distance, a car horn shouted
a-hoo-ha, a-hoo-ha
, as if to remind me that the world was still out there, waiting.

Back in the sitting room, Molly was chewing a fingernail intently. When I sat down, she pointed at her plate. “Do you want the last piece of scrapple? I saved it for you.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. What
is
scrapple, anyway?”

“Meat,” said Molly.

I poked at the scrapple. It had lumps in it. “What kind of meat?”

“I’m not certain. Just … meat. Don’t you eat scrapple in the future?”

“I eat mostly Lucky Charms for breakfast,” I explained.

“Lucky Charms?”

“It’s a cereal.”

“Like cornflakes?”

“But with marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows, for breakfast?” Molly looked amazed. “The future sounds miraculous.”

I finished my toast and jam as we played a game of rummy and listened to the radio. It was nothing like the Top 40 countdown on Z93 back home. First there were church sounds—loud voices yelling about the throne of the Almighty, God the Fatherrrrrrr, and President Roosevelt. Then there was a short soap opera, in which everyone sounded vaguely British and I had no idea what was happening. Something about a woman who’d gone around town without her stockings on.

Molly won the first game and dealt the cards again. As we started over, music came on the radio, jazzy orchestra stuff. Molly and I chewed our nails and concentrated on the cards. In the end, she won the second game too.