The Book of Dares for Lost Friends (4 page)

Val had to stop this right now. The last thing she wanted was for her mom to get involved in trying to fix something that wasn't even broken. “So what if Lanora made new friends. I made new friends, too.”

She hoped her mom wouldn't ask her to name them. Her soccer friends were usually called “dude” or whatever number was on their shirts. Her dog friends were all called Buddy. “It's fine, Mom. Really.” She took a sip of tea and burned her tongue.

“I'm sure none of your new friends were doing what those girls were doing.”

Mom looked meaningfully at Val until Val had to ask, “What were they doing?”

“I probably shouldn't have gotten involved. But you know me.”

Val sighed. She knew her mom all too well. Again and again, she had seen her mom righteously standing up against the cab stopped in the crosswalk, the litterbugs, the people who let pregnant ladies stand on the subway. Righting all the wrongs. In the past, she and Lanora would have laughed about this. But Val didn't know what Lanora thought was funny anymore. “What did you say to her?”

“Nothing. I didn't actually see Lanora do anything. It was the other girls who were eating grapes. Just picking them off the stems and popping them in their mouths. So I said, ‘I hope you're going to pay for those.'”

Val groaned.

“Maybe you think, What difference does it make, it's just a few grapes? But I happen to know that poor Mr. Kramer is getting his rent raised again. If everybody ate grapes without paying for them, then how can Mr. Kramer make the rent?”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing. They laughed.”

“You should have minded your own business.” Val put down her mug with a thump. Didn't her mom understand? Middle school was different. Lanora was different. Maybe even Val was different. She certainly had never felt so hopeless about things before.

Mom patted Val's leg and let her hand linger there. “I'm sorry, sweetie. The next time I see Lanora stealing…”

“You said you didn't see her stealing. She was just with some girls who were eating grapes.”

“The next time I see Lanora with some girls who are eating stolen grapes, I won't say anything. I'll mind my own business.” She sat for a moment. The model of a well-behaved mom. A vapid smile. Sipping tea. Then a little humming. La-di-da.

It would have been comical. Except Val still had to know one last thing. “Did Lanora say anything to you?”

“No. She looked right through me. It was all so strange. Her hair is different. It's so smooth, it made her face seem, well, like a mask.”

Then Drew shouted from the living room, “I told you she was under a spell!”

 

Six

There was no school on Saturday. No crowded halls. No sitting in classrooms. No histories to learn. Val was so happy. She raced to the practice field in the park and didn't stop running for the next two hours. There were no mysteries in soccer. When she kicked the ball, it shot toward the goal. When she missed the ball, it didn't. She had never appreciated the beauty of this direct correlation before. She didn't have to wonder whether or not she would see Lanora. She wouldn't. That was a huge relief.

But after practice was over, Val did see Lanora with those blonde girls, staring into a store window on Columbus Avenue. Val didn't hesitate; she ran across the street. She had so much to tell Lanora. Val had to apologize that her mom was such a mom about a few grapes, but mainly she wanted to say that she was glad Lanora had new friends. Lanora didn't need to avoid Val because she thought Val might be sad about it.

Val touched Lanora's arm and said, “Hi.”

Lanora moved slightly away.

Well, Val was sweaty. The field had been muddy and she had been goalie. That meant she got to dive for the ball. She wiggled her grimy hands. Lanora always used to tease her about being in a laundry detergent commercial.

Only Lanora didn't laugh. She said, “What.”

It wasn't the beginning of a conversation or an idea for a new adventure. What if we get empty coffee cans from your mom and tie them to our feet so we can be horses? What are you going to be when you grow up if you have to have glasses and can't be an astronaut? What's the real reason kids have homework? What would you give to get three wishes? What would those wishes be? And don't say to have three more wishes.

Lanora's “what” was the thud after the ball misses the goal and lands out of bounds.

The blondes moved to the next shop window. Lanora traveled with them. None of them picked up their feet as they walked. Val watched. She wanted to see them do something fun or at least interesting. She wouldn't have minded Lanora going off with them if they had been embarking on an expedition to Central Park. Getting lost in the ramble. Laying siege to the castle. Fishing in the lake. They weren't headed out on a grand adventure. They were just gliding along the street. Looking bored.

Val gave up.

By the time the group reached the corner, Val had headed back into the park. And so no one saw Lanora glance over her shoulder and twist her mouth into a very small, apologetic smile.

*   *   *

The Bower hadn't changed. The huge boulders had been there eons before Val and Lanora had claimed the spot. The huge rocks would be there eons after Val and Lanora brought their great-grandchildren to admire the sparkling quartz in the great gray boulders. Val picked up a small stone and tossed it from hand to hand.

Mau came out from the bushes. Val extended her hand, but Mau refused even to sniff it. Once Mau's tongue had brushed against Val's finger—after Val had had tuna for lunch.

Mau paced back and forth along the top of the largest rock.

“If you're looking for Lanora, she's over on Columbus Avenue, busy being bored.” Val didn't want to whine, even to Mau. Val despised whiners, even the ones with good reasons.

Val held out her other hand. This time Mau sniffed. Was this the hand that had touched Lanora? Mau looked at Val. Mau's pupils grew large and then shrank into slits, as if she had seen something she didn't want to see.

“Are you worried about her, too?” Val murmured.

Mau's tail twitched.

“We don't need to be. She made some new friends. At least I think they're friends. What else would they be?”

Mau sniffed the air.

“What do you smell? A squirrel?”

Just then, Mau sprang off the rock. She crouched low and then pounced on something in the bushes. Val braced herself. Usually Mau caught mice. There was one time, however, she had proudly brought Lanora a dead rat.

The branches rustled. Mau seemed to be digging. Val leaned closer to see. Mau made a small sound and emerged triumphantly from the bushes carrying something with wings in her mouth. Dirt clung to the plush fabric, but Val recognized it instantly.

“That's Lanora's butterfly,” Val said.

Mau trotted over toward the stone wall that surrounded the perimeter of Central Park. She prepared to jump.

“Give it back!” Val shouted.

Mau easily reached the top and then disappeared down the other side.

Val scrambled up the rough wall. She was much less graceful than the cat. She made it just in time to see Mau, still with the dirty butterfly in her mouth, trotting along the sidewalk, seemingly oblivious to the children who called, “Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!”

Cars and taxis whizzed down Central Park West. Mau used her paw to push the butterfly deeper into her mouth. Then she brazenly darted across the street.

Val watched helplessly on the wrong side of the traffic as Mau headed north, away from the school. She held her tail high as she trotted confidently along. She knew exactly where she was going. She was a cat, after all.

The traffic light changed and Val raced to catch up.

Mau turned the corner. Val followed.

The side street wasn't that far from Val's familiar places, and yet she had never been on it before. This block, like many others, was lined with three-story residences. But these brownstones seemed darker. These trees seemed older. These iron fences seemed distorted. New York City has always been a place where anything was possible. Heroic feats and cruel fates. Royal riches and deep despair. Splendor and suffering. A crazy quilt of buildings. Some new, some old. And some totally beyond the reach of time.

Mau slunk under the gate to one of the buildings.

By the time Val got there, Mau had disappeared. Val climbed up a few steps of a staircase of ornately carved stone, but stopped at the bend that forced anyone who climbed to reconsider. A sign hung from a post in front of the ground-floor window.

ANTIQUITIES FROM THE SHIPWRECK OF TIME

The lettering was faded, but the painted eye below the words seemed to blaze from the wood. The eye was rimmed in black. A long line curled from its corner, like a snake.

Something moved inside the shop. Val peered through the grimy window. It was difficult to see, since the shop was very dark.

Mau was on the other side of the glass. She no longer had the butterfly in her mouth. She sat next to a large open book. Val had never seen one like it before. The page had squiggles where words should have been. Val twisted her head, just in case the writing was upside down. It didn't help. She felt someone staring at her, from the shadows. When she looked up, however, whoever it was had disappeared.

Mau smiled at Val as much as a cat can smile.

“What did you do with Lanora's butterfly?” Val said.

Mau shut her eyes and arranged herself on the book.

So Val pushed open the rusty iron gate and entered the shop. She tried to find the window where Mau was, but she was immediately lost in a maze of wooden crates and shelves burdened with books. They were nothing like the ones for sale at her favorite bookstore. There were no bright colors. No enticing displays. No large cutouts of Eloise or the Cat in the Hat. Just dusty, brown leather bindings. The books seemed so old that this could have been a shop where Shakespeare went in search of something to read. Val opened one volume. It had a map of the world before Columbus made his voyage. Beyond the edge of what had been known, were the words “THERE BE DRAGONS.”

It corresponded exactly to the part of the world where she stood at that moment.

“Quit your breathing!” someone shouted.

She shut the book.

A round man pointed his finger at her. His blue jacket couldn't be buttoned. His belly was swathed in a bright red sash. His black beard had one gray streak. “What are you doing in here?”

“Isn't this a store?” Val said.

“There's nothing for you here. Don't waste my time. Go on. Get out.” He took the book from her.

“I followed the cat,” Val said.

“That dandering fool? That scratching menace?” The man lurched through the shop and put the book in a glass case with several old statues of cat people, a tiny coffin in the shape of a bird, and a dish of glass beads that looked entirely too much like eyes.

“She has something that belongs to a friend of mine,” Val said.

He locked the case and shook the key at Val. “I'm not responsible for that cat.”

“She's in your store,” Val said.

“Stop calling it a store,” the man said.

Someone laughed. Val looked behind her, but couldn't see anything except boxes.

The man banged the side of a shelf with his fist. Then he leaned closer to Val. “She thinks she's a Bastet. But she's just an old cat who's running out of lives. And if I catch her clawing one more book, I'll turn her into a mummy and sell her!”

“What's a Bastet?” Val said.

The man pointed to one of the small statues. It had the head of a cat on the body of a woman. It looked Egyptian and old and strange. And yet the cat's head looked exactly like Mau.

“But what is
that
?” Val said.

“I don't have time for your questions. I told you. There's nothing for you here. Now get out.” He pointed toward the door. Val walked slowly, looking at the shelves. Everything was so dark and grim, she felt certain she would spot the lilac butterfly, despite its layer of dirt. Once she did see a bit of blue between some crates. But when she bent down to look, whatever it was had disappeared.

“Get out!” the man said again.

She left the store. The iron gate clanged shut. Val came back to peer through the window, wondering what kind of place it was. Mau was still sleeping innocently on top of that illegible book.

“Why did you lead me here?” Val whispered.

“Why did you follow?” someone said.

 

Seven

Val turned around. The sign was swinging wildly. A boy stood next to it. He was about her age, but Val didn't think he went to M.S. 10. He certainly wasn't in any of her classes. He had wild dark hair and a crooked smile. His shirt was an old khaki uniform. Instead of buttons, it was fastened with pieces of shells—or possibly bones. His jeans were very tight. His boots were sky blue, just a little less brilliant than the color of his eyes. She couldn't look into his eyes, so she pointed to the eye on the sign.

“What's that?” Val said.

“A wedjat. The eye of the Egyptian god Horus. The Egyptians didn't think our eyes were just orbs that gather information. They thought our eyes could actually
do
things. Sailors used to paint wedjats on their ships to ensure safe passage up and down the Nile. But I wonder, does this eye protect us or curse us?” He held up his hand. The sign stopped moving.

Val didn't know what to say to that.

“Of course I'm an incorrigible wonderer. For instance, I wonder why the Captain named his shop ‘Antiquities from the Shipwreck of Time' and why he even bothers with a sign when no one ever wanders into the shop, except you. But mainly I wonder what your name is.”

“Valerie. But people call me Val.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that you are Val. For you are brave and strong. You defended yourself against the Captain with great courage and wit.”