The Unseen (11 page)

But Xandra didn't want to hear. Forcing her eyes away from his quiet stare, she shouted, “No. You can't have it.” She turned and ran, ran down the steps and went on running out of the grove, up the hill, past the ghostly farmhouse and out onto the lonely country road. She stopped then and looked back to see if anyone was following her, but no one was. Not even Belinda.

T
HE TWO BUS
rides, the long one into town and then the shorter one on the Heritage Avenue Express, lasted so long that by the time Xandra got home, lunch was over and done with and put away. Everything was wrapped and packaged and stored away by Geraldine in one of her king-sized refrigerators, and she said, “I'm not about to get it all out again. If your mother wants me to do lunches she'd better tell you kids to quit thinking you can come in to eat whenever you feel like it.” Geraldine, the Hobsons' part-time cook and full-time grouch, usually did dinners only. Except sometimes on weekends when she did lunches, but not without a lot of complaining.

“Okay. Okay,” Xandra said. “I'll do it myself. Anybody can make a sandwich.” So she did, making herself a big ham and cheese sandwich while Geraldine stood over her
complaining about the messy way she wrapped up the leftovers and put things away on the wrong shelves of the refrigerator.

“No, no, not there. In the cheese drawer. And do be careful. You're going to drop that plate,” Geraldine was saying while Xandra, on the way across the kitchen, bent over to scratch her leg. Geraldine was still griping when Xandra left the room, slamming the door behind her. In the upstairs hall she ran into Clara, who was heading for the laundry room carrying one of Gussie's frilly doll-baby dresses.

“There you are.” Clara's round eyes crinkled into a smile. “I was just looking for you. Have you decided what you're going to wear tonight?”

“Wear? Tonight?” Xandra asked.

She had forgotten for a moment, which under the circumstances wasn't too surprising. After all, she'd had a lot more important things to think about. But then, even after she remembered that the whole family was going to have dinner at some big-deal restaurant before Victoria's recital, she went on pretending she didn't know.

“Wear? Wear where?”

“To Victoria's recital,” Clara said. “And to that nice new restaurant on Convention Row.” She held up the frilly dress. “I'm on my way to iron this for Gussie and I was just wondering if you might need to have something pressed.”

Xandra shook her head and went on down the hall. In her own room she ate her sandwich before she curled up on her bed in the midst of all her animals and started to go over, and over again, the things she'd been told by the grandfather and Belinda. Could any of it be true? Could
the feather, the Key, that is, really change your senses so that you could see and feel things that were invisible otherwise? Things that were invisible but always there, all around you but always Unseen, unless you had an enchanted Key.

And what did the grandfather mean when he said a person could be lost in the Unseen? Did he mean that there could be a time when the Key could take you to the Unseen and then leave you trapped there forever? And how could you be sure whether you were completely and finally back in the real world?

It was a frightening thought. Sitting up, clutching her stuffed Stinky and some of her other larger stuffed animals against her chest like a protective shield, she peered over them into every corner of the room. There was, of course, nothing there.

Nothing except what she could almost see, or else imagine seeing, when she squinted and glanced quickly from one side of the room to the other. Was there a sudden, shifting shadow near the baseboard under the far end of the mural, or just behind the edge of the bookcase? She wasn't sure, and as she went on squinting and glancing, she felt less and less sure. Less sure she wasn't seeing something—or perhaps feeling something—weird. Like the way her ankles kept itching, for instance. Her ankles and other places up and down her legs where she'd been bitten by the monsters. At last she flopped back down, and pulling an armful of animals up over her head and face, she whispered over and over again, “It's all a lie. All of it. It's all just a lie.” And then someone was shaking her
shoulder and she was waking up, and her legs were itching again.

“Xandra,” Clara was saying. “Wake up. The taxi will be here in twenty minutes and you have to get ready.” And twenty minutes later Xandra, in an only slightly wrinkled linen dress, and Gussie, looking even more than ever like an expensive windup doll, were being put into a taxi and sent off to the fancy new restaurant across the street from the Civic Auditorium.

In the New Age Grill Helen was at the head of the table, of course. All by herself at the moment, since Henry had a late meeting and would have to join them later. To look at her, at her sensible hairdo and business suit, you might think she didn't look very momlike. But when Gussie ran to her skipping and jumping and yelling “Hi, Mommy,” all the people in the restaurant, including the waiters, got that sappy “isn't that too cute” look on their faces. Xandra sat down quickly and buried her nose in the menu.

Quincy, who was sitting next to Xandra, seemed uncomfortable in a sport coat and tie and smelled slightly sulfurous, as he often did after an afternoon in the science lab. He grinned at Xandra when she sat down, but she didn't grin back.

The twins were across the table, Greek-god handsome and major-league cool as usual, and next to them was Victoria, the guest of honor, looking supersophisticated in her new evening dress. But not so sophisticated that someone who knew her as well as Xandra did, or as well as Xandra used to before Victoria became so perfect, wouldn't notice that her face was pale and her smile
looked a little stiff. Leaning forward, Xandra whispered, “Hey, Tory. Do you remember that time we dressed up in ragbag stuff and pretended we were the Lost Boys?”

Tory stared at Xandra zombielike for a second before she started a shaky smile. “Yes, I remember. The Ragbag Game. Whatever reminded you of that?” Her smile became a little less shaky as she looked down at her new dress and said, “I hope it wasn't this dress?”

Xandra couldn't help giggling. “No, it wasn't your dress that reminded me. I just saw something today that made me remember the ragbag thing.” The rest of the family were watching. Watching and smiling approvingly as if they were glad that someone had been able to make Victoria loosen up a little. Turning her face away, Xandra reached down to scratch her ankle before she realized it had stopped itching. At least for the moment.

The recital was a bore, of course, but maybe not quite as much of a bore as Xandra had been expecting. All the soloists were, like Victoria, people who had just won awards at a young musicians' contest, and most of them looked scared to death. Xandra got a little bit interested in imagining what they must have been feeling when they walked onstage and saw all those people staring at them. She was pretty good at that kind of imagining and she really got into the feel of it when Tory came onstage.

And then it was all over and all the Hobsons were back at home and Xandra was back in her own room, curled up in bed under a pile of her animals, and once again thinking about the things the grandfather and Belinda had told her. Thinking and feeing terribly impatient that there would be another whole day before she could see Belinda
at school and ask her for more and better explanations and answers. Better answers to the questions she'd already asked, and new answers to some questions that had recently come to mind.

Monday morning finally arrived and Xandra, who had caught an early bus, was sitting on the front steps of the school anxiously waiting for Belinda to show up. And then there she was walking up the sidewalk, wearing the same ratty old jacket with its rolled up sleeves and raveled-out lining. Xandra jumped to her feet and ran to meet her.

“Well, at last,” Xandra said. “Was your bus late or something?”

“No, I don't think so.” Belinda's surprised expression changed to a worried frown. “Why? What's happened?”

Xandra shook her head. “Nothing. At least not about …” Looking around, she lowered her voice. “Nothing about the Key, anyway. I didn't try to use it. But there are a bunch of things I need to know about.”

“What kind of things?” Belinda stopped walking and seemed to pull away. “I thought we …That is, I thought all your questions got answered.”

“Not all of them.” Xandra looked around. They were partway up the steps to the front entrance of the school, and arriving students were everywhere. “Come on. Let's go over there. Under the tree.” Grabbing Belinda's arm, she pulled her away from the crowd and across the lawn. When they were safely out of earshot, if not out of sight, she jerked Belinda to a stop.

Belinda looked nervous and uneasy. “I don't know what
to tell you,” she began, and then, “Look. Look over there.” Looking in the direction Belinda was pointing, Xandra saw Marcie and a couple of her friends getting out of a big black Cadillac and starting across the street toward the school. “Maybe you want to go see your friends,” Belinda suggested. “We could talk later.”

Xandra shrugged impatiently. “No,” she said. “I don't want to see them. What I want is for you to tell me why your grandfather showed you how to use the Key. Why would he want to do a thing like that? Didn't he know what would happen to you? To me, I mean.”

“No, he didn't,” Belinda said, “and it was my fault. I didn't tell him enough about you. I just told him how old you are, and how you happened to get the Key, and all the things you said about animals, and how you used to take care of so many of them. Because of what I told him, he didn't think the Unseen would be like it was for you.” She paused and then went on. “You remember how it was at first. When we were back there behind the furnace where you kept all your animals? Remember the one you said was like your skunk?”

Xandra couldn't help smiling. “Yeah. And smelled like him too.”

“I guess Grandfather thought there would be more things like that. Friendly things.”

“Then why weren't there?” Xandra was feeling frustrated again. “Why were some of them monsters?”

Belinda stared down at her feet and then turned toward the steps, where lots of students were still milling around. It was as if she was hoping someone would come to her rescue by interrupting the conversation.

“Well, why wasn't it?” Xandra persisted. “Why wasn't it like your grandfather expected?”

At last Belinda took a deep breath and raised her eyes. “All right,” she said, “I'll tell you. Remember when Grandfather told you the creatures were sometimes called
reflejos
or
spiegels
?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Xandra said.

“Well, those are words that mean reflections or mirrors. Like my grandfather told you, those creatures are everywhere, all the time, but they're like an invisible stream of energy that can take on different shapes and forms. And not always the same ones. Mirrors reflect whatever is around them. And if a person has a Key, the Unseen reflects …” She paused and then went on, “It reflects things about that person.”

Xandra stared at Belinda. At last, narrow-eyed, she began to say, “What you mean is …” Long pause. “You mean that those monsters came from me? Were a reflection of me?”

Belinda shook her head. “No, not you. Just something about the way you are made them be the way they were.”

“Oh yeah?” Xandra was angry now, and getting angrier. “Well, I don't believe you. Or your weird grandfather either. I mean, I may not be as gorgeous as some people, but those ugly things …” Whirling around, she ran across the lawn, and went on running.