The Map of Stars, page 8
“You don’t believe me,” Mary said, “but I have a sense about these things. You’re going to go places.” She nodded at her own statement as if nothing could be clearer or more evident. “You will go places. Magical places other people only dream of.”
Jaime stood up and went to stand at the railing, so terrified and yet so hopeful that this stranger was right, that he would go places, magical places, that he couldn’t bear to sit with her any longer.
Which was when someone shouted, “Watch out!” and shoved him right over the side.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cricket
Back in her beautiful apartment in Hoboken, Zelda “Cricket” Moran was in mourning.
Wearing the same outfit she’d worn every day for weeks—brown shirt, brown pants, and a little black mask—she lay on the floor on her mother’s favorite kilim carpet and whispered, “Karl. Karl. Kaaarrrl.”
Her brother, Otto, said, “Mom! Zelda is doing it again!”
“Don’t call me Zelda,” said Cricket.
“Please, honey,” said their mother from the kitchen. “Get up off the floor.”
Otto poked at Cricket’s feet. “Yeah, get up off the floor, weirdo-girl.”
Cricket opened her eyes. Her brother had one of their father’s ties wrapped around his head like a headband. The tie was printed with little happy-faces. “Who are you calling ‘weirdo-girl’? Have you seen yourself lately? You’re positively WACKADOO.”
“I don’t think the word ‘wackadoo’ is in the dictionary, dear,” said their mother. “Actually, I’m not sure it’s a word.”
“I’m not bound to the dictionary any longer, Mother. I’m not bound to anything. I am BOUNDLESS.”
Otto said, “I don’t think so. I think you’re full of bounds. You have bounds all over the place.”
“I do not!” said Cricket. “Mom, Otto is being PREPOSTEROUS.”
Otto assumed his “martial arts” pose. “Say that again and I will carrot-chop you.”
“No one is carrot-chopping anyone,” said their mother. “Otto, leave your sister alone. She’s sad.”
“I’M BOUNDLESS,” Cricket insisted, though she didn’t get up from the floor.
“And sad,” said their mother, who came to sit on the couch “It’s okay to be sad.”
But it wasn’t. Not for Cricket. Cricket was the kind of girl who feared nothing and no one. Cricket was the kind of girl who never let the world get her down. Cricket was unstoppable.
At least, Cricket had been unstoppable with Karl around.
But Karl was gone.
Now she felt like everyone else, or what she assumed everyone else felt like. Tired and boring and bored and angry and sleepy and sad, all at the same time.
Stoppable.
Cricket rolled over and spoke into the rug. “Did you call Detective Biedermann to see if she found any more clues about Karl?”
“I checked with her the other day, remember?” said her mother gently.
“Maybe you should call her again.”
“Let’s wait a few more days. In the meantime, how about you and Otto and me go out for a while? We could go up to the pool on the roof.”
“I don’t want to get my hair wet,” Cricket said.
“I bought you that new swim cap. The one you said looks like an anemone.”
“Swimming is for fish.”
“Roger isn’t so good at it,” said Otto. Roger, their goldfish, liked to swim backward.
“Roger is an excellent swimmer, and so are you, Cricket. But we don’t have to go swimming. We can go to the park. Or to a museum. We can do anything you want.”
Cricket sat up. “Can we spy on NEFARIOUS types?”
“We can do anything but spy on people.”
“I didn’t say spy on people, I said spy on NEFARIOUS types.”
“Cricket.”
“Fine.” Cricket lay back down. “You’re no fun.”
“Well, if you don’t want to go out,” said her mother, standing, “I’m going to get some work done for a kitchen design. She’s a real bear, this one.”
Otto ceased carrot-chopping. “Your client is a real bear?”
“Bears are very picky about their kitchens,” said Cricket. “Everybody knows that.”
“Roger doesn’t know that,” Otto said.
“Even Roger. Why do you think he swims backward?”
“Now who’s being preposterous?” their mother said. “Maybe you two can find a movie to watch or a book to read together.” She reached down and patted Cricket on the shoulder before heading for her office.
Otto turned on the TV and found a cartoon. Cartoons were for babies. Cricket got up and went to the bookshelf. She’d already read all the books here. At least, all the ones on true crime. But she wasn’t interested in true crime right now. She’d had enough true crime to last her forever. Or at least till next week.
Speaking of picky, Cricket’s mom was picky about her books, which were always arranged in alphabetical order (and not by color, which she claimed was a thing other designers did, and which she thought was NONSENSICAL). A few of the books looked interesting—Two Naomis, Orphan Island, A Crooked Kind of Perfect, Iron-Hearted Violet—but it was the books on the middle shelf that caught Cricket’s eye, not because they were brightly colored or books Cricket had read, but because they were neither. These were the books her mom said were special, ones passed down through her family. They were very old, with worn-out spines, some with the leather peeling off. They looked like Cricket felt. She tilted her head to read the titles. All the Stars in the Sky, Hurricane Hall, Penelope, The Lost Ones, Empire of the Moon.
Cricket pulled the first book off the shelf. On the cover, it read All the Stars in the Sky: Poems by A Lady. Cricket had never heard of a lady named A Lady, but she supposed it could happen.
Inside was written:
Butterbean,
I loved these poems when I was a girl, so I’m giving them to you. I hope they help you find your way, just as they helped me.
Love,
Mama
Cricket knew that name. “Butterbean” was Grammy Jo’s special name for Cricket’s mom. Butterbean would be a silly name for anyone, but when Grammy Jo said it, it sounded special, like Grammy Jo was saying, “I love you, and also you are a princess and a queen and a warrior and a superhero all in one, like a kick-butt sundae.”
Cricket wanted to be a kick-butt sundae.
Cricket sat down with the book of poems and turned to the last page. Her mother said it was a terrible habit, but Cricket always read the ends of books first, because she didn’t like surprises. She began to read:
The Map of Stars
Don’t speak to me of azure skies
or lazy bees and butterflies.
Stay your lips from talk of spring, the
cleansing rains the clouds will bring.
No more blossoms, no more Mays,
no more trees in wind’s ballets.
Enough of maidens seizing days,
under Apollo’s blazing gaze.
Birdsong, lamb’s bleats, puppies, dawns,
pellucid pools aswirl with swans.
I am sick to death of sunny things,
of beating hearts and beating wings.
I yearn for stillness darkness brings,
the truth of love, its potent stings.
All of nighttime’s lonely hours,
are brighter than what sun devours.
I trace the stars that shine anew,
the map that leads me back to you.
Yes, the poem was about hearts and stars and mushy stuff, and she wasn’t sure she understood it, but Cricket read it under her breath three times anyway. She had a funny feeling, a feeling that wasn’t just one feeling, but a combination of too many feelings all at once. She felt like yelling just to get them all out.
A buzzing sound startled her. Her mother’s phone on the counter. Cricket set the book aside and went to answer it.
“State your business,” she said.
“Hello?” said a voice on the other end. “Mrs. Moran?”
“Ms. Moran,” Cricket corrected. “Your business, please!”
“This is Dhruv at the security desk. We’ve had a report that you might be interested in.”
“What kind of report?”
“Well,” said Dhruv, “it seems that there’s a raccoon stuck in the elevator?”
CHAPTER NINE
Tess
Tess, Theo, their dad, and their aunt were sitting around the kitchen table, the remnants of dinner still littering its surface, when Mrs. Biedermann walked in, face pale and drawn. Detective Clarkson, right behind her, was even paler.
Mr. Biedermann stood up to kiss Mrs. Biedermann. “You two look exhausted.”
“You’d be exhausted if you’d had to question Lora Yoshida for three hours.”
Tess kicked Theo. Theo said, “OW!”
Their parents said, “What?”
The twins said, “Nothing.”
“Funny,” said their mom. “That’s exactly what Lora Yoshida said she stole from Darnell Slant. Nothing!”
“Maybe that’s true,” Tess said.
“Maybe it is,” her mom agreed. “Still, it’s our job to investigate the claims, and her story doesn’t quite add up.”
“It’s a heck of a story, though,” said Clarkson.
“What story?” said Tess.
“It’s too long to get into. Besides, we really can’t discuss it.”
Tess couldn’t help but press. “What did Slant say she stole?”
Her mother kissed the top of Tess’s head. “Slant who?” she said. “Stole what?”
Aunt Esther stood up. “Have a seat, Miriam. You, too, Detective. I’ll fix you some plates.”
Detective Clarkson slumped in a chair. “Thank you. That woman—Lora—knocked the cheese fries out of me.” He glanced at Tess and Theo. “Not literally.”
“I will fill you up with grilled chicken and vegetables,” said Aunt Esther. “Better for you than cheese fries.”
“Fig Newtons for dessert?” said Clarkson.
Aunt Esther beamed. “If you like. We also have ice cream. And pie.”
“Hot dog!” Clarkson said, clapping his hands together.
“I cannot condone hot dog pie,” said Aunt Esther.
Tess and Theo left the adults to not talk about talking to Lora Yoshida, and went to their room. If they were right about the next clue, they had a trip to Coney Island the next day—and a chess match to prepare for.
Of course, Theo didn’t think he needed any preparation. Chess! he’d said. What could be more fun?
“What if we don’t have to play the Turk to find the next clue?” Tess asked him.
Theo frowned. “Of course we have to play the Turk. Why wouldn’t we have to play the Turk?”
“Maybe the clue has nothing to do with chess.”
“That makes no sense,” Theo said emphatically, as if the Cipher made sense, as if the Morningstarrs made sense, as if Tess and Theo could make sense of the Morningstarrs if they had made sense, as if Tess and Theo could make sense of them even if they were them, which they decidedly were not.
“Okay,” said Tess. “What if we lose?”
“We won’t lose,” said Theo, with the tiniest trace of his old swagger. But he pulled out his old chess manuals anyway and sat down on his bed to study. “You should look at these, too. You need to brush up.”
“I was always a better player than you,” she said.
“If by ‘better,’ you mean you lost more games in a more spectacular fashion.”
“‘Spectacular fashion.’ You are such a dork.”
“You would know.” Theo kicked one of the manuals off his bed to the floor, where Tess sat with Nine. “That one is for beginners.”
“Ha, ha,” said Tess. But she opened the book and started reading. Just in case.
She was still reading a couple of hours later when her phone and Theo’s phone started ringing at the same time, so loud that even Nine jumped (luckily, because Tess’s phone was underneath the cat). Tess pressed the green button and a video of Jaime popped up. He was sitting in a brightly painted room with a blanket around him. Someone was talking in Spanish—Mima?—and someone else was . . . singing?
“What’s going on?” said Tess. “Where are you?”
“We’re at my apartment. And we’re celebrating.”
Tess tamped down the disappointment she felt. Jaime was having a party and hadn’t invited her. But he’d called, and that was something. She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.
“Great!” she said. “What are we celebrating?”
“The fact that I didn’t drown,” he said.
“Huh? What do you mean?”
There was a commotion on the screen and someone yelled, “WHO GOES THERE?”
“Is that Otto Moran?” Theo said. “Shouldn’t he be in bed?”
Jaime said, “We’re also celebrating the fact that we found—”
More commotion as someone grabbed the phone. Cricket Moran held the phone so close to her face that the screen was mostly pearly baby teeth. She rapped, “I trace the stars that shine anew, the map that leads me back to you!”
“Is it someone’s birthday? What’s happening?” said Theo.
“We didn’t find Karl!” said Cricket’s mouth.
“I’m so sorry, Cricket.”
Cricket ripped off her black mask, one dark eye filling the screen. “You don’t get it! Karl found us!”
“What?”
“IT’S SO METAL!”
It was too late to go to Jaime’s apartment, so they had to wait until morning to get the whole story. Which meant that Tess got exactly zero hours of sleep. Despite the lack of rest, however, she dragged Theo out of bed early.
“Mom! Mom!” she said. “Guess what?”
Her mom was at the sink, rinsing out her coffee cup. “Jaime fell into the river, but he’s okay. And they found Karl.”
“Of course she knows everything already,” said Theo, yawning, his big hair smashed on one side.
“Theo, you look like a listing ship,” said their mother.
“Is that how you talk to your son?” Theo said.
“Theo, you look like the world’s cutest listing ship. Better?”
Theo slumped in a kitchen chair. “Ships can’t be cute.”
“Speaking of ships,” Tess said, “do you know what happened to Jaime? I mean, specifically?”
“I know he’s okay. And I know the detectives who are on the case. I’ll see what I can find out. And I’m going to follow up on Karl,” said their mother. “Where are you two going today? Jaime’s?”
Tess swallowed. She didn’t want to admit that they hadn’t been invited to Jaime’s or to the Morans’ to celebrate Karl’s return.
“We’re meeting Jaime downtown. We’re thinking of going to Coney Island.”
“That sounds fun,” said their mom. “I haven’t been there in ages. Don’t eat too much junk and make yourself sick. And don’t be home too late or I will text all your friends your embarrassing baby pictures.”
An hour later, they found Jaime sitting on a park bench, sketchbook in hand. Tess dropped down on one side of him and Theo dropped on the other. Nine sat at Jaime’s feet and mrrowed hello.
Jaime cracked a smile. “Meow to you, too, Nine.” Nine rubbed against his knees until Jaime scratched her between the ears the way she liked. Tess tried not to stare at him, but her eyes roved over him anyway, looking for injuries.
“What?” said Jaime.
Tess tugged at her braid, embarrassed to be caught staring. “You were pushed into the river, you said.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And before you ask, no, I have no idea who did it, or why. By the time I came to the surface for air, the ferry was already chugging away from me. And then I had to spend ten minutes trying to dodge boats before the police boat got there to pull me out.”
“That’s so scary!” said Tess, thinking of sharks.
“You’re not thinking of sharks, are you?” said Jaime.
Theo said, “She’s totally thinking of sharks.”
“I was not! But I’m glad there weren’t any.”
“Me too,” said Jaime. “It was wild, though.”
“So, you really are okay?” Tess said.
“I am now. I was worried about Ono. What the water would do to him. I shouldn’t have worried, though. He turned into a very tiny submarine with very bright lights. The rescuers saw his lights in the water.”
“Good robot!” said Tess.
“Land of Kings!” Ono said, not even bothering to pop his head out of Jaime’s pocket.
“And what about Karl?” said Tess.
“That story’s even wilder. Dhruv, the security guard on duty, told us that he was sitting at the desk reading a newspaper when a couple came running out of the elevator, shrieking about giant rodents and infestations and whatever. But when he went to investigate, the elevator doors had already closed. And then the elevator stopped between floors five and six and the alarms went off. When they finally got the elevator doors open, there was Karl—sleeping, or unconscious. He’s really skinny, but he’ll make it. He’s at the vet’s recovering from . . . whatever or wherever he was.”
“And nobody saw anything?” Theo wanted to know.
“No,” Jaime said. “Dhruv checked the video, but the cameras are aimed too high to catch things that small, I guess.”
“So we’ll never know where he was,” said Tess.
“Mrs. Moran talked to your mom and the animal control people. They’re going to question Dhruv and the couple who first saw Karl, but I don’t know if they’ll learn anything else.” Jaime scratched Nine thoroughly under her chin. “I’m just glad that both Nine and Karl are back. One less thing to worry about. Uh, two less things.” He seemed about to say something else but stood instead, tucking his sketchbook back into his pocket. “Let’s get going.”
“Are we sure we shouldn’t take a taxi or something?” said Theo. “What if a Guildman gets twitchy?”
“We don’t have the money for a taxi,” Tess said.
