The Book of Dares for Lost Friends (18 page)

Val's mouth went dry. So it was done. Lanora was enrolled at reform school. “How can you just send her away?”

“Don't blame me. I didn't steal that stuffed cat.” He flung his arms wildly in the air. “Can you believe it? All this trouble is because of a cat? I could have bought her a hundred of them, if that was what she wanted. Only she didn't really. She just wanted to humiliate me. To make me suffer.” He thumped himself on the chest.

“It isn't about you,” Val said, a little more loudly than she'd intended.

Mr. Nuland pulled his sleeve down and adjusted his watch. “Of course not. It's about what's best for Lanora. That's why she's going there on Sunday. She needs experts who can help her.”

Val looked at her shoes. The little ballet flats pinched her toes. She wanted to kick something. Sadly there wasn't anything she could kick. Mr. Nuland was right. Lanora needed experts. Not some crazy words from
The Book of Dares
.

The game was over. Val had lost. She walked over to Mr. Nuland. She always shook her opponent's hand. Even if they had fought dirty and talked trash and in general not been good sports at all. She held out her hand to Mr. Nuland. As he took it, she looked into his eyes. They were exactly like Lanora's eyes.

The outside was cool gray, and in control. Something flickered across the center, like a little bird beating against the glass, trying to get out to where it could fly. She remembered how hurt Lanora had been yesterday in the park. Val felt awful about that. She knew it was wrong to abandon her friend. So she hung on no matter how hard Mr. Nuland tried to pull away. Her fingers squeezed his fingers. Her feet slipped inside her shoes. Her heart pounded as she struggled. As she held Mr. Nuland's hand, she felt the pulse of his heart, too.

“She needs to
know
you care,” Val said again.

“But how?” he said softly.

“Do you tell her?”

Mr. Nuland looked out the window, at the glorious view. “It's hard to talk to her.”

“I know. It's hard for me, too.” Val was ashamed of the idiotic way she had said “hi” yesterday. “You still have to try. We all have to try.”

He nodded. “I will. I'm very glad you came.”

“Me, too.” Val released him from her grip and headed for the door. Then she stopped. She had almost forgotten she still needed something from the Star Tamer. “I've changed my mind. I think I would like a cigar.”

He took one from his pocket. He bowed as he ceremoniously handed it to her.

She bowed, too. Then she took off those slippery shoes so she could run out of the office.

 

Twenty-nine

Val waved the cigar triumphantly as she ran out of the glass tower and across the street. “I got it! I got it!”

Tasman was standing with the hot dog man. “She returns victorious. Didn't I tell you she would? She is intrepid.”

Val wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded like praise, so she smiled.

“Val, I'd like you to meet Akmed. He is from Egypt. He has climbed the Great Pyramid. He has sailed a felucca on the Nile. He has walked among the ruins at Luxor. He has seen places that I must only imagine. They remain forever beyond my reach, on the opposite end of the Earth.”

Akmed bowed humbly. “There is, here in your city, a gift from my country. It stands taller than the trees of the park, behind the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

“You mean Cleopatra's Needle?” Val said. “You can see the top of it from the baseball fields.”

“A needle? No. It's a large piece of granite, seventy feet tall, weighing two hundred twenty-four tons. It has nothing to do with Cleopatra. It's from the time of Thutmose III. 1450
B.C.
” Akmed said.

“That's a thousand years older than Cleopatra,” Tasman said.

“She is the most famous queen of Egypt, but Egypt had many great rulers,” Akmed said.

“Ramesses II was the most powerful pharaoh of all. He built many temples and cities throughout Egypt,” Tasman said.

“Ramesses II had inscriptions carved into the obelisk. ‘Ramesses II. Chosen of Ra. Like the Sun, Life-Giving Forever,'” Akmed said.

“I didn't know it was so amazing,” Val said.

Akmed smiled. “Your city contains much that no one ever sees.”

“That is true,” Tasman said sadly. Then he turned to Val. “But we could go there, couldn't we?”

“You want to go to the park?” Val said.

“I don't want to. But I will. When everything is ready. When the time is right,” Tasman said.

They said good-bye to Akmed and headed north on Park Avenue.

“Why don't you like the park?” Val said.

Tasman chose that moment to duck around a woman talking on her cell phone.

When Val caught up to him, she said, “I would think you'd love it. The paths curve all around in crazy ways, just like the way your mind works.”

“That's the trouble. The paths aren't in straight lines. Just when you think you are safe, you discover that you've been brought very near to a dangerous place, where you never intended to go.”

They had reached the entrance to the subway. Tasman stopped at the top of the stairs leading down to the tunnels.

“We need the last thing,” Val said. “I found out that Lanora is supposed to start reform school on Monday.”

“We only have three days left,” Tasman said. “‘Finally I bring from my own heart, the origin of the ministering wind.'”

“Whatever that means,” Val said.

“You're supposed to know your own heart,” Tasman said.

“I know I can't wait to take all the things to Lanora's apartment.”

“You mean, stick them in one of those brightly colored gifty bags and hang it on her doorknob?”

Val shrugged. She had kind of thought that. Except she was going to put them in a reusable shopping bag. Her mom had dozens.

Tasman shook his head. “Your brother is right. You don't know much about these things.”

Val showed him the cigar again. She knew enough to get it.

“There has to be a ceremony,” Tasman said.

“What kind of ceremony?” Val said.

“Saturday night. At midnight we shall stand astride the crack between the days and wrestle with whatever demons crawl out into the world. We will go to the obelisk and pay our respects to the sun god Ra, the giver of life.”

Val was shocked. “You'd go in the park at midnight?”

“If I can, yes. Yes, I would do that. Assuming that certain other conditions have been met.”

Val looked down the stairs. They were well lit. Lots of people rushed down without giving them a second thought. She herself had ridden the subways her whole life. She knew that there was nothing to be afraid of down there. Still, her heart pounded as she looked toward the darkness.

“You know, we could do the ceremony someplace else. Maybe by the store where she stole the cat. Or maybe by school. Or maybe the laundry room of my building. Hardly anybody goes there.”

“No. This isn't a game, you know. We have to take it seriously or it won't work.”

Val nodded. “Okay. The obelisk on Saturday night.”

Tasman clasped her hand.

Then together they walked down toward darkness.

 

Thirty

The night was full of possibilities. Most humans didn't know that. They preferred to stay indoors near artificial lights. To them, the dark just meant it was time for sleep. And so they never saw what cats saw, heard what cats heard, or sensed what cats sensed.

Mau listened for a moment. The sounds of traffic were closer than she thought. Cars honked their horns. Dogs barked. The subway trains rumbled underneath. None of these noises were unusual. But something was not as it should be. And so Mau crossed the street and ran down another alley.

*   *   *

The brochure lay on the kitchen table. Lanora didn't touch it. She didn't need to open it up to read what was inside. The picture told her everything she needed to know about where she was headed on Sunday. The gray stone building looked as impenetrable as a medieval fortress. The field of green grass had been clipped painfully short. The smiling young man and the smiling young woman were clad in ill-fitting burgundy blazers. A guarantee was made in bold lettering:

GREYWACKE ACADEMY

Where Everyone Succeeds

Presumably even someone like Lanora.

Now Lanora had no quarrel with success. She wanted nothing less. She was certain her definition wasn't the same as Greywacke Academy's.

She walked slowly into her bedroom and shut the door.

“Sweetheart? I know you don't need to pack quite yet, but I think you should at least look over the list.”

Lanora could imagine what was on it.

Multiple pairs of underwear and white ankle socks.

White blouses.

Flannel nightgowns.

Every article of clothing carefully labeled
LANORA NULAND
so that she could never accidentally lose the things she despised.

There would be another list—of forbidden objects.

Nail polish. Blow-dryers. Jewelry. Anything that could distinguish her from the others.

Scissors. Fingernail files. Belts. Shoelaces. Anything that might pose a suicide risk.

“Sweetheart? Your father won't like it if we leave things until the last minute.”

Lanora opened her window and climbed out onto her fire escape.

She wished she could see Mau. She hadn't seen Mau in days. What if she had to go without saying good-bye? She knew she would miss Mau more than anything. It was highly unlikely that there would be any cats at Greywacke Academy. Plenty of rats, however. Plenty of vermin to gnaw at Lanora's brain.

She gripped the railing and leaned over the platform as far as she dared. Sometimes Mau came in the alley at night. For a moment Lanora thought Mau was at the bottom of the tree, getting ready to climb up to see her. But the black shape was a plastic bag. The wind played with it for a while. It flew up in the sky, as if it were a bird. Then the wind abandoned the bag and let it fall to the ground as trash.

Yes, trash.

She hadn't meant for any of this to happen. Somehow, one thing followed another, and now she was headed to Greywacke Academy.

But she wasn't there yet. She climbed up the ladder-like stairs of the fire escape. For some reason, she thought of Val. Val loved it out here. She hung down from the steps by her knees. Val laughed when Lanora called her a monkey. And Lanora had laughed, too.

It seemed like such a long time ago. Much longer than last summer.

How had Val done it?

Lanora held on to the railing on the left side with both hands. Then she eased herself around the edge until she was alongside the ladder. She reached below the ladder and made a quick grab for the railing on the right side. Now she had one hand on each railing, but her feet were resting on the steps. She took a deep breath and let her legs hang down in empty space.

Now she was free.

Yes, free, of her mom's sighs.

Free of Tasman's eyes.

Free of everything she had done and everything she didn't do.

Free of wanting her father's praise.

Free of being afraid of his displeasure.

Free of her fear of falling.

She could let go of the railing. Why not? She had let so much else go.

The wind stirred.

Mrrrow!
A cat cried in alarm. A black blur raced up the tree and leapt onto the platform beside Lanora's dangling legs.

Mrrow!

“Is that you, Mau?”

Lanora began trembling as soon as she saw the cat coming toward her. The muscles in her arms quivered as she looped her legs back around the rusty railing. She rested there for a moment before she had the strength to crawl back down to where Mau sat on the platform.

Mau climbed into Lanora's arms. It wasn't entirely clear who held whom. Mau gripped Lanora's shoulder with her claws. She let Lanora stroke her, even though that was contrary to every principle for preserving the dignity of a cat. But Mau stayed where she was. After all, this was an extraordinary circumstance. Besides, the gentle pressure was pleasant.

Then Mau felt something surprising land on her fur. Drops of moisture?

Mau looked up at the sky. There were no clouds. She could see the moon. So how then could it be raining?

Ah. Then Mau understood. This must be that peculiar human trait known as tears.

 

Thirty-one

The park was off-limits at dusk, much less at midnight. How would Val persuade her parents that she needed to go there on Saturday night? Could she tell them the truth—that she needed to stand astride the crack of midnight and wrestle with the demons that crawled out into the world? Or should she say, “Hey, Mom and Dad, I need to spend the night with this kid I know”? Except that she didn't know Tasman since he never answered questions with a simple fact. Instead he babbled obscure words like he had memorized the dictionary. To make the situation worse, he was a boy. Her parents might be suspicious that Val wanted to spend the night with him for another reason. When she didn't think of him like that. At least, she didn't think she did.

There was no way around it. Val needed to lie. This bothered her. It bothered her even more that she couldn't use the lie that would have been so easy even two months ago. “Spending the night at Lanora's,” she could have said. That would have been that. No need to check with Mrs. Nuland whether it was okay. It was always okay. The only thing her mom would do was send along fruit and bagels. Breakfast was a haphazard event at Lanora's house.

But Val couldn't say that. If she did, her mom would have jumped on the topic. How
is
Lanora? What counseling is she getting? Has she started her community service yet? Would she like the name of a support group? How is Mrs. Nuland? Would
she
like the name of a support group? The questions would be endless. No, Val had to ask someone else to be part of this lie.