The Book of Dares for Lost Friends (22 page)

“How about the other side?” Val pointed to a grove on the western edge of the plaza.

“You think that's the only rat in the park?” Tasman said.

*   *   *

Lanora was sure it was not. Even though her hiding place was on the opposite side of the obelisk, she tried to climb up a scrubby tree. If anything crawled across her feet, she knew she would scream.

Surely now Val would give up whatever she intended to do and go home.

But Val said, “We can't quit. We have to save Lanora.”

Tasman shook his head. “It isn't safe.”

“You have the bowl. It's kind of buried in your backpack. It'll be okay. Come on. Get out the first thing.” Val tried to open up his backpack.

He held it close to himself. His breathing was so ragged, Lanora wondered if he had asthma. Then she realized he was afraid. He was very, very afraid. Again she wondered, Just what were they about to do? The night felt potent. Lanora had no idea what had charged the atmosphere. There were so many mysteries. She wished Tasman had read more of the translation of what had been carved in the obelisk. Then she shook her head. What could some ancient symbols from the Middle East possibly mean to her?

Val touched Tasman's arm.

Tasman nodded.

The clouds fell away from the moon. The pale gray obelisk seemed to float against the dark sky. Lanora gripped the branches more tightly. She hoped that their trembling wouldn't give her away.

Tasman reached into his backpack and handed Val a clump of feathers.

Val held them up toward the obelisk. The feathers spun in a slow circle.

“Mercury's ankle wings,” Lanora whispered.

Val solemnly walked toward the obelisk.

Lanora muttered under her breath, “Oh, Mercury, travel fast through the dark.”

Val reached over the railing and placed the ankle wings on the narrow ledge of the westernmost side of the cube. Then she walked to her backpack and unzipped it.

“Wait. You have to say something,” Tasman whispered.

“But I don't know what to say,” Val whispered.

A loud groaning came from the eastern side of the plaza.

 

Thirty-six

Four people in dark robes emerged from the bushes on the eastern side. They spoke in muffled voices as they walked around the obelisk. Their footsteps marked the rhythm of the syllables.

“Do not forget.”

“Why you are here.”

“Do not forget.”

“Your purpose tonight.”

“Do not forget.”

“The words.”

“The words.”

“The words.”

“The words.”

The figures stopped and stood in a row in front of the obelisk. Now that they were closer, Lanora recognized Gillian, Tina, Olivia, and Helena.

“What are you guys doing here?” Val said.

“You invited us,” Gillian said.

“Besides, you obviously need our help,” Tina said.

“Words are our specialty,” Olivia said.

“The words possess the meaning. Without them, you have just a few fake feathers,” Helena said.

“They're right. If you don't use the proper language, you might get unintended consequences,” Tasman said.

Helena came closer to stare at Tasman. “Might you be the one who wrote the mysterious marks on the sidewalk?”

Tasman nodded.

“It is an honor to meet someone who knows the ancient symbols.”

The poets bowed to Tasman and stepped back.

Helena waved her hand. “Please. Try again.”

“But I don't know what to say,” Val said.

“What consequences do you intend?” Helena said.

Lanora nearly blurted out, “She wants to save me!”

“Okay.” Val held up the feathers. “This is supposed to be a gift—”

Gillian interrupted her. “Wait. Don't explain here. You're too near the ceremonial spot.”

The poets surrounded Val.

“Come with us, a slight distance away.” Olivia smoothed Val's golden hair.

“But.” Val looked over their shoulders at Tasman, who stood clutching the backpack.

“We will return when we have found the words for your meaning,” Helena said.

“Come on, Tasman,” Val said.

“It's okay,” Tasman said.

As soon as they disappeared around the eastern edge of the plaza, Tasman opened the backpack and took out something.

Lanora moved carefully so that she could see what he held in his hands. It seemed to be an ordinary brown bowl, like the ones vegans used for their wholesome meals.

Tasman held it close to his chest. He sighed.

Lanora echoed his sigh.

He quickly turned toward her and held the bowl out in her direction. She wanted to reassure him. But his face was so frightened, she didn't know if she could. How could she tell him that it was going to be okay? Wasn't she equally alone in the dark, uncertain and afraid?

Luckily, at that moment, Val called from the shadows. “We're ready.”

Tasman put the bowl away and zipped shut his backpack.

The girls returned. Val held a notebook close to her, squinting at the page as she mumbled whatever had been written there.

Helena shut the notebook and took it away. “Speak from your heart.”

Val nodded. She stood next to Tasman on the southern side of the obelisk. The poets stood in a line along the steps at the western side. Mau appeared on top of the base, between two of the fierce crabs. No one knew how she had jumped so high. She sat just as Bastets always sat in their temples long ago in ancient Egypt.

“Now?” Val said.

Clouds massed in the sky. The dark only got darker. Wait, Lanora thought. Wait until the moon returns. But they might have to be there until sunrise brought them more light.

Val coughed a little to clear her throat. Then she raised the ankle wings high above her head.

“I give this offering to speed the messenger's way. Make haste so that our work can be done.”

Val walked counterclockwise all the way around the obelisk. She knelt to place the ankle wings at the southeast corner.

“Make haste,” Tasman said.

“Make haste,” the poets echoed.

“Make haste,” Lanora muttered.

Val took something from her backpack. Lanora couldn't see what it was, even after Tasman brought a lit match close to Val's hand. A foul smoke rose up. The stench was familiar. But Lanora thought she was mistaken. How on earth could Val have gotten one of her father's cigars?

Val waved the cigar as she walked around the obelisk, knocking ashes at each of the four corners.

“I offer this gift from the Star Tamer. It symbolizes his power and his willingness to use that power for salvation.”

“Salvation,” Tasman and the poets echoed.

Lanora shook her head. Her father didn't care about her salvation. He only wanted to send her away.

Val stubbed out the cigar and placed it at the northwest corner.

The fire was out, but the odor lingered like a memory. Lanora could almost hear her father telling her that she had a choice. She didn't have to go to Greywacke. But if she didn't go there, then what would she do instead? She glanced up at the obelisk. The gray rock was silent. Why were those messages carved in inscrutable hieroglyphics? Why had they been worn away by time?

Val took something else from the backpack. She held up a red ribbon. A shiny disk dangled from its end. “I give my treasure, from my heart. So that she might be soothed by the ministering winds.”

“Be soothed,” Tasman and the poets echoed.

Val moved her arm as she circled the plaza. The golden disk swung out, away from the tall tower of stone.

Lanora wondered why it flashed in stark contrast to the shadows. It was just a little bit of reflected light. It shouldn't be able to shine. Unless there was such a thing as magic.

There wasn't, of course. Not here. Not now. Not with that dead rat on the plaza and who knew how many live ones crawling around. Nobody really believed in magic anymore—and yet there was a towering stone inscribed with symbols that hadn't entirely worn away. There was a wisp of smoke that had conjured up a blessing from her father. There was the beautiful concentration on Val's face.

At that moment, the curtain of clouds fell away from the moon.

Could there be magic? If there was such a thing, then Lanora might have a friend in a soccer shirt. And that friend could have friends who could command the power of words and weren't afraid to be seen wearing dark robes. And another friend whose ideas were as wild as his hair. If there was magic, then those people could care about someone who had lost her way.

Val kept swinging the red ribbon and the shiny disk. Lanora recognized it now. It wasn't real metal; it was plastic. And yet Lanora knew it was more precious than gold. She had never been so proud and happy as when her best friend Val had won that medal for Most Valuable Player.

That had been magic. And so was this moment. The beauty of these words, these deeds, and these people was so intense that Lanora shivered. She began to believe that she might be saved.

A man burst from the dark grove at the southern edge. He stumbled onto the plaza with his arms stretched out in front of him. “Got-got-got get-get-get,” he stuttered as he rushed toward Val.

“Look out!” the poets shrieked.

Val turned around quickly.

But it was too late. The man reached around Val's neck to grab the gold.

 

Thirty-seven

Val couldn't see the man. He had rushed out of the dark. He had come from nowhere. No—not from nowhere. He had come from a place of misery and madness. Their ceremony had opened a door and let out this demon.

The man's arm pressed against Val's neck. She felt his body jerk as he tried to catch the spinning disk. His ropes of hair struck her face. His breath burned her skin.

“Got-got-got get-get-get go-go-gold.” His flailing hand only knocked the disk farther from him.

Val tried to wriggle free, but his grip on her neck was surprisingly strong.

“Give it to me! I see you, nasty rats. That's my gold. Mine.”

She tried to give him the medal, but his arm was twisted around hers. The ribbon was tangled in her fingers. “Take it,” she said. But her voice was hoarse and could hardly be heard.

“Take it,” the poets pleaded.

Their frightened faces seemed to float in the shadows above their dark robes.

Where was Tasman? Was he still there? Had he run to get help? Or had he just run? She remembered all the times he had been so afraid. And now she realized that he had been right. They should never have come to the park tonight. How could he have thought he could be protected by an old bowl? Even if they had buried it.

Val tried to turn toward the place where she had last seen Tasman. But the man pushed her back the other way.

Mau slunk toward the man, growling from deep inside her body.

The man barked like a dog. “What good are you, Bastet?”

Mau yowled.

“You're a false god! We worshiped you in the shadow of the pyramids. And you let the vermin get our gold.”

The man kicked at Mau. Mau hissed and spat. The man's boot struck her body. She yowled in pain as she seemed to fly across the plaza and into the shadows.

Val stared at the man's feet. He was wearing blue boots—exactly like the ones Tasman used to wear. This was the man who had come into the park the day Tasman gave her the amulet. She had seen the man again in the line for the soup kitchen. She recognized his blue robes. But why did he have Tasman's boots?

The man finally got hold of the medal. “Gold!” he cried. He brought it to his mouth and bit it. He spat.

“Worthless!” He flung the medal into the bushes.

“Sorry,” Val whispered. She thought he would let her go. But he tightened his grip on her neck.

He pulled the pink wand from his belt. He pressed the point of the star against her cheek. “You got your gold hidden.”

Val shook her head.

“Don't try to trick me.”

“She doesn't have gold,” Helena said.

“Sure she does. Look at her. Look.” The man touched Val's yellow hair. He lifted up a few strands and watched them fall from his fingers.

“It's just hair,” Helena said.

“It's gold,” the man hissed. “Gold.”

He started to drag Val with him. Then the medal came flying back from the bushes. It hit his back. He stopped.

Someone stepped from the shadows.

*   *   *

Lanora had waited for someone else to do something. Let Tasman save Val. Wasn't he Val's boyfriend? Lanora could see him crouching down behind the base of the obelisk, hiding from the madness. His eyes shut tight. His hands clutching the brown bowl. He was overwhelmed by the situation. He couldn't help. And those other girls in their black robes. There were four of them, but they were frightened, too. They had never faced something that belonged in the dark.

But Lanora had.

When the disk landed in the dirt by her feet, she picked it up. It was still wet from where the man had bit it. She dropped it. Then she saw the man dragging Val toward the shadows. There was no time to think. Lanora picked up the medal again and flung it. Somehow or other—magically, miraculously—the disk hit the man. It didn't hurt him. But he stopped.

Lanora came out from the grove of trees and walked slowly toward the obelisk.

Everyone stared at her.

Val whispered, “Lanora?”

“Lanora, Lanora, Lanora,” the man chanted in his sing-song voice. He stared at her, but he kept the point of the star pressing into Val's cheek.

Lanora kept walking, slowly, placing one foot directly in front of the other. She felt like she was crossing a great canyon on a thin rope. Don't look down, she warned herself. If she thought about what would happen to Val if Lanora took the wrong step, then she would most certainly crash at the bottom. She had to keep walking and hope that she could find the right things to say.