The Midnight Market

by Beth McMullen

  Buildings frame the High Line, apartments close enough we can look directly into them. I imagine it is nicer to have a garden right outside your window than train tracks, even if the garden is crowded with strangers peering in on you like you are a zoo animal. Through one window, we see a woman lying on a couch reading a book, an oscillating fan on a stool next to her. Another window reveals a guy doing yoga. He’s twisted up like a pretzel. I’m about to suggest a water break when Hannah grabs my arm.

  “What?” I ask. “More trees?”

  “Yes. But also, that.” She points into an apartment, partially obscured by enormous ceramic planters, as tall as I am. Painted on the wall, six feet high and three feet wide and clear as day, are the fancy calligraphed emerald-green initials MM nestled in a bloodred braided circle.

  I press into the railing, leaning as close to the apartment as I can without falling off the High Line. From this vantage point, it’s clear the symbol is actually a giant poster tacked to the wall. The room is empty save for a plastic beach pail in the middle of the floor. Dangling from the ceiling is an unglamorous light fixture that resembles an upside-down flying saucer. The large window facing us is open just a crack. We need whatever is in that pail. I guess we go in there and get it?

  “I can do this,” I say confidently.

  Jin looks horrified. “Who do you think you are? Spider-Man? There’s a big gap. You will fall and die.”

  “You’re being dramatic,” I respond. “I swing out to that tree and then wedge myself onto the windowsill and slide open the window and squish through. No big deal.”

  “Sounds insane,” Hannah says. “You better let me go. I’m good at the monkey stuff. Remember I saved you on the Nebula when you were tangled in the netting ladder?”

  The Nebula is a ship on which we were inadvertent stowaways and desperate to escape before we ended up in South America. And yes, I remember getting tangled up, even though I have tried hard to forget. “That was different,” I say. “Seriously. You guys. I was a thief. Breaking and entering was part of the gig.” They eyeball me, a united front, and I can tell what they are thinking. I was a lousy thief. I fell out of buildings. I got caught. My cheeks burn, and I glance down at my feet.

  “We could send Zeus,” Jin suggests.

  “Send Zeus!” the bird hollers.

  No way. What if he gets stuck? Or hurts himself? Or accidentally eats whatever is in that pail? “Forget it,” I respond quickly. “Too risky.”

  “He can fly,” Hannah reminds me. “I say we deploy the bird.”

  “He’s not a missile!” I bark. “No. I’ll go.”

  Unfortunately, our feathered pain in the butt does not agree with me on this particular matter. And before we can stop him, he takes off from his backpack perch and beelines right for the slim window opening.

  CHAPTER 29 NOW HE’S GONE AND DONE IT

  AT FIRST, I THINK ZEUS is going to crash into the window at top speed, knock himself silly, and plunge to his death two stories below, the exact fate Jin predicted for me.

  “Zeus!” I bellow, but he is already busy squeezing himself through the crack between the window and the sill.

  Oh boy. I really wish he hadn’t done that. We stand shoulder to shoulder, white-knuckling the railing, hearts racing. “Please don’t get stuck,” I whisper. “Please don’t eat anything toxic.”

  Inside the apartment, Zeus does a lap and settles down right next to the pail. He pecks at it a few times, pulling something out with his beak.

  “He’s got this,” Jin says with awe. “What a parrot!” But instead of returning to us, he suddenly flutters to the ceiling and disappears into the light fixture.

  “What is he doing?” Hannah leans out over the railing as far as she can, scowling.

  And that’s when a woman enters the room. Her hair is all tucked up under a faded striped bucket hat, save a few silvery strands, and a bunch of bracelets run up her arm. Swiftly, she pulls down the poster of the symbol, rolls it tight, and tucks it under her arm. Scooping up the pail, she slides the white handle into the crook of her elbow. Next, she heads to the window and slams it shut.

  No! No! No! She leaves the room without looking back.

  As soon as the door closes, Zeus peeks out from his perch. Seeing the closed window, he hangs his head sadly. My heart snags. This is not good.

  I’d like to say we remain calm and proceed in an orderly fashion. We don’t. We panic.

  Jin grabs my shoulders and gives me a shake. “Zeus is stuck in there!” he yells. As if I somehow missed it?

  “I’m going after him,” Hannah says, moving to climb over the railing.

  “You are not!” I yell, pulling her back to the ground.

  “We need to save Zeus!” she shouts.

  We are making a lot of noise, and people stare. “Be quiet,” I hiss. “Think.”

  “I am thinking,” Hannah growls. “Swing out to that tree. Wedge myself onto the windowsill. Break window. Squish through. Rescue bird. Find Midnight Market. Secure Helm. Hailed as heroes. Easy.”

  Jin gets a strange look on his face as he gazes at Hannah, something between shock and awe. “I never thought about the heroes part. That might be nice.”

  Hannah pokes him in the chest. “But only if we get the bird.”

  And Jin nods. “Get the bird,” he repeats.

  I see what is happening here. Hannah is brainwashing him so he agrees with her and it is two against one and I get outvoted and they execute Hannah’s crazy plan and everything goes terribly and falls to pieces, and somehow we all end up in Judge Gold’s courtroom and it is of course my fault. But I have no alternative to offer. And the truth is that I’m pretty sure Hannah can pull it off. She is better than me at the monkey stuff. There. I’ve said it.

  Admitting this makes me feel a little like a deflated balloon. But sometimes being a good teammate means getting out of the way so someone else can shine. I take a deep breath, dig into my backpack, and pull out the Window Witch 5.0. My friends look on with curiosity as I demonstrate.

  “Super easy,” I say. “So much better than 3.0. I mean, seriously. Not even the same at all.” Why am I suddenly nervous? I know the original Window Witch worked, but what if this one is a complete fail? It hasn’t exactly been field-tested. My mouth goes dry. My friends don’t notice. Hannah snatches the Window Witch out of my hands.

  “Gadgets,” she says, examining it. “Excellent.”

  “Jin and I will run interference,” I say. “Be fast.”

  She grins at me. “Is there any other way?” Her body quivers with excitement. Her eyes flash. “This is going to be so fun. I cannot wait to tell Bodhi.”

  The giant planters provide some protection from the eyes of tourists, but it is up to Jin and me to make sure they don’t look too closely. Positioning ourselves to the side of the planters, I overturn my heavy backpack, sending its contents all over the walkway. “Oh shoot!” I shriek, dropping to my knees to collect my scattered belongings.

  “This is terrible,” Jin says loudly. With impressive dramatic flair, and seeing where I’m going with this, he attempts to help me. As long as my stuff obstructs the path, the stream of walkers moves off in the other direction, away from the apartment that Hannah is now illegally entering to save our wayward parrot. Rather than picking up all my bits of stuff, we spread them around and push them farther into the flow of people. It works like a dream. So maybe I’m not good at swinging from railings to trees to windows, but that’s not everything.

  From his position, Jin has eyes on Hannah. “She’s in. She’s got Zeus. She’s back on the windowsill. Wow. She really is amazing, isn’t she? I couldn’t do that. Neither could you.”

  “Sure,” I say through gritted teeth. “She’s fabulous.” I concentrate on collecting my things and stuffing them back in the pack while Jin provides a blow-by-blow of Hannah’s safe and successful return to the High Line.

  When she joins us on the pathway, she’s exhilarated and hyper, hopping around li
ke a lunatic. “That was amazing! Did you see me? I am the best at this stuff!” Zeus flutters from her shoulder to Jin and begins busily chewing his hair. I plan to have words with him later about obeying the commands of his human companions, as they are for his own good, but right now there is only one burning question that needs to be answered.

  “Did you get it?” I ask, a little breathless.

  Smiling slyly, Hannah opens her fist to reveal a small, round piece of metal, about the size of a quarter, nestled in her palm. “I had to pry it out of Zeus’s mouth. He wanted to eat it.”

  Of course he did. I pluck it from her outstretched hand and examine the token’s engraving. It’s a majestic bird and a name. My friends huddle close. “What does it say?”

  “The Phoenix Hotel,” I reply.

  “Where is that?” Hannah asks.

  “Hey,” Jin says. “Phoenix is the name of the treasure hunter who went rogue and vanished and terrible things happened to her and everything. Is this just a weirdo coincidence?”

  A coincidence is when something unexpectedly happens at the same time or in the same way as something else. Whenever Dad encounters such a situation, he always gets a glint in his eye and says, “Well, look at that twist of fate.” I never thought about it much until right now. Does he mean that coincidences are not as they seem but are intentional? Because fate does not feel random to me. It feels like destiny.

  Thankfully, Hannah steps up to clarify. “So what?” she says. “There’s a city named Phoenix in Arizona. And that kid in ninth grade at Redwood.”

  Jin grimaces. “Oh yeah. Him. I don’t like him. He’s kind of mean.”

  “Totally!” Hannah agrees, laughing. “He cheats at dodgeball! Who does that?”

  They go back and forth like this, and while I think Hannah is probably right—it’s simply a name, after all—I cannot rid myself of the tight, uncomfortable feeling lodged in my chest.

  CHAPTER 30 GRAB-N-GO

  FINDING THINGS WITHOUT A PHONE is complicated. There are no phone booths anymore, so that means no phone books listing numbers and addresses of every location in the city. Instead, we pop into the chilly lobby of a towering sparkly hotel and tell the sympathetic concierge that we are lost. She agrees to call my dad, but then I realize I don’t know his phone number. It’s listed under “Dad” in my phone, and I never bothered to memorize it because… why? This worries the concierge a little too much. Quick on his feet, Jin reminds me that Dad said he’d meet us at the Phoenix Hotel. Right! The concierge provides the address, and we dash out of the hotel before she grows more suspicious.

  The Phoenix Hotel turns out to be a forty-five-minute walk downtown, during which time the sun roasts us to a crisp. We complain bitterly, but the heat does not care and keeps gleefully beating down on us. Once we arrive at the address, it takes us a few extra minutes to actually find the entrance, which is tucked into a back alley barely visible from the street. The door is dingy red, but a gold medallion front and center bears the same phoenix symbol as the token.

  “This must be it,” I say, the little hairs on my arms standing at attention. It’s creepy in this alley and much too quiet. If only the door had a window we could peer through to see what is on the other side. Hannah feels no such reservations. Hip-checking me out of the way, she shoves the door. Groaning on rusted hinges, it slowly swings inward, and a blast of musty air fragrant with garlic hits us hard. Jin sniffs, tilting his head to one side.

  “Vampires,” he says after a moment. “They must be using the garlic to ward them off.”

  “Or they’re cooking,” I reply. “Why does it have to be vampires?”

  “Expect the unexpected.” He disappears inside behind Hannah. I can’t argue with that, so I brace for potential vampires and hotfoot it after my friends, anxious not to be left behind.

  The hairs on my arms do not magically settle down once I’m inside. The air is thick and soupy. Shadows dance in the shafts of dim light penetrating the grimy windows. A thick layer of dust covers the heavy furniture and ornate reception desk, like no one has crossed the threshold in a very long time. An old fireplace mantel is laden with ceramic vases. Overflowing ashtrays are stacked on a side table beside a Life magazine from August 1952. A cocktail glass with a trace of ancient red lipstick rests on top of the magazine. The clutter reminds me a little of the inside of Great-Aunt Irma’s San Francisco Victorian, minus the creepiness. I clutch the token in my hand like a talisman against whatever lurks in this hotel.

  “Hello?” Hannah squeaks. Her voice ricochets around the gloomy lobby, but no one answers. We inch deeper into the space. Jin clutches my arm so hard he’s going to leave a mark. But I get it. My heart pounds against my ribs. Zeus tucks his head under a feathery wing.

  “Hello?” This time Hannah is louder, bolder. Still nothing. Maybe the garlic failed and everyone is sleeping in coffins down in the stony basement? That would be exciting and not in a good way. “There’s no one here.”

  But a rustling behind a purple-and-yellow beaded curtain hanging in a door behind the reception desk suggests otherwise. “Who’s there?” I ask. But there is no response.

  “A cat?” Jin whispers, still holding on to me for dear life.

  Suddenly, behind us a bright flash is followed by a blast of loud music. The room swirls with colored light, the kind a disco ball throws off. Do we all scream and jump a foot in the air? We might. You would too. This place is spooky. Against the far wall is a red carnival-game machine, one of those toy grabbers, pulsing with light and sound. Grab-n-Go is stenciled across its face in fancy gold script.

  “What the heck?” Hannah says, trying to untangle herself from me and Jin. She approaches the Grab-n-Go, as if it might reach out and grab her. We move slowly in her wake, careful not to step on her heels.

  Upon closer inspection, the Grab-n-Go is filled with stuffed animals and clear plastic balls containing trinkets like key chains and necklaces and cheap rings that turn your skin green. Thrown into the mix are several bright pink balls, smaller than the other ones and painted with the initials of the Midnight Market.

  “We only have one token,” Jin says, a little winded. “That means one try.”

  “Well, this is going to be an abrupt end to our journey,” Hannah says flatly.

  “Jin,” I say. “You can totally do this. All those video games? It’s the same thing. Focus. Concentration.”

  He looks at me, surprised. “Really? You think I can?”

  “Absolutely,” I reply. “No question.” Although in reality I give it about a 65 percent chance of success. I fold the token into Jin’s hand. “You got this.”

  Jin steps forward with a sharp look of concentration. “Just like a game,” he mutters. “No big deal.”

  “Don’t screw up,” Hannah offers helpfully. I give her a swift kick in the shin. “Ouch!”

  “Be quiet,” I hiss.

  “Fine.”

  “Can the two of you please shut up?” Jin pleads. “Like, completely?” Taking a deep breath, he drops the token into the slot. The Grab-n-Go goes turbo, frantically flashing and belching bits of music into the dusty lobby. I take an involuntary step back. Jin grips the handle and begins to maneuver the claw into position over one of the balls. A digital reader counts down the seconds remaining in his turn. A bead of sweat forms on his upper lip. He lowers the claw, attempting to close it on the pink ball. But it slips from the claw’s grasp and tumbles behind a small gray elephant with black eyes.

  Jin wipes his damp forehead on the back of his sleeve. He has thirty seconds left. My hands clench into tight fists. Clutching the handle, Jin raises the claw a second time and swings it over to another pink ball. I stop breathing. Hannah covers her face. The claw lowers, missing the ball and shoving it left, but Jin quickly adjusts and moves the claw back into position. Ten seconds. This is it. Now or never. The claw drops and its spiny metal fingers seize the pink ball fast.

  With surgeonlike precision, Jin raises the claw, swings it over to t
he slot, and drops the pink ball inside. It clinks like chimes as it rolls out the chute and into his hand.

  “You did it!” Hannah jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

  Jin holds up the pink plastic ball, his face awash in the disco-ball colors. “I did, didn’t I?” His pleased smile spreads wide, and his eyes get a little unfocused and dreamy.

  “Made it look easy,” I say. “Now open it.”

  “Right,” he says, refocusing. “That was the whole point. Get the ball. See what’s inside.” Popping open the sphere, Jin pulls out a scrap of paper upon which a messy address is scratched in pen with the word “Congratulations!”

  “Battery Park,” Jin says, examining the slip.

  “That’s the very southern tip of Manhattan,” Hannah says. “What else does it say?”

  “Midnight. By the ferries.”

  We glance at one another. “I guess we know where we’re going,” I say. This should be exciting, but there is something about the flashing Grab-n-Go and the empty, dusty hotel lobby that tempers our enthusiasm. We have no idea what we are getting into.

  Jin tosses the pink ball to Hannah and stuffs the paper into his pocket. “I’m not sure this is relevant, but I’m starving and we have no money.” I’m about to suggest we get out of this place when the front door slams open and a hurricane of dust kicks up, blinding us.

  Something is here.

  CHAPTER 31 IT’S RAINING DRONES

  THE AIR FILLS WITH THE buzz of helicopter rotors, and decades of dust fill my mouth. “A drone!” Jin shouts, shielding his head as the silver-winged quad races around the lobby, bumping into walls like it is short-circuiting. A mechanical arm on the underside of the drone clutches a thick padded envelope. The quad lurches in my direction. “Duck!” I hit the ground in time to save myself from a really bad haircut. Zeus zooms into the protective enclosure of the fireplace and huddles in the corner.