“We can’t bring him with us,” said Sebastian, sounding totally flustered.
“I mean, we probably could,” said Evie, thinking about it.
“How?” asked Sebastian, trying to control the wriggling beast.
“He’s pretty tiny. I bet we can take him on the plane.”
“We can’t bring him along. This is a very dangerous adventure. It isn’t safe for a dog,” Sebastian replied.
“Well, I could look after him,” said a far too familiar voice.
Oh no. No, not now!
Mr. M didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Sebastian hard by the arm before Evie could even think. Maybe Orson could have helped them again, but Mr. K snatched the dog quickly from Sebastian’s arms and held him by the scruff of the neck. There was no hope that Orson could bite any of them this time.
Quickly Evie turned and saw Mr. I approaching from behind her.
“I really, really don’t like you guys,” she said. As Mr. I went for her, she ducked, but he caught her around the waist and lifted her up so that for a moment she was kicking in the air. “Put me down!”
It was then that Evie saw the black car parked next to them, the back door open and waiting. From somewhere within the car she heard a shout: “Come on already! This place is crawling with cops.”
“No!” screamed Evie. If she could make a scene, then maybe the police or security or a pilot or someone, anyone, would see them being kidnapped!
The dog barked loudly. Evie was inspired. She bent at the waist and bit down hard on Mr. I’s arm. He released a loud grunt from behind his wired-shut jaw and dropped her. She fell to the ground and looked up in time to see Sebastian being pulled toward the car.
“I don’t think so,” said Catherine, and suddenly Evie was surrounded by explorers. She was stunned into stillness as Catherine, Benedict, and the Kid rushed to Sebastian’s (and Orson’s) help. The men in black seemed pretty stunned too, but they were ready to fight back, and fight back they did. It was three on three now, and a small crowd was gathering as the men in black tussled with the Filipendulous Five. In the chaos, Orson had been dropped, and he was now a little brown blur frantically yapping and nipping at everyone’s heels. Evie could do nothing but look. She watched as the crowd grew larger, and then, to her dismay, as two uniformed police officers ran toward them.
At this point she really didn’t want them anymore. Earlier they could have saved her and Sebastian; now they would just add to the chaos.
That was enough to finally get her on her feet and into the action.
“The police are coming,” she announced loudly into the mess. Her shout had the effect of stopping everything, kind of like a pause button. Only Orson kept jumping about. Catherine had Mr. M in a headlock; Mr. I was winding up to punch the Kid, who was ducking out of the way; and Benedict was holding Mr. K calmly at bay with both his hands pressing into the man’s shoulders. Sebastian, meanwhile, was on the ground right by the open door to the car. He took that moment to slam it shut. Orson ran to him and snuggled into his lap.
Catherine released Mr. M, who pointed at her, practically touching her nose, and with a grimace said, “This isn’t over!”
All three men dove into the black car waiting for them, and they were off.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” said Evie, out of breath and confused. She made her way to Sebastian to help him to stand.
“We need to follow their example and get out of here too,” said Benedict.
“Why?” asked Evie as she and Sebastian joined the adults.
“Do you really want to get in trouble for fighting at an airport when we have your grandfather to save?” asked the Kid, looking over her shoulder toward the approaching officers.
“Oh. Good point.”
“Let’s go,” said Catherine, and they hustled inside as quickly as they could without running, so as to not draw attention.
“What about Orson?” asked Sebastian, speed-walking beside Evie.
“I guess he’s coming along,” replied Evie. Orson looked so happy in Sebastian’s arms that it seemed beyond the right choice. “Also, what were you saying earlier? Before the rental car guy showed up?”
Sebastian stepped to the side to avoid a young woman staring up at the list of departures, totally oblivious to the fact that she was in his path. Evie darted to the other side, and when they came back together, he said, “I don’t remember.”
Evie’s heart sank. They fell in line behind the Kid and waited to have their boarding passes scanned before going through security. If Sebastian had said anything else, if he’d, for example, said, “It was nothing,” she wouldn’t have felt this way at all. Sometimes we start to say things, and then, when other things happen, we realize it’s not worth saying after all. But if there was one thing she knew about Sebastian, it was that he didn’t forget anything. He had a photographic memory, for crying out loud. “I don’t remember” basically meant “I don’t want to tell you.” Sebastian was keeping something from her. From her, Evie. Of all people.
That didn’t feel good. That didn’t feel good at all.
Of all the plans Sebastian had experienced on this journey; of all the plans made in mere moments and made on his own and made in a group; of all the plans that had involved playing in a K-pop band, and ejecting himself out of a plane, and sneaking into societies and freeing animals and climbing through volcanoes and so on; of all the plans he had experienced of late, none seemed quite as bizarre as the current one: going to the opera.
Opera didn’t intimidate Sebastian. His parents enjoyed it, and he’d heard many played for him at home. So it didn’t seem strange to him that going to the opera was a thing that people did. What seemed strange was how normal it was. There was no sneaking involved, no having to pretend to be an underage stunt-car driver, no climbing mountains. No. Instead the Kid had done a little investigating, and it turned out that the evening they arrived in town, there was going to be a performance of one of the operas Doris was working on.
The group didn’t really even need to see the opera at all. They could wait until it was over to speak with Doris. But Benedict had suggested that getting some seats might be nice. After all, they would have to spend the waiting time doing something, since their flight would arrive in the late afternoon, and Evie thought waiting in the audience and seeing the performance sounded cool. And so they all would head to the opera together as if on a lovely family outing. As if Sebastian wasn’t a bundle of nerves. As if, had the rental car guy not appeared when he had, he hadn’t been about to suggest to Evie that he go home and let her do the rest of the adventuring without him. Even though he was exhausted. Even though he didn’t think he could do any more.
Why was he still here? Why did he keep going?
He really hated this. He hated not understanding his brain anymore. He hated always feeling ill at ease. He hated all of it.
So why didn’t he just go home?
Because he’d hate that more?
He had no idea.
It was all too much, and he realized that he should go to sleep, let his brain think without him present, and maybe when he woke up, all his problems would be solved.
So with his usual efficiency, Sebastian leaned his head against the cool airplane window, instinctively pulled Orson in close, and fell asleep.
* * *
—
How did he do that? Evie stared at Sebastian in wonder as he fell instantly asleep the second his head touched the window. She was impressed and a little jealous. And she knew how anxious he always was. He had been anxious from the moment she’d met him, but now he was even more so. This was a lot for him. She did understand that, even if he was keeping something from her.
Yet here he was, easily able to fall asleep. He probably was so logical about it, told himself, “It is sleeping time.” And that was that.
She wished she could do that too. Her brain couldn’t stop buzzing. Thoughts flew around like leaves in the wind, and they never really landed or went away, just circled in unpredictable patterns. Joy at being so close to finding her grandfather, fear about what they would find, frustration at the adults not thinking she mattered as much because they had each other, and curiosity too.
“Why does Catherine act like that whenever Doris is mentioned?” asked Evie, leaning over to the Kid, who was sitting beside her. She said it quietly, since Catherine and Benedict were sitting a row in front of them. But she was pretty sure both were napping. Only she and the Kid were awake: he watching an action movie on a tiny screen, and she dealing with an action movie of emotion inside her head.
“What was that?” asked the Kid, pulling out an earbud and looking at her.
A new thought floated through her brain that maybe Sebastian’s parents were mad at her for all this, and that was what he was hiding, and she stared at the seat in front of her.
“Evie?” the Kid tried again.
She turned. “Oh! I asked, I asked…” She leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “Why does Catherine act weird whenever Doris is brought up?”
The Kid listened for longer than it took her to pose the question. He nodded and was quiet.
“I don’t want to talk behind anyone’s back,” he said at last, “which is what we are literally doing.” He laughed a little at that. “All I feel comfortable saying is that they were really good friends and Catherine probably doesn’t feel great knowing that Doris is still in touch with me but not with her,” he whispered.
Evie nodded. That made sense. She’d probably feel put out about that too if someone she was close to suddenly wasn’t in touch with her anymore but was with…with…well, she didn’t have any other friends except for Sebastian, so…with Sebastian. Or if Sebastian, say, was no longer speaking to her but was happy to speak with Benedict.
“But why don’t they talk?” asked Evie.
The Kid shook his head. “That I don’t know. I wish I did. I’ve asked Doris about it, but she said it was personal.”
“What about Catherine?” asked Evie.
“I haven’t seen or heard from her in years. Or Benedict. It’s a bit like…” He stopped, lowered his voice, since it had been getting a bit louder, and then continued. “It was an accident, but it’s a bit like the team fractured in two after Alistair left. Benedict and Catherine. Me and Doris. Doris was always like a mother to me. And Benedict and Catherine always had similar personalities? I mean, they are…odd in a similar way.” He grinned. “But who isn’t odd?”
“Kind of detached?” Evie added, totally getting it.
The Kid pointed at her in recognition. “Good word choice. Yeah, exactly. But they’re not. Never believe it for a second. They seem distant sometimes, but they’re not. When you need them…Let’s just say they’ve always been there when I needed them.”
Evie nodded. She wasn’t so sure they’d be there for her if she needed them. But then again, she really wasn’t sure if they were friends with her. She didn’t know what she was or where she stood, or really much of anything.
“Now you’re doing a weird thing yourself,” said the Kid.
“I’m thinking,” replied Evie.
“Well, don’t think too hard. There’s nothing wrong with analyzing stuff, but if you dig too deep, you can end up in a hole you can’t get out of.”
Evie nodded. Maybe. She wasn’t sure. It sounded true, but, well, she wasn’t sure. After all, if you kept digging, eventually you’d create a tunnel.
“I think I’m going to try to sleep now,” she said.
The Kid nodded. “Cool.” He put the earbud back in and resumed watching his movie.
Evie closed her eyes. There was no way she was actually going to be able to sleep. She just didn’t want to talk anymore.
Instead she watched as her thoughts danced about, the leaves now spinning faster and faster like they were getting pulled in a storm.
They handed over their tickets and passed through the entrance. Sebastian stopped short and stared. Yes, this was an outdoor performance, and yes, even though that wasn’t usual, he’d heard of such a thing before. But never in his life had he ever seen anything quite like this.
The audience seats sloped amphitheater-style down the side of a cliff face until the rows met jet-black water. Yes. Water. They were on the edge of the sea, and the stage itself was floating out on it. There were lights glinting off the water, purple, pink, and orange. But it wasn’t just the floating stage that stunned Sebastian. There was also the huge set that had been constructed on top of it. This wasn’t a square flat space with a painted backdrop and curtains at the front. No, the entire stage looked like clouds floating on the water. And it wasn’t like one platform of clouds that the singers would be standing on, either. The scene was multiple fluffy clouds, creating giant platforms at different heights, almost like the audience was sitting in the sky staring into a forest of cotton candy. But the most impressive element on the stage was the giant sparkly silver-and-gold lightning bolt that stretched from high above the clouds, probably more than a hundred feet up, pierced through the set as it made its way across the main stage platform, and then plunged into the water to the left.
“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” said Evie. “Is this normal?”
Sebastian shook his head.
Evie looked at him. “Have you seen an opera before?”
“Not in person, but my parents listen to them a lot,” replied Sebastian. “And we have books about them.”
They followed the three explorers down the steep staircase to their row in the middle of the audience, and then slipped along the seats to theirs. Sebastian was careful to hide Orson as much as he could. Even though they were outdoors, he still wasn’t sure if a dog was allowed.
“Is it like in cartoons?” she asked as they sat. “Do they really sing like that?”
“Yes,” replied Sebastian, staring at the lightning bolt.
“And there’s no talking, no talking at all?”
Sebastian shook his head. To say he was distracted was an understatement. There was something about being at an opera, about all of Evie’s questions, that made him think of home. He couldn’t help but picture sitting with his parents in the living room as some opera by Mozart played in the background. Their contented faces, how relaxed they were. They probably weren’t relaxed right now. They were probably scared silly. Worried about him. They’d probably called the authorities to find him. He hadn’t thought of that before. Oh man, now he was defying not only them but law enforcement as well.
“Are operas usually on the water like this?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. Most are in theaters, I believe.” He looked up to the night sky, to the bright stars overhead. “Fancy theaters.”
The floodlights shining on the audience dimmed then, and an excited murmur danced over the crowd.
“And do the singers dress as Vikings with horned helmets?” whispered Evie. Her enthusiasm was getting a little annoying. Especially since the lights were low now and the show was about to start.
“No, that’s just a myth. That’s not actually…” Sebastian stopped talking as a woman dressed as a Viking wearing a horned helmet and holding a sword and shield stepped onto the stage.
“You sure?” asked Evie.
Sebastian looked at the woman closely. He noticed then that the helmet didn’t have horns on it but wings. He thought about it. She was also on a set that looked like clouds.
“She’s not a Viking. She’s a Valkyrie!” he said proudly, and way too loudly. He was shushed by someone nearby and lowered his voice. “The Norse mythological war character, which is mythology from countries like Denmark and Norway. That’s also where Vikings come from.”
“Ah,” said Evie, noddi
ng as a bright white spotlight highlighted the sudden appearance of a bright white bald spot on the top of a head rising from beyond the first row in front of the orchestra seated on the edge of the bank. The audience started applauding, so Sebastian did too.
“I know at least that that’s the conductor,” said Evie, clapping as well. “The person who tells the orchestra when to play.”
“Yes,” he said, and they smiled at each other.
The applause died down.
The conductor raised his baton over his head. There was a pause. Only the breeze caused the faintest movement, ruffling the soprano’s gown and the hair of the audience.
And then.
The first chord was struck, and the overture began to play. Orson’s head popped up, his ears perked, fascinated. Sebastian gave him a little pat as he watched the action. Valkyries ran out onto the stage, swirling around their leader. The soprano nodded and smiled at them, beginning a pantomime where she occasionally pointed this way and that, and then with one last flurry they all rushed off the stage. Then a male chorus began singing from somewhere behind the clouds, emerging as a Viking army stomping across the stage.
And so the opera began. The tenor appeared, then the baritone, a large man in a ridiculous-looking red curly wig. Eventually the soprano returned, her voice rich, her high notes so pure, not a false note. There was action too, a couple of fights, jealousy, betrayal. Tragedy. More singing. More tragedy. The tenor was “murdered”; the soprano sang a sad song about it.
Then it was all over.
The performers bowed to a standing ovation.
The floodlights came back on.
And the audience shuffled around, gathering their things to leave. Sebastian stood too, as did Benedict and Catherine. Evie kind of propelled herself out of her chair.
“That was fantastic!” she said, practically jumping up and down. Sebastian nodded and smiled. The music had been amazing, and the floating set was one of the most incredible things he’d seen. But the logical part of his brain could not shut off thinking how unrealistic it all was. It wasn’t even the fact that he had been watching Valkyries and other mythical creatures interact. It was the constant singing. How could he possibly not find that a little silly? No one sings all the time.
The Quest for the Kid Page 15