Suddenly, I was really aware that Adam was only like four inches away. If I dropped my hand to my side, would he reach for it? That was a trick Taylor taught me—give the guy the option of making a move, but not in an obvious way that makes you feel stupid if he doesn’t.
My hand itched to touch his, to share the moment. It confused me. This was Adam.
“So,” he said after a while. “Have you ever seen a view like this in the city?” And just like that, the moment was gone.
“I’ll give you this. We don’t have the open sky in the city.” Then, I sat up. Too fast. Blood rushed to my head, and I clutched my forehead. “Ugh, bad idea.”
Adam smiled. “Yeah, don’t do that. It’s like eating ice cream really quick.”
“This was better than ice cream.”
We were grinning at each other. Adam really did have exceptionally white teeth….
“Yuck.” I wrinkled my nose at the distinct stench of cow poop. “Do you smell that?”
“Never.” Adam stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “I gotta go. I haven’t started on the reading for history yet.”
“Yeah, me neither. But I think I’m going to sit out here for a while longer. You mind?”
“Nah, that’s cool. See you tomorrow, Lissa.”
Adam loped away, and I climbed back onto the picnic table, stretching out and looking up again.
My mind drifted to bigger problems. What would happen if we didn’t help Blue? He only remembered fragments from when he was a kid. It sounded like waking up from a dream—you only remember scraps of it, and maybe later that same day something happens to jar your memory. But once a few days pass, the dream’s evaporated.
What if that happened to Blue? What if his life before Down Below just … evaporated?
Maybe it would be better that way. If there was no chance of changing him back, maybe it was better if he didn’t know what he was missing.
The boards of the picnic table were hard against my back and I squirmed, trying to get comfortable. The stars blurred. When I drew my sleeve across my eyes, I realized I was crying.
A flash of white shot across the sky—a shooting star! When you see one, you’re supposed to make a wish. That’s what they always do in the movies.
But I didn’t know what to wish. I wanted Blue to return Down Below when he was ready. Based on his stories about Atticus, Down Below didn’t seem safe. But Blue couldn’t stay up here.
I wish for Blue to find a place to call home.
The star was already long gone.
SCENE TEN:
BLUE’S REAL NAME
It was officially jacket season. When I got dressed for school the next day, the hardwood floor was chilly against my bare feet, and wind was blowing through the cracks in the window frames.
I liked this weather, though. Fall has a crispness to it, and the leaves in Freeburg were gorgeous—all orange and yellow and brown.
Haylie liked the sycamore leaves—the really big ones with jagged edges and veins running from stem to tip. She liked ripping them into confetti and tossing them into the air.
When I got to school, Candice was wearing mouse ears.
“Aren’t you a little early?” I asked her. “Halloween’s Saturday.”
She smiled and adjusted her ears. “I know. But it’s my favorite. Want a peanut butter cup?” she asked, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a plastic bag.
“Of course.”
Todd walked into class and dropped into his seat. “What are we having?”
Candice tossed him a piece of candy. “Here.”
“What’s your costume this year?” I asked him. “Because, no offense, but your ninja costume looked a little tight.”
He shoved the peanut butter cup into his mouth. “Everyone knows it’s lame to dress up after sixth grade.” He looked pointedly at Candice’s mouse ears.
“Whatever. I’ll dress up until people stop giving me candy.”
I smiled, arranging my pens on my desk. “I like your attitude.”
Adam walked in and sat down. “What’re we talking about?”
“We’re discussing whether this year Todd’s dressing up like a fairy princess or a ballerina.”
“Does it matter?” Candice asked. “Either way he gets to wear tights.”
“If you got it, flaunt it,” Todd said.
“Hey.” Candice tapped on my desk. “Want to come over after school tomorrow? I want another opinion on my costume. And you dress cool.”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
No one had ever told me I dressed cool before. Not when Taylor—who spends an hour getting ready for school every day—was there for comparison.
“If you’re asking me, you must need help. But sure. I’d love to come over.”
Candice’s room wasn’t what I expected. Candice is little and cute, so I guess I thought her room would be little and cute, too. But it was big and yellow and airy and filled with horses.
Fake ones, I mean. She had a shelf crammed with horse figurines, and a stuffed horse sitting on her bedspread, and about a million award ribbons stuck to a pegboard.
“So,” I fingered a ribbon hanging from the pegboard, “what’s your favorite animal?”
Candice laughed and flopped onto her beanbag chair. “Dogs! Can’t you tell?” She bounced up and down. “Seriously though, I’ve been doing horse shows since I was five. You can meet Pete if you want.”
“Pete?”
“Yeah, my horse. He’s in the backyard.”
“You have a horse in your backyard?”
The only horses I’d ever seen in person were the ones pulling carriages in Central Park. I always felt bad for them—getting hot and smelly while carting around tourists dumb enough to pay a hundred bucks per ride.
“Yeah, he’s awesome. Here’s a picture.” Candice hopped up from the beanbag chair and crossed the room to her mirror. There were a ton of pictures wedged into the frame. “Let me see, let me see. Here!” She plucked a picture and handed it to me. “That’s from this show we did in Red Bud. We took second.”
“Cool.” A helmet was shoved over Candice’s hair, and her white teeth took over the whole picture. She had her arm around a deep brown horse. It was exactly the way Casey and Taylor and I posed together in pictures. I wondered how many they’d taken without me lately.
“You can put it back when you’re done looking,” Candice said. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab us some snacks. You good with microwave pizza?”
“Yeah, sure.”
After Candice disappeared, I looked around her dresser some more. Every inch of it was covered—a jewelry tree with a dozen necklaces, a big basket of makeup, more horse figurines.
I moved closer to the mirror to look at the pictures. There were a few of Candice and some other girls in class, and one of Candice and Todd during a school field day. She was laughing as she poured Gatorade over his head. I grinned at that one.
In the top corner of the mirror, I saw a picture of Candice making cookies with a little boy. They were both covered in flour and wearing hideous reindeer sweaters. The picture looked like an ad for cookie dough—two adorable blond kids laughing and making a mess.
Carefully, I removed it from the frame. It reminded me of Haylie and me.
Candice didn’t have a brother that I knew of. The kid in the picture must be a cousin or something. I looked at his face, which was completely lit up by a smile stretching to his ears. And his eyes—
It felt like I’d been sucker punched in the stomach.
His eyes were brown and warm and happy. Just like Blue’s.
Candice walked back into the room carrying a plate and cradling two sodas against her chest. “Food!”
My mouth was so dry I almost couldn’t speak. “Hey.” I held the picture up. “This is cute.”
Something faded from Candice’s eyes. “Oh.” She handed me a soda. “That’s me and my cousin.”
“He’s adorable.”
> “Thanks.”
“Does he live around here?”
Candice shook her head. “Not anymore. Maybe you heard the story. Colin disappeared last Halloween.”
After I got back from Candice’s house, I raced to see Blue. It was dark out, but I didn’t care.
Dead leaves crunched under my feet, and I realized how different the woods looked now compared to a few months ago. The wildflowers were gone. The trees were still colorful, but they’d lose their leaves soon. The temperature would dip below freezing, and snow would cover the ground. What would we do with Blue then?
“Blue!” I called out when I got to his little cabin. I cleared my throat. “Colin? Colin!” The name felt strange in my mouth.
I heard a scuffling sound, and then Blue appeared in the doorway. “Lissa?”
I squatted to look him in the eyes. “Colin.”
He blinked at me. “Huh?”
“Colin. Your name is Colin. Don’t you remember?”
Man, I wished I had that picture! Blue frowned, playing with one of his ears. “No …”
“Candice. Do you remember Candice?”
“No …”
But he looked like he remembered something. Like somewhere in his memory, he recognized those names.
“Do you remember making cookies with Candice? Lots of flour everywhere? Eating the dough? Really ugly reindeer sweaters?”
Blue frowned so hard he looked scary, especially in the dim light, with the shadows playing over him. “No …”
I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Are you sure … Colin?”
He pulled away from me. “No! I don’t remember! I don’t remember anything!” He burst into tears—loud sobs—with his mouth opened so wide.
“Shhhh, shhhh.” I felt terrible, and I leaned to pick him up. He let me. Carefully, I carried him to his bed and clicked on the lamp on the battered nightstand. “Here, why don’t I read you something? How about James and the Giant Peach?”
Blue gulped. “Okay.” Huge tears splashed down his cheeks.
I stayed with him until his breathing settled into a deep, even rhythm. He clutched Willy Whale, one of his stuffed animals from Haylie. I pulled his quilt over him, brushing my hand against his bald head.
“Sweet dreams,” I whispered.
But how would that ever be possible?
SCENE ELEVEN:
CURTAINS UP!
It was Friday, the day of my play. As Dad whipped the car along the back roads out of Freeburg, I kept my forehead against the window. A headache throbbed at my temples, and the cool glass was soothing.
I couldn’t stop worrying about Blue. I knew Adam would keep him safe while I was gone, but I hated leaving him.
At least Adam and I had a great surprise planned for tomorrow. One that both Blue and Haylie would love.
Colin, I reminded myself. His name is Colin. But to Adam and me, he was still Blue.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Dad glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “I thought you’d be singing with joy.”
“She’s nervous,” Mom said. “Her big debut.”
“Nothing to be nervous about.” Dad took the exit to the interstate. “Your play was picked. That means it’s good.”
“Hmm.” I rubbed at the condensation on the window, watching it cloud up again.
I watched the trees and fields pass by the window. It had been months since I’d hung out with Casey and Taylor. Would everything feel the same with them? Would there be any weird gaps in the conversation, or inside jokes I didn’t get?
The trip took only three hours, thanks to Dad’s lead foot. Soon we were zooming through the Holland Tunnel, then blinking into the sunlight on Beach Street.
I rolled down my window and felt a cold gust of wind. “Hello, New York!” I crowed. A guy driving a taxi in the next lane glared at me. In Freeburg, he would have waved.
“Lissa,” Mom hissed. “Don’t do that.”
I bounced in my seat. “But we’re here!” I couldn’t sit still. Hello, skyscrapers! Hello, billboards! Hello, yellow taxis!
Hmm, at second glance, the city wasn’t as bright and shiny as I remembered it. There sure was a lot of traffic. And I’d forgotten about red lights. This was total gridlock. Would our car ever move?
“Only a mile to go,” Dad said.
“A whole mile?” I asked. It can take twenty minutes to drive a mile in New York. We only had two hours until the play started.
Adam’s voice from the night of the fair pushed its way into my mind. How long would it take to drive a mile in the city? I grinned and took in a deep breath of NYC air.
“Gross! Garbage truck!” I held my nose.
“Means it’s Friday.” Dad gunned through a yellow light.
Thirty minutes later, we pulled into the valet area of the Waldorf. The rest of my family was staying at the hotel for the night, but I was crashing at Taylor’s condo in our old building.
We dumped our luggage in our room and took a taxi to Lombardi’s. Grabbing pizza, before the show. We had a reservation at Lombardi’s, but the maître d’ informed us it would still be a twenty-minute wait. I thought of Mom and me sitting right down for brunch in Algonquin.
After dinner, a taxi dropped us off in front of St. Mary’s. There were a lot of people there. Right off the bat, I saw ten people I’d known since preschool. They all smiled and waved really big at me, and I realized how much I’d missed everyone.
Mr. Kincaid stood guard near the ticket booth. “Lissa!” he boomed when he spotted me. “The Black family!”
“Hi, Mr. Kincaid.” I eyed his red suspenders. “Are you the bouncer?”
“I am.” Mr. Kincaid reached into his shirt’s front pocket and pulled out an envelope. “And I am the giver. Ms. Casey told me to ‘give her’ the tickets. The ‘her’ being you.” He extended the envelope to me.
“Free tickets? Cool.”
“Well, of course. You’re in show business now. Getting free things comes with the territory. But make sure you sit in your assigned seats. Right through that door. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, opening the envelope. “Thanks, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Sure. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’m very busy and important.” He winked at me and disappeared up the steps to the balcony.
We followed the crowd through the auditorium doors, grabbing programs printed on pastel pink paper on the way.
“I didn’t know the seats in the auditorium were labeled,” I said to Mom. My ticket had G 1-4 scrawled on it in black letters. It looked like Casey’s handwriting.
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Mom said and, sure enough, seven rows in, four seats had RESERVED signs across them. My pulse quickened. This is all for me?
“How nice.” Dad ripped the signs off the seats and settled into the one farthest in. They were the same kind of seats you’d see at the movies—all red and squishy. I lowered myself into the one on the aisle. It squeaked.
The lights started flashing, and I took a deep breath. This was it. My play. The crowd stopped talking as the overhead lights dimmed, and then stage lights illuminated a kitchen scene. Taylor and Brian Borlas sat at a table, both wearing blue bathrobes and gray wigs.
“What are we going to do?” Taylor wailed. “I’m old! I’m tired! I want to retire in the Caribbean!”
“I want to scuba dive before my arthritis is too bad.”
“I want to learn how to surf.”
“I want to find sand dollars.”
Brian shook his head so violently his fake mustache came unstuck. He slapped it back on, which got a laugh from the audience. “But we’ll never get to the Caribbean if Jasper doesn’t find himself a lady.”
Taylor picked up her coffee cup. “But how is Jasper going to do that?”
Ian Randall strutted in, wearing an orange sweater and a pair of dorky glasses. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Great news. I got to Level four hundred in Call of Modern Warfare Warcraft. Isn’t that great?”
I put a hand over m
y mouth to hide my smile. The dialogue sounded even funnier coming out of Ian’s mouth than it had when I was writing it down.
Taylor stood up and put her hands on her hips. “No, that’s not great, Jasper. That’s time you could have spent outside, meeting a nice girl.”
“I don’t need to meet a girl. I’m only thirty-five.”
Brian picked up a magazine on the table. “Do you see this? See the boat on the cover? On the ocean next to the white sand?”
Ian glanced at the magazine. “Yeah?”
“What’s missing?”
Ian looked at the magazine again. “The captain should have a life vest.”
“No. It’s missing us! Your mom and me! We want to retire! And we can’t do that with you living in the basement.”
“I told you. I don’t need to meet a girl. Now, Mom, can you make me a Hot Pocket? I’m supposed to lead the next mission.” Ian disappeared off the stage.
“I don’t know what that means!” Taylor wailed, wringing her hands.
I sneaked a glance at the people around me. Did they like it? Hate it? No one had gotten up and left yet. And everyone was laughing in the right places. But maybe they were just being polite.
Onstage, Taylor and Brian huddled over a laptop, creating an online dating profile for Jasper.
“Hmm,” Taylor mused. “Jasper lives in our basement and doesn’t pay rent. How can we spin that?”
Brian held up his index finger. “Independently wealthy!”
“What about those coke bottle glasses of his?”
“Err … academic!”
“Remember when Cousin Albert bought that picture of him? Since he liked the frame? We can say he’s a former model.”
They high-fived and bent back over the laptop. The lights on the stage faded to the sound of applause.
One by one, different girls showed up—ones that were there because they thought Jasper was rich, or really smart, or super good-looking. Ian did a great job of getting madder and madder after each date.
It came to the last scene. Ian stomped through a fake park. A fountain and a bridge were drawn on the backdrop. Megan Martin, a girl who’d been in my Advanced English class, sat on a bench in the middle of the stage. She was wearing thick glasses and orthopedic shoes, and was throwing bread crumbs to stuffed ducks. From my row, I could see the Toys “R” Us tags.
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