by Marina Cohen
I sit up straighter. I would very much like a little creature to do my bidding. I would wish it to play with me and sing songs to me and keep me company.
“I’m going to catch it,” I tell her with a fierce resolution.
Frau Heinzelmann smiles at first, but then her smile turns to a frown. She wags a finger heavily crusted with crumbs. “Mind you, don’t anger it. I warned you, they can be malicious little demons, those kobolds, if they become angry.” She plunks a basket filled with potatoes in front of me. “Now, until you have a kobold to do your bidding, peel!” she orders. I pick up the paring knife and reluctantly oblige.
That night, I sit in the parlor near the fireplace pretending to play with my dollhouse. Frau Heinzelmann has retired to her room above the carriage house for the evening.
Mama lies in bed sleeping, and Papa is in the dining room eating a late supper. I listen to the whispering in the chimney and I think. And I am curious.
Before I left the kitchen that morning, I sneaked a fistful of bread crumbs into my pocket. I withdraw them now and make a neat line leading out of the fireplace toward where I sit. I wait and watch for the longest time, but nothing stirs.
Papa calls to me and tells me it is late and I should be in bed. Reluctantly, I agree to go to my room, but before I do I have a thought. I want to catch the kobold. I want to see it. So I sneak back into the kitchen and locate a pot of molasses.
Without Papa seeing, I pour some of the thick, sticky syrup onto the floor where the line of bread crumbs ends. Then I place my dollhouse in front of the mess so Papa won’t see. I join him in the dining room to bid him good night.
“Good night, little bird,” he says, having adopted Mama’s pet name for me. “May your dreams be sweet wishes, and may your wishes come true.”
I glance over my shoulder at the line of bread crumbs leading to my dollhouse. I nod at Papa and smile.
Thirteen
“Grace!” shouted Hadley.
A woman at the edge of the lawn stood dappled in morning light. She had a carpetbag purse slung over one shoulder and held an enormous bouquet of sunflowers as tall as herself. Muddy roots tangled around her long white skirt, leaving brown stains.
“I came to say hi,” she yelled, “and to cleanse the house’s aura for you.”
Hadley and her mother exchanged grins.
“Who’s that lady with the purple hair?” asked Isaac, joining them. “And why is she standing in the street yelling at you?”
“That’s Grace,” said Hadley. “She’s our friend from the old building. Don’t worry, she’s just a bit kooky.”
Hadley was so happy to see Grace that she forgot she was mad at Isaac for hiding the dolls. She charged down the steps of the porch and across the lawn.
Layers upon layers of beads of all shapes, colors, and sizes swung from Grace’s neck. Purple Birkenstock sandals that had seen better days covered feet that Hadley was sure had never entered a spa. Grace’s hair was a ball of magenta frizz, and her eyes bulged behind cheap rhinestone-rimmed frames with no lenses.
Hadley took Grace by the hand and dragged her toward the house. They reached the front porch and climbed the steps. Grace handed Hadley’s mother the sunflowers and clapped the dirt from her hands. She dusted her skirt, which only made the stains worse.
She looked Hadley up and down. “Your feet have grown.” She looked at Isaac. “You have a loose tooth. Only it hasn’t started wobbling yet.” She patted his shoulder.
Isaac’s fingers shot to his mouth and began checking his teeth one by one. “I think I found it!”
Hadley’s mother smiled. “Thanks for the flowers.” She held them at arm’s length so as not to get dirt all over herself. “Come in. I’ll show you the place. Just, er, let me get a vase for this lovely bouquet.”
Grace looked at Hadley and shrugged. “They’re not really from me. The gnomes picked them.”
She was about to step inside when she came to a dead stop in the center of the door frame.
“It’s worse than I thought,” she muttered, peering inside the house. “We’ll need the full treatment. A thorough aura scrubbing, spirit exfoliation, atmospheric renewal, and buffing. And some thalassotherapy, too. Good thing I brought my algae, seaweed, and alluvial mud kit.” She patted her large purse and winked knowingly.
Hadley sighed happily. She was glad Grace had come.
Hadley’s mother boiled a pot of hot water—it was all Grace drank—and then they sat down in the living room for a chat.
Grace told them all about the other apartment residents. Mostly random details, like how Mr. Barolo had thrown out a perfectly good chair and that was why he now had a horrible case of gout, and how Evelyn and her twins had started a hunter-gatherer diet except they ate far too much bacon which stank up the entire fifth floor upsetting Alfred who was a strict vegan.
She was particularly annoyed with the mysterious young couple that had moved into Hadley’s old apartment. Apparently they refused to take the elevator. Or say hi to the gnomes.
The old apartment. Just the mention of it made Hadley homesick.
While Grace talked, Hadley reached into her pocket, turning the eye over and over between her fingers. She recalled details of her old bedroom. The inside closet door where her mother had etched her height each year. The stain in the carpet where Sydney had dropped the jar of grape jelly. Her puce walls—which she could never properly describe. Were they purplish brown? Grayish violet? How she missed her puce walls.
Hadley’s mother went to the kitchen to boil a second pot of water. Isaac, who had lost interest in Grace, wandered up to his room.
“I wish my walls were—” said Hadley, but Grace dove across the sofa and clapped a hand to Hadley’s mouth, muffling her last word.
“Never make wishes,” she gasped. “They can be granted.”
Hadley peeled Grace’s fingers from her mouth and smiled. “But—isn’t that a good thing?”
“Of course not.” Grace removed her glasses and wiped the nonexistent lenses on her skirt. She then placed them back over her eyes and her expression brightened as though she could suddenly see a whole lot better.
“The universe is a giant cosmic seesaw. We tip to the left, then to the right. Up and then down.” She swung her body side to side, up and down for effect.
Hadley swayed with her, nodding feebly. The cosmic seesaw was nauseating.
“And there’s a rhythm, too. Like waves hitting the shore. Like the moon affecting the tides. Like planets rotating around the sun. What goes out comes in. What goes around comes around. Whatever you send forth comes back. So if you get something, you must give something in return. Do you understand?”
“Not really,” said Hadley.
She closed her eyes to let her stomach settle from the cosmic roller-coaster ride. She wondered if there was a remedy for cosmic motion sickness hiding in Grace’s bag.
They drank several cups of hot water, ate a few biscuits, and then took Grace on a tour of the house.
She pulled out a yellow feather duster and waved it in each room, muttering to herself in a language Hadley was certain was gibberish. Grace stayed for another quick cup of hot water, then said it was time for her to head back to the gnomes. She gave Hadley a huge hug, promising she’d be back soon.
“Drop by and visit whenever you like. The gnomes have been asking for you.”
Hadley stood at the front door watching until Grace was a colorful blur at the end of the street. Ed’s car rolled into the driveway just as the tingling creeping up Hadley’s left arm made it all the way to her elbow.
“Hey!” he shouted, stepping out of the car. “I took the afternoon off, and guess what?”
“Dad!” said Isaac, pushing past Hadley. He ran down the steps so quickly he nearly stumbled, but caught his balance in the last moment. Ed gave him a swing-around hug.
“I need your help, buddy,” he said, walking to the trunk. He opened it and pulled out two buckets of paint. He handed them to Is
aac, who sagged under the weight, and told him to take them to Hadley’s mother.
“Desert Dusk!” She beamed so brightly Hadley thought she might need Granny’s sunglasses to look at her. “Can we get started today?”
“Nope,” said Ed, pulling a third bucket from the trunk. “I’ve got another project I need to do first.”
He walked toward the porch and stopped right in front of Hadley. He held out the can, a goofy grin on his face. “Didn’t you say you wanted your room painted?”
Hadley stared at the can. The label had only one word.
Puce.
Fourteen
“There are five.”
“Five,” said Hadley, nodding. “That’s a lot.” She stood at the edge of the ravine, gazing out into the woods.
“Possibly six,” said Gabe. “And the strange thing is, they weren’t there yesterday.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I checked.” Gabe scanned the ground with massive binoculars that had probably belonged to his great-grandfather. “There was only one nest yesterday. Today, there are six.”
“They must be migrating,” she told him.
Gabe shook his head. “Snakes don’t migrate. Their habitat doesn’t change, so there’s no reason for migration.”
Hadley’s eyes swept the murky brush. The ground was spangled with last year’s leaves. Rocks jutted out from the clay-like soil, and roots tangled above the surface in lacy patterns.
“What about winter? Do they hibernate?”
“No,” he scoffed. “Snakes don’t hibernate either. They go deep into their holes and spend the winter there inactive.”
Hadley rolled her eyes. “Sounds a lot like hibernation to me.” She kept an eye on her feet in case any snakes decided to slink up unexpectedly.
Gabe let the antique binoculars drop. They thudded against his chest and he winced. “You don’t know much about snakes, do you?”
“Nope,” she said. “Don’t want to either.”
“Well, I know a lot about them, and what I can tell you is there was one nest yesterday and there are six today.”
He glanced to the right, then to the left. He leaned in close and looked her straight in the eye, whispering as if someone might hear.
“There are more insects, too. Tons of flesh flies. And I saw a centipede the length of my hand and a beetle the size of a doughnut.” He picked up his binoculars and fixed them on a spot in the ravine not twenty feet down and pointed. “There.”
Hadley followed his gaze. Snakes were bad enough, but monstrous multi-legged insects were a whole other horror. She cringed.
“It’s like”—Gabe swung around—“something is drawing them to this spot…”
Hadley stared through the lenses that made Gabe look an awful lot like a giant bug himself. “Hey, Gabe,” she said suddenly, “do you think the universe is in perfect balance?”
Gabe dropped his binoculars. They slammed against his chest a second time. “Well,” he began, “the sun’s gravitational forces push in, while its nuclear forces push out and…”
Hadley sighed. “No, no, no. I mean, do you think everything has to balance out?”
He ignored her. “Of course, there’s Newton’s third law—‘For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.’ That’s balance, too.”
Hadley couldn’t let on she had no idea what he was saying. “Right. Newton’s third law. You know, I always confuse it with his eighth.”
Gabe frowned. “Newton doesn’t have an eighth law.”
Hadley’s cheeks flushed. “Of course he does.”
“No. I’m sure there are only three.”
“He wrote five more later on,” Hadley lied. “Maybe you just didn’t get past the first three.”
Gabe folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin. “So, what exactly is Newton’s eighth law?”
Hadley picked at some dirt in her fingernail. “I can’t remember it exactly, but it’s something like, ‘For every fig that goes into a cookie, there is an equal and opposite amount of dough required.’”
“You made that up,” he said.
“Did not,” she insisted. “Haven’t you heard of Fig Newton cookies? Why do you think they named them after him?”
Gabe squared his shoulders and opened his mouth. Luckily Isaac dove in to save her.
“Hey!” he called, scampering toward them. “Whatcha doing?”
“Going snake hunting,” grumbled Gabe.
“You are going snake hunting,” Hadley corrected, jabbing a finger into his shoulder. “I am going inside.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “But you might miss some pretty interesting stuff.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” shouted Hadley, as Gabe slid into the gully.
“I wanna go!” said Isaac. “Can I?”
Hadley hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s dangerous down there. You could get lost. I think you should ask—”
Before she could finish her sentence, Isaac was scrambling down the slope into the trees, after Gabe. “Hey! Wait up!”
“Come back!” called Hadley, but he ignored her.
She tried a few more times, but Isaac disappeared into the brush. He was probably safe with Gabe. Still, Hadley decided she’d best let her mother know what he was up to. She turned to walk back toward the house, stopping when she reached the garage.
Granny de Mone had told her to come by late afternoon. Hadley was so excited and so curious, for a moment she forgot all about Isaac.
Climbing the metal steps, she opened the screen door and rapped once, lightly, on the wooden door. It creaked open. She must have knocked harder than she’d thought.
Granny stood at the far end of the apartment with her back to Hadley. “Come in,” she said gently. “They’re ready.”
“What’s ready?” The faint aroma of apples and cinnamon lingered in the air. Hadley could live off crumble if she had to.
“Your gift,” said Granny de Mone, turning.
In her arms, she held something. Hadley squinted, but she couldn’t quite make out what it was. She took a few steps closer. Light from the open door cast a pale iridescent beam on the objects. Granny was holding three wooden dolls. A man, a woman, and a little boy.
She placed the dolls into Hadley’s hands, one by one, beginning with the doll that looked like Hadley’s mother.
“This looks like Mom,” Hadley said, examining the doll with hair combed back in a tidy ponytail just like her mother’s. It wore a pretty cotton floral dress. Her mother rarely wore dresses. When she wasn’t in uniform, she just wore sweats.
The second doll looked like Ed. It had gangly legs and wore a T-shirt and jeans—just like Ed. The third had sunburned freckles—a shade only Isaac’s skin could achieve.
“Wow,” she said. “They’re amazing.”
Granny smiled. “Really? Do you like them?”
“Yes! I do! How did you make them?”
“I carve them. I’m sort of an amateur sculptor. Helps me pass the evenings when the light is easier on my eyes.” She pointed to her glasses. “Plus I can feel the faces as they take shape.” She ran a finger along Ed’s doll’s nose.
“Cool.”
Hadley turned the dolls over in her hands. She couldn’t get over how beautiful they were.
“There’s one of you, too,” said Granny. “Only it’s not quite ready.”
Hadley beamed. She could really get used to having a grandmother.
“Be careful, though,” said Granny. “They’re a bit fragile.”
Hadley nodded and her grip on the dolls tightened. She was about to ask if Granny could show her how to make them when she heard a thunk. It came from somewhere inside the apartment. She searched the room, but didn’t see anything out of place. Althea de Mone didn’t seem to notice.
Poor Granny, thought Hadley. Her hearing is as bad as her eyesight. Getting old must be awful.
“Run along, now,” Granny said. “Have fun pla
ying.”
Hadley smiled and nodded. She left the apartment and hurried down the steps. She could hear Gabe whistling in the ravine. Her smile quickly faded. She couldn’t let Gabe see her. She didn’t want him to think she still played with dolls. She made a beeline for the house.
She raced through the front door and dashed up the steps to her bedroom. She was moving so fast she missed the final step and stumbled. Her hand flew out to grab the railing, and one doll slipped from her grasp. It thumped down step after step until it lay at the bottom of the staircase.
That’s when she heard the scream.
Fifteen
Ed came rushing out from Hadley’s bedroom. His T-shirt and jeans were covered in brown-violet splotches. Hadley nearly thought it was blood, but then she remembered her puce paint.
“Are you okay?” he shouted.
“It wasn’t me,” she said frantically, though the scream had sounded like a young girl, and had echoed in the hallway all around her.
She and Ed stood staring at each other for a moment, frozen in shock and confusion. Then they heard a second, shriller cry. This time it distinctly came from outside.
Hadley set the dolls on the landing. She and Ed raced to the bottom of the stairs, where her mother almost crashed into them. They all exchanged frantic looks as a third scream split the silence. They scrambled out the door.
Gabe was carrying Isaac across the yard toward the house. He was calling for help while Isaac was crying and holding his leg.
“It’s his ankle!” shouted Gabe. “I think he broke it!”
Ed rushed over and took Isaac in his arms. He tried to calm him with soothing words.
“Keys!” shouted Hadley’s mother.
Hadley hurried back to the house while Ed and her mother ran toward the driveway. Gabe jogged alongside her.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “He followed me into the ravine.”