Goddess of Gotham

by Amanda Lees

  Then, just before Ms Martin left, she gave me a notepad and a pen. She said I might like to start thinking about the essay competition – maybe make a few notes. When she said that, these big tears just fell out of my eyes. I mean, how embarrassing (again!). But Ms Martin was really cool and just said it was good to cry. In fact, she said she cries whenever she watches It’s a Wonderful Life but not to tell anyone as it might blow her cover. I promised I wouldn’t breathe a word although I’m not absolutely sure what she meant.

  Anyway, here I am. I have the notepad beside me. But all I can think about is that crazy man’s shiny face and the way he looked at me. It was like I was this specimen, like all I was to him was an experiment. And he went on and on about finding the secret of eternal youth. I wanted to shout out that he was wasting his time but my mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. I can still see the bruises on my arm where he kept sticking in his needles. Boy did they hurt. Most of all, I remember that woman’s voice. The woman who wanted to buy my face.

  Sometimes I think it must have been a dream and then I look at the bruises and see it wasn’t. The police also seem to think it was a dream – at least, they’re not taking me seriously. OK, so they questioned Razzle, but that was three days after the event. No wonder they didn’t find any evidence. Like Ma said, he got rid of it. As for Sonny – he’s disappeared. Even Ma said ‘good riddance.’ And when I tried to tell them about the woman who wanted to buy my face they really started to look at me like I was a lunatic. That was when Ma got me out of there in case they tried to lock me up in some other institution.

  Park Avenue’s a world away from the Bronx, that’s what Ma told me. Apparently it’s a whole different ball game when you’ve got a fancy address and a medical certificate. So it looks like Razzle will get away with it and I’ll just have to forget it ever happened. Except I can’t forget. I see it every night when I close my eyes. That horrible little room with the white light and nothing else. The hard bed he kept me strapped to. The tubes sticking out of my arm. I’m not even sleeping and I’m having nightmares. This is far worse than when I dream of Mamma. At least then I wake up. One thing I do know, if I can survive that I can survive anything.

  Ma says I should try to think of something else – keep my mind busy. I think that’s why Ms Martin brought me the notepad and talked about the essay contest. I bet Ma called her up. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. I mean, I really wanted to enter it before. Before everything happened. ‘No Place Like Home.’ Good title. I like it. I was thinking about it after Ms Martin left. About home, I mean. I could really see it in my mind – like I was standing up on the mountain. I could see the palace down below and Papa’s chimney and my window. Thinking about it now, I can almost smell the wood smoke on the wind. Almost but not quite.

  CHAPTER 19

  ‘And finally, Kumari.’

  Ms Martin smiled encouragement. Kumari stood up and cleared her throat. The audience had sat through all the other entries until her turn. This was going to be tough.

  ‘No Place Like Home,’ she squeaked, then stopped. Come on, take a deep breath, get going. She caught sight of Chico in the audience, Ms LaMotta sitting up front. The entire school was crammed into the auditorium. She did not dare look for Charley and Hannah. They would only make her explode into nervous giggles. In fact, summer seemed to have been one long giggle, Charley and Hannah determined to keep her cheerful.

  Along with Chico, they’d filled her days with so much fun that Razzle felt like a distant memory. But now summer was over. They had all fallen back into the rhythm of school. Most insistent of all, the approaching deadline of the essay competition. And at last the day was here. Kumari breathed in long and slow, just the way Ma had shown her. When she spoke again it was with more authority although her knees still shook.

  ‘My home is a place far away, although I am not sure of the exact distance. You will not see it on any map and it does not have a name. We know it as our Kingdom and my father is its ruler. I was in training to be his successor but instead I ended up here, in the World Beyond. Although I wish for it more than anything, I do not know if I will ever return.’

  Her voice broke over this last sentence. Steady, thought Kumari. Keep reading nice and clear. You want this so much. You know this is important.

  ‘In my homeland, the most important thing of all is Maximum National Happiness. It is my father’s job to stoke its fires and to send its sacred smoke over the entire kingdom. That smoke spreads the magic which keeps the kingdom content. Everything we think and do is judged in terms of Happiness. If something will not make the people Happy, then we consider it bakwas, which is not to be confused with Badmash which means “naughty”, in our language.’

  She looked up and smiled. Badmash was safe in his new bag under Ms Martin’s seat. Little did Ms LaMotta know she was but a few feet from That Bird.

  ‘Happiness to us,’ continued Kumari, ‘comes from inside, from the heart. We believe that health, true wealth, love and expressing yourself are all you need to be truly Happy. The haze of Happiness my father sends out over the kingdom helps to maintain all of these, giving the people the confidence that they are cared about and taken seriously at all times.’

  Momentarily, Kumari hesitated. Taking another deep breath, she plunged on.

  ‘Here, in the World Beyond, things are very different. Happiness is not nurtured and so people have to look outside themselves for contentment. Here, people go to gyms and swallow pills and yet they cannot fight the curse of Time. In my country, no one wrinkles up, goes bald or has grey hair. They simply fade away gracefully when it is time to die.’

  She looked straight at Chico. He dropped her a slow wink. A surge of confidence shot through Kumari. They were all listening intently.

  ‘We have no radio, no news. No telephone, no TV. Yet, somehow we are happy. Maybe it is because, without these things, we are forced to listen to and trust ourselves. We are not slaves to gadgets. People from the World Beyond might consider my country primitive. It is true we do not have many of the things that make life here easy. We do not even have electricity. Instead, we have butter lamps. Although electricity is marvellous, there is something magical about a candle flame. Indeed, there is something magical about my kingdom as a whole. It is the special ingredient that keeps us young. More than that, it keeps us Happy. No one knows where it comes from or how the magic happens but it is my father’s sacred duty to maintain it by tending the holy fires.’

  She glanced up from her paper. You could have heard a pin drop.

  ‘I think the people in the World Beyond could learn a lot from my homeland. My people have peace and security -they are proud to be themselves. Each person has fulfilling work and every family looks out for one another. We have no wars and no poverty. We are self-sufficient and complete. We know that true wealth is not about gathering endless objects. It is about having enough for your needs and feeling grateful for what you have got. In the World Beyond, there is a constant scrabble to succeed. It is a race in which there are no winners. People have lost sight of what is important and yet everyone seeks more and more. Real success is not about what you have. It is not about who people think you are. Success is living the life that suits you best. It is being your truest self.’

  Her throat was dry. She clutched the lectern. Not so much as a sigh from the assembled faces. She had expected cries of protest, maybe the odd ‘boo.’ But not this, a shimmering silence.

  ‘I miss my homeland very much. I miss the beauty of the mountains. I miss seeing the stars at night and living by the cycles of the moon. I wish that people in the World Beyond could break free of Time’s tyranny. I would love to share with you the magic of longevity and lasting youth. I would like everyone to know the freedom that comes from living in tune with nature’s rhythm. Above all, I wish you could know what only we in my homeland can experience, the gift of Maximum National Happiness.’

  Another long pause. She looked across the rows of upturned faces. T
aking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. She’d saved the best for last.

  ‘In my time here I have learned that there truly is no place like home. Although I may never again see the Holy Mountain, I can picture it in my mind. I can still smell the sweetness of the air, see the sun light up the valleys. I feel the touch of my Mamma’s hand, hear Papa call my name. I carry my home with me in my heart as I walk through this World Beyond. I know that although Time will claim me, my love for it will never die.’

  She gulped, looked up from her papers and shuffled them nervously together. No reaction. Not even polite applause. They had obviously hated it.

  And then they were clapping, one or two whistling and cheering. She saw Ms LaMotta wipe her eyes. Ms LaMotta, of all people. Shakily, she made her way back to her seat. They were urging her to turn round, to go back up on to the stage. The result had been announced

  ‘The judges are unanimous,’ said Ms Martin, trying to make herself heard above the din. ‘We have a winner. Kumari.’

  Oh my god, thought Kumari.

  It would be hard to be happier than this.

  KUMARI’S JOURNAL

  (TOP SECRET. FOR MY EYES ONLY.

  EVERYONE ELSE KEEP OUT!

  THIS MEANS YOU!)

  The World Beyond

  October 5th – 56 days to go (why can’t I break this habit?)

  I still can’t believe it. Me winning the essay contest. I’ve never won anything before in my life, although I suppose I’ve never actually entered any competitions. Anyway, I have the plaque so it must be real and they’re going to engrave my name on it. Best of all, it’s my essay that goes through to the state round. My essay. Unreal!!

  Although it’s going to be tough standing up in front of all those people. It was bad enough reading it aloud in front of everyone at Rita Moreno. Imagine what it’s going to be like standing up at the Humanitarian Institute. That’s where the final takes place, in this grand building Downtown. Hannah, Charley and I Googled it but we couldn’t find out too much other than the Institute is run by some company called Humanity Inc. who are sponsoring the state contest. Its official title is the Future Thinkers Essay Contest. Hannah did her snorty laugh thing at that bit. I mean, me a Future Thinker! It is pretty funny.

  Anyway, first prize is $1,000! That would really help Ma out. She’d be able to buy thing she’s needed for ages or pay off some bills. Not that I’m going to win it. I mean, I’d like to win it, but that really would be surreal. There are bound to be hundreds of entries. Ma says she’s so proud of me just winning this round she’s fit to burst and even CeeCee and LeeLee got all excited. They never get excited about anything so it really must be a big deal. And you know what . . . I’m proud of me. I really feel like I’ve achieved something here. I did it all by myself and I won on my own merit.

  It’s not like they gave me the prize because I’m the girlgoddess. They gave it to me because I wrote the best essay. I mean, back home everyone is nice to me because they have to be. In the World Beyond they don’t care who I am. Mostly, they don’t even know. Anyway, what is there to know? I gave up being a goddess. In a weird way that disappoints Hannah and Charley – they keep asking me if I’m sure. Of course I’m sure. I’d know if I was still a goddess. And it’s not so different – I couldn’t do much when I was one. I hadn’t got any of my Powers right. Those I could sort of do didn’t work all the way. At least now I don’t even try. It’s less stressful being mortal! OK, it’s not less stressful. It’s just different. But I’m not different, I fit in. That’s what I want, isn’t it?

  CHAPTER 20

  ‘And this year’s winner of the Future Thinkers Essay Contest, sponsored by Humanity Inc., is . . . Kumari . . . there’s no surname here . . . oh, OK, just Kumari!’

  The woman on the podium looked flustered. Someone pushed Kumari forward. Then she was walking on to the stage, beaming, blinking into the lights.

  ‘Congratulations.’

  A man was shaking her hand, half-turned towards her, his other, best side angled towards the cameras which were flashing away like crazy.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled up at him. The man’s eyes disturbed her. He was looking at her the same way Badmash gazed at a doughnut just before he tore it to bits. All of a sudden, the man reached out an arm and pulled her in to him, close.

  ‘Turn for the cameras, sweetie.’

  His arm was clamped around her shoulders, the flashes bouncing off his blinding white teeth.

  ‘How’s the campaign, Mr Raider?’ a reporter shouted.

  ‘It’s going great.’ The man grinned, his grip tightening on her collarbone.

  At last he let her go. Instantly, she was forgotten. Mr Raider, whoever he was, was swept off to one side. Kumari was led off the other, still in a daze of disbelief. To have actually won the State Essay Contest. It was incredible. Just wait until she could tell Charley and Hannah. The squeals would be deafening.

  ‘Kumari!’ she turned. Ma was bustling up the backstage corridor. Behind her Ms Martin, both of them wreathed in smiles, and behind her CeeCee and LeeLee.

  ‘I am so proud of you,’ said Ma, enveloping her in a huge hug.

  ‘We all are,’ said Ms Martin. ‘You’ve done this for the whole school.’

  Kumari pressed the cheque into Ma’s hand.

  ‘$1,000! I can’t accept this!’

  ‘Of course you can,’ said Kumari. ‘Think of it as a late birthday present.’

  Another camera flashed nearby. ‘Hey, isn’t that the Manhattan Mystery Girl?’ said someone.

  ‘Time to go,’ said Ms Martin, making a most un-teacher-like gesture at the Daily News reporter.

  Kumari threw her a look of admiration. Ms Martin really rocked.

  Jack Raider threw down the paper.

  ‘I can’t believe you screwed this up.’

  He was gesturing at the headline: Manhattan Mystery Girl Wins Essay Contest.

  His PR person looked scared, as well she might when faced with Jack in this state. Jack Raider hated to miss an opportunity, especially when it involved the mayoral race.

  ‘I pay you to keep me in the papers,’ he went on. ‘To enhance my profile. Isn’t that what your job entails? Or am I missing something here?’

  The PR’s mouth flapped in fish-like fashion. Jack ignored it and carried on.

  ‘This kid is gold dust. How come no one knew she was the Manhattan Mystery Girl? She’s young, ethnic, beautiful. Even her essay was perfect for us. She talks about happiness being the meaning of life. I mean, how much more on-message can she be? And I’m not even paying her!’

  He looked significantly at the PR. Jack rated VFM alongside JFM. Value for Money. Jack for Mayor. He was an acronym kind of guy. It played well with the kids and if it played well with them it chimed with the moms. He was all for getting the mom vote. It had worked for Clinton, hadn’t it? So this was just the mayoral race. One day mayor, next day president. He liked to drum it into his people at all times: one opportunity leads to another, leads to another (or OOLALA!).

  ‘So how about we call up the kid?’ he said kindly. Kindness generally made people feel worse. It was a little trick he purveyed at his self-help seminars, although he liked to think of them more as ‘help yourself. The self-improvement industry had certainly worked for Jack. Humanity Inc. reaped him millions. Luckily for him, none of his customers was aware of his less than scrupulous past.

  ‘I’ll get right on it, Mr Raider.’

  ‘You do that,’ said Jack, baring his dazzling teeth and giving his PR a little pat.

  Kumari. He liked it. Even her name was perfect.

  ‘You want me to go on TV? With you?’

  Kumari could not believe her ears. Her fingers clenched around the telephone as she listened to Jack Raider talk.

  ‘I’m sorry but I don’t think I can do that. On Oprah? Oh, I see . . . Sure, I understand Mr Raider. Of course I think the world should be a better place. You liked my essay that much? Really? That’s very kin
d of you to say . . . Uh, yeah, I think my school would like that very much. I mean, they could really do with some more money. You want me to what? Wear a badge? And a T-shirt? Um, I guess that wouldn’t be a problem. You’re going to call your campaign HUNK? “Happiness: the Ultimate New Knowledge.” Ah, sure, I think that’s snappy. Of course I know what an acronym is. You want me to help you bring Happiness to the planet? I don’t really know what I can . . . well, yes, I know I wrote all about it. “On-message.” What does that mean? Oh, I see, kind of like saying the right stuff. Well, I guess it is for the good of mankind, as you say. Peoplekind. Ha ha. Very funny. Oh no, I absolutely support equality. You say you’ve spoken to Ma? And the car will pick me up and take me to the airport? Of course I’ll be ready, Mr Raider. Just one thing, can I bring Badmash? Badmash. My pet vulture. He’s very concerned about Happiness. I can bring my pet cockroach for all you care? Great, I’ll see you there!’

  She stared at the receiver still in her hand. UNBELIEVABLE. Totally BIZARRE. She was going to be on Oprah with some wannabe mayor guy.

  Oprah.

  Unreal.

  KUMARI’S JOURNAL

  (TOP SECRET. FOR MY EYES ONLY.

  EVERYONE ELSE KEEP OUT!

  THIS MEANS YOU!)

  The World Beyond

  October 29th – 32 days to go (stop counting, Kumari!)

  Some days I wish I had never heard of Oprah. I mean, going on her show was a blast, although Badmash took the plane ride very badly. A machine that can fly better than him – not good for his self-esteem. Although I thought it was really cool, seeing as it was the first time I’d been on a plane. Or at least the first time I remember being on a plane. I guess the kidnappers must have brought me here on one. At least, that was one of Ms Martin’s theories once she actually decided I must come from somewhere so why not a nameless kingdom? Anyway, all her enquiries came to nothing so it’s academic, as she’d say.