Another soft smile appeared on Cornelius’s lips. “Yes, Miss Brown. In any case, I made Mr. Wickett’s daguerreotype, and he was very pleased with it. He said he’d come back in a few days to pay, but never did. I sent a bill to his home. No response came. So I ventured to his residence. His wife met me at the door and handed me the daguerreotype. She said it had been timely. Mr. Wickett had died.”
“Oh no. What did you do with his daguerreotype?”
“I returned it to his widow. I couldn’t ask for payment—it wouldn’t have been right under such circumstances.”
Saskia nodded.
“To be honest, I didn’t think much of Mr. Wickett’s passing,” Cornelius continued. “He was old and hadn’t appeared in good health. But that same night, after learning of his death, I had a terrible dream. Jack Wickett found me here in this shop. He asked me to follow him. I didn’t want to, but I obliged. We walked a long time, down narrow streets I didn’t recognize. The air became dark and very hot. I realized he was taking me to a bad place.”
“Why didn’t you run?”
“I didn’t feel I was in control.”
“What happened next?”
“The streets pitched. We began to descend. Down, down, down we went. I felt as if we were walking into the very bowels of the earth. And Mr. Wickett—he looked at me with eyes that spoke of blood, misery, and evil.”
“He was taking you to hell,” she whispered.
“Perhaps.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps he wanted company?”
Her eyes widened.
“It was only a dream,” he continued, “but it felt astonishingly real. A nightmare come to life.”
She realized that her hand had settled on his, after all. She removed it abruptly.
“You mustn’t touch mercury anymore,” he warned. “There is something about it—when combined with the right circumstances and the elements of photography—that yields unpredictable results. Magical, but menacing results. When I saw John Wickett, I trod somewhere forbidden. Somewhere humans are not meant to go.”
A sudden knock on the door made Saskia’s heart jump. It was the heavyset man, the one Cornelius had spoken with at the counter during her first visit. He said Cornelius’s name. The sound of his voice made her stomach curdle. She closed her eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Saskia’s eyes flew open. She found herself back in her room, still in bed, the daguerreotype clenched in her hands. Her ears were ringing. Her face felt hot—she was sure it was flushed. She remembered how she’d touched Cornelius’s hand and how she’d felt—embarrassed, but thrilled, too. Already she yearned to see him again, to hear the gravity of his voice and see him leap from the dull confines of the photo into the drenching light of his shop.
Cornelius had warned her not to touch mercury again. But now that she knew where it could take her, she wouldn’t be able to resist.
The remaining days of school passed in a blur. None of the kids wanted to be there. You could see it in their faces. Even the teachers seemed distracted, disoriented, disinterested. An early summer heat wave coupled with a lack of air-conditioning made being inside unbearable. The hallways and classrooms sweltered. Everyone trudged around with dead eyes and damp clothes.
Every time Saskia saw Josh in Mr. Nash’s class, her skin turned to gooseflesh. She desperately wished to speak with him and at the same time prayed he would vanish from the face of the earth. She wanted him to want her and at the same time hoped her own feelings would cool into apathy. But when she saw Josh’s devil-may-care expression each day in class, she realized he was experiencing zero aftereffects. In fact, the only time he showed any emotion was when Mr. Nash confiscated his cards—again.
His frown then gave her a bittersweet sliver of satisfaction.
“Water under the bridge, Saskia,” Lila kept reminding her. “You’re too good for him anyway.”
Saskia appreciated Lila’s pep talks. But she didn’t appreciate what always came next.
“The presentation’s over, Sask,” Lila would conclude gently, but urgently. “It’s time.”
Saskia knew this. She also knew that Lila had jeopardized her job by letting Saskia take the daguerreotype in the first place. But she couldn’t bring herself to give it back. Before, she’d wanted it. Now she needed it. After all, she couldn’t travel to Cornelius without both mercury and the daguerreotype. There was only one route to the lighting shop.
Over the next few days, she developed a routine that seemed to work. First, she dropped a little mercury into her palm. Then, rolling the beads around, she returned them to the bottle, took the daguerreotype, and got into bed. Most of the time this ritual bought her a ticket to the past. With each visit, she grew closer to Cornelius.
One day she told him about her daily life, and he listened in wide-eyed amazement as she explained what a laptop, television, and microwave were. She needed several visits to adequately describe the Internet. He, in turn, showed her hundreds of drawings and sketches—all ideas for new contraptions, inventions, machines, even new chemical compounds. She loved the way his eyes gleamed when he shared his ideas and the excited, almost manic way he raked his fingers through his mad scientist hair.
Unfortunately, Lila didn’t want to hear about Cornelius or his ideas. She maintained that Saskia’s trips to the past were fake. Fabricated. Fever dreams. Delusions.
“You have an unconscious desire for escapism,” she kept telling Saskia.
“All I’m hearing is ‘Blah, blah, blah, Miss Freud.’”
“Girl, you’re in deep.”
The last day of school was the hottest day on record. Even the principal walked around in a sleeveless blouse that looked suspiciously like a tank top. Saskia’s own shorts and T-shirt were the usual drab variety. As she stood next to Paige at their lockers, she felt like a sparrow next to a peacock.
The girls smiled at each other. Not for the first time, Saskia considered coming clean about Ethan’s party. Paige was always so nice to her, and how had Saskia repaid her? By hooking up with her boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend. Whatever Josh was to Paige, Saskia knew that she’d made a questionable decision that night. She didn’t think of herself as someone who would break the girl code. But she had. And now, not only did she feel guilty, she also felt too ashamed to admit her wrongdoing. Maybe, she thought, what happened at Ethan’s party will always be a secret.
“What are you doing this summer?” Paige asked brightly.
Truth be told, the question was a source of great worry. Saskia wanted a job. She feared being bored, restless, rudderless. With too much time on her hands, she suspected her outsize interest in Cornelius would morph into full-fledged obsession. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to make money. There were more and more bills piling up on the coffee table, above the divorce papers her father still hadn’t read.
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said. “What about you?”
“I might lifeguard at the town pool,” Paige replied. “I did that last year. But I want to try something different. Shake things up a little. Know what I mean?”
Saskia nodded.
“Hey, I meant to ask you something,” Paige continued, playing with a shiny lock of hair. “Do you want to come over tonight? To hang out?”
Saskia was stunned, flattered, and nervous all at once, but fought not to show it. “Sure. Sounds fun,” she said after a moment. Her voice sounded surprisingly mellow.
Paige whipped out her phone to get Saskia’s number, so Saskia did the same. She couldn’t help but notice that even Paige’s phone was pretty: robin’s-egg blue. The color of Tiffany’s boxes. Saskia’s had a cracked screen.
How’s that for symbolism?
“It’ll just be a couple of us,” Paige said. “Totally low-key.”
“Great. Would you mind if I brought a friend?”
For a split second Paige looked unsure
, maybe even slightly put out. But she recovered so quickly, Saskia couldn’t be sure. “Of course! The more the merrier.”
Paige’s house, like Ethan’s, was on the right side of the tracks. Lila laughed uncomfortably as she parked her car on the street between two BMWs.
“One of these things is not like the other . . .” she sang in a childish voice inflected with sarcasm.
“Is that from Little Einsteins?” asked Saskia.
“Sesame Street,” Lila said. “Old school.”
For a few seconds, the girls stood on the sidewalk and just gaped. Paige’s house was three oversized stories of immaculate white brick. The front lawn was beautifully landscaped with sloping stone walls, a manicured garden, and a huge tree with hanging branches. A willow? An elm? Saskia wasn’t sure; there weren’t any trees like that in Arizona. There was also a fountain of a naked mermaid, water spewing from a metal conch she was holding.
“Are you kidding me?” Lila said. “A freaking fountain?”
Saskia looked down at her olive-colored jumpsuit; it was a definite step up from her usual T-shirt and shorts combo. But now she wondered if she should have worn a ball gown or something. She’d suggested Lila dress up a little, too, but her friend had been defiant in her choice of frayed cut-offs.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Lila said, noting Saskia’s grimace. “And you were right. This is like a freaking wedding venue.”
“Never mind,” said Saskia, pulling on her arm. “Just hurry up.”
The girls walked up a bluestone path to the door. They wiped their feet on the clean welcome mat—Who has a clean welcome mat? thought Saskia—and pressed the doorbell.
Paige answered immediately, looking perfect as usual. Saskia found solace in the fact that she was wearing shorts. “I’m so glad you could make it. Hi, Lila!” she gushed, ushering them in.
“Hey,” Lila replied tentatively.
“Thanks for the invite,” Saskia said. She hoped the soles of her old Adidas weren’t too gross. The inside of Paige’s house was spotless.
“Anytime. The others are in the den. Come on.”
It seemed to Saskia that Paige’s den was the same square footage as her own whole house. It had a cathedral ceiling, built-in cabinets, and a gargantuan glass wall with a sweeping view of the backyard, where Saskia could make out the vague blue shimmer of a swimming pool. The furniture and rugs were serene and pale: white, cream, eggshell, ecru. Saskia wished she could go back to the welcome mat and wipe her feet again.
The best part of the den, though, was the wall of books opposite the glass wall. There had to be a few thousand titles lined up, row after row, all the way to the ceiling. It was like having a whole library at your fingertips.
“Those are Paige’s,” a girl said. She was sitting cross-legged on an ottoman. She wore a funky bohemian dress and a long necklace of wooden beads that clacked when she moved. Her pale blond hair was twisted up in two braids atop her head, milkmaid style. She looked like she’d just stumbled out of Coachella. “She’s read every book. Twice. She’s a closet nerd.”
“Wrong. I’m an out-and-proud nerd,” Paige replied, wagging a finger at the girl. “Lila and Saskia, this is my sister, Sara Beth.” Sara Beth smiled, but didn’t get up.
There was another girl, too. The tall redhead from Ethan’s party, Adrienne. She waved at Saskia giddily from the couch.
Paige did the introductions, but they weren’t really necessary. With the exception of Sara Beth, everyone knew one another.
“Are you the older or younger sister?” Lila asked Sara Beth. Saskia couldn’t tell, either. Sara Beth wore so much makeup, her age was a mystery.
“Irish twin,” she replied. “We’re eleven months apart.”
“I’m older,” Paige said.
“Why don’t you go to Coventon High?” asked Lila.
“I go to Fulton Academy.”
“Never heard of it.”
Sara Beth stared at her icily. “It’s a school for the arts in Hartford.”
“Very prestigious and selective,” Paige added.
“Hartford—that’s a long commute,” remarked Lila, unimpressed.
“It’s worth it.” Sara Beth sniffed. “I’m learning what I need to, not a bunch of stuff I’ll never use.”
“Uh-huh,” Lila replied.
“Excuse me,” Paige broke in, “but I have an announcement to make. Ladies, we’re officially done with school.” She held up a bottle of champagne. “It’s time to celebrate!”
Saskia and Lila glanced at each other.
Sara Beth asked, “How long are the ’rents out for tonight?”
“Till midnight, at least. They’re at the Sullivans’,” Paige replied.
“Oh, the Sullivans.”
“Who are the Sullivans?” asked Saskia.
“Old hippies trying to relive their youth by partying too much,” said Paige.
“It’s sad. But what’s more sad is the husband’s toupee. It’s like roadkill on his head,” added Sara Beth.
Saskia giggled.
“The Sullivans and our parents are clearly having a midlife crisis,” Sara Beth elaborated. “They smoke pot, listen to old music, and pretend they’re at Woodstock.”
Paige smiled at her. “Then why aren’t you there?”
“Shut up!”
Paige stuck out her tongue. Then she handed both the bottle and a corkscrew to Sara Beth. Saskia had a feeling they’d done this before, perhaps many times.
“Your parents won’t find out?” Lila asked.
“After coming back from the Sullivans’?” Paige said. “They’ll be so sloshed they’ll think they drank the champagne themselves.”
Paige took out five goblets from a cabinet. These were expensive-looking: ruby-red crystal with thick stems and gold flourishes.
“To the end of school!” Sara Beth said, as the cork popped off and a stream of champagne spewed into the air.
“And the beginning of summer!” Paige yelled, laughing. “It’s about damn time.”
Sara Beth poured out the champagne. Saskia took a small sip, remembering apprehensively all the beer she’d drunk at Ethan’s party. Then again, Josh, not the alcohol, had been the most toxic aspect of that night. As the girls did more and more toasts—to one another, to new friends, to the Sullivans, to Mr. Sullivan’s toupee—she started to relax. After sip number five or six, she realized why people drank champagne. It made you feel all fizzy inside, lighter than air.
All too soon, the bottle was empty, and Paige went looking for another. Judging from the size of the family liquor cabinet, they’d never run out. Sara Beth left for a few minutes and returned with a bowl of popcorn. Greedily, the girls grabbed handfuls.
“Let’s play a game,” Sara Beth suggested, in between bites.
“Okay with me,” said Paige, nodding at her sister.
“Me, too,” added Adrienne.
Saskia forced a smile. She wasn’t sure what the sisters had in store.
“Everyone in a circle,” Sara Beth ordered. “Oh, and we need candles . . .”
“For what?” asked Adrienne.
“Ambience. Speaking of which, we need incense, too.”
Paige ran to fetch both. Saskia wondered what kind of game could possibly require a certain kind of ambience.
Five minutes later, the den was dark except for the flicker of tea lights and a soft, ghostly glow entering through the glass wall. Saskia thought the room smelled, not unpleasantly, like a spice cabinet. Whether it was the ambience Sara Beth had insisted upon or the champagne settling in her stomach, Saskia decided that her nervousness was baseless. In fact, if anything, she should be excited about the prospect of making new friends.
“So what’s the game?” Lila asked, after the girls sat in a circle on the floor. Her original glass of champagne, still
full, rested by her side.
“Truth or dare?” said Adrienne.
“That’s so elementary school,” Sara Beth complained. “How about just truth?”
“I already know your secrets,” Paige replied.
“Yeah, but you don’t know theirs.”
“True, true, true.” Paige rubbed her hands together and looked at Saskia and Lila mischievously.
Giggling nervously, Saskia gulped down the rest of her glass. She tried to remember if it was her second refill or her third. Then again, who was counting?
“Don’t get too excited,” Lila warned the sisters. “We’re pretty boring.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Saskia, still giggling.
The game started slowly but grew more interesting as the questions became more personal. Who do you consider your best friend? Would you die for her? If you could trade places with any kid at school, who would you choose? If you could commit any crime, what would it be? Who do you want to kiss? How far have you gone?
Saskia was surprised to learn that Adrienne, Paige, and Sara Beth were not virgins. Back in Arizona, none of her friends had had sex yet, except for Heather. But Heather was the first of their gang at everything, or at least everything involving controversy. Many of Saskia’s other friends hadn’t even had their first kiss yet.
Clearly the girls in Coventon were more in Heather’s league. Adrienne had lost her virginity a few months ago to some guy named Benjamin. Paige had been fifteen when she’d “experimented” with Josh. And Sara Beth? She’d been fifteen, too—only her first time was with a camp counselor who was several years older.
Saskia felt hopelessly naïve in comparison. When Sara Beth looked at her and said, “Your turn,” she wanted to flee. She waved off the question.
“Fine—if you’re too shy about that, then at least tell us the last time you kissed someone,” Sara Beth persisted.
The correct answer was Josh. But Saskia was not so drunk that she’d admit it. “I pass.”
“You can’t pass.”
“Ask me something else, then.”
Sara Beth rolled her eyes. In the candlelight, her winged eyeliner and red lipstick made her look like a movie star, a classic screen siren like Brigitte Bardot. “God. At least tell us the last bad thing you did,” she said irritably.
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