I swallowed hard, my throat desert-dry. She could only be talking about the old guy from the woods! I didn’t understand, though. Roxy had already run after the dog, and nothing awful had happened as far as I could tell.
“That doesn’t make sense….” I began.
But she held up a finger for silence. “I can say no more, except be very careful. This is a dangerous night.”
Then, fast as a cat, she rose, whirled, and disappeared through the back of the tent.
“Madam Isis!” I called after her. But she was gone. I didn’t see exactly where she went. Maybe there was an exit flap hidden in the shadows. Maybe not. I was left alone with the jingle of wind chimes and shivers running up and down my backbone.
I bent and squinted into the crystal ball, but I saw nothing. Nothing at all.
5
VIEW FROM THE DEVIL’S ELEVATOR
I raced out of the tent and looked around frantically. There was no sign of Madam Isis, but it was impossible to miss Ash and Roxy. Ash wobbled down the midway, a snow cone balanced on his nose, while Roxy skipped around him shrieking with laughter.
“Good trick!” she cried, clapping her hands.
As soon as Ash saw me, he said, “Whew! Thought you’d never get here.” He handed the snow cone to Roxy, and we wandered down the midway while she licked it with ferocious concentration and I told Ash what Madam Isis had said.
“The funny thing is, I met an old man in the woods this afternoon,” I said. “Now Madam Isis, who I don’t even know, tells me he told her my name and gave her a message for me. And the message is all about Roxy running after that crazy stray dog. Something very weird is going on.”
Ash chewed gently at the inside of his cheek, which he only does when he’s thinking hard. “Not necessarily,” he said. “Maybe the old man works for the carnival, too. Maybe he spies for her. Most people who claim to be psychics work with partners, you know. A spy could have heard me say your name. And a spy could have seen that whole thing with Roxy and the dog. That mean carny who said she was about to lose a body part, he was probably in on it, too.”
“But how did the old guy know I was going to be in the woods this afternoon? He knew way too much about me, Ash, I mean it.”
Ash shrugged. “Maybe he was spying on you all afternoon.”
I thought about that for a while. I didn’t want to believe him—I wanted Madam Isis and the strange old man and especially the unner to be genuine, not just a cheesy carnival act. And I hated the idea that somebody might have been watching me in secret. But I had to admit Ash had made some good points. “How could she know you want to be an astronaut?” I asked.
“How many guys do you know who haven’t thought about being an astronaut at least once?”
I nodded, feeling defeated. He was right.
Neither of us talked much for a while after that. I let Roxy drag us along through the current of excitement on the midway while I thought about what a big disappointment the whole day had been. Eventually Roxy wheedled me into trying to win the bloated blue-and-brown stuffed doglike creature at the coin-toss booth. I threw quarters like a zombie, completely unable to keep my mind on what I was doing, until I realized I’d spent four dollars and had nothing to show for it.
“You can’t quit now! You didn’t win the big dog yet. You said you’d win it for me,” said Roxy, sticking her lower lip out.
“I said I’d try. So I tried and I couldn’t do it, O.K.?”
She made a scrunchy face. I could see she was getting ready to cry Ash saw it, too.
“Hey, Roxy, why don’t we try the carousel?” he said. “Look. You can pick an animal to ride. We can all go. It’ll be fun.”
From where we stood, we could see the carousel brightly lit and whirling. Horses, leopards, pigs, and elephants dipped and rose; brass poles flashed. A calliope waltz floated through the night air. “Could I ride a dog?” asked Roxy.
Ash grinned like someone with a slight stomachache. “Well, let’s see if we can find one.”
We didn’t see a dog, though there was a wolf. That was close enough for Roxy. Afterward we took her to the kiddie-car ride, then the ponies. I stood guard while Ash rode the Tilt-a-Whirl. Then he did the same for me. It was better than nothing, but nowhere near the fun it would have been together. Meanwhile I couldn’t help turning to watch the Devil’s Elevator every time a new crop of riders took the plunge. A metal cage carried them slowly up a tall, thin tower decked with lights. When they got to the top, the cage dropped like a rock, stopping fast in just the last few feet. More than anything else I could think of, I wanted to ride it. Not by myself—with Ash. It seemed like a small enough thing after such an awful day. There had to be a way we could manage it.
Near the pony ride stood a trailer cart where a woman with a lot of makeup was selling cotton candy, peanuts, and candy apples. I knew Roxy loved candy apples. She waited all year for them, because they were hard to find except in the few days before Halloween. Inspiration went off in my head like a party popper.
“Rox, you want a candy apple?” I said as the pony man lifted her down from the saddle.
“Yeah! Yeah! Candy apple!” she cried.
“O.K., I’ll get you one. But you have to promise something first.”
“What?”
“You have to promise you’ll stand right where I tell you and not move even one inch while Ash and I ride the Devil’s Elevator.”
As I said these words, I felt an uncomfortable little prickling in the back of my neck. Madam Isis had told us not to let Roxy out of our sight. But then I shook myself, feeling silly. Madam Isis couldn’t be for real. Besides, I’d watched Roxy all night, and nothing dangerous had happened. I deserved a little fun.
Roxy looked suspicious. “Are you tricking me? Am I gonna have to ride with you?”
“No. You don’t have to. And you get a candy apple. As long as you promise to stay right where I tell you till Ash and I are done.”
“Can I eat it while I’m standing there?”
“No problem. Deal?”
She smiled, said, “O.K.!” and joyfully stuck her tongue out through the gap where she’d lost her second front tooth the week before.
So we bought a candy apple and stationed her at the foot of the Devil’s Elevator. “Remember, don’t move even one inch,” I said as I gave her the apple.
“O.K.,” she replied.
Ash and I handed the last of our tickets over and climbed into the “elevator car,” a metal mesh cage with benches and seat belts. Six people could fit inside, packed like pickles in a jar. We were loaded in with a bunch of girls who started screaming before the ride even started.
I could see Roxy through the mesh. Without front teeth, she was having trouble biting the candy apple, a problem I hadn’t thought of. But she was still exactly where we’d told her to stand.
The cage jerked and began moving with a grinding noise. My heart sped up. The last piece of Madam Isis’s warning flashed into my head with awful clarity. Be very careful. This is a dangerous night. What if she wasn’t talking about Roxy and the dog? What if there was something wrong with the machinery? It occurred to me that I might be about to die. I pressed my nose to the mesh so I could see better. As far as I could tell, the machinery looked all right. But who could say for certain? One loose bolt could make a big difference.
Looking down, I saw Roxy stamp her foot in frustration and throw the candy apple in the dirt. She crossed her arms and scowled up at me.
“Stay put! You promised!” I yelled, partly because I really wanted her to stay where I could see her, partly because it felt better to be angry than to be scared spitless at the possibility of dying on this rickety ride. My blood thundered in my ears. It was impossible to tell whether Roxy had heard my shout above the crowd noise, the music, and the jingling racket of the ride motor.
Things might have been O.K. anyway if the mangy stray dog hadn’t suddenly reappeared. It trotted straight to Roxy’s discarded candy apple, picked
it up in its mouth, and ran.
The cage had risen nearly to the top of the tower now. But even so, I clearly heard Roxy’s squeal. “Hey, doggy, that’s mine!” Maybe she was just happy to see the dog again, or maybe she really was angry that it took her apple. Whatever the reason, she forgot her promise and ran after it, her small feet raising dust clouds with each step.
I yelled as loudly as I could, first at Roxy to stop, then at the ride operator to let me off. I grabbed the mesh and shook it to get the carny’s attention, but all I managed to do was make the girls in the cage with us shriek even louder. Ash shouted, “Gib, what’s the matter?”
All I could do was scream Roxy’s name over and over as I watched the scene unfold from our bird’s-eye view and realized with sickening certainty that Madam Isis and the old man in the woods were way, way more than a slick carnival act.
The stray dog bounded full tilt toward the street, where dozens of cars and trucks sped past in both directions. Just a few feet behind, headed straight for disaster with her arms outstretched, ran Roxy.
My voice failed as the dog darted off the curb into the sea of zooming traffic. The sound of shrieking brakes cut through the din of the carnival. The dog kept running, miraculously untouched, and so did Roxy, but not for long. Someone on the sidewalk reached out to stop her, but she slipped through his arms almost as if he wasn’t there at all. He put his hands over his mouth as he watched, powerless, and I thought with a jolt that he looked like the old man from the woods. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as I watched the bumper of a pickup truck get closer and closer and finally connect with my sister’s fragile body. I remembered the tears in Madam Isis’s eyes when she looked up from the crystal ball.
The sound of my own scream seemed faraway as the Devil’s Elevator began its long plummet back to earth.
When I think back on it now, I have trouble picturing the rest of that awful night very clearly. It’s kind of a blur—probably just as well. I remember the lights and the sirens and people holding me back so I couldn’t see Roxy. I remember looking around for the old man, finding no sign of him, wondering if I’d just seen someone a little like him or if I’d imagined seeing him altogether. They wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance, and they wouldn’t tell me how Roxy was, except to say she’d be fine, which I didn’t believe. Two policemen delivered Ash and me to Ash’s house. It seemed to happen without my doing anything at all except let myself be guided along. One of the policemen knew Ash’s parents, it turned out, and he had a long talk with them, which I couldn’t hear very well, because I was in the bathroom feeling like I might throw up.
I didn’t want to hear what they said anyway. I was afraid they might be telling Ash’s parents it was all my fault. Mom and Dad had trusted me to keep Roxy safe, and I’d messed up. I’d left her alone even though I knew I shouldn’t. Worst of all, I’d done it for a completely selfish reason—five minutes on a ride that turned out to be stupid anyway. Now Roxy might be dead.
My fault, all of it.
When the policemen left, Ash’s dad said he’d walk me home and stay with me till my parents arrived. I remember Ash stood in the doorway as we left, crumpling and uncrumpling his baseball cap in hands that just wouldn’t stay still, looking as if it took all his strength not to cry. “Bye, Gib. See you tomorrow,” was all he said.
On the way over, I asked Mr. Jensen if he knew how Roxy was. He squeezed my shoulder and said they didn’t know yet, but the doctors were working hard, and they were very good at their jobs. I liked him for telling the truth when a white lie would have been easier.
The house was cold and full of dark places. Everything seemed wrong and different, transformed in the space of that one instant when Roxy met the truck. It was ten o’clock. I should have been tucking her into bed and reading her a story. Instead, she wasn’t there, and maybe she never would be again. It was strange to realize that I gladly would have played doggy till doomsday if that could have brought her back in all her old healthy, annoying glory.
I was glad Ash’s dad was with me, cheerfully turning on lights, starting a fire in the fireplace, and asking me if I’d like a cup of cocoa or tea. He was his same old tall, familiar self. He even smelled the same as always—like smoke, because of the stinky wood stove the Jensens heated their house with. I guess it was just good to know that at least one thing hadn’t changed. I asked him to make chamomile tea, even though I don’t like it that much. It’s what Peter Rabbit’s mom gave him after his big hassle with Mr. McGregor, and it seemed to make him feel so much better. I thought it might work for me, too.
My brain seemed out of whack in a way that’s hard to describe. I felt cold and shaky and I couldn’t keep my mind on anything for very long. I was incredibly tired, yet wide-awake at the same time. Mr. Jensen said it was because I was in shock, which I didn’t believe at first. I thought you had to be hurt in order to go into shock. But Mr. Jensen said no, it could also happen from seeing something awful. Like my sister getting run over by a truck.
He wrapped a quilt around me and sat me down in front of the fire with my tea, which helped the shivering a little. But my brain still wouldn’t work straight. For a second or two I’d think, What am I doing here? I should be in the woods looking for the unner so I can erase this whole awful thing. And I’d start to get up, full of certainty. Then I’d think, I’ll just rest a minute first. I’m so tired. And I’d sit back down. Then while I was sitting there, I’d start to feel desperate and wonder if maybe I just dreamed up the old man and the unner because I couldn’t face what I’d done to Roxy. Then I’d think that couldn’t be right, because why would I have dreamed it all up before Roxy’s accident even happened? And I’d remember the smell of lightning in Madam Isis’s tent and the old man’s message. The unner was out there, just lying in the leaves, waiting for me to find it and make everything better again. So I’d start to get up, but my legs felt heavy and wobbly, and I’d think, I’ll just rest a minute, and the whole stupid thing would begin all over again.
At some point I must have fallen asleep without realizing it. I woke up and found I was lying in bed, window-shaped moonlight spilling across the blanket and my bare arm. Mom sat beside me, running her hand through my hair like she does when I’m really sick, saying, “Sh, sh.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I said, only it came out more like, “I-n’tshee-ing.” I couldn’t seem to get my tongue to work.
A tear spilled down Mom’s cheek, and she swiped it away. She was still wearing her square-dance jacket. The silvery moonlight made the sequins glitter like magic, and I fell asleep again, back into a repeating dream of trying to get up to search for the unner.
6
THE BIG RED BUTTON
When I woke up the next morning, the tired wob-blies were gone. I lay in bed for a minute, picturing a horrendous scene in which I wandered out to the kitchen and asked Mom and Dad how Roxy was. I was afraid of what the answer might be, afraid of having to tell them it was my fault. I smelled waffles and bacon, usually my favorite breakfast. But I didn’t feel very hungry. What I did feel was an overpowering urge to run to the woods and find the unner so I could undo the whole terrible mess.
I threw back the covers, pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt, and headed for the front door. I had my hand on the knob when Mom called from the kitchen. “Gib, are you up? We need to talk.”
I whacked myself on the forehead—I should’ve been walking more quietly. “Could I just do one thing first? It’s really important.”
Mom came to the kitchen door holding a bacon fork. She looked pretty bad. Her eyes were puffy and had dark circles under them.
“This is really important, too. It’s about … Roxy.”
My throat got hot and dry all of a sudden. I could see the news wasn’t good.
I was trembling by the time I sat down at the table. There was a place set for Dad—a yellow plate and a blue checkered napkin, a tall glass of orange juice, shiny silverware, and the newspaper still fold
ed and unread. He wasn’t there.
“Where’s Dad?” I asked.
Mom took a breath but didn’t say anything. She looked as if she might start crying any second. I felt my heart pounding slowly somewhere around my throat. The bacon continued to sizzle in the pan, just as if this were any other Saturday morning, but my stomach felt like a black hole. I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“What?” I said. “If she’s dead, just tell me, O.K.?”
“Oh, honey,” said Mom. The bacon fork clattered to the counter as she hugged me and gave me a kiss on top of my head. “No, she’s not dead. Dad’s been at the hospital with her all night. He’s still there.”
She pulled out Dad’s chair and sat down. She looked at me hard, the corners of her mouth drooping as if they were heavy. Maybe she was trying to figure out whether I was strong enough to hear what she had to say next, or maybe she was working up her own courage. “I love you, so I’m not going to lie to you. Her head is injured. She’s got brain damage, and she’s in a coma. Do you know what that means?”
I nodded. “She’s asleep, but she can’t wake up?” My voice came out thin and tight as a wire.
Mom nodded. “The doctors don’t know what’ll happen. She might wake up and be O.K. eventually. She might not. We just don’t know.”
About a hundred questions jammed my head at once. Before I could make the first one into a sentence, the phone rang. Mom jumped as if she’d heard a firecracker. She raced across the room and picked up the receiver before the second ring.
She said hello, and then, “The scans look bad? But what …” She listened for a long moment, then said in a voice that didn’t sound like hers at all, “How can they know that? How can they be sure she’ll never wake up?” And she started to cry. Only it wasn’t just ordinary crying. It was much worse. It wasn’t a scream. A scream would have been normal compared to this. It was like all the world’s grief and sadness wrapped up in a ball you could hear and feel but not see.
The Power of Un Page 4