by Amy Ephron
Holding pinkies now, because the carnival was getting a little bit crowded, and they were definitely too old to hold hands, Tess and Max walked over to the big blue tent they’d watched go up the day before. There was an elaborate poster pinned to the side of the tent announcing THE BREATHTAKING BARANOVAS with an elaborate drawing of an aerial trapeze and one young girl flipping in space from a swinging bar to another swinging bar with a young boy and a girl hanging upside down from it, waiting to catch her. The caption said:
THE BREATHTAKING BARANOVAS
Amazing Aerial Ballet Show!!
Starts promptly at 2:00 p.m.
“I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“Try what?’ said Max.
“Aerial ballet. Trapeze!”
“Of course you have,” said Max.
Max had long ago realized that he and his sister were quite different creatures.
“I bet Aunt Evie would like this show. Two o’clock. Should we buy tickets now?”
Tess and Max both started laughing.
They remembered Aunt Evie making them go to the zoo to pre-buy tickets. But then Tess also remembered the baby tiger. She reached into her pocket and felt the sharp cold metal of the silver needle that she still had in her jeans. It seemed to almost give her a tiny shock when she touched it, and she swore she saw a flash of light. She pulled her hand out quickly.
She realized she’d put the skeleton key in her new sweater drawer at the cottage and left it there. Tess made a Note to self: remember to always take the key. You never know when you might need it.
She couldn’t help but wonder if the needle had a power of its own—every time she touched it, there were sparks or halos of light—but maybe she was imagining it.
She waited in line with Max to buy tickets for the aerial ballet show.
Max said he wanted to ride on the whirligig but Tess reminded him he’d just recently recovered from dizziness and maybe they should wait a half an hour.
“Do you want me to try to catch a goldfish? Or you could do it,” said Max. “I bet they have one of those silly games where you throw a ping-pong ball into a goldfish bowl and if you land it in the bowl, you get a goldfish. I’ve always thought that was sort of unfair to the poor goldfish, just sitting in the bowl waiting to see if a ball hit it,” said Max but Tess didn’t answer him.
Her eye was caught by something else. Just ahead another trailer, it looked like a circus wagon with wheels, with stars painted on it and a moon. And there was a sign in the window with blinking lights that said:
PSYCHIC
THE FUTURE IS YOURS TO BEHOLD
Visible in the window, prominently displayed, was a crystal ball, the facets of which seemed to give off every color of the rainbow, glowing, sparkling.
“It might be a trick, Tess,” said Max, almost as if he could read his sister’s mind, “it might be lit from inside.”
“And then again, Max,” said Tess, “it might not be.”
She was already three stairs up and had her hand on the doorknob to the trailer. Max had no choice but to follow her. After all, they’d promised Aunt Evie they’d stay together no matter what . . .
As Tess was about to turn the knob, the door opened from inside. There was a strikingly beautiful woman with long blonde hair and slate-blue eyes, not like any color eyes Tess had ever seen before, blue and gray at the same time. And her age seemed indeterminate. She was forty or maybe twenty or maybe older or something in between. There was something kind of strange and ageless about her. She looked like a model in a magazine, except that she was a bit old-fashioned. She was wearing a long white dress, somewhere between a ’60s flower child’s and a Greek goddess’s. She had a round headband resting on the top of her head, like a wreath, with pale white flowers woven onto it. “I knew there was someone there,” she said. “I could simply feel it. And here, there are two of you. Well, come in.”
Tess wanted to say, If you’re such a psychic, what’s my name, then? but she resisted (wisely) the impulse to be attitudinal with a psychic. The truth is, the idea that the woman might be the real deal both fascinated Tess and frightened her.
Tess stepped in instantly and Max had no choice but to follow her.
The inside of the trailer was exotic. There were white silk curtains on the windows, extra long so that they sort of puddled onto the floor. There were geometric rugs, maybe Pakistani, as they looked a bit like the rugs their mom’s friend Franny had in her apartment, which she said were from Pakistan. The geometric patterns were complicated, orange, brown, black, and if you stared at one of them long enough, the images start to reverse, take new shape, go from square to diamond, and back again almost like an optical illusion on the floor. There was the strong scent of vanilla candles (or maybe it was incense), multicolored silk pillows on the floor that were big enough for sitting, antique lamps that seemed to shed an amber glow, all topped off by a star-crested chandelier that hung from the ceiling, slightly dim and bright at the same time, almost as if it was magically lit.
In the middle of the trailer was an elaborately upholstered daybed, elegant blue-and-white striped fabric and cushions that were edged in silver that looked like the most comfortable place to lie down.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” the psychic said. “My name”—she extended her hand to Tess—“is Tara. And I suppose,” she said, answering Tess’s unspoken question from a moment before, “you must be Tess. You wonder how I know that? Well, like I said, I knew that someone was there and I’ve been expecting you. And you”—she turned to Max—“must be Max.”
Max had to admit he was.
He shyly took Tara’s hand when she offered it to him.
“I’ve heard about the two of you,” she said, which sort of gave Tess shivers, as she didn’t know quite what that meant.
“Is there anything you want to ask me?” asked Tara.
There was, actually. Tess wanted to ask her if she’d ever see her friend William again. But she was too embarrassed to ask the question. She thought Max would think she had a crush on William, which wasn’t really true. It was just that she wondered if they went back to visit Aunt Evie in Hampshire, if William would still be living at the castle. And if the key she had would let them in the garden gate. She wondered if William wondered about that, too. So, it wasn’t really that she was embarrassed, she was more frightened if she asked the question that the answer might be no. And Tess knew enough about wishing and wanting things to be true, that she didn’t want to ask the question.
“No, nothing I can think of,” said Tess.
“Well, there must be a reason you’re here. How do you feel about being hypnotized?” Tara asked Tess.
“I’ve always wanted to be hypnotized,” said Tess.
Somehow this didn’t surprise Max. Tess really did want all kinds of things that never would have occurred to him.
“But,” Tess continued, “I’ve always been afraid that I’m too—what do you call it—too strong-willed for it to work. Also, you’d have to promise that you wouldn’t insert a secret command. You know, one of those things you read about in a story where if I hear a certain word, I have to turn around and gosh only knows what . . .”
Max had seen a movie like that once, too. Where someone was hypnotized and sent back to America to be a spy. “I’ll be here to watch, Tess, if you really want to do it . . .”
“How much is it?” asked Tess.
Tara stared at her. “Well, I charge 20 pounds for an astrological reading. And 15 for a look at the cards.” She held up a deck that looked kind of magical. “But you’re not asking me for anything like that. And seeing as there isn’t a line out the door today, I think it’s ‘on the house.’ Or as me mum would say”—she suddenly sounded very English—“I’ll take a ride on this one.”
If Tess and Max had known how big a ride they were in for, Tess
might have decided not to lie down . . .
~ CHAPTER EIGHT ~
tess gets hypnotized
The daybed was elegant and luxurious, with bentwood legs, the bottoms of which were in the shape of poodles’ paws. Tess lay down as instructed but before she rested her feet, it occurred to her she ought not to put her shoes on the sofa. She sat up, untied her sneakers, placed them on the floor beside the daybed, and lay back down again. She stretched her toes out—it was much more comfortable to lie down when you didn’t have your shoes on. The sofa was very soft. She couldn’t tell if the upholstery was silk or satin. It was light turquoise, but elaborately showy, with fine white embroidery making stitched patterns in the shape of stars. The cushions were stuffed with the fluffiest down so that she practically sank into it and Tess felt almost like she was floating.
The ceiling was painted a slightly darker blue. As Tess stared at it, she imagined (or maybe actually saw) the beginning twinkling of stars. That made no sense at all since it was daytime and she was inside a wagon. Tess wondered if that was a trick.
Her mom had never let them go to a storefront psychic even though Tess had asked, as there was one a block and a half away from their apartment in Greenwich Village. Their mother didn’t think much of street psychics, not that she totally dismissed the idea of psychic abilities, she just doubted there would be a real psychic on the corner of Broadway and 10th Street. “Highly unlikely,” she’d said. Her mom had once taken her to a Romanian tea reader. There was a tea room on the second floor of a building on Second Avenue. Her mom told her that she liked the tea sandwiches there, that the cookies were delicious, and that the “tea reading” was just a bonus. She let Tess have a cup of black tea, even though it was late in the afternoon. She sat silently as the tea reader, an ancient woman who had piercing brown eyes, almost the same color as the tea, turned Tess’s cup upside down and turned it up again and showed Tess the pattern made by the residual tea leaves that clung to the inside of the cup like a painting. It almost looked like a woodprint to Tess. There was something that looked like a tree and maybe some blades of grass and a funny, skinny river-like thing that ran almost up to the top of the cup on one side. Tess also thought she saw five stick figures, like a little kid would draw, that looked almost as if they were holding hands.
“You are going to have an excellent adventure,” the tea reader said.
Hmm. Funny she remembered that. That was almost the same the thing the porter had said to her when he’d helped them with their bags at JFK. You’re going to have an excellent adventure. Tess wondered if that adventure was starting now.
Tara, the psychic, had pulled a chair up and was sitting next to her. Even the chair was well-upholstered, with blue-and-white fabric decorated with pink flowers. It had no arms and the back of the chair was whimsically heart-shaped. It was a very low chair and Tara’s face was very close to Tess’s as Tess was lying down. She realized Tara did have the most remarkable slate-blue eyes that seemed as if they might be all-seeing. As near as Tess could tell, Tara wasn’t wearing any makeup at all but her face was doll-like, smooth, unlined, and practically glowing.
Tara spoke softly as she directed Tess. “You’re going to shut your eyes.”
Tess did as she was told.
“And you’re not going to hear anything except my voice,” said Tara.
That wasn’t exactly true as Max was still traipsing around the trailer, walking back and forth, scuffing his feet on the floor, bumping into things.
In the front of the trailer, built into the wall, was something that totally fascinated him. It was an elaborate fixture of pipes, and a wheel, and something that looked like a pulley, and sticking up from the floor, a gear box, sort of like something you might find on a ship or a tractor (not that Max had ever been in a tractor but he imagined it might be there). He almost tripped over it, making even more noise when he stumbled. He realized Tara was glaring at him.
Max knew it probably wasn’t a very good idea to get a psychic mad. Let alone have Tess be mad at him . . . He saw what seemed like a built-in chair right in front of the pipe fixture on the wall, next to the gears, and in front of them, a circular thing that looked almost like a steering wheel. And so, he sat down in the chair.
Max realized it was like a captain’s chair or a pilot’s, he wasn’t sure which one. And his legs didn’t quite touch the ground, which was a good thing as it might be a guarantee that he’d be able to be still and quiet. He was fascinated by the gears and pulleys in front of him. Not to mention the funny thing that looked like a steering wheel.
Tess’s eyes were shut, and to Tess, Tara’s voice sounded like it was coming through headphones, stereophonic, as if each syllable had a beat of its own.
“All you’re going to hear is the sound of my voice.”
Tess opened her eyes for a minute and looked at the ceiling of the trailer. It was a darker blue, now. It looked almost three-dimensional. There was a crescent moon and a festival of stars, not like a constellation or anything, more like it was just the Milky Way or another galaxy without the image of the Big Dipper or Orion or anything recognizable, just a cluster of bright stars, some brighter than others, some awfully small. A DayGlo painting? Paint with glitter in it? That was all she could imagine. There was also a likeness of Saturn with its rings and the instantly recognizable three largest moons lining it. It was strange. Tess hadn’t seen that when they’d first come into the trailer. The ceiling had looked kind of normal. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed. She let her eye trace the line of the ceiling and there, just at the edge, was a painting of a landscape, rolling hills, and a fine line that looked like a horizon at the bottom of the sky.
“You’re getting tired,” Tara said, her voice almost melodic.
Tess couldn’t help it, she shut her eyes.
“You feel as if you want to sleep,” said Tara. “You’re even tireder still,” and the soothing tone of her voice caused Tess to almost drift into sleep.
She’d never felt like this before with her eyes closed. She was starting to see imagery—yes, her eyes were shut—she couldn’t quite explain, like a field of blue that flipped to green, so bright, almost like an image on a TV screen. She felt like she was floating. She had this strange sense that she was actually floating up against a blue/green screen.
Tara whispered to her, “Touch the sky,” and that was the last thing Tess remembered . . .
~ CHAPTER NINE ~
strange navigation
Max wasn’t paying much attention to Tess. He heard Tara’s voice in the background. “The only sound you’ll hear is my voice.” He purposefully tried to tune Tara out as it occurred to him that he might get hypnotized, too.
Max was studying the various mechanisms and what he assumed were control devices, including the nautical-looking metal wheel affixed to the wall in front of him. And because he was Max and he did things like this, he started to play with them, very, very quietly, because he didn’t want Tara to get mad at him for making noise.
Max tentatively put his hand on a lever that looked a little bit like an on-and-off switch and then decided not to play with that. He pulled the wire of a pulley and realized at the top there was a handle. He wondered what would happen if he pulled it all the way down. He put both hands on the steering wheel and pretended he was driving an ocean liner. He put his right hand back on the lever. He couldn’t help it. He flipped it up. And heard the strangest sound, almost like an underground engine. He tried to push the lever back into the down position, but the lever didn’t want to cooperate. He tried again. It was definitely stuck in the up position. He put his hands on the wheel, which looked like it might be spinning. Well, it was spinning! To the right and then the left. He tried to put his hands on it in an effort to right it, but it was turning too quickly for him to grab hold. No, he was imagining it all. The wheel wasn’t turning. But the lever was in fact up. Or maybe he hadn’t imagined it and the w
heel had stopped turning. Then Max started to hear an even stranger sound, like grinding rocks, or wheels turning on rock, or wheels turning on dirt, or the trailer itself starting to move . . .
Max ran to the window. He wasn’t imagining that part. The trailer was starting to move. In fact, it looked like the entire carnival was starting to move, that it had simply picked up stakes and the whole thing was moving. The big blue tent, the games, the Ferris wheel, everything was moving. Maybe Tara had hypnotized him, too. No, he was certain that he heard it. Wheels grinding on dirt, the sound of rocks crunching underneath, the landscape changing in a nanosecond, the landscape out the window almost a blur.
~ CHAPTER TEN ~
the runaway carnival
Tess, Tess . . . Wake up.” Max called out frantically as his sister was still lying motionless on the daybed.
Tess heard his voice almost as if it was coming through a tunnel.
“Tess, wake up! Please, Tess.”
Tess tried to pull herself from sleep, or was it sleep? It was almost as if she was there but not there. She could hear his voice, but she couldn’t open her eyes.
“Tess, wake up.” He was shaking her now, and the warmth of his hands seemed to have an effect her. She opened her eyes.
Tess must have been deeply asleep (or was she hypnotized?). Nothing looked exactly the same. Even the daylight seemed to have a different cast. Out the window there was a view of a grassy landscape and they seemed to be in full motion streaking past it and the passing sky was bright blue with white puffy clouds.