by Amy Ephron
Everyone in the crowd was looking upward. As the noise came closer . . . and closer . . . and closer. Until they streaked over head.
Four old-fashioned biplanes making loops in the sky. Circling each other, dovetailing, flying in a straight line, and then forming a perfect square. The red plane executed a steep dive directly toward the ground and pulled out of it twenty-five feet above the crowd to cheers and waves. The yellow plane hovered directly over for a moment, and then someone jumped out. That scary moment before the parachute opened. The pilot glided dramatically down to the ground, carrying something that when he got nearer was revealed to be a green flag with a red dinosaur on it and a white sky.
Tess looked at Max questioningly.
Well, maybe it wasn’t a dinosaur. Maybe it was a dragon. What country could that be?
Max shook his head. He tried to remember if there was a soccer team that displayed that flag.
Before Tess or Max could say anything more, there were “oohs” and “ahhs” from the crowd and various people pointing, as a man in what appeared to be a similar jumpsuit to Max’s with an aviator helmet on his head performed a spectacular wing walk on the black plane and then totally wowed the crowd by hanging from his hands. He then performed an amazing somersault up into the air, somehow staying in league with the forward motion of the plane. He must have been attached somehow, that was the only possible explanation. He landed perfectly on his feet again on the top wing. It was stunning. No one in the crowd could breathe until he exited back into the plane, which remarkably he seemed to be piloting.
“Can a biplane fly by itself, Max?”
“Umm, when car engines get old they replace them,” Max said as if he was considering this theory himself. “It’s an old plane. That makes sense. It must have a modern engine and he put it on autopilot. I don’t know, though. Maybe old-fashioned biplanes have an automatic setting, too.”
“Oh,” said Tess because that sort of made sense.
Tess noticed that all the other kids at the carnival seemed to be accompanied by adults. Tess put her chin down and said to Max under her breath, “I think we have to say we work here, if anyone asks us. It seems like we’re the only kids without parents or a grown-up here.”
“Okay, but,” said Max, ever practical as always, “what if the person who asks us works here?”
“That could be a problem,” Tess muttered back to him.
The little girl was still staring at them. Tess smiled, as if that might disarm her. But instead it encouraged her, and she pulled her mother’s arm and pointed in Tess’s direction.
Tess grabbed Max’s hand and darted into the center of the crowd. “Stay close to me, Max. We’re short,” she said. “It’ll be easy to hide in plain sight.”
This sort of did make sense since everyone except that little girl was watching the dramatic show in the air and no one was paying much attention to any strangers next to them, especially not to two kids who seemed to be sticking close to one another and enjoying the show, too.
The planes flew back into formation again, one, two, three, four, right in line with each other, like forward march, and then the red plane pulled out and up ahead, then the blue plane flew in right behind it, then the yellow, and then the black plane at the back, so they were in a straight line. They flew that way almost in a semicircle, then made an approach for the runway, which Tess realized was directly in front of the crowd.
~ CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR ~
a very dramatic landing
The red plane landed first to shouts and cheers, and slowed to a stop at the very end of the runway. Then the blue plane landed and also hit the brakes and stopped behind the red plane. Then the yellow one did the same. And then the black plane landed, seeming almost to set off multicolored sparks as its wheels hit the ground, not frightening, almost like rainbow bursts. Tess realized she had put her hands in her pockets, and she was holding on to the needle. She wondered if she was causing the streaks of light. Tess let go as the black plane came to a complete stop directly behind the other three.
Drums, a trombone, the big metal clang of cymbals, or tin pans banging together, Tess wasn’t sure which as she couldn’t see the orchestra, if there was an orchestra. Then she saw it was a marching band, in blue, white, and red costumes, coming out to celebrate the stars of the show—the amazing aviators who had each just successfully landed their plane.
“Attention.” The bandleader had an accent that Tess couldn’t quite place. On command, the marching band came to a stop, but each continued to march, legs up, legs down, exactly in place without the accompaniment of their musical instruments. The door of the red plane opened, and the pilot debarked. Next, the blue plane, and that pilot stepped out of the cockpit and onto the ground. Next, the yellow one, whose pilot did the same, bowing gracefully after he’d descended. And then with a slight flourish, almost a skip in the air, the pilot of the black plane landed and put his hand on his hip, in a casual attitude and acknowledgement of his extreme achievement.
Tess had now linked her pinkie in to Max’s. “If we hold hands,” she’d said, “someone might think that we’re really little kids and that we’re lost.”
Max was mesmerized by the pilots, and he led Tess, inadvertently since their pinkies were linked and she had to follow him, effortlessly through the crowd, until they were almost up at the front with a clear view of the pilots on the runway.
There was a drum roll, as if something amazing was about to happen.
With another flourish, the pilots, in unison, each unsnapped their helmets and triumphantly removed them, holding the helmet in front of them almost as if it was a medal of sorts. At least, three of them did. The pilot of the black plane waited, a long beat. Another drum roll. And then the fourth pilot unsnapped the helmet, shook “his” head, and it was revealed, as the pilot’s hair brilliantly cascaded down below her shoulders, in dark waves and curls, that despite the jumpsuit and the amazing athletic wing-walk display, including the exhibition of truly remarkable arm strength, that the wing walker was really a woman.
A giant round of applause, hurrahs, and yelps from the crowd for the three male pilots and the very beautiful female pilot who looked as if she might be eighteen. If she was even that old. Tess couldn’t tell. But Tess was impressed that the young woman hadn’t made (or been asked to make) any silly concessions (like wearing a swimsuit) and was just dressed exactly the same as the rest of the crew. Absolutely no question, though, that she was the star.
A line had formed immediately. Well, four lines. Four straight lines. People were holding autograph books and pieces of paper with pens. The longest line, by far, was for her.
The music started again, but it was more the way a nursery rhyme would sound or a music box or a carousel. La La La la la la la La La La la la la la There was the sound of a very light cymbal, too, and bells, a lot like a carousel.
Tess felt her pinkie being pulled again. She looked at Max, who was staring at the female pilot, a little star-struck himself, and slinking them in almost to the front of the line that had formed to see her. Luckily nobody called them on it. Tess was very careful to look down. Don’t engage. That was something her dad had taught her, about a way not to get into an argument with someone on the playground, not that he’d anticipated an instance like this. But it seemed to apply. Don’t engage. That way no one will engage with you.
La La La la la la la La La La la la la la . . .
It was hard not to want to dance to it. What kind of music was that?
Tess noticed she could see painted horses on a carousel and poles, and a pointed, painted canopy top of the tent off in the distance. Was it a large blue tent? But everything looked paler somehow. It made sense about the biplanes, that the yellow and red would have become fainter from all those years flying around in the sun. But everything was like that. Even the clothes the people around her were wearing seemed faded, as if they�
�d been washed too many times. But that didn’t explain why everyone was so pale. She wondered if she and Max looked pale, too, if there was something about the light or there was a cloud cover blocking the sun. But the sky was clear, just a paler blue than she’d ever seen a sky before.
~ CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE ~
the autograph
There was a little boy next to Tess who was eating a candyfloss.
That was reassuring. Except the candyfloss was white. Maybe it was organic. She’d never seen white candyfloss before, only pink or blue.
They were almost first in line now. There was a gracefulness to the female pilot that Tess noticed immediately, as if she had the aspect of a dancer.
Max convinced the kid with the candyfloss to rip a piece of paper out of the notebook the kid was carrying so that Max could get an autograph. Tess stood by anxiously while Max negotiated for the paper.
“You wouldn’t let me borrow a piece of paper, would you?” Max asked the kid, although borrow wasn’t exactly what he meant.
The kid was really nice and just said, “Ie, Ie!” He tore a piece out carefully and gave it to Max. “Isn’t she amazing? Why me and my family come.” His English was funny, as if it wasn’t his first language. “Ie, Ie,” almost as if it was two syllables. What language was that? It didn’t sound like English exactly; maybe it was Italian. But then Max realized that wasn’t a sign of anything, as it was summer and the kid and his parents could just be vacationing tourists.
Then Max and Tess were first in line.
Tess was mesmerized by the female pilot, too. She was just as pale as everyone else at the carnival, but her skin was flawless, as flawless as if she was a porcelain doll. She had long dark lashes and eyes that were almost brown or green. Aunt Evie would probably say they were hazel. But what fascinated Tess most were her hands and how extraordinarily strong they looked. She wasn’t very tall, but her hands were both pretty and agile and looked so powerful that the fountain pen she was holding seemed almost like a toy. “To both of you?” she asked.
“No,” said Tess, “just sign it to my brother, Max.” Tess thought it should be something that was just to him.
“Max,” said Max, “Max Barnes,” reaching his hand out to shake hers. It was important to him that she knew he was polite. “And this is my sister, Tess.”
“Okay, Max Barnes,” she said. She took his hand for a moment and nodded to him.
“Max Barnes,” she repeated as she wrote his name. And then she scrawled something underneath and below that signed her own name, in very clear but decorative handwriting. Tess didn’t know what she wrote as she was on the other side of the table, so the writing was upside down.
“Thanks,” said Max, taking the paper from her and holding it as if it were a precious stone.
~ CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX ~
a very valuable signature
As they were walking away, Tess said, “Let me see the paper.”
Max hesitated. He didn’t even want to share the paper with her.
“I promise I’m not going to crumple it,” said Tess.
He handed her the autograph very carefully, accompanied by a look that suggested she should be very very careful with it herself.
Tess couldn’t believe what she saw. She couldn’t believe what the pilot had written. Was it possible? The paper read:
Max Barnes,
Touch the sky!!!
Anna Baranova
“Max. Max. Max.” Max was walking ahead of her. “Max, stop. Max, did you look at this?”
She carefully handed him back the personalized signed paper. That was what Alexei had said to her when he’d first, somewhat magically, let her into the blue tent. Touch the sky.
Of course, she should have known immediately. Tess had seen her picture on the poster. At least, it had been her image on the poster until someone had replaced it with the image of Tess.
Anna looked a little older than she had in the poster on the tent at the carnival. But Tess should have recognized her. She looked a lot like Tatiana.
Anna Baranova. Alexei and Tatiana’s older sister.
Max looked at the autograph and he realized it, too. Anna Baranova. They’d found her.
The realization of who she was raised so many other questions that Tess’s head was spinning.
That little girl was looking at her again. Pulling her mother’s hand and pointing at Tess. Tess ducked behind a family of six that was walking past and pulled Max with her.
Tess realized that she hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. The sun was beating down intensely.
“I have a headache,” Tess said to Max. Suddenly she felt unsteady on her feet.
Max guided her, following the funny family of six, over to the grove of olive trees. He reasoned Tess might feel better out of the sun, assuming she didn’t faint first. She was walking strangely, as if she was about to topple over. He pinched her arm. Tess winced.
“Sorry,” said Max. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tess. I was frightened you might faint and then someone would come help us and then . . . Did you know you get a shot of adrenaline when you get hurt? It happens organically.”
“No,” said Tess, “I didn’t know that, but thanks, actually. I needed a wake-up call.”
She looked behind her to see if the little girl was still watching her, but thankfully she was nowhere in sight.
There were four wooden picnic tables underneath the olive trees. The family of six had sat down at one of them. On another, was almost a buffet-style banquet. There were small glasses, just the right size for juice, that seemed to have alternately pale orange and pale yellow, maybe it was lemon or orange-flavored, liquid in them. Juice? Soda? It was hard to tell. It looked as if they were free for the taking unless they belonged to a family. Max figured he still had some money left if they were for sale. There were so many glasses, it looked as if they were there for the folks who’d gone to the show.
Max picked up one that was filled with orange liquid and took a sip, protectively tasting it to make sure it seemed okay to give it to Tess. It tasted like fresh orange juice with bubbly water in it, not quite as sweet as soda. “It’s pretty good. Here, Tess,” he said, handing it to her, “I think you’ll feel better if you drink it.
“And look,” he said, “this looks like a regular old cheese sandwich, even though it’s on fancy bread. Well, the cheese is kind of pale. But didn’t we have white cheddar in England?” Maybe they were still in England, after all. He took a bite as if he was testing it, too. He nodded and handed it to her. And then he took one for himself.
They sat down under one of the olive trees and Tess drank an entire orange juice, which had an instant effect. It was almost like she could think again. Although, there were so many things to think about, including the family that was sitting at the table next to them.
“They look like a normal family, don’t they, Max?”
Max looked at her questioningly.
“I mean they all have red hair. Sort of. It’s not quite red, it’s more auburn.”
What she really wanted to say was faded red, but she didn’t know how to say that. “And they’re all really pale, aren’t they? But then again redheaded folks are sometimes pale. But look at the juice. It’s not quite orange, is it? I mean, it’s not as bright as orange juice.”
“It’s not as bright as the orange juice we have in the United States.”
“Maybe it’s paler in England. What was that flag? Are we in a different country?” She nodded toward the redheaded family. “What language are they speaking?”
Max leaned in. It didn’t sound like a language he knew. Was it Polish? He didn’t know. He’d never been to Poland. Or met anyone from Poland that he remembered. Was it Russian? His dad had a couple of Russian friends. Maybe. That might be what it was.
The clown walked by, dressed all in white. He
was wearing white makeup with that oversized frown in black lipstick painted around his mouth instead of a smile. He had black tears painted on his cheeks just below his eyes. And he didn’t make any attempt to perform for any of the kids. It was almost like he was a scary mime. Tess wasn’t liking the look of this.
She could see the autograph lines had thinned, and there were only a few folks left.
They had to talk to Anna. Anna might understand. At least, Tess thought that Anna might, if they were able to explain it, that is. If . . . and if she really was who they thought . . .
Max had the same thought almost at the same time. They stood up in unison. Sometimes they did have almost psychic communication. They instinctively held pinkies again. Tess whispered, “We have to look like we belong here. Don’t look frightened. Don’t look around. Keep your eyes down, Max.”
They were halfway across the field now. They saw someone vaguely familiar. It looked like Lorenzo, the carnival owner, except this gentleman was older, with gray hair and a long, wispy gray-white beard. He, too, was walking toward Anna.
“Chase me, Max,” said Tess not waiting for him but quickly breaking into a run. She knew that if they pretended to be kids playing, no one would think that it was strange. Max took her cue.
She let him catch up to her just as they reached Anna, and Tess laughed, the way a little kid would laugh when her brother was chasing her. She turned around and tickled him in the side so he started laughing, too.
The older gentleman was standing next to Anna now as if he were her coach or her owner or, Tess hated to think, her guard. Tess realized he probably was the carnival owner. There was something so overprotective and strange about the way he stood beside her. But Tess noticed Anna didn’t look the least bit frightened. Of course not. Anna was a Baranova, and she could wing walk, she probably wasn’t afraid of anything.