The Kaleidoscope Sisters
Page 8
“That’s pretty lame, Mom.” Quinn spooned taco meat into hard shells for herself and Riley. “Riley, come eat!” she called toward their room.
“Okay! Coming!”
Riley entered the room wearing purple fairy wings and wielding a multicolored plastic wand. “Look what I found in the closet!”
Their mother laughed. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear those since you were maybe two or three. I didn’t know we still had them.”
“What are you supposed to be?” Quinn asked, tousling Riley’s hair and sliding her chair close to the table.
“I’m a butterfly. Duh.”
“Then what’s the wand for, genius?”
“Magic.” Riley stretched the last syllable, rolling her eyes.
“Geez. Someone’s feisty tonight,” Quinn smirked. She sat down next to Riley. “You eating, mom?”
Their mother usually picked at dinner as she cooked, but Quinn couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her mother eat a full meal.
Her mother shrugged and slid into the empty seat at the head of the table.
During dinner, Quinn explained the assignment, emphasizing the torturous nature of the presentation. Riley thought that meeting all the historical characters sounded like a lot of fun, and Quinn immediately began plotting how she might convince her teacher to let Riley play the part. Maybe Earhart had a sister, too. If so, Quinn could make a case for adding Riley to the presentation. That would at least make for a more entertaining night. Quinn made a mental note to investigate Earhart’s family history first thing in the morning.
* * *
After Riley had gone to bed, Quinn’s mother called her to the living room.
“Riley’s birthday is next month. Has she mentioned anything to you about a party or something she wants to do? Any friends at school that she talks about?”
“Not really. I think all of us have tried not to think about Riley turning seven for so long that the possibility just doesn’t seem real.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Don’t you have to invite her whole class anyway?”
“Yes, that’s the school’s policy. If we invite anyone, we have to invite everyone.”
Jane looked past Quinn, absentmindedly tearing at her cuticles. She began to speak, reconsidered, then tried again.
“Do you—what happens if—all those kids—what would we tell them?”
Quinn put her hands over her mothers, then pulled her into an embrace. She didn’t need to speak. They had shared this silence too many times. The only thing heavier than grief is hopelessness, and Jane had given up hope a long time ago.
“You know, Quinn, you might be the only real friend she has.”
Quinn frowned.
“She could do worse,” her mother added.
“What are you getting her?” Quinn asked, trying to change the subject.
Jane bit the inside of her cheek. “I hadn’t given a present much thought. I guess I’ve been scared to.”
Quinn sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” She paused long enough to convince her mother that she, too, was fearful of Riley’s recovery, then told her about the framed butterfly at the museum.
“. . . some Central American variety with bright red and black wings. The price is a little high, but the clerk said she would work with me.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“Oh, nothing,” Quinn lied. “I just like the colors.”
They sat for a while longer before Quinn excused herself to begin her homework.
“I’ll talk to Riley about her birthday tomorrow, see if she wants anything special.”
“Be sly,” Jane called.
The anguish in her voice hollowed Quinn.
* * *
The next morning, Quinn rushed straight to the school library. She sat away from other students and hurriedly typed Amelia Earhart into the search engine. Quinn scanned an article describing her disappearance during an attempt to fly around the world, anxious to find a photograph and confirm her suspicions.
Quinn clicked on a link just below the name, which took her to an archived article from July 3, 1937, reporting Earhart’s disappearance. What she saw made her gasp. The newspaper photograph was grainy and small, but the flight cap was unmistakable. There, on the front page of the Wichita Beacon, was Quinn’s friend from the other realm. Meelie. That’s why the name Amelia had sounded so familiar! Amelia Earhart, a woman whose mysterious disappearance spawned everything from conspiracy theories to worldwide searches, and Quinn knew exactly where to find her.
She was just about to close out of the article when something else caught her eye: Earhart had a younger sister, Pidge, and the two had been inseparable as kids. But that didn’t make sense; Meelie had told Quinn that she hadn’t had any reason to leave the other realm. Why would she lie about having a sister? Maybe they had a fight. Or maybe she died before Meelie left on her last flight, Quinn thought. But why name her hen after her baby sister? Just then, the warning bell jarred her from her mind. She stuffed her notebook into her backpack and rushed from the library, already counting the hours until she could sneak back to the other realm.
Chapter Fourteen
Quinn was distracted for the rest of the day. She had dozens of questions she wanted to ask Meelie, like why she hadn’t mentioned Pidge, or why she had told Quinn that she didn’t have any reason to go home. Something didn’t add up, and Quinn was determined to get to the bottom of Meelie’s obfuscation. The best time to disappear was overnight when no one would notice, so she would have to wait for her mother and Riley to go to bed before sneaking off to the butterfly garden. Quinn didn’t fully understand yet how time worked in the other realm. Aimee had tried to tell her more about passing between the two realms, but Quinn had interrupted her. Not that anything Aimee could have said would have mattered; Quinn was determined to find Meelie. She had been so evasive about her past, and for good reason if she had chosen to abandon her little sister for a giant chicken that couldn’t fly and glowing butterflies.
* * *
During dinner, Jane asked how the research project was going.
Quinn prevaricated. “Haven’t found much yet. The wireless network at school is so slow.”
“I suppose you may have to do some of the research here, then,” her mother suggested.
“Maybe. I still have a couple of weeks. I did find that she had a kid sister named Pidge, though.”
“Pidge?” Riley laughed. “What kind of a name is Pidge?”
“That wasn’t her real name, silly. Pidge was a nickname she used with her family.”
“How come I don’t have a nickname?” Riley asked.
“You used to, when you were a baby,” their mother chimed in. “Didn’t stick, though.”
“Tell me!”
“Toast,” Quinn said, laughing.
“Huh?” Riley looked perplexed.
“Toast. That was your nickname.”
“Why?”
“You used to love toasted rye bread with butter. You’d end up covered in butter and crumbs every time. You looked rabid,” their mother said, stifling a laugh. “Of course that was just a phase. You forgot all about toast the Easter we let you try a bite of a chocolate bunny.”
“What about Quinn? Does she have a nickname, too?”
Jane chewed her lip for a moment, then shook her head. “Nothing comes to mind.”
Quinn stared at her mom in disbelief. “Really? You forgot already?” She pushed herself away from the table and sulked to her bedroom, easing the door closed and burying herself in the comforter on her bed. The rules of the other realm had been lingering at the edge of her thoughts since her return, but now they forced themselves to the front of her mind. This must be how people feel when someone they love gets dementia or Alzheimer’s, she thought, except for one excruciating difference: Quinn was the ailment, bringing the amnesia that was spreading through her life.
* * *
Riley asked Qui
nn to give her a bath while their mother cleaned up the kitchen. Quinn wasn’t in the mood, but the truth was that she missed bathing Riley. Hearing that her sister seemed to miss their time together too made her momentarily forget why she was angry.
“Will you tell me a story before bed? Please?” Riley begged.
“We’ll see.” Quinn hadn’t told her a story in nearly a month. She was excited to hear that Riley wanted to hear one again, but her curiosity about Meelie was growing. She could hardly conceal her urgent desire to revisit the other realm.
Riley clapped her hands together, splashing water onto the bathmat.
“I said maybe! Now be careful—you’re getting me all wet!”
Quinn’s expression betrayed her tone and Riley splashed again, soaking Quinn’s pant leg.
“Oh, you’re going to pay for that, kid.”
Quinn reached into the bath and pressed her fingertips into Riley’s rib. Riley lurched, laughing hysterically. Before long, Quinn was as wet as Riley.
“What’s all the commotion, girls?” their mother asked, poking her head into the bathroom.
Both girls pointed to each other and said, “She splashed me first!”
Quinn and Riley laughed again, both turning to attack their mother, who ducked back into the hall to avoid getting drenched.
“Okay, okay. Call a truce and get ready for bed!”
The two girls collapsed in a fit of laughter. Quinn calmed herself and reached for the shampoo. Riley was plenty old enough to wash her own hair, but she enjoyed having Quinn massage her scalp when she was willing. Once Quinn had finished scrubbing Riley’s head, she handed her sister a toothbrush and toothpaste.
“Better hurry up if you want a story, kid,” she chided.
While Riley brushed her teeth, Quinn went to retrieve the robe and towel she had tumbled in the dryer. They were still warm, just as Riley liked them.
“Spoiled brat,” Quinn muttered, laughing.
Once Riley was in bed, Quinn pulled the covers to her chin. She went around the room, tossing dirty clothes into the hamper and clearing the floor of toys before flicking off the light. Riley pressed the foot on her pillow pet, a multicolored penguin that glowed. Quinn turned on the night-light, and the ceiling lit up with constellations. This was one of the few compromises the girls had made in sharing a room: Riley couldn’t sleep when the room was too dark, and Quinn couldn’t sleep when the room was too bright. Since Quinn had long been enamored with stars, their mother found a night-light that projected the entire Milky Way galaxy onto the ceiling.
“Story time,” Riley demanded. Her voice was shallower than in recent weeks. Quinn started to dismiss the change as a sign of exhaustion, but then she noticed that the red freckle above Riley’s heart had begun to fade.
“You feeling okay?” she asked, trying to mask her concern.
“Yep. A little tired, I guess, but I’m okay.”
“You’re sure?” she pressed.
“I’m fine,” Riley insisted.
Quinn told herself that she was just being paranoid and settled onto the foot of Riley’s bed, pulling the covers over her feet and calves. She wanted to share the other realm with her sister, but she knew that she couldn’t come right out and tell Riley about the bulb or the new heart. Of course, if Riley’s breathing really was a sign that her new heart was already failing, Quinn would have to leave her sister for the other realm very soon. Maybe, she hoped, these bedtime stories would stay with Riley even after Quinn had gone away.
“This is the story of two sisters—”
“Like us?”
“Sort of, except that these sisters lived in a place with no sun.”
“How did they see?”
“Well, there were two bright moons, and everything in the land glowed.”
“You mean the animals?”
“Yes, and even Dot, one of the sisters. Instead of a heart like we have, she had a red spot on her chest that glowed whenever she felt happy. But one day, the other sister, Grit, saw that the red spot wasn’t glowing anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because Dot was very tired. She slept all day and all night. Grit was worried, so she went to ask a wise woman who lived in a cave what to do, but the wise woman didn’t know, and she sent Grit to the ocean.”
“Why?”
“There was an even wiser woman who lived there, except she couldn’t step foot on land, or she would melt away. Grit had to swim out to her and ask her how to help Dot.”
“What did she say?”
“She said that if the spot on Dot’s chest disappeared, she would die, and Grit was the only one who could help her. Saving her wouldn’t be easy, though. You see, Grit would have to go far, far away to find the medicine for Dot. The healing place was so far away that as soon as she got some medicine back to Dot, she would have to leave to go get more.”
“For how long?”
“Forever. For as long as she lived, Grit would have to journey back and forth. If she stayed with her sister for even one night, Dot would die before Grit could get more medicine. Grit didn’t want to leave her family, but she loved her sister more than anything, and she knew she was the only one who could save her. So that’s what she did.”
“Quinn, that’s a sad story!”
“I suppose so.”
“You should fix the ending so the sisters can be together.”
“Not every story has a happy ending. What Grit did is called a sacrifice, and sometimes one person has to make a decision like that so someone they love can be happy.”
“Well I don’t have to like sacrifice,” Riley pouted.
Quinn put her hand over Riley’s and drew in a long breath. “Riley, if you—I mean, if you had the choice . . .” Quinn paused, trying to organize the words swirling inside her. “If you could go someplace where you wouldn’t be sick anymore, would you go?”
“Duh. I don’t like being sick all the time.”
“What if—what if Mom couldn’t go with you?”
“Why wouldn’t Mom come? Is she sad at me again? Does she want me to go away?”
“No, no, no. I’m just—hypothetically—”
“Hypowhat?”
“Pretend,” Quinn answered, more sharply than she intended. “If you could not be sick anymore, but you had to leave Mom, would you go?”
“I don’t think so,” Riley said. “Mom would be sad, and I wouldn’t know anyone.”
“What if Mom wouldn’t remember?”
“Why wouldn’t she remember? Is something wrong with Mom?”
“Nothing is wrong, Riley. I just—if I found a place where your heart would be okay, and mom wouldn’t be sad about us leaving, would you want to live there?”
“You mean like a sacrifice? Like Grit?”
“Kind of, yes.”
Riley shifted under the comforter. She started to speak, then turned away from Quinn.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We’re a family. All of us. I don’t want to think about one of us not being here. I—”
“It’s okay, boo,” Quinn interrupted. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
Quinn leaned over and kissed Riley on the forehead, hoping that Riley couldn’t feel the wet streaks on her cheeks. She rose from the bed, grabbing a hoodie on her way out of the room. As soon as her mother was asleep, she would sneak back to the butterfly garden, back to the other realm.
Chapter Fifteen
“Going somewhere?” Jane asked, seeing Quinn exit the girls’ bedroom with a hoodie in hand. She could see Quinn’s grip on the jacket tighten.
“What? No, just picking up a little,” Quinn said, her voice thready and high-pitched.
Jane watched Quinn walk to the hall closet and hang the hoodie on an empty hook. She knew that Quinn was hiding something, but decided to not to push. Instead, she played along.
“Oh, that’s great. I haven’t had a chance to clean up the kitchen. Would you mind p
utting the food away so I can get started on the dishes?”
“Sure,” Quinn shrugged, glancing at the front door before going into the kitchen.
Jane continued to watch as Quinn pulled plastic containers from the cabinet and shovel the remaining food from each pot into a separate dish. She clicked the lids shut, then placed them in the refrigerator.
“Anything else, Mom?”
The question startled Jane a bit. Quinn was helpful with Riley, but she rarely volunteered for chores on school nights.
“Don’t you have some research to do?”
“Yeah, but I can do that later.”
“Are you sure, honey? I don’t want you to be up all night.”
“I won’t, Mom. Promise,” Quinn replied, raising her right hand as though taking an oath. “I’m sure you’re tired too. What else needs to be done?”
Jane thought for a moment. “Well, the towels are about finished. They’ll need to be folded and put away so they don’t get that musty smell from the dryer.”
“No problem. I can take care of that while you wash dishes.”
“Thanks. You’re a big help, you know.”
“Just trying to make things a little easier for you.”
“I love you,” Jane said, pulling Quinn into her arms and kissing her on the head. Jane hadn’t noticed, but Quinn was nearly as tall as she was. In another few months, she thought, she’d be eye to eye with her daughter.
“Love you too, Mom.” Quinn pulled away from her mother and went to retrieve the towels from the dryer, which had begun to buzz loudly.
* * *
Quinn carried the basket of warm towels to the living room, where she folded each one as precisely as she could, first in half long ways, then into thirds along the folded edge. Her mom wasn’t particular about how the towels were folded; Quinn, on the other hand, couldn’t stand to see a stack of towels hanging over the edge of the shelf in the bathroom she shared with Riley. As she folded, Quinn listened for the start of the dishwasher, which would signal that her mother had gone to bed. The grandfather clock in the living room chimed ten, then eleven. She had folded all the towels and put them away, but she still heard nothing from the kitchen to indicate that her mom had gone to bed. She tiptoed toward her mother’s room to check to see if she had slipped into bed while Quinn was in the bathroom. Sure enough, the kitchen was dark, and Quinn didn’t see any light coming from beneath her mother’s bedroom door. She pressed her ear to the door and listened. Total silence. Her chest thumped, and she felt dizzy with excitement. She tiptoed back toward the hall closet, took her jacket from the hanger, and eased open the front door.