by Marilyn Kaye
But it seemed that Rachel on her own didn’t have any real commitment to eating organically. Raiding the cabinets and the refrigerator, we found a big bag of potato chips, a sack of chocolate chip cookies, and a large bottle of soda, and she didn’t offer any objections. I added cups and napkins, and we took the haul upstairs.
I’d decided we should get to know Rachel better before we showed her the spyglass. She was such a sheltered kid, something magical could totally freak her out. So I led the girls into my bedroom, where we settled down on the rug and spread out the goodies.
Again, Rachel seemed to be in awe as she looked over the snacks. It was like she’d never seen junk food before.
“I don’t think any of this stuff’s organic,” I told her.
“That’s okay,” Rachel assured me. She offered a shy smile. “But I probably won’t tell my parents about this.”
“Just pretend it’s carrot sticks and apple juice,” Alyssa advised.
We all began eating, including Rachel, who seemed particularly enamored of the cookies.
I was curious. “So your mothers are pretty strict about what you eat, huh?”
“They worry about my health,” Rachel said.
“Have you been sick? Do you have allergies?”
“Nope. They just worry about everything when it comes to me.”
“All parents worry,” Alyssa remarked.
“Not like mine,” Rachel said.
“I guess I’m lucky that way,” Alyssa declared.
I looked at her in surprise. After all I’d heard about her family, it was startling to hear Alyssa describe herself as lucky.
She explained. “They’re super busy all the time and there are four kids in our house, so they have to divide up the worrying. Are you an only child?”
“Yes. Well, yes and no,” Rachel replied. “There was another child. But she died.”
I’d been stuffing my face with chips and Alyssa had been working on the cookies, but we both stopped eating at this news. We stared at Rachel in shock.
I could barely get words out. “Your sister died?”
“Before I was born,” Rachel told them. “She was ten years old. Walking home from school, she was hit by a car.”
“Oh, wow,” Alyssa murmured. “That’s so tragic.”
Rachel nodded. “She was alone when it happened.”
Now something made sense to me. “So that’s why your mom walks you home from school.”
“She walks me there too. Well, either her or Mami. Usually Mom, because she works from home. But the two of them, they barely let me out of their sight. I know kids at school have noticed, and I know they laugh at me. But what can I do?”
“Your parents are afraid of losing you too,” I said softly.
“Exactly. So they treat me like I’m five years old.” Rachel sighed. “Sometimes I feel like I’m five years old.”
“Do you wish you were five years old?” I asked.
“No!”
Interesting, I thought. So it wasn’t just wishes or fantasies that the spyglass was showing us. It was feelings too.
Alyssa and I exchanged meaningful looks. The moment had come to tell Rachel.
“We’ve got something to show you,” I said.
“A TELESCOPE?” UP IN THE TURRET, RACHEL looked at the object with interest.
“We call it a spyglass,” Alyssa said.
“Because…you use it to spy on people?”
“Sort of,” I told her.
“But not exactly,” Alyssa added. “Like, we don’t look in people’s windows to see them taking their clothes off or anything like that.”
“It’s a different kind of spying,” I said. “It’s kind of hard to explain. We see stuff that…well, stuff that’s not really there.”
Alyssa shook her head. “No, what we see is really there, in a way. But other people can’t see it.”
Rachel looked confused. “You mean you have to have a spyglass to see this stuff?”
“Not just any spyglass,” I said. “This one…it’s special.”
Rachel looked at it. “So this one’s more powerful?”
“No, it’s not that,” I began, trying to think of a way to explain it. Alyssa took over.
“It’s magic.”
Now Rachel was clearly dubious. And uncomfortable. She started to back away. “I don’t believe in magic.”
“Neither do we!” I declared. Then I glanced at Alyssa. “Well, I mean, I don’t. Or, I didn’t. But now…well, it’s hard to explain. What we see is what people want. Or think about.”
“Or feel,” Alyssa added. “Like, when you just said sometimes you feel like you’re five years old—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. This could totally boggle Rachel’s mind.
I thought we should give some other examples first, to prepare her. So I described seeing the community center and then finding out that it wasn’t even built yet.
“And then Ellie saw me, on a broomstick. Flying.”
“Oh, come on,” Rachel protested.
“I believe her! Because, see, sometimes I feel like a witch. My stepsister called me a witch. I’ll bet half the kids at school think I’m a witch. And then, yesterday, we saw you.”
“What was I doing?” Rachel asked her.
“Walking with your mom. The one we just met.”
“So what? I do that all the time.”
“You looked like you were about five years old.”
Rachel stared at her in disbelief. I jumped in.
“See, like I said, we think the spyglass is showing us our feelings. Alyssa’s father told her people have been wanting a community center for ages.”
Alyssa explained. “Because a lot of people can’t afford to belong to fancy country clubs. And a lot of high school kids have nothing to do.”
“And like Alyssa said, she thinks about being a witch, what it would be like to have powers like that,” I said. “And then, just now, you were saying you sometimes feel like a little kid around your parents. Well, that’s how we saw you. Like a little kid. Through the spyglass.”
Rachel still looked skeptical, but she asked, “Can I look through it?”
“Sure!” I exclaimed eagerly. I showed her how to operate the dial to magnify the view, and she took her place behind the eyepiece.
After a minute, Alyssa asked, “Well? What do you see?”
“School. Town Hall.” Rachel moved the spyglass a little. “A church. The high school. Cars. People walking.” She turned to look at us severely. “None of them are flying.”
“Keep looking,” I urged.
After another few seconds, she said, “Nothing unusual.” She looked at us again. “Are you sure you’re not just imagining this stuff?”
Alyssa shook her head. “Okay, only Ellie saw the community center and me on the broomstick. But we both saw you. And we weren’t talking about you or anything. How could we both be imagining the same thing at the same time?”
“And it’s not like we have anything in common,” I added. “Alyssa and I just met a couple of days ago.”
“Have you seen other kids from school?” Rachel asked me.
I shook my head.
“Why just me and Alyssa?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Unless, maybe…” I bit my lower lip.
“What?” Alyssa demanded.
I hesitated, but I plunged in. “Well, maybe we do have something in common. We’re all kind of outsiders, aren’t we? I mean, we don’t really fit in.” I eyed them nervously, hoping they wouldn’t take this as an insult.
Apparently not. Alyssa nodded, and Rachel didn’t disagree.
“So…maybe we’re special.” It was a weak explanation, I knew that. But I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“But you haven’t seen yourself, have you?” Rachel pointed out.
I shrugged. “Maybe one of you will. Someday.”
“I’ll look again,” Rachel said, turning back to the spyglass. �
��Okay, I see…Mike Twersky.”
The name rang a bell. “Who’s that?”
“A boy at school. Red hair, cute. Kind of nice.”
With the description, I immediately knew who she was talking about. “Oh, yeah, he’s in my pre-algebra class. What’s he doing?”
“Shooting hoops on someone’s carport with a couple of other boys.”
Well, that was too bad. If he’d been doing something weird, it might have provided me with a reason to speak to him. Like Rachel said, he was awfully cute.
“What else?” Alyssa asked.
“Hmm…a car just ran a red light. And now a police car is pulling him over.” After a few seconds, she said, “Uh-oh, someone’s going to get a ticket.”
This was getting boring. I was beginning to wonder if we’d been wrong to bring Rachel up here. The spyglass wasn’t offering her anything.
“Must be something good at the movie theater. There’s a line.”
Alyssa yawned.
“I see Kiara, from our English class, on the playground. She’s running…” Rachel’s voice trailed off, and she drew in her breath sharply.
“What?” I asked. “What’s happening?”
Rachel moved back from the spyglass. Her normally pale face was practically white. And she couldn’t speak. I stepped into her place.
I could see Kiara too. And she wasn’t alone. Running alongside and around her were…a donkey, a large tiger, and a gorilla. They were playing tag.
“Let me see!” Alyssa demanded.
I turned the spyglass over to her.
“Holy cannoli,” she breathed.
I turned to Rachel. Her face was returning to its natural color, but she still looked stunned.
“Did you…did you see…,” she stuttered.
I nodded. “I saw.”
Then Alyssa let out a yelp. “Look!” She stepped aside and let me see. Kiara was gone. Her place had been taken by a gigantic swan.
I gave Rachel her chance. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What does it mean? Kiara wants to be a swan?”
Suddenly, the pieces started falling into place. “Oh my gosh,” I said excitedly. “You know what? I think it’s the game she plays!”
“What game?” Alyssa asked.
“I don’t know what it’s called but she was playing it on a computer in the media center today. And I saw animals like those running around on the screen.”
Then Rachel said, “It’s over. Now it’s just Kiara, and she’s all by herself.” She moved away. Alyssa and I both took a look and confirmed this.
“So, I guess now you believe us?” Alyssa asked Rachel.
Slowly, Rachel nodded. “Only…I still don’t get it.”
But we didn’t have a chance to discuss this latest vision from the spyglass. A voice came from the floor below.
“Ellie? Where are you?”
“Up here, Mom!”
I could hear her coming up the stairs, and a second later she ran into the turret.
“I have news! I got the job!”
“Mom, that’s great!” If the other girls hadn’t been there, I would have hugged her, so I tried to compensate by putting tons of enthusiasm in my voice.
“What are you going to do?” Rachel asked.
“I’ll be a reporter for the county newspaper, covering business—plus I’m going to be writing a weekly column!”
“What’s it going to be about?” I asked.
“Oh, pretty much anything and everything, as long as it’s entertaining and interesting for the community.”
Her eyes were sparkling, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her so excited. She beamed at us.
“Ellie, I want to celebrate and your father’s got clients coming. So how about I take you girls out to the Lakeside Diner for super-delicious hot fudge sundaes?”
Alyssa and I quickly agreed, but Rachel looked at her watch.
“It’s after five. My mom will be coming for me.”
“Why don’t I call her and tell her I’ll drop you off at your home after we go to the diner?” my mother suggested. “You girls go gather your coats and I’ll meet you at the door.”
But when we all converged downstairs, my mother was shaking her head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Your mother wants you home now, so I’ll have to drop you on our way.”
Rachel didn’t look devastated. A small sigh was the only indication of any disappointment. It was like she’d expected this.
“It’s okay. She means well.”
If this had happened to me—if my mother had said I couldn’t do something and there was no good reason for it—I would have thrown a fit and gotten into an argument with her. The friends I used to know, they would have done the same.
Rachel…she just gave in. And what would Alyssa do, I wondered. Probably just ignore her parents’ demands and do what she wanted to do.
The friends I was making here…they were certainly different. But I had to admit, this was making my new life interesting.
Along with the spyglass, of course.
ON SATURDAY MORNING, I RAN DOWN THE stairs in a panic and stormed into the kitchen, where I confronted my parents drinking coffee at the breakfast table.
“We still don’t have internet!” I cried in dismay. I’d been planning to do my English homework today, but I’d left my textbook in my locker at school. Now I couldn’t even look up the dumb Robert Frost poem online, and our oral reports were due on Monday.
“I know, it’s a pain,” my mother said. “I called the cable company again yesterday, and they said the guy should be here on Monday, maybe Tuesday.”
“Tuesday?” I shrieked. “I need internet now! I’ve got homework!”
My parents exchanged looks, and my father shook his head wearily.
“Honey, it’s not all about you! We’re all dealing with this. Do you think I like having to go to a coffee shop with my laptop to send emails?”
“You could write and send emails on your phone,” I pointed out. My parents had smartphones, unlike me. Mine is only good for calls and texts, no apps, no email.
Dad shook his head. “Kiddo, you know I can’t type on that tiny phone keypad. So going to a place with internet is what I have to do right now. And you’ll just have to find another way to do your homework for the next three days.”
“Then can I use one of your phones?” I asked. “I can deal with those tiny keyboards.” But I knew the answer would be no. My parents are big on personal privacy. I just hope they remember that when I get a smartphone of my own.
As I expected, they both shook their heads. “I’m sure the library has computers you can use,” my mother said.
“It’s Saturday, Mom,” I countered. “School isn’t open. And for your information, we don’t call it a library, it’s a media center.”
“I was referring to the public library,” she replied calmly.
“The big building with the columns on Main Street,” Dad added.
“I know where it is, thank you very much,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Now both their expressions became grim. It was time to get out of there.
Back in Brookdale, I was a regular at the public library. I like to read, and former-best-friend Lily and I used to go there every Saturday morning to check out books. But here in Lakeside, for the past week, there’d been so much going on that I hadn’t even finished the paperback I bought just before we moved. It was one of those stories about terrible future worlds. In this one, teens were killing each other to get more food, and I thought it would be helpful to read about people whose lives were more depressing than mine. But it had been slow going and I was ready to give up on it. Probably because, so far, my life here hadn’t been as depressing as I thought it would be.
So I needed something new to read for pleasure, and I needed internet. I wouldn’t admit this to my mom, but she was right, it was time to discover the Lakeside Public Library.
If I had to say one thing
about Lakeside that made it better than Brookdale, it would be the fact that the public library here was within walking distance. I didn’t have to wait around for someone to find the time to drive me there.
Brookdale’s library was an ugly low brick building with windows that always looked dirty. A storm had broken off one of the letters in the name over the door, and no one ever got around to fixing it, so the building name was B OOKDALE PUBLIC LIBRARY, which I actually thought was kind of appropriate.
But Lakeside’s library was really impressive—white, with columns, and all the letters of the name were there, emblazoned in gold over the entrance. When I walked in, I was immediately hit with that special musty library smell. I always liked that smell, and I used to think they should make a perfume like that. It probably wouldn’t attract any romance, but it would make me feel happy.
I didn’t go directly to the computers. I knew there wouldn’t be any emails, other than ads for all the stuff I’d liked on Facebook. As for Snapchat and Instagram and all the rest—I didn’t particularly want to see what the kids I used to know were up to. And maybe it was that tantalizing smell that drove me directly into the stacks.
It also dawned on me that I didn’t need internet to find the Robert Frost poem I’d been assigned to write about. I could just find it in a book of Robert Frost poems—which I did, easily. And then, on Alyssa’s recommendation, I picked up a copy of Wuthering Heights.
I went to the checkout line, and someone I recognized got into the line right behind me. Suddenly, I had a hard time breathing.
“Hi,” I managed to say.
He looked at me blankly.
“I’m Ellie Marks. We’re in the same pre-algebra class.”
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’m Mike Twersky.”
Like I didn’t already know that.
Without even thinking, I blurted out a stupid question. “What are you doing here?”
He indicated the object in his hand. “Checking out a book.”
“Oh. Yeah,” I said. “Me too.” And then I added, “Two books.”