The Big Apple Effect

by Christy Goerzen

  The Big Apple

  Effect

  Christy Goerzen

  O R C A B O O K P U B L I S H E R S

  Copyright © 2014 Christy Goerzen

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Goerzen, Christy, 1975-, author

  The Big Apple effect / Christy Goerzen.

  (Orca currents)

  Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0739-6 (bound).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0738-9 (pbk.).--

  ISBN 978-1-4598-0740-2 (pdf).--ISBN 978-1-4598-0741-9 (epub)

  I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents

  PS8613.038B53 2014 jC813’.6C2014-901561-5

  C2014-901562-3

  First published in the United States, 2014

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014935379

  Summary: Fifteen-year-old Maddie has won an art contest and gets to visit New York City.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover photography by Shutterstock

  ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO BOX 5626, Stn. B

  Victoria, BC Canada

  V8R 6S4 ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS

  PO BOX 468

  Custer, WA USA

  98240-0468

  www.orcabook.com

  17 16 15 14 • 4 3 2 1

  To Chay,

  one of the brightest lights in my life

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  “You will meet a handsome stranger soon,” my mother’s voice floated out from behind layers of red velvet. “Love is coming to you. Just open your heart.” I brushed aside the velvet scarves that hung from the living room ceiling. Crystals on long strings clinked together.

  I stuck my head in and immediately coughed from all the incense smoke.

  “Mom—I mean, Lady Venus—are you almost done?” I said. “I have to be at the airport in an hour.”

  “Maddie,” my mom said, gold bangles clattering on her wrists, “don’t interrupt me while I’m with a client.” She smiled apologetically at the woman across the table covered with tarot cards and candles. I recognized my mom’s client as a cashier from our local Safeway.

  I sighed and paced around the kitchen. My suitcase was packed with my best outfits. My passport, plane ticket and American money were tucked into my red patent leather purse. I was ready to go. All I needed was for my mom to drive me to the airport.

  I couldn’t sit down. I was way too excited. I was going to the city of my dreams, New York, for one whole week. I had wanted to go to there since I was ten years old, after I read the book Harriet the Spy.

  But the best part was that I was traveling without my mom, for the first time ever. My whole life my mom had made me go on summer “adventures,” as she called them. These adventures usually involved raw food, or reiki, or drum circles, or some awful combination of the three. In other words, not exactly what the average teenager finds thrilling.

  Last summer’s adventure had turned out to be the best one yet, even though I had been sure it would be one of the worst. My mom had arranged for us to volunteer for a week on an organic farm with cows, goats and prizewinning garlic. It didn’t take long for my mom to totally embarrass me. Her New Age ways didn’t exactly fit in with the ways of old-school farmers.

  Luckily, though, those farmers had a daughter the same age as me: Anna. It was because of her that I got first runner-up in a contest run by my favorite art magazine, Canvas. My prize also included $500 and an all-access pass to all of New York City’s art galleries. While in New York my art was going to be part of a big art gallery show, with art critics, agents and world-famous artists there. My hero, artist Louise Bergville, was a special invited guest.

  This was going to be the best week of my life, I just knew it.

  After I paced around the kitchen for ten more minutes, my mother finally emerged from behind the scarves.

  “Thank you for coming to see me,” she said in her Lady Venus voice, which was like her regular voice except that she drew out her vowels. “All the best in your search for true love.” When she was in Lady Venus mode, she also widened her black-lined eyes. It looked ridiculous.

  The door clicked shut behind her client.

  “She’ll never find a man until she waxes her upper lip,” my mom chortled, ruffling the sheaf of twenty-dollar bills the woman had handed over. As much as my mother liked to think she was enlightened, she could be shallow.

  Then Mom looked up. Her eyes filled with tears, as they had so many times the past weeks. “Oh, honey, I can’t believe the day has finally come. You’re flying off with your own two wings.”

  “I’m actually flying off with Air Canada’s two wings,” I said, my voice louder than it needed to be. “If I make it!”

  “Do I have time to change?” my mom asked.

  “No, you do not!” I said. I was already holding my bags. “You’re driving me to the airport as Lady Venus. I have to be there in forty-five minutes.” I was willing to risk embarrassment in order to get to the airport in time.

  “Okay, okay,” Mom said. She picked up her purse and started rooting for her keys. “Where are they? I know they’re in here…” she muttered.

  “Mom, are you stalling on purpose?” I said. I shifted from one foot to another and looked at the clock. Missing my flight was not an option.

  “Here they are,” my mother sang triumphantly two minutes later, jingling her keys in the air. Considering that she had a gigantic quartz crystal on the key chain, it was amazing that she lost them so often.

  We headed out to the alley and climbed into my mom’s old car, which she called Dave. Dave was a backfiring, stalling, blue-smoke-blowing hunk of metal, but Mom loved him.

  Along the way, Mom went on and on about how much she was going to miss me. “It doesn’t seem right that I’m not there for your birthday.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll celebrate when I get back.” Whatever it took for her to stop talking and hurry up.

  After overheating on a bridge and stalling at an intersection, we reached the International Departures terminal with only two minutes to spare. I used words for Dave that my mom had never heard me say before.

  “We’re here!” Mom said, pulling up on the sidewalk as Dave lurched and stalled. A family entering the terminal leapt out of the way in fright.

  And there was Anna, near the doors. It had been a year since I’d seen her. With her chin raised slightly in the air, she looked as calm and cool as always. She had flown from Kelowna by herself. Now she and I would fly together to New York.

  Anna walked up to my car window.

  “Hey,” she said. “You’re late.”

  I was sweaty and out of breath from nerves. “I know, I’m sorry. My mom’s stupid car—” I said, unbuckling my seat belt and clambering out.


  “It’s okay, nerd” Anna smiled and punched me in the shoulder. She peered into the car at my mom in her Lady Venus getup. “Hi, Mrs. Turner,” she said.

  Mom jumped out and hurried to wrap her arms around me. Her bracelets clanged loudly in my ears as she smothered me in a hug.

  “Goodbye, my dear daughter. See you soon.” She paused, giggling. “I mean, in a week.” Then she hugged Anna, who gave a weak effort.

  “Mom, we gotta go,” I said.

  “Let me make sure I have all of your brother’s contact information,” Mom said, taking out her phone. “You know, in case of emergency. So it’s 1153 Bleecker Street, New York, phone number—”

  My mom could draw things out forever. I looked at my watch. We had exactly one minute to get to the check-in desk.

  “Mom, you’ve asked that a million times,” I said, grabbing my bags. “See you in a week.”

  “It’s just that I’m going to miss you so much, honey. Love you!” she called after me as we rushed into the terminal.

  I ran a few steps and then looked back quickly. Mom was still waving at us from the car. She looked a little lonely, standing there all by herself.

  “Love you,” I called back, but the terminal doors had already shut.

  Chapter Two

  “I can’t wait to see my Big Apple outfit!” Anna said. We had checked in, gone through security, and were at the departure gate.

  “You may be wearing your usual jeans and T-shirt now,” I said, rummaging around in my carry-on, “but in a moment you will look fabulous.” Anna and I had spent hours on the phone the night before, with me describing various clothes to her. Together, we decided on a perfect New York City outfit.

  I pulled out the carefully rolled bundle and laid the outfit out on the seat between us. It was a short skirt with a graffiti print, plus little black boots and a black tank top.

  Anna touched the hem of the skirt. “This is even better than I imagined,” she said. “It’s kind of punk rock.”

  “Now boarding disabled passengers at Gate Four,” a crackly voice said over the loudspeaker. “Other passengers, we’ll be boarding at Gate Four in five minutes.”

  “Do you think I have time?” Anna said.

  “Go, hurry!” I said.

  Anna grabbed the clothes and ran to the bathroom. Moments later, she dashed back out. She’d pulled her long red hair into a messy high ponytail. The skirt and tank top fit her perfectly.

  “I love it,” she said, spinning 12 around.

  “You look amazing,” I said.

  “So do you,” Anna said, admiring my vintage yellow and white shift dress. I’d bought it especially for the trip.

  “Anna, do you realize that in five hours we’ll be in New York City?”

  “I can’t believe it’s actually happening,” she said.

  We whooped and danced around in the waiting area. We didn’t care if people stared.

  Ten minutes later, we were in our seats on the airplane. I cracked open my notebook.

  “Let’s go over our lists again!” I said, holding up my opened notebook for Anna to see.

  “Uh, lists?” Anna said, glancing at my notebook.

  “You know how we’ve been talking for months about all the things we want to do in New York? Don’t you have it written down?”

  “No,” Anna said simply.

  “Oh,” I said, disappointed. I’d spent hours putting my list together.

  “My list is all up here,” Anna said, tapping her temple.

  “Okay, well, can I read you my list again?” I said with a small squeal. “I’ve added stuff to it since last time.”

  “You mean since you read it to me last night?” she asked.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “Maddie,” Anna said, “calm down. You look a little crazed around the eyes.” She laughed.

  “It’s just that I’ve wanted to go to New York since I was ten,” I said. “I’m like a little kid on Christmas morning. Can you believe the art opening is only five sleeps away?”

  “I know! It’s amazing,” Anna said, grabbing my knee. “And I get to be your date. It’ll be so fancy.”

  “In only four days I’ll get to meet Louise Bergville,” I said. “This could be my big break in the art scene,” I continued.

  “I can’t wait.” Anna folded her arms behind her head, settling in. She smiled over at me. “All right. Let’s go over this list again.”

  “Did I tell you I also made a color-coded map?” I carefully unfolded the New York City map that I’d been working on for months. I had marked numbers on it that corresponded to the numbers on my list. “Blue for art galleries, red for restaurants, yellow for shopping…”

  “Wow,” Anna said, staring at the map. “That’s really, uh, intricate.”

  Sometimes I felt like an overexcited dork next to Anna.

  I took a deep breath. “Number one. Vintage clothes shopping at the following stores: Screaming Mimi’s, Beacon’s Closet, Vice Versa—”

  “You don’t have to read out all the names,” Anna said. “But they do sound fun.”

  “We have to find me the perfect art-show outfit for the Canvas event,” I said.

  “Mega priority, I know,” Anna said, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “Maybe I can find something too,” she added with a small giggle.

  “Maybe,” I said as I flipped the page.

  “Number two,” I went on. “Visit the following art galleries: the Museum of Modern Art, the Guggenheim, the Pace Gallery, Bronx Museum of the Arts…”

  “Wow,” Anna peered over my shoulder at the list. “That’s a lot of galleries.”

  “And look, I wrote down all the addresses, with corresponding subway stops.”

  “I love it,” Anna said. “Go on.”

  “Number three. Eat a pastrami sandwich in a delicatessen.”

  “I want to do that too,” Anna said. “I bet Thomas knows all the good ones.”

  “Number four. See an off-Broadway play.”

  “On-Broadway,” Anna said. “None of that weirdo off-Broadway stuff.”

  “Don’t tell me you want to see Phantom of the freaking Opera or something,” I said.

  Anna squirmed. “I have kind of wanted to see that one.”

  I made a face. “There is no way I’ll be dragged into any sort of Andrew Lloyd Webber production.”

  Anna recovered quickly. “Snob,” she said, elbowing me in the ribs.

  “Country bumpkin tourist,” I said, elbowing her back.

  We giggled.

  “Number five,” I continued to read from my list. “Drink coffee in a Greenwich Village café.”

  “Easy.” Anna nodded. “We’ll be there.”

  While in New York we were going to stay with Anna’s nineteen-year-old brother, Thomas. He lived in Greenwich Village, which was so cool I could hardly believe it was true. He’d been there for a year, studying math at Columbia University.

  I continued to read from my list.

  “Number thirty-five—” I said.

  “How long is this list now, anyway?” Anna asked.

  “It goes up to one hundred and thirty-four,” I said.

  Anna’s eyes widened. She took her phone out of her pocket and tapped the screen, calculating. “Do you realize that’s an average of 19.14 things per day?”

  “We can do it,” I said.

  “Did you add anything in there about shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue and seeing a Yankees game?” Anna said. “You know that’s what I want to do.”

  “We might be able to do those things,” I said. “If we have time. Now, as I was saying, number thirty-five—”

  “Maddie,” Anna yawned. “I think I’ve had enough for now.” She turned away from me, closing her eyes.

  “Oh,” I said, fiddling with the corner of my notebook page. I read the list to myself again, for possibly the thousandth time.

  I ate a little bag of peanuts and watched an episode of Mr. Bean. After that, I decided to take a nap too. I migh
t as well rest up before we arrived.

  For the past month or so I’d had a recurring dream where Anna and I had a picnic on the top of the Statue of Liberty’s head. The picnic was complete with wicker basket, sandwiches and a red-and-white checked blanket. It was always warm and breezy, and we looked through the statue’s spiked crown at an amazing view of the whole city.

  I tipped my head back in my seat and closed my eyes, and I was there again. I let myself drift off.

  A sharp jostling of my arm brought me out of my dream.

  “Maddie, look!” Anna said.

  Rubbing my eyes, I leaned over Anna. I gasped. There she was, in the flesh. Or should I say, in the metal. We were flying over the Statue of Liberty’s head, with a view of the city stretching out in front of us. The twilit sky was deep navy with a full, bright moon. All of New York sparkled.

  “This is your co-pilot speaking,” a scratchy voice said over the PA. “We are now descending into LaGuardia Airport. It is 10:04 PM local time, and the weather is beautiful.”

  We had arrived. My big adventure was about to begin.

  Chapter Three

  “There he is,” Anna said, pointing out a tall, dark-haired guy near the baggage claim. He waved at us.

  “Thomas!” Anna cried.

  He had shaggy hair, a red hoodie and skinny dark jeans. Cute. He swept Anna up and spun her around in a hug.

  “Sis! It’s so good to see you!” he said. “Thanks for making the trek all the way to the big city for little old me.”

  “I didn’t come to see you,” Anna said, grinning. “I came for the shopping.”

  “Nice clothes.” Thomas whistled, giving Anna the once-over. “A departure from your usual.”

  “Courtesy of Maddie,” Anna said, gesturing toward me.

  “Nice to meet you, Maddie,” Thomas said, shaking my hand. His was large and warm.

  “I saw your prizewinning picture,” Thomas continued. “I don’t know much about art, but your portrait is amazing.”

  I blushed. “Thanks,” I said. Anna’s brother was cute and nice.