There was a short traffic jam in the hall when Xandra reached the stairs and resisted being carried up by Quincy. “Why not?” Quincy was asking when the twins butted in, saying they'd get some broomsticks and jackets and be back in a minute.
“No,” Xandra wailed. “I want to do it myself.”
“But on those crutches?” Victoria asked. “You'll fall.”
Xandra was still shaking her head stubbornly when Gussie said, “I know how. Look, Xannie.” Sitting down on the bottom stair, Gussie began to push herself backward up to the next step, using her hands and one foot. She made it look easy, and it was. Xandra sat her way to the top of the stairs, got back on the crutches, and a minute later she was once again in her own room.
SO THE DAY was finally over and Xandra was back in her room. Back in her own private space with its paintings of enchanted places, and its huge collection of animals. The room she had run out of just the night before, angry beyond thought or reason. But she didn't want to think about that. Not about the forest, or the things that had happened there. At least not so soon. She would sleep first, she decided, and think about it all later, in broad daylight.
Closing the door firmly behind her, she headed directly to her bed with its forty-six animals. (Gussie still had the littlest bear.) Forty-six animals, organized into tidy piles according to size and shape. Obviously Mildred had been in to remake the bed and replace scattered animals since Gussie's visit. The neat stacks were irritating. Neat stacks of animals weren't natural. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Xandra gently but firmly stirred them up before she collapsed in their midst. But not to sleep. She was much too wide awake.
The problem was she'd slept too much during her long day in the family room. Later, several minutes later, she got back on the awkward crutches and hobbled to the window seat to stare down into the nighttime garden, as she had so often done before. To the garden, where a faint light from the driveway's lamps, sifting in through dangling strands of weeping willow, could turn a scene of manicured lawns and trees into what Xandra had sometimes been able to imagine as an enchanted scene. A scene very like her Garden of Eden painting, where fantastic birds and animals mingled peacefully in an enchanted world.
Leaning forward with her forehead pressed against the windowpane, Xandra squinted and tried to conjure up the familiar scene with its beautiful pairs of lions and leopards and horses and deer. But just when it began to happen, when she was almost able to blend the carefully planned and plotted garden into a beautiful fantasy world, the hard glare of headlights shattered the scene. One of the parents was arriving home. The lights disappeared as Henry's Ferrari curved toward the garages, but only a few minutes later it happened again when the headlights of Helen's Mercedes invaded the garden. So much for the Garden of Eden, Xandra thought, shrugging angrily. The famous Hobson parents had managed to erase the big family dinner, and now they'd done the same to the Garden of Eden. Soon afterward, when Xandra turned back to the window, the sharp edges of lawns and hedges once again began to blur, but changed this time into a shadow-haunted waste-land where the only shapes were vague hollows of darkness.
Feeling suddenly uneasy, Xandra pulled away from the window, blinking and shaking her head. But she didn't leave the window seat, and after rubbing her eyes and taking several deep breaths, she found herself once again leaning forward. And now the changes came more quickly. Vague shapes quickly became horribly familiar humpbacked and hooded forms that oozed in and out of the deepest shadow, now and then pausing to turn eyes like slashes of fire toward her window.
Frozen with fear, Xandra sat as if paralyzed until a knock on the door brought her back to the brightly lit reality of her room—to her bed with its comforting pyramid of animals and to walls lined with bookshelves and plastered with her very personal collection of paintings. Swallowing hard, she managed to call “Come in” before she let her gaze flick quickly back to the window, where the dimly lit garden once more consisted of ordinary plots and plantings. She waited breathlessly as the door swung slowly open, and then she quickly relaxed. It was only Clara.
Only Clara, whose familiar round-faced smile was slanted in a way that Xandra remembered well. The kind of smile that she remembered as meaning something about a shared secret or a joke on somebody. Guessing, Xandra smiled back as she said, “Well, they got home. What did they say?”
“Well, they were surprised, of course,” Clara said. A trace of the joking smile was still there. “And maybe a little upset, until I suggested that perhaps you'd all eaten more quickly than usual because …” She paused and made the rest of what she had to say into a question. “Because … you all needed more time for your homework?”
Xandra did a wide-eyed-innocence bit. “Yeah,” she said. “Sure. I'll bet everybody had lots of extra homework tonight.”
Before she left, Clara got out Xandra's pajamas and asked if there was anything more she could do, and when Xandra said no there wasn't, Clara offered a hug, which was something else she hadn't done in a long time. And Xandra reacted in a way that had become even more rare and unusual. Not that she hugged back, but neither did she frown and pull away.
Left alone again, Xandra found herself moving slowly and almost against her will back to the window. She was almost there when there was another knock on the door. This time the visitor was Victoria.
Victoria, still in her school clothes and looking …well, looking, as always, not exactly glamorous perhaps, but close enough that Xandra couldn't help being reminded of how unfair it was that along with all that musical talent, Tory also got cute and skinny, and the same beautiful teeth as their famous mother.
As Tory walked across the room, her smile had almost, but not quite, the same feeling that it had had back when she and Xandra were much younger, maybe six and eight years old. The difference was—well, there was something in this new smile that recalled the one she'd given the audience before doing her Mozart performance. Wide and bright, but also a little bit nervous, as if she was not sure of her reception. Xandra was wondering about that when Tory began by saying, “Can you talk about it now? I mean about being lost in the forest all night.” She raised her shoulders in a shiver and said it again. “Alone in the forest. All night. I'd have died of fright.”
Narrowing her eyes, Xandra checked her female sibling—her sister, that was—for hidden motives. Motives like a plan to tell whatever she learned to the parents, or to gossip about it with the other siblings. Xandra checked carefully and decided she needn't worry. Tory was just curious, maybe even kind of impressed.
So Xandra began, “Well, I guess you heard what the twins and their crummy friends did to me. And it made me so crazy angry—”
“I know. I know,” Tory interrupted. “I'd have been furious. But maybe not furious enough to—”
“I didn't plan to do it. I just ran out of the house and on into the forest as hard and as fast as I could. You know how it helps sometimes when you're angry to do something really hard and—”
“Yes. I know. It's like that for me,” Tory agreed eagerly. “I've done that sometimes when I was angry. Like running or playing fast, angry music.” She smiled then, a little sheepishly. “Or eating. Sometimes when I'm especially angry I just eat a lot, really fast.”
Xandra had noticed that. The eating. “Yeah, I know,” she said bitterly. “That's one of the things I hate about … I mean, I hate it that you can eat like that and still stay so skinny. It just isn't fair.”
So then Tory said that Xandra wasn't at all fat, and Xandra said yes, she was, and besides that, “I have these awful crooked teeth and—”
“But you could have had them straightened.” Tory looked surprised, amazed almost. “They kept trying to get you to. I heard them. Only you wouldn't. Why wouldn't you?”
“I don't know.” Xandra shook her head. She didn't know, not really. “Except it was like they were saying that the way I looked embarrassed them in front of their friends, and so …” She shrugged. “So I decided they could jus
t go on being embarrassed, because I didn't have to have straight teeth if I didn't want to.”
Tory nodded slowly, looking at Xandra through narrowed eyes. “Okay,” she finally said. “I get it. But if you had them done now, and …” She stared some more, tipping her head from side to side. “And maybe stopped cutting your hair yourself, you could be really …”
Xandra filled the pause with a sarcastic, “Gorgeous. Yeah, sure.”
Tory shook her head thoughtfully. “No, not gorgeous.” “How about … normal?”
Tory shook her head harder. “No, not just normal. More like … beautiful.”
Xandra laughed. “Yeah, sure,” she said again. And then, “Hey, I thought you wanted to know about what happened last night.”
So Xandra went back to her story about being lost all night in the forest. Since she couldn't put in the part about the Unseen, she told mostly about what happened after she got back to the ordinary world and was just sitting on the ground waiting for morning to come. Sitting and waiting, and listening for mountain lions and rattlesnakes. She told it pretty well, throwing in a few extra scary bits like growls and rustling bushes. Well enough, anyway, to make Tory listen without interrupting except for occasionally whispering things like “Oh no,” and “I'd have died.”
Before she left, Tory, who hadn't been in Xandra's room for quite a while, went around getting reacquainted with Xandra's pictures of enchanted places and making comments about the ones that had always been her favorites, as well as the ones that used to give her nightmares. When the door closed behind Tory, Xandra got back on her crutches and started for the window. Halfway there she turned and went instead to sit in front of the dressing table's mirror to stare at herself. Now and then she pushed back her ragged hair and smiled, imagining hair and teeth like Tory's.
IT WAS SEVERAL days before Dr. Frank gave Xandra permission to go back to school, and then only if she went on using the crutches for another week. “At least until next weekend,” he said, “and only if someone can drive you to school. Trying to get on and off buses with those crutches might not be a good idea.”
That was a big if and one that Xandra definitely didn't like. It was absolutely necessary to get back to school and to Belinda as soon as possible. There were too many things that needed answers and explanations. Old answers still needed clarification, and now there was a new and even more urgent question. Why, Xandra needed to ask, were the creatures of the Unseen still there even when they had not been summoned by the Key? Still clearly visible in the dark garden as well as in the house itself.
“I could do the bus thing on crutches. I know I could,” Xandra told the doctor. “My parents probably can't pick me up because they're still at work when school gets out and …” But then Clara came to the rescue.
“I think it can be arranged,” she said. “I believe Mr. Hobson might be able to drop her off on his way to work, and I am sure I could pick her up.” Xandra gave Clara a grateful smile—maybe not a wide, toothy one, but close.
So on Monday morning Xandra finally went back to school, riding in her father's silver Ferarri and arriving only a little bit late. “Well, here you are,” the father of the family said as he helped her out of the car, into her backpack and on to her crutches. “Do you need help getting to your class?” he asked, and then looked very relieved when she assured him she could manage. “Very good,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I'm due to meet some important people in just a few minutes.” He swung himself down into the car, then leaned out the window long enough to call, “Don't forget to wait for Clara. I've arranged for her to be here at three-thirty to pick you up.”
Hobbling into Mr. Fernandez's first-period class a little late wasn't quite as bad as she had imagined it would be. Not that she didn't get a lot more attention than usual, but some of it seemed just plain old curiosity, instead of the teasing she'd expected. And there in the second seat in the third row was Belinda, looking the same as always. She was just the same except for how quickly she turned away when Xandra managed to catch her eye. And even more unexpected was how much more difficult it was to find a time for them to talk when no one else was around.
Not that Xandra was concerned about what Marcie and company, or any of the rest of the class, would do or say if they saw them together. Not anymore. The only thing she really cared about at the moment was getting answers to her questions. But that turned out to be a hard thing to do for more reasons than one. It wasn't just that Belinda didn't seem eager to talk to her, although that was part of it. The main problem was finding a time when the two of them could have even a halfway private conversation.
All that day, every time Xandra tried to talk to Belinda, they were quickly surrounded by other people. People like Katlyn or Melody, or even Marcie herself, who rushed up and butted in to the conversation. Rushed up looking … well, it didn't take long to realize that all of them were trying to look more or less like Belinda.
Belinda, it seemed, had become Marcie's latest fad. A fad that included wearing men's suit jackets with rolled-up sleeves instead of coats, and talking in whispers about how much magical power Belinda had, how she was their special friend and how much fun it was to look “different” on purpose. As well as how much their parents hated it. All of which in other circumstances Xandra might have found pretty amusing, but at the moment it meant that every time Xandra started to talk to Belinda, they quickly became a part of the Mob.
It wasn't until the school day was nearly over that Xandra caught sight of Belinda walking by herself on her way to her sixth-period class. Calling, “Hey, Belinda. Wait for me,” Xandra hopped and swung as fast as she could on the clumsy crutches, and at last Belinda stopped and waited. But when Xandra finally caught up, Belinda's face was closed, and her cat-at-midnight eyes looked strangely distant and unfocused.
“What is it?” she asked, and then quickly added, “What happened to you?” And then, “You used the Key again, didn't you? After you promised not to.”
Xandra nodded guiltily. “Yes, I did. But I didn't mean to. And I wouldn't have except my brothers—two of my siblings and their friends beat up on me and it made me so angry that …” She paused then as a bunch of noisy boys crowded past, and when it was quiet enough to talk, she started over in a different place. “Well, anyway, I want to tell you all about it. About everything that happened to me and …”
“Yes?” Belinda's eyes were focused now. “You want to tell me everything?”
Xandra nodded hard and rushed on. “But first of all there are some things I just have to find out about. Like, why do I still see them? The Unseen things.”
But that was as far as she got before Belinda shook her head and whispered, “No. No, I can't tell you any more. I don't know anything.” She was moving away when Xandra grabbed her arm and held on.
“Yes, you do. You and your grandfather. He knows about all sorts of supernatural stuff, doesn't he? He could tell me all about it if he wanted to. Couldn't he?”
When Belinda turned back, her face was tense, tight-mouthed and narrow-eyed. “Hush,” she said. “Don't talk about my grandfather. Don't you say anything about him. Do you hear me?” Then she turned away and, walking so fast Xandra had no chance to catch up, disappeared into a passing crowd of students.
Left alone in the hall, Xandra stared after Belinda before she swung around clumsily and clumped back to her class.
She didn't see Belinda again, even though she watched for her in the hall and later out in front of the school while she waited for Clara to arrive. She was facing away from the street, checking every group of kids as they poured out down the steps to the sidewalk, when suddenly something grabbed her arm, almost making her lose her balance. It was Gussie.
“Hi,” Gussie shrieked. “Hi, Xandra. Clara and me came to pick you up.”
“Well, take it easy,” Xandra said. “You almost knocked me over.” She looked around. “Where is she? I don't see her car.”
“I'm sorry,” Gussie said, bounc
ing up and down on her toes the way she always did when she was excited. “I didn't mean to bump you. Clara's way down there.” She pointed to the end of a line of waiting cars. “She came to get you and she let me come too. I wanted to help you. I wanted to help carry your books. May I? Please may I carry your books?”
So Xandra had to stop and balance on one leg while she got out of her backpack before they could get started down the sidewalk to Clara's car. Once there, Gussie went on making a nuisance of herself. After holding Xandra's crutches while she got in, Gussie shoved them into the car with so much enthusiasm she whacked Xandra on the leg, and then she dropped the backpack into the gutter while she was trying to put it on the seat. When they were both safely inside, Xandra breathed a sigh of relief.
As Clara pulled away from the curb, Xandra turned to the window, still checking for Belinda, but mostly looking away from Gussie. Looking away but still very much aware of Gussie's big eyes and eager baby-toothed smile and also aware of the high-pitched kid-on-television voice that kept asking questions like “How is your broken leg, Xandra? Does it hurt? Does it hurt all the way up or just down there where the bandage is?”
At last Xandra turned back toward Gussie, sighed again, and said, “It's okay. It doesn't hurt at all anymore. Mostly it just itches under the bandage.”
“Itches?” Gussie started to unfasten her seat belt. “I could scratch it for you. I'm a good scratcher.”
“No. No. Not now. Fasten your seat belt.”
Clara yelled the same thing. “Fasten your seat belt, Gussie. Right now!”
Gussie did. Looking startled and then dramatically tragic, she struggled to get the clip to snap and went on struggling until Xandra reached over and did it for her. When it was done, she looked up at Xandra through her insanely long eyelashes and did a quivery smile, and without planning to, Xandra reached over and gave her a hug.
The Unseen Page 14