Midnight Girl

by Will Shetterly

  He inhaled deeply. “Kid, getting yourself into trouble is all on you. But dragging Tarika in—”

  “My bad,” Tarika interrupted. “I thought it would be fun. I’m sorry.”

  Professor M turned his gaze from Tarika to Cat like a sniper finding a target.

  “No, it wasn’t!” Cat said, afraid Tarika would never be allowed to stay over again. “The bad was totally mine!”

  Professor M studied her for a long, long moment, then nodded. “Good theory, bad practice. If you both confess, you both get sentenced.”

  He looked down at the silk-wrapped package on the porch, picked it up, and added, “Well. Another birthday. Same as it ever was.”

  Cat said, “I know what I like.” Granny Lupe said softly, “Sentenced? To what?” The two adults stared coldly at each other. Cat wondered who was more terrifying. Granny Lupe was tiny, no bigger than Cat, with a face as wrinkled as a shrunken head and hair the color of iron, but she stood as straight and moved as quickly as a ballerina. Her amber eyes saw things that anyone else would miss. Her Aztec features never showed fear. Nothing made her change her mind.

  But Cat had never seen fear on her father’s Mediterranean features, and nothing made him change his mind either. His scars frightened small children who saw him. His skin was as dark as Granny Lupe’s. His shoulders were broad and his arms were rippled with muscle. His black hair hung around his head in wild strands because haircuts were on his Life’s too short for list. If he could have stood, he would have been at least a head taller than Granny Lupe.

  Cat had seen them stare often, like gunfighters under the noonday sun or martial artists in an arena. She knew the rules: the one who looked away too soon seemed weak; the one who stared too long seemed foolish.

  Cat said, “Can I get punished the day after my birthday?”

  They glanced at her simultaneously. Professor M snorted. “You don’t even know what the punishment will be.”

  “Duh! Cleaning my room! Sometimes I think you let me keep it a mess so you’ll have a way to punish me.”

  “Imagine how you could undercut that by keeping it tidy.” Professor M closed his eyes, then opened them. “Doesn’t giving you a favor cancel out your punishment?”

  “How about two punishments tomorrow for one favor today?”

  The professor looked at Granny Lupe. “You’re right. Her mother’s daughter.”

  Tarika said, “I should help Cat.”

  “Oh?”

  “We both confessed.”

  Granny Lupe said, “Which was foolish. When there’s no alternative, one sacrifices for the other. Then the survivor can avenge the fallen.”

  Cat rolled her eyes. “Yes, Granny Lupe.”

  The professor told Tarika, “Help her clean her room over the weekend.” He held out the Halloween Fairy’s package. “And box up the good china for mailing.”

  “Mama’s china?” He nodded. “Why?”

  “I sold it.”

  “But—”

  “Two punishments was the deal.”

  “You said you’d never sell that! You promised!” He inhaled deeply, then said, “We’ve got expenses.”

  “Your stupid web site.”

  “Including that.” He waggled the silk-wrapped package. His ring, a silver snake wrapped around a turquoise stone, glinted in the twilight. She said, “You could sell your ring.”

  “Some things can’t be sold.” Your things can’t be sold. But you sell anything you don’t care about, she thought, taking the package from his hand. He turned his stone-faced look away from her. “Since everyone’s up,

  I’ll start breakfast.” Tarika said, “None for me, thanks. I have to get my books from home, so it’ll be a peanut butter bolillo instead of your awesome pancakes.”

  The professor gave her a small nod, then rolled toward the kitchen. When the door closed behind him, Granny Lupe whispered in a voice barely louder than a breeze, “Don’t tell him about the wolf.”

  Cat looked to see the hallway door closing. “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t know what you’ll win or lose by telling him.” Tarika said, “It can’t have been a wolf. Not in town. It must’ve been some kind of half-wolf.” Granny Lupe smiled. “You are a good friend for Catalina.” Cat smiled at Tarika. “Evil Dad’s so easy to trick. Having you help makes it not-a-punishment. It makes it a double-treat with wonder sprinkles.”

  Tarika said, “He might know that.”

  Cat frowned. Seeing Granny Lupe do the same made her grin. Every time Cat thought she was the ugliest girl in middle school, she remembered that when she was old and being ugly didn’t matter, she would look like Granny Lupe, only with her father’s stupid brown eyes instead of Granny Lupe’s beautiful amber ones.

  Beauty must skip generations, Cat thought, remembering the painting of her mother in her bedroom. Then she thought, So I’m fea. At least I get the awesomest costumes.

  As Cat yanked open the cords of her Halloween package, Tarika said, “Do you think that’s a Halloween present or a birthday present?”

  Cat said, “Do you think I care?”

  “It could be a clue who sent it.”

  “Very true, Nancy Drew.”

  “Why try to catch someone who leaves presents?” Granny Lupe asked, “Better to catch those who don’t and make them sorry.” Cat said, “Because it’s a mystery.” Tarika nodded. “And we’re spy girls.” Cat flipped back the wrapping cloth to expose her latest costume.

  The silk wrapper held plain white cotton like a heavy sheet. Cat yanked it out, thinking it must be a second wrapping for her real costume, and it unrolled. It was a simple dress, floor-length, long-sleeved, boat-neck, boring. It came with white cotton slippers with hemp soles. There was no cape or jacket, no necklace or earrings, no tiara or crown. The usual card, in beautiful cursive script, said, Para la Princesa de la Sombra.

  Cat frowned at the dress. “That isn’t something for a princess.”

  Granny Lupe said, “You’re a princess, no matter what you wear. Never forget it.”

  Tarika said, “Maybe you’re supposed to be a ghost.”

  “Or the Bride of Frankenstein,” Cat suggested. “If I had a wig.” Granny Lupe said, “Princesses can wear simple clothes.”

  “Why?” Cat asked. “What’s the point of costumes that are more boring than your usual clothes?” Professor M, from the open kitchen door, called, “First pancakes are ready!” Then he added, “Kid, you don’t have to wear that if you don’t want to.”

  Granny Lupe said, “Your father’s even more foolish than usual this morning. Why spoil your birthday?”

  Cat squinted at the white dress. “The Halloween Fairy spoiled it.”

  “You haven’t tried it on,” Tarika said. “Might look better than it looks like it looks.”

  “You think so?” Tarika grinned and shook her head. “No. But I might be wrong.” Granny Lupe said, “Your family will be disappointed if they don’t see you in this year’s costume.”

  “The de la Sombra family or the Medianoche family?”

  “De la Sombra, of course,” Granny Lupe said. “Whether your father’s people—”

  Professor M said, “They like birthday pictures too.”

  Cat asked Granny Lupe, “Tia Ysabel will be at the midnight party? Same as usual?”

  Granny Lupe grinned. “An army could not stop her.”

  Cat asked her father. “And Uncle Olujimi and Auntie Fong are coming for dinner? Same as usual?”

  “You can depend on them.” The professor glanced at Granny Lupe. “Always.”

  “Well. Since it’s for my families—” Cat looked back at the white dress. It wasn’t a costume. It was a simple evening dress. It must mean she was becoming a woman. Maybe this birthday would be her best one ever.

  “I’ll wear it,” she told the professor. “But if I don’t get a better costume next year, I’m trick-or-treating as Lady Godiva.”

  As Granny Lupe clapped her hands and Tarika laughed, Pro
fessor M said, “Lady Godiva? Oh, right. She said she would ride through town wearing nothing but her hair, so her wise father locked her in her room until Halloween was over.”

  Granny Lupe said, “The pancakes are about to burn.” Professor M sniffed, spun his chair, and raced back into the kitchen. Cat said, “He’s no fun.” Granny Lupe nodded. “He’s a Medianoche.” Tarika said, “He makes great pancakes.”

  “Like that forgives everything.” Cat said. “Sometimes it does,” Tarika agreed. “Maybe that’s why Mama married him,” Cat said, and giggled. “It’s a great mystery,” Granny Lupe said, looking into the house. Cat glanced at her. “With a simple answer,” Granny Lupe added. “Temporary insanity.”

  “They were in love,” Cat said. “That’s what I said.” Tarika asked Granny Lupe, “You don’t believe in love?”

  “Love of life, love of family, love of those who can’t hurt you—”

  Granny Lupe smiled, showing her long, white teeth. “Love of sneaky girls who will soon be women, breaking many hearts. That’s the kind of love I believe in.”

  Tarika frowned. “I don’t want to break any hearts.”

  “Which will make people love you even more, and break even more hearts.”

  “How many hearts did Mama break?” Cat asked.

  “One too few,” Granny Lupe answered, and she went into the house. Seeing Tarika watching her, Cat said, “My family’s too weird.”

  “Whose isn’t?”

  “Mine comes with extra weird sauce.”

  “Yeah. But I like them.” Cat blinked. “Even Evil Dad?”

  “There are eviler dads out there.”

  “Having the almost-evilest dad in the universe isn’t exactly comforting. Tee?”

  “What?”

  “If I could have you at the midnight party, I would. In a second.”

  “I know, Cat. It’s a family thing. I think it’s the cool.”

  “What? That Granny Lupe and Tia Ysabel like their private party?”

  “That they celebrate at the stroke of midnight, right when you were born. It’s like a way to remember you and your mom at the same time.”

  “I guess. And I get to dress up and play princess.” Cat looked at the package with the white gown. “Which isn’t going to happen this year.

  But otherwise, it’ll be good.”

  “That is some coincidence.” Cat frowned at her. Tarika said “That you’re named Medianoche and you were born at midnight.”

  “Coincidences happen. Evil Dad says I’m the only Medianoche born at midnight he knows of. It prob’ly had to happen eventually.”

  “The true.” Tarika shrugged. “I should go get my books.”

  “What about the wolf?” Tarika laughed. “Granny Lupe scared it so bad it’s halfway to

  Nogales!”

  “Okay.” Cat started to go inside, then whirled. “Don’t forget your not-a-costume for school!”

  “No worries! The Halloween Fairy screwed up, but the not-a-costume will be the perfectest.” As Tarika waved and walked away, Cat carried the white dress into

  Casa Medianoche’s great room. She always waited until evening to put on her costumes, after dinner with the Medianoches and trick-or-treating with Tarika. She wouldn’t let a boring costume change that.

  But the white gown had changed everything. Her home had always been the best place for make-believe. Now it was just an old house with shabby furniture, worn tile floors, dingy plaster walls, and dusty beamed ceilings. The paintings of her male Medianoche ancestors in military costumes seemed pitiful—there were knights, cavalry officers, ship’s captains, and fighter pilots, but no generals or admirals. Granny Lupe once said you could see the history of Spain in the Medianoches: dark features from the Moors and glowering faces from centuries of war.

  The Halloween Fairy’s costumes had been strange and old- fashioned, like Cat’s home. But the white gown belonged to a place she could barely imagine, where everything was simple and modern and new, and the past never mattered.

  When she went into the kitchen, a plate of blueberry-pecan pancakes and a glass of milk were waiting on the table. Professor M had already gone to his study. Granny Lupe had returned to the basement. Cat sat and began to eat, thinking, These are the best pancakes ever. I would tell Evil Dad that. But he wouldn’t care.

  Chapter Two:

  Heartstopper

  As Cat passed her father’s study., he looked up from a thick book and said, “Terrifying costume, kid.”

  She wore a boy’s black suit, a white shirt, a blue tie, and dark sunglasses, all from Goodwill. She nodded and almost kept walking. The memory of pancakes made her pause. “It’s a not-a-costume.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mr. Killjoy banned costumes at school. He says they’re for children.”

  “So you’re not a bill collector? That’s a relief.”

  “I’m displaying my maturity by dressing like a productive citizen.”

  “Because you’re really a secret agent?”

  “I’m sorry.” Cat reached into her pocket. “I must kill you now.” She drew a water pistol, grinned, and aimed at him in a perfect two-handed grip.

  He threw his arms over his book. “Kid! If this got wet—”

  She felt her grin die. What could she say? That, for a moment, she had thought he was an ordinary father and she was an ordinary daughter, and they were having an ordinary moment of fun? She put the water gun back in her pocket. “I wouldn’t have squirted you,” she lied.

  He watched her as if he wanted to say something. He would never admit his books were more important than she was. She whirled and raced downstairs, shouting, “Bye, Granny Lupe!” so her father would hear that she didn’t say goodbye to him.

  Granny Lupe called, “Let me see the not-a-costume!”

  Cat ran to the top of the basement stairs and turned like a runway model.

  From the shadows below, Granny Lupe said, “Ah. The best bad girls wear men’s clothes. I remember a masque where Lucrezia Borgia—”

  “I’ll be late! Tell me later!” Cat snatched her book bag and ran outside.

  The rising sun was just below the Rincon Mountains. Cat thought that if she could paint like Tarika, she would paint Luna Street with its small, southwestern houses in desert colors, burnt red, fire orange, and cactus green, all washed in soft blue light. She started toward the corner where she usually met Tarika. Someone was walking toward her. Her first thought: Tee had arrived early and was coming to meet her. But Tee was always late. Like Tarika, the stranger was slender. Alone on the street, he seemed tall. He walked with a lazy gracefulness like a dancer or a hunting beast. She thought, He’s beautiful and terrifying and coming toward me. Look away!

  She flicked her gaze down. Don’t be stupid. Older boys don’t notice ninth-graders. At least, not geeky little ones with big noses. He must be looking at something behind me.

  On second glance, to her relief, he did not look beautiful or terrifying. He was lean and dark and handsome, but Tucson was filled with boys who were lean and dark and far handsomer. He wore a black denim jacket, faded blue jeans, black cowboy boots, and a loose white shirt. His face was narrow; his cheekbones, high; his nose, like a hawk’s. He was taller than Cat, but he was not tall—everyone her age and older was taller than she was. His hair was in wild tufts, as if he had been running, but he walked like someone who never hurried. His eyes were the color of honey.

  When he showed his gleaming teeth in a smile, she thought, He’s looking at me! And I look like some idiot kid who’s staring at him!

  She turned her eyes away, desperately seeking anything that someone would naturally look at. Her cheeks burned. She wondered if he could see her blush.

  She had walked along Luna Street all her life. There was nothing special to stare at.

  If she kept looking sideways, she might bump into him. That would be the most embarrassing. She glanced ahead, expecting him to pass by without a glance.

  But he stood still in the
middle of the sidewalk. His smile was wider. His teeth were as bright as a movie star’s. He said, “Catalina.” His voice was pleasant, with a hint of a Central or South American accent.

  She was gawking, she realized. She closed her mouth and told herself to walk on. But his cockiness annoyed her, and she was only afraid because he was handsome and confident, and once, when she made a list of the things she hated about herself, being too shy to talk to boys came right after her nose. She said, “If you’re a perv, I’ll scream and knee you in the cojones. I took karate.”

  His grin grew wider. His golden eyes held her gaze. “Really?”

  Saying that she took three weeks of karate to be with her best friend, then dropped out because she was a klutz, would not impress anyone.

  “Really, karate. Not really scream first. The dad says knee first.” The handsome boy laughed. “He would.” She squinted in suspicion. “You know the dad?”

  “The professor would say we’ve met.”

  She glanced up the street. No one was at the corner where Tarika usually waited. There was time to talk with a handsome stranger, though a voice in the back of her head whispered, Never talk to strangers.

  “Is that how you know my name?”

  “No.”

  “If you knew the dad, you’d know no one calls me Catalina.” She lifted her chin and brushed past him, thinking, Yeah, handled that well. When I tell Tee, she’ll say I’m the awesome.

  His voice stopped her like a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Cat.” She looked back. “Everyone calls you that,” he said. “Except Granny Lupe, who calls you Little Terror when you amuse her and Little Miracle when you make her proud, and Professor M, who never says your name. Which is Catalina Milagros Medianoche. Today is your fourteenth birthday. You’re old enough to marry, in some lands.”

  Close mouth, knee perv, run. I wish he wasn’t handsome. Cat said, “Who are you?”

  “Baldomero de la Sombra.”

  “No way.” He blinked, eyes large, mouth puzzled. “I don’t lie. Not to you.”

  “Cousin Baldomero has got to be way older than you.” His annoying smile returned. “Why?” His hawk nose and amber eyes were like her mother’s in the painting in her bedroom. She had studied that face every day, wondering what her life would have been like if she had grown up with two parents.