Girl with the Red Balloon (The Balloonmakers)

by Katherine Locke

  The row houses were all the same plain off-white stucco, but inside the windows, I saw a few flowers, stacks of books, people moving from room to room. The world existed, but it was not my world. Today it was not snowing, but it must have been cold enough, even in the middle of the day, because the snow remained, sticking and glittering to everything within eyesight. The small boy clutching his mother’s hand stopped to make a snowball and threw it at a house, making me smile.

  I came all the way to Germany to escape the snow and found it anyway.

  Then a flash of teal made me tense in my seat. Mitzi walked right by the house without even looking at it, her hands stuffed in her pockets and most of her hair stuffed under a wool cap that looked like something my grandfather would have worn. A stray, bright-colored lock hung by her cheek. Her cheeks glowed red, and her breath blew out soft gray from between her lips. I was sure she would see me, but she never even turned to look at the house.

  Without thinking for a second, I grabbed my coat and the balloon. Time to go home. How had it taken me this long to figure that out? I had the balloon, and they had left me alone. If I could find that same park, maybe I could get home. Click my heels three times and think of home? Was that right? I almost felt bad about leaving without saying good-bye. Kai had shouted at me, but he’d been kind too, when he realized I had no idea what was happening.

  But I didn’t have time for sentimentality for people I barely knew. A set of keys hung by the door beside a coat, and I grabbed one, twisting it in the lock and yanking open the front door. I peered cautiously around the corner. Mitzi walked on, oblivious to the sound of the door behind her, or me, standing in the doorway with the red balloon. Worst game of Clue ever.

  I set off down the street after her. The balloon remained bright and cheerful, strangely and magically unaffected by the weather or time. Time. Around me, tiny cars, all the same, in varying colors, parked against the curbs. Signs in German reassured me I was still in Germany—at least the balloon hadn’t taken me far—but nothing seemed familiar. Everyone’s clothes were really weird—boxy shirts, oddly fitting jeans, and way too many stripes. Holy crap. They looked like pictures of my parents when they were younger.

  I shuddered. Time. It can’t be. There’s a mistake. I held on to the word mistake until I felt the shape of it rolling around on my tongue as I made my way down the street. Balloons and time and Walls and snow. Pieces of a puzzle, and I didn’t have the big picture to start finding the straight-edged ones to put it together. And I didn’t want to put this puzzle together. I just needed to not be here anymore, wherever here was.

  The sidewalks grew more crowded and the streets wider as I followed Mitzi. The boxy shirts and baggy pants gave way to office clothes, suits and skirts. Rush hour. I didn’t blend in with my wrinkled skirt and shirt. I could feel eyes judging me, heard people scoffing at me. Panic and frustration ran together through my veins, colder than the snow and the ice seeping through my shoes again. I began to push my way through the crowds, not caring if that drew more attention to me. A man shouted at me when I pushed past him, making him step into a puddle.

  Ahead of me, Mitzi stopped to ask about a long line outside a store. For a moment, I thought she’d get in line and disappear into the store—and then where would I be? But she kept moving. I glanced at the sign over the heads of the people: The Stronger the Socialism, the Stronger the Peace. My brain started to run down that crooked path marked time again, but I stopped it immediately. I couldn’t get distracted by any remnants of East Germany that might linger in this corner of Berlin.

  I crossed against lights and nearly got hit. A policeman yelled at me, his German harsh against my mind. I couldn’t translate and still follow Mitzi. And I knew what my priority was. I kept my eyes trained on the teal hair and the brown tweed hat weaving in front of me.

  Then, suddenly, she was gone.

  Like she had walked into thin air. I stopped in my tracks, breathing heavily and frowning at the crowd ahead of me. I turned slowly. Good job, I told myself. I had no idea where I was, or where Mitzi had gone, or how to get back to the house. If I could remember the park’s name, I could maybe ask someone for directions. I mouthed the words slowly, trying to remember the proper conjugations before I made a fool of myself.

  “Halt!” snapped an authoritative voice. A hand grabbed me by my arm and twisted me around. I spun around, opening my mouth to snap something back, and shut it immediately. A severe face, blue eyes, and an olive-green uniform. My brain pieced the person together slowly, but when it did, Volkspolizei echoed against my skull. Kai had used that word before, last night, and Polizei was close enough to English for me to catch on. Police.

  He asked me something in German. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow. What had Kai said? They’d lock me up in prison, and I’d never get home. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog and panic. Think, Ellie! But his German might as well have been Ancient Greek.

  “Oh,” said a warm and familiar voice, and Kai’s hand closed around my elbow. I looked up at him, and in the light, I saw him clearly for the first time. His brown skin, so unlike everyone around us, and his deep-set eyes. His shoulder-length hair pulled back in a low ponytail, his nose a little too big for his face, his jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth. His shirt stretched tight across his chest, his jacket ending a few inches higher than his hips.

  He said something smoothly to the officer whose eyes narrowed.

  Don’t arrest me. I don’t want to die here.

  The officer dropped my arm and said something about home, the only word I caught in his long sentence. Kai’s voice was low and soft, submissive and not at all like the scowling and demanding guy I remembered from last night. He didn’t know what fashion was, but he did know how to sweet-talk the officer into releasing me. Kai took my hand, walking me quickly away and toward a tree-lined avenue. I flushed at the sudden contact and started to pull my hand away, but he gripped harder.

  “Don’t. Do not turn around,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, his lips barely moving. Like last night, he spoke in English, and I knew it was for my benefit. “Do not stop moving.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered as quietly as I could, keeping my eyes straight ahead of me. Adrenaline pounded through me like a fierce pulse. If he had stopped, I would have collapsed. But he didn’t stop.

  We didn’t look like the other couples walking by though. We were too tense, too purposeful. Did I want to look like everyone around us? This world—this place, this part of Berlin, wherever I was—had more questions than answers. In my mind, I mentally asked Kai why he always showed up at precisely the right time, but I could already feel his answer. Bad luck, he’d say in that low, guarded way of his. I didn’t know why he didn’t trust me. I was the one who didn’t know what was happening.

  A bright-blue flash of color caught my eye and I turned, thinking it was Mitzi, but it wasn’t. A boy ran through the park ahead of his mother, his chubby fist holding the string of a blue balloon. I half expected him to disappear or start floating or something, and I sucked in my breath.

  “Not ours,” Kai said, this time in German. “We use red only. Breathe.”

  I exhaled, hard, and my balloon bounced between us. My hand shook in his, but Kai didn’t seem to notice. We jogged against the light, across the street, and jumped together over a slushy pile. And then a man stepped out from behind a tree. A thousand feathers swirled around his head like a moving crown. Individual feathers, distinct and sharp and all different, like he’d plucked a raven. He wore a black shirt and black pants, and he was thick and strong, like a weight lifter. I screamed and yanked the balloon string, turning to run.

  “Shut up!” snapped Kai when I collided with his chest. His arm wrapped around me, as he looked over my head. “What are you doing here?”

  That was his question? The man had feathers whirling around his head, and Kai wanted to know what he was doing here? Seriously? I peeked out from around Kai’s arm, trying to see if
the feathers were part of the man’s hair, or maybe a hat from a street fair. But the feathers seemed to be suspended in air, unattached to anything. I shuddered.

  “I am fond of her balloon,” said raven man with a deep, gravelly voice, like the kind wizards had in movies. “She can see me?”

  “You scared her!” Kai cursed. I twisted out of his grip, away from him. My cheeks felt hot even though it was cold today, and I didn’t like feeling so exposed. But I didn’t want him to think I was afraid.

  The raven man had said I could see him like that was a surprise. Now that I was facing him, I wished there was some way to unsee him. A way to unsee, undo all of this. A way to get out of here, with its strange worlds and its balloons that didn’t act like balloons and people who spoke in ciphers. If they weren’t going to give me the key, I wanted to go home.

  The raven man seemed nonplussed. “Keep your voice down if you insist on speaking in English. What happened to the balloon, Kai?”

  Kai scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked taller, broader, stronger than he had a moment ago. I glanced quickly back and forth between Kai and the raven man. They wouldn’t fight, would they? “Not here, Ashasher. Good god, what is happening this morning?”

  The raven man’s eyes shifted to the balloon clutched against my chest. Puzzlement and then confusion crossed over his face, and he tilted his head. “How is she holding it?”

  “She was just stopped by the Volkspolizei, so maybe we can move this somewhere more private before it happens again.” It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t an order either. Kai shifted on his feet, his eyes darting around the street, his lips pressed together in a thin line. I was starting to recognize his anxiety. His gaze fell on me. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”

  “I didn’t mean to,” was my first automatic response, and I managed it in German. Then I shook my head. I couldn’t find all the words so I switched back into English. “I followed Mitzi, but then she disappeared.”

  “She’s good at that,” said Kai stiffly. “She knows how to use a crowd to her advantage. But why did you follow her? You were supposed to stay safe.”

  “I mean, I thought maybe if I went back to the same park? Maybe the balloon would take me home.” It sounded silly when I said it aloud.

  “That’s not how this works.” Kai’s gaze shifted past me as if he’d dismissed me because I didn’t understand how balloons worked.

  I jutted out my chin. “I don’t need your help. And I didn’t ask you.”

  “Help for what? Why would she think that works?” asked the raven man. “Who are you, dear?”

  “Ellie,” I said, blinking in surprise. No one had asked me yet. No one had said my name in hours and hours. A day, maybe. I hadn’t realized until now how strange that had felt.

  “Not here.” Kai shook his head. “Walk. Farther into the park.”

  The raven man studied Kai for a long minute, then peered at the balloon again. I got the impression that he was disinclined to take commands from Kai, who couldn’t be that much older than me. Curiosity won out though. I could see on the man’s face that he wanted to know who I was, why Kai wanted to keep me a secret, and what the balloon was.

  “Walk, then.” The raven man fell into step beside me so I was sandwiched between them.

  “Try not to do anything that attracts attention,” Kai told him, turning slightly to shield me from the curious gaze of a policeman. I stiffened, waiting for the policeman to notice the raven man and call out to us, but his gaze slid over us and moved down the park. When I peered up, the raven man’s smile was small and assured. Then how can I see him?

  I wrapped both arms around the balloon. “Someone has a lot of explaining to do.”

  “He can explain most of what you need to know.” Kai glanced down at me. His eyes were sharp and golden this close, flecked with green, like I’d see if I were spinning on a swing in summertime and letting the world turn into a kaleidoscope.

  I frowned at him. “And what I want to know.”

  Kai’s eyes flashed with worry and he looked away, starting to cross the street as the lights changed. “Maybe.”

  The raven man stayed quiet, the type of quiet that only grew more unnerving as we walked. Kai led us across the street and down a tree-lined avenue to a park. He glanced around surreptitiously and then took a seat on a bench. He frowned at his shoes. I watched him for a moment, then sat down beside him. Only the raven man did not sit. He stood there, cloaked in black—half Grim Reaper, half a raven out of mythology—and I nearly asked him if he was Thought or Memory. His eyes met mine and twinkled, and I stiffened out of an immediate fear that he could read my thoughts.

  Kai watched me out of the corner of his eye, and I watched him back less sneakily. For a long time, we just stared at each other, measuring the heft of our disbelief in each other’s existence. In the daylight, he didn’t seem nearly as threatening as I’d thought he was the night before. He looked younger and more tired.

  He wasn’t particularly cute, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Something about the way he moved, his assurance. At home, I’d steer clear of someone like Kai. But there was a certain magnetism to him, something honest and open for someone who gave so little away.

  There was wonder in his eyes when he said, “I didn’t think you were real.”

  I made myself ask him, “What’d you tell the police?”

  “That you had slipped and hit your head. You weren’t supposed to be out of the house.”

  “Thank you,” I said again.

  He turned away, toward the rest of the park, and I watched his chest rise and fall in several deep breaths. He kept talking in English, his accent on the rougher side, the kind that would have made Amanda swoon. I was sure he was using English for my benefit, and that kindness was invaluable. I was lost enough in this place without having to translate too.

  “Garrick’s dead. We found his body this morning. I’m supposed to identify it this afternoon, but it sounded like they were sure.”

  I gritted my teeth against the pendulum in my chest swinging toward guilt. Garrick. That was the name of the guy Kai thought was supposed to have my balloon. I looked up at the balloon. What happened to your first person, balloon? Why didn’t you keep him safe?

  The raven man remained silent. The feathers briefly swung low around his neck, then spun high and fast. When I looked at them, I felt dizzy and unsure, like the rest of the world was fading away around him and there was only him against a bright-white background.

  Kai’s fingers pressed into the top of my knee, hard and painful. I flinched and gasped as air flooded into my lungs, and the rest of the world swooped back in around the raven man, filling in the empty pieces of the landscape. My head rattled like pennies in a can.

  Kai’s brow knit together. “Don’t,” he said, “look at the feathers.”

  The raven man did not apologize. I didn’t really expect him to, but there was no acknowledgment at all. He spoke to Kai and Kai only. “Where?”

  “By the wall. He came down in the death zone. Two Runners—Christian and Nicki—found him. Paid a bribe for his body. Fucking Volkspolizei.”

  The raven man rubbed his palm over his short dark beard. “They’ll be reimbursed. You did not inform Wundertätigluftballonschöpfer that you had found his balloon, or that someone else had it.”

  I recognized luftballon as meaning a balloon like the one in my arms, and Schöpfer I had heard in class before as maker or creator, but I couldn’t figure out the first word. I didn’t have the time or guts to ask.

  Kai tensed, a ball of nerves and muscle next to me, like he would spring and tackle the raven man. I mirrored his tension, my eyes darting back and forth between them. I didn’t understand the relationship so I didn’t understand my loyalties. Who was I supposed to save if it came to blows? I touched the knife in the waistband of my skirt. At least the Volkspolizei hadn’t found that on me.

  Kai shook his head. “Runner problems are
Runner problems.”

  The raven man’s mouth thinned into a line of disapproval. “This is beyond a Runner problem, Kai. Where is she from?”

  They spoke of me as if I wasn’t sitting right there. I started to answer the question myself, but Kai’s hand grabbed my knee again. The raven man glanced at the motion and then at me. I trusted Kai more than I trusted the raven man, so I pressed my mouth shut. I glared at the raven man though, and this seemed to amuse him.

  Kai’s voice was cool. “I have twenty-four hours to inform the Council.”

  The raven man tilted his head. The feathers slowed. “Consider the Council informed.”

  The look on Kai’s face was miserable. The facade he kept around the Volkspolizei crumbled in the face of the raven man. “Understood.”

  “What Council?” I asked.

  “You and I have spoken of this,” said the raven man, ignoring me. “You come from a society that prefers to treat the outside as undeserving of truthfulness. Here, you must be on the inside, Kai. You cannot—”

  “You know nothing about me, or my people.” Kai’s voice was colder than the ice on the streets. For a long moment, he and the raven man stared at each other, light eyes piercing dark eyes, and then finally, the raven man looked away.

  I exhaled. My turn. They could have their showdown some other time. I still needed my answers. “How can I see you?”

  “Perhaps it is the balloon,” said the raven man. It wasn’t an answer, but I was starting to get the feeling that it was all the answer he’d give me.

  “Garrick’s balloon,” I clarified, glancing at Kai. “You think I have Garrick’s balloon.”

  “I know you have his balloon.” The misery in Kai’s voice sank into me the way the snow had seeped into my shoes. “That’s his balloon. I’d know it anywhere. Just like I know he’s dead without needing to see his body.”

  The raven man stepped in one fluid motion toward Kai and grabbed his shoulder. I gripped the knife at my waistband, but I didn’t have anything to fear. The raven man’s voice steadied me as it steadied Kai. “Garrick’s death isn’t your fault. Remember that. That blame always lies at the feet of the oppressors, Kai.”