Hunter paused, shot him a questioning look. “Don’t worry, Yonkers. Just me. You stay up here in case someone needs to run for help.”
When Sully had told her he’d grown up in Yonkers, she’d nodded, saying she knew he wasn’t a city boy.
“Whatever you say, Bronx,” he shot back.
Hunter turned. “That’s the Bronx. It’s the only place important enough that they had to put a the in front of it. You don’t say the Manhattan, or the California, only the Bronx.”
Sully cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom and use the toilet.”
“You ought to get into stand-up comedy.” With that, Hunter lowered herself hand over hand, quickly disappearing into the mine. He’d expected her to pull out more equipment—clamps and a harness, maybe—but the cord was it.
Grasping the cord with one hand, Sully watched it rub against the stone, shifting back and forth as Hunter descended.
Ten minutes later, she reappeared, pulling herself out of the hole with ease.
“You’re like Spider-Man,” Sully said.
Hunter laughed as she untied the rope from the tree. “I do a decent amount of climbing in the city.”
Sully knew not to ask where in the city she’d need to climb. Hunter had made it clear information related to hunting was strictly on a need-to-know basis.
Consulting the map, Hunter pointed downhill. “The other schoolhouse is that way.” They were running out of places to look. Sully was disappointed they had only found the one common, but relieved that before too long they’d be in his heated car.
As they headed down the hill, he stifled a yawn.
“You look tired,” Hunter said.
“I haven’t been sleeping much lately. Some nights it takes me a couple of hours to fall asleep, then I wake up at three or four and the thoughts start spinning and that’s it, I can’t get back to sleep.”
Her eyes softened, the mischievous twinkle gone. “Yeah. I know about that.”
They cleared a rise and stepped into a space littered with old tires, a rusting refrigerator, the front axle of a wagon, and plenty of broken glass.
Hunter stopped, took a few steps back to the edge of what was obviously the Doodletown dump. She got on her knees. “I’ll start over here.” She pointed. “Why don’t you start at that end?”
Sully surveyed the dump for a moment. “If we search this whole area it’s going to be too dark to find our way back.” The truth was, he was cold and tired. He wanted to go home and watch TV.
Hunter looked at the sky. “We’ll leave ourselves time to make it back. It’s downhill, so it’ll be quicker. Let’s search as much of this as we can. We can come back if we don’t finish.”
As Sully knelt on the frozen ground and ran his hand inside the rim of a tire, he realized something. As deadly serious as he thought he was about this, Hunter was more serious. Or more desperate. In the car she claimed she’d been hunting full-time for the past two years, and if she really meant full-time, she wasn’t in school. She had no parents to fall back on. This was all she had. The worst bottom line for Sully was living in a basement in Pittsburgh, and although his mom kept warning him that they’d probably be moving there this summer, he had to admit it was nothing compared with what Hunter faced every day.
Sully watched her in the fading light as she brushed snow off the ground, her eyebrows pinched, all of her attention on the hunt.
He imitated her movements, brushing drifts of snow off rusty tin cans and broken glass. What must it be like, doing this every day? He’d always romanticized the life of hunters, but now he saw it wasn’t all excitement. It was a tedious, detail-oriented job.
He exposed a corner of a glass jar, dug around it, clearing dead leaves. It was a mason jar, tinged pink. Either that, or the food someone had stored inside had turned pink over the years….
“Oh,” Sully said. He leaned closer, squinting. Beneath the smoky glass was a pink curve. “Oh,” he said again, his tone pinched with dread, as if he’d found something that might be awful. A skull, or a finger. But what he dreaded was that he might be wrong about what he suspected that delicious pink curve was.
Hunter rose. “What is it? Did you find something?”
Sully felt around in the snow, found a stone, and brought it down on the jar. “Oh. Please let it be—”
The top of a Hot Pink sphere peeked through the hole.
“It is. It is. Oh, my God.” He smashed the sharp edges of the broken jar until he could reach in. Fingers working frantically, he tugged at the hard, slick surface until the sphere came loose.
Sully stood and held it to his face as Hunter shrieked.
Hot Pink. There was no mistaking that color. Hot Pink.
Shouting in pure primordial joy, Hunter collided with him. He shoved the sphere into her hand, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her in the air. She held the Hot Pink over her head as they whooped.
It was a rarity five, worth, what? Twelve thousand dollars? More, if he found the right buyer.
Sully put Hunter down. She held the sphere out to him and he put his hand over the top of it, partially covering both of her hands.
“Oh, my God. I can’t believe it,” he said.
“I’ve never found a five before. I’ve never found a four before.” She raised a hand to her mouth; it was shaking. “I can get my own place. I can buy an old motorcycle to get around.”
“You’ll still let me tag along once you have your own ride, won’t you?”
Hunter grinned. “Are you kidding? Mr. Cherry Red. Big marbles roll right out of their hiding places when you’re around.”
It wasn’t a Cherry Red, not even close, but his share would be, what, close to five thousand dollars? It bought them time. It meant Sully didn’t have to leave his friends, his school, or his town, at least for another year. And they’d find more. Maybe when he showed his mom the cash she’d look the other way and let him cut school one day a week.
They found the path out of Doodletown and headed down the mountain.
A half mile on, the trail broke out onto a dazzling view of the Bear Mountain Bridge crossing the Hudson River, with mountains beyond.
“I want to sit for a minute.” Hunter settled on a waist-high rock, the Hot Pink in her hand. “I want to drink this day in.”
Sully squatted on a smaller rock and took in the view. He was still shaking. It was ironic that they’d found a Hot Pink. Burning a pair of Hot Pinks let you summon a rush of adrenaline on demand, giving you a boost of strength and energy for a few hours at a time. Much like they’d just experienced.
His phone vibrated. It was a text from Dom.
Want to do something after dinner? I need to get out of here.
Hell, ya, he sent back. BIG NEWS. Tell u when I see u.
“I was homeless for three years,” Hunter said.
Sully turned to look at her. “Three years?”
Hunter nodded. “My mom lost her nursing job when I was five. She died two years later. I was on my own for a couple of weeks before a Korean woman took me in. But she had to go back to Korea when I was twelve, and she couldn’t afford to take me with her, so I was on my own. Now I rent space on the floor in an apartment that’s got about twenty people living in it.” She swallowed, wet her lips with her tongue. “I’m telling you because I want you to understand what this means to me.” She gestured at the Hot Pink with her chin. “I hit on hunting marbles when I was ten and”—she shook her head—“I don’t know, it just felt right. When I found my first, a Rose, it was like beautiful music going off in my head, like the marble was telling me I was going to be okay, that their whole reason for being here was so I had enough to eat, a coat to keep me warm.” She lifted her eyes to look at Sully, and there were tears on her lashes. “In the car you asked what I thought they were. All I know is, they’re the best thing there is. I know some people say they’re bad, but those people are wrong. They’re perfect. I wish I didn’t have to sell them. I wish I
could take them all inside me and keep them forever.”
Sully nodded. He agreed. They were the best things in the world.
They watched the river, the sparse traffic crossing the bridge looking like toys. Sully wasn’t cold any longer. His cheeks and fingertips thrummed with warmth.
“Who was the Korean woman?”
Hunter smiled wistfully. “I was at the public library. Libraries are heated and cooled, and they can’t kick you out if you’re quiet. She was a widow who worked there as a janitor. She started bringing me food. Cold noodles, pickled cabbage, pork, radishes. Then one day, out of the blue, she invited me to come home with her, and pretty much adopted me after that.” Hunter tossed the Hot Pink in the air, caught it, admired it for a moment. “When I wasn’t in school I was hunting marbles to help support us.”
“It’s weird, how strangers can become like family. Remember Neal, the guy selling CDs in the stall across from mine?”
“The sixties-looking dude?”
“Right,” Sully said, laughing at her description. “The guy’s been more of a father to me than my own dad. I mean, he might be surprised to hear it, but he means a lot to me. At the flea market he and his wife, Sam, watch out for me like I was their kid.”
“It’s nice to have people watching your back.” Hunter smiled as she watched a motorboat tool along the river. It was the first time Sully had seen her look so relaxed.
“So why did your Korean mom have to go back to Korea?”
“Her own mom got Alzheimer’s. She had to go back to take care of her. She cried and cried when she had to get on that plane.” Hunter rubbed her hands together, then cupped them and blew into them. “You ready?” She pushed off the rock, landed on her feet with a little hop, and headed down the trail.
As the woods enveloped the trail again, Hunter’s hiking gait turned into a bobbing strut. She snapped the fingers of her free hand, and sang, “Ten percent luck, twenty percent skill. Bending reality to my will.”
Sully didn’t recognize the song, but Hunter just sang the refrain over and over. After a minute Sully picked it up and sang along. They danced their way down Bear Mountain with their Hot Pink.
“What should we do with it until we can sell it?” Hunter asked as they crunched through the snow, taking a shortcut off the trail.
“Right into a safe-deposit box. You want me to list it on eBay tonight?”
“No, not right away.” She blew into her hands again. “I know you need the money bad; I do, too. But if we sell on eBay we’re talking at least a thousand less. That’s a lot of cash.”
“Yeah. It is.” Sully was fairly sure Mom had enough money to buy food for a few weeks. The rent was due on the tenth of January, which was almost three weeks away. They could delay two more weeks after that if they paid the late fee. “How about this: if we can’t find a buyer in a month, we sell it on eBay.”
“Sounds good,” Hunter said as she hopped from one rock to the next across a partially frozen stream.
“I can call around, spread the word that we’re selling it.”
Hunter leaped onto the shore, then backstepped on the steep slope, her rear foot cracking through ice.
“Crap!” she shouted, laughing.
When the freezing water hit her foot she stopped laughing and grimaced. “I hate the cold.”
Fortunately, they were close to the car. They jogged the last two minutes, and Sully cranked up the heat as soon as they were inside. As he was putting the car in reverse, he remembered the spare socks he’d tossed in the backseat in case his own feet got damp from the snow.
“Hang on.” He reached and retrieved the socks, offered them to Hunter. “They’re probably eight sizes too big, but they’re dry.”
Hunter gave him a tight smile. “Thanks, but that’s okay. I’m fine.”
Laughing, he pushed the socks toward her. “No you’re not. Your foot is soaked.”
Hunter pulled out her phone, turned to face front. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine.” There was a bite in her tone.
Sully shrugged and tossed the socks onto the backseat, not sure what her problem was.
As he pulled onto the Palisades he glanced at Hunter’s screen, expecting her to be on Instagram, posting their find like he was going to do as soon as he got home. She wasn’t—she was looking at the front page of the New York Times.
“So what do you do when you’re not hunting?” he asked. “Do you have a group of friends you hang out with, or a boyfriend?”
“Holy shit,” Hunter hissed, holding her phone right up to her face.
“What?” Sully glanced at her phone, but couldn’t read what was on the screen. “What is it?”
Hunter dropped the phone into her lap. “One of Holliday’s hunters found a new kind of marble. It’s bigger than the rest. It’s dark blue. Midnight Blue.”
“Oh, my God.” No one had discovered a new color since the Cherry Red. “It’s bigger? How much bigger?” Sully pulled onto the shoulder of the parkway.
“Half again as big as the rest, it says. The size of a cantaloupe.”
Sully leaned in to look at the phone, saw a photo of Holliday holding up the dark blue sphere, grinning like an idiot.
“Where’d he find it?”
Hunter read for a moment. “Africa. He won’t be any more specific than that.” She shook her head. “I wish it was anybody but him. I hate that guy.”
“You hate him?”
“He ruins it for everyone—him and the other big marble operations. Jin Bao. ExoSphere. Hoovering up marbles with their mercenaries and computer programs. That’s not the way they’re meant to be found. It’s the only game that’s built to be fair, and they found a way to rig it.”
“A couple of weeks ago me and a couple of friends got in a brawl with four of Holliday’s bodyguards.”
Hunter’s head snapped up and turned toward him. “Seriously?”
Sully nodded. “Holliday was making an appearance to plug his new Yonkers store. My buddy Dom called him a thief. His bodyguards dragged us out of the auditorium.”
Hunter punched Sully in the arm. “I like it.”
“Hey, come hang out with us,” Sully said.
Hunter gave him a skeptical smile. “Sometime, maybe.” She went back to her phone. “Holliday’s offering fifty million to the person who finds the match,” she said.
“I’d love to find it, just to keep it from him.”
Hunter blew air from the corner of her mouth. “Fifty million? Give me a break. You’d sell it to him. You’d get a good lawyer first, but you’d sell it.”
Sully chuckled. “Okay, you got me. If we find the match and you twist my arm, I’ll let him have it and walk away with twenty million.”
Hunter propped her knees on the dash, watched the trees fly by past the window in the near dark. Sully was pushing the speed limit; he wanted to get home and tell Dom and his mom what they’d found. He also had an English test tomorrow that he needed to study for before going out with Dom. Another week and a half of school and he was home free. He was looking forward to Christmas vacation.
“What are you doing for Christmas?” he asked Hunter.
She turned, let her head loll, gave him a deadpan look. “I’m hunting on Christmas. New Year’s, too, in case you’re wondering.”
The idea horrified Sully. “You’re going to be alone?”
She turned back toward her window. “I’m not all that close to what’s left of my family.”
Her tone said it was no big deal, but Sully tried to imagine spending Christmas alone.
“No. You’re spending Christmas with me and my mom.”
Hunter guffawed, folded her arms. “I’m not spending Christmas with you and your mom.”
“Yes you are. You just found a Hot Pink; you can afford to take Christmas off and drink some hot cider.”
“Your mom doesn’t want some stranger in her house on Christmas.”
“If she knows you’re spending Christmas alone she d
oes. She’ll drive to your neighborhood and drag you out of your apartment. She’s loud, and you never know what’s going to come out of her mouth, but she’s got a heart of platinum.”
“I’m skipping Christmas by choice—”
“Ah.” Sully raised a hand to cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it. It’s all settled.”
Hunter huffed a little, leaned back in her seat. “Fine.”
Suddenly Sully couldn’t wait for Christmas. Usually it was just him and Mom, and besides watching some old Christmas movie instead of CSI and opening a few presents, it was about the same as any other day. He felt a flush of anticipation as he imagined staying up late into the night with Hunter after Mom went to bed, laughing, eating Christmas cookies, planning their next hunt.
Maybe more.
CHAPTER 6
A Copper thunked to the carpet in Sully’s room. Dom retrieved it, studied the three spheres in his hand, then tossed the Rose in the air. He managed to juggle the spheres for about three seconds before two hit the floor.
“Cut it out,” Sully called from his bed. He changed the channel to ESPN. There was a golf tournament on, with sphere-burners playing off longer tees, sphere virgins off shorter ones. Golf was one of the last holdout sports still trying to level the playing field for competitors who hadn’t burned spheres. It seemed unbelievable now that baseball had ever toyed with making the National League non-sphere and the American sphere. The only way you could tell a player had burned a sphere was because he suddenly got better. When Mike Trout went from hitting thirty home runs a year to fifty, or Aroldis Chapman’s ninety-nine-mile-per-hour fastball suddenly leaped to a hundred four, it was pretty damned obvious they’d burned Chocolates for strength, and probably Creams for coordination. All of the records were falling. It was kind of depressing, actually. Burning spheres sure seemed like cheating to Sully, even if MLB owners and players had agreed that since there was no way to detect who was burning, it had to be accepted.
Dom dropped the Rose this time.
“Come on, cut it out.”
“It’s not like I’m gonna break them. I couldn’t break them with an atomic bomb.” Dom bent to pick up the dropped sphere. “Just call her. She could be home doing nothing.”
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