27 Magic Words

by Sharelle Byars Moranville

  If it was midnight in Des Moines, it was seven a.m. in Paris, and Grandmamma would be in the dining room sipping coffee and nibbling a croissant. If Kobi were there, the petit point seat of the dining room chair would be velvety soft against her bare legs, and Grandmamma would remind Kobi to pull her hair back from her face.

  Kobi lifted her face to the fan as it swept over her, making her scalp prickle. She ran her hand up the stubble on the back of her head.

  She could not go to school like this. She had never needed to make hair grow really, really quickly. Plus, the magic usually wasn’t effective when it was just for herself. But since her strange appearance embarrassed Brook and probably Uncle Wim . . .

  Of the magic words Kobi hadn’t yet figured out how to use, frippery felt the most likely. She sat on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, hands on her knees, back very straight, and commanded her hair to grow. Frippery. She said it again, spreading out the syllables, trying to capture the magic of the word. Fripp. Er. Ry.

  When she touched her head and there was nothing new, she cried. She tried all the other words she didn’t know how to use. Fiddlesticks, hogwash, carillon, buoy, parsimonious, lingua franca.

  Nothing. Not one eensy-weensy bit.

  She would have to run away. In Paris, she would go to the park. On the far side was a lake, and at the edge of the lake was a willow tree. Under the branches, one day, she had discovered a private dome glowing with pale green light. Nobody would find her there.

  But she was not in Paris, and the sun wasn’t shining. And she didn’t know what Uncle Wim would do if she ran away. The edges of her plan curled and turned to ash.

  EIGHT

  IN the morning, she and Brook were ready at the door. Uncle Wim thudded overhead. Brook kept checking her backpack.

  “Okay,” Uncle Wim said, galloping down the stairs. “We’re late. Let’s go.”

  Despite looking like a freak in a beautiful dress, Kobi felt a frisson of excitement. She threw back her shoulders. Her parents would be proud of her courage.

  When they were almost to Kobi’s school and her stomach felt like she had swallowed a hopping toad, Uncle Wim said, “Sally will pick you up and keep you until I get off work. And I’m supposed to explain something. Her mother is ill.”

  “What’s wrong with her?” Brook asked.

  He swerved into a parking lot. “I don’t have time to go into it all now.” He grabbed a parking space and got out, whipping open Kobi’s door. “Gotta hustle. Do you want to come along or stay here?” he asked Brook, who looked frozen.

  “Stay here. I guess.”

  “Bye,” Kobi said to Brook, her throat tight.

  Brook opened her mouth to say something, but Uncle Wim slammed the door and put his hand on Kobi’s shoulder. “Gotta hurry.”

  Kobi threw back her shoulders again and looked straight ahead as Uncle Wim steered her under the portico and through the double doors.

  As they walked down the crowded hall, Uncle Wim said, “By tomorrow this will be old hat.”

  All around them, locker doors banged. A voice blared out of a loudspeaker, but Kobi couldn’t understand a word the person was saying. Uncle Wim guided her into her classroom, where a teacher with frizzy hair and bright lipstick waited.

  “Kobi Alighieri reporting for fifth grade,” Uncle Wim said.

  Charts and maps papered the walls. Carts of books filled the corners. Games and folders overflowed from the shelves beneath the windows. The carpet looked like a kaleidoscope.

  Uncle Wim squeezed her shoulder. “See you tonight.”

  Dizzily, she nodded.

  Ms. Carlson showed Kobi her locker and desk and where to sign up for hot lunch. Then she introduced Kobi to a pair of girls, one of whom held a white rabbit.

  Kobi’s hand went to her heart and she caught her breath. Had their precious lost Dante somehow found his way to Horace Mann School? She reached out to touch him.

  “Don’t!” the girl snapped, shaking her head and making her blond ponytail swish. “He doesn’t know you. He knows me because my sister was in Ms. Carlson’s classroom last year and she brought Peter home for the summer. And Peter knows Lily because we basically live at each other’s houses.”

  “Anna and I are BFFs,” Lily said.

  “My mother is president of the PTO,” Anna said. “Where did you go to school last year?”

  Kobi knew as truly as her last name was Alighieri that she shouldn’t reveal that this was her first day of school since kindergarten and she had no idea what they were talking about.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” Lily asked. “Are you Amish?”

  Kobi didn’t know what Amish meant, so she probably wasn’t. “I’m French.”

  “French?” they said.

  She touched the gray dress. “This is how Parisians dress.” It was certainly not how anybody else at Horace Mann Elementary dressed.

  Lily stared at Kobi’s patent leather sandals. Her gaze rose over Kobi’s dress and up to Kobi’s hair. “You don’t sound French,” she finally said.

  “Say something in French,” Anna commanded.

  “J’aime les lapins,” Kobi said, aching to stroke the bunny’s soft ears, to look under his left front paw for the little heart-shaped freckle. If he was Dante, would he remember her? She had grown, but that probably wouldn’t matter to a bunny.

  “Humph,” Anna said, turning away.

  Kobi stood by herself. She shouldn’t have lied about being French. She hadn’t really meant to. Grandmamma always quoted Sir Walter Scott. Oh, what a tangled web we weave. When first we practise to deceive. But Grandmamma shouldn’t have dumped her in this crazy place.

  Ms. Carlson whistled shrilly. How could one person teach so many kids? Kobi never thought she’d miss Mademoiselle, but she found herself blinking back tears.

  Their desks were in small groups, facing each other. When Kobi sat down, she faced a boy with hair the color of a clementine. His large, pale blue eyes seemed to have been put on the wrong face.

  “You’ve been in this room fourteen minutes and nine seconds and this is the first time you’ve noticed me,” he said. “Care to guess why?”

  Kobi shook her head.

  “Do it anyway,” he insisted.

  “Because I’ve had lots of other things to look at?” Her eyes kept going to the bunny cage. Was Dante looking at her?

  “Because of my shirt,” the boy said.

  His shirt was brown and yellow.

  He touched it. “These stripes are good for blending into an urban environment. And that’s my goal for the year. To blend in.”

  Kobi wished she could blend in. Actually, she wished she could disappear.

  “Was that your dad who brought you?” the boy asked.

  “My uncle,” she said. She would tell nothing but the truth from now on.

  “Are your parents, the King and Queen, imprisoned by the evil sorcerer Krom? Did you shave off your hair to weave a shield of invisibility to escape and get help?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Is that why you’re living with your uncle?”

  She was in a seating group with a crazy person.

  He snapped his fingers. “Wait. I’ve got it! And that’s why you’re wearing princess clothes!”

  How could Grandmamma have been so wrong about appropriate school clothing?

  “And if you need to disguise yourself as a boy, the hair is good.” His eyes flashed. “That’s my story, see? And I just put you in it. What’s your name?”

  Although she probably shouldn’t have, she told him—even spelling Alighieri. She watched him write it down.

  “Oh,” he said, “and so you know. I never watch TV. If I see it accidentally, I turn my head. It rots the brain and retards healthy development in people under the age of twenty-two.”

  Kobi shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

  At lunch in the cafeteria, which bounced everybody’s voice around until it made Kobi’s head throb, she was completely befuddled. She en
ded up at a table with a group of girls, including Anna and Lily.

  “This is Kooky,” Anna yelled, introducing her. “She’s from Paris.”

  “Kobi,” Kobi said above the din of clattering plastic trays. “Kobi Alighieri.”

  “That’s what she said,” Lily insisted. “Kooky. Kooky Alinot-hairy.”

  The girls giggled and looked at each other.

  Kobi blinked. Why were they being so mean? Hogwash, she muttered under her breath. It seemed like a good word for mean people. And it did make her feel better. Hogwash!

  NINE

  AFTER school, she waited under the portico. What if Sally Hancock forgot to pick her up? What if Sally Hancock didn’t know where the school was? What if Kobi didn’t recognize Sally Hancock’s car? Kobi stared anxiously at every car as it came to the head of the line in the pickup area.

  Finally, finally, she saw Sally behind the wheel, smiling and waving.

  Kobi scrambled into the backseat. She had survived one day.

  A lady with short gray hair and dark eyes peered over the seat back at Kobi. She tilted her head to one side and then the other like a pigeon. “Sally, this child doesn’t belong to us. Put her back before we get in t-r-o-u-b-l-e.”

  Kobi’s eyes flew to Sally Hancock.

  “Mom, this is Wim’s niece. Remember, we talked about Kobi and Brook coming to visit? Kobi, this is my mother, Patricia Hancock.”

  “Hello,” Kobi said, although she was confused.

  Sally Hancock caught Kobi’s eyes in the mirror. “That haircut shows off your face very prettily.”

  Something about Ms. Hancock’s gaze gave Kobi the heebie-jeebies. “Beatrice,” Ms. Hancock finally said, clearly speaking to Kobi, “how is your mother? I’ve not seen Amelia in ages.”

  Kobi swallowed. “I’m not Beatrice. I’m her daughter. Amelia is my grandmother.”

  Which made Kobi remember. She’d been so caught up in her own trials, she hadn’t thought once about the wedding. Grandmamma and Mr. Gyver were married by now!

  “Our grandmother got married today,” she told Ms. Hancock. “Mr. Gyver is our stepgrandfather now.”

  “Leonard Gyver?”

  Kobi nodded.

  Ms. Hancock’s scorching stare could have melted Kobi, leaving behind only bones, teeth, a new backpack, and the stupidest first-day-of-school dress ever.

  Ms. Hancock sputtered. “You tell that trollop Amelia he’s my husband. Mine!” She whipped around and stared straight ahead, making strange noises.

  Kobi blinked. Grandmamma was what? Sally Hancock caught Kobi’s eyes again. “Wim did explain about Mom’s Alzheimer’s, right?”

  Kobi shook her head. She didn’t know what that meant. But she was kind of figuring it out.

  Brook’s school was only a couple of blocks away. As they waited in the pickup line, Kobi saw her sister talking to a dark-haired girl. Had Brook made a friend already?

  When Brook got into the car, Kobi wanted to fling her arms around her sister.

  Sally Hancock said, “Mom, remember we talked about Kobi and Brook coming to visit Wim? This is Brook, the other sister. Brook, this is my mother, Patricia Hancock.”

  “Hello,” Brook said. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  Ms. Hancock smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you, too. I didn’t know Wim had another sister.”

  Brook frowned.

  “Dotty,” Kobi mouthed silently.

  Brook’s eyes widened.

  There was a lady in Grandmamma’s apartment building who talked to invisible people in the elevator. Grandmamma called her dotty. Grandmamma said she certainly hoped she never became dotty.

  Kobi spotted the Hancocks’ house from down the block because of the pillar of chairs. They went through a side door into a cozy kitchen with a table in front of a window. Sally Hancock got out a carton of milk and a bag of cookies for Kobi and Brook. Then she took her mother upstairs to rest.

  Kobi was ravenous. She took a bite of cookie, then a sip of milk, letting the cold liquid soften the cookie inside her mouth.

  “Why does your mother think we’re Uncle Wim’s sisters?” Brook asked when Sally came back.

  “I think it’s Kobi’s haircut,” she said. “It takes Mom back to an earlier time.”

  “Why does your mom think Mr. Gyver is her husband?” Brook asked.

  “Because he was.”

  “Is Mr. Gyver your . . . dad?” Kobi asked. That would be very strange. It would make Sally Hancock their half step-aunt. Sort of.

  “Oh no. I came along much later. But when they were young, Leonard Gyver and your grandfather were roommates. They married sorority sisters. Mom and Amelia were in each other’s weddings. But Mom turned out not to be the marrying kind. Amelia took Leonard’s side in the breakup. She said Mom broke Leonard’s heart. So . . .” Sally Hancock shrugged.

  So that was the reason Grandmamma didn’t like the Hancocks. One mystery solved.

  “Have you and Uncle Wim always known each other?” Kobi asked.

  “We both grew up in the Bay Area. We met at camp when we were kids. Have you girls ever been to camp?”

  “Grandmamma doesn’t like camp. But we’ve gone fishing at Mr. Gyver’s farm.”

  “It’s probably best not to mention him when Mom is around,” Sally said. “Do you girls have homework?”

  “Yes!” Brook said, beaming. “Tons!”

  “How about you, Kobi?”

  Kobi shook her head.

  “Really?” Brook said, looking at her.

  Truthfully, Kobi didn’t know. The day had been that confusing.

  Ms. Hancock called for her daughter, and Sally went upstairs.

  When she was out of earshot, Brook said, “I love this house. I wish Uncle Wim’s house was like this.”

  Kobi nodded. The house was small, but it was filled with bright pots and bowls, paintings and woven things. Purple and apricot and marigold colors covered the walls. There were books everywhere, a lot of them on gardening.

  Brook unloaded her backpack and arranged her things on the table, pencils and pens in a row, their bottoms even with each other. “Sixth graders have daily planners.” She opened a spiral notebook and showed Kobi a list. “This is what I have to do for tomorrow. I’ll check things off when they’re done, and Uncle Wim will initial the page.” She closed the daily planner with a satisfied smile.

  Kobi slid down in her chair until her chin was even with the table.

  “You’ll get bad posture if you sit like that,” Brook said.

  Who cared? But Kobi straightened up to get another cookie. “When you come to my school . . .” The look on Brook’s face stopped her. “You’re coming, right?”

  Brook dropped her eyes. “I kind of like my school.”

  “Yesterday you cried because we couldn’t be together!”

  “But my teacher is very nice,” Brook said. “She complimented me profusely on my organizational skills. And I’ve made a friend already. Her name is Isabel. She loves my clothes. And she’s well organized, too.”

  “Then I’ll go to your school,” Kobi said. Isabel shouldn’t get ideas.

  Brook glanced away.

  “Is it my hair?” Tears stung Kobi’s eyes. She couldn’t help it if she looked freaky. It was only until her hair grew.

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “Sixth grade is hard, Kobi. You have to be mature.”

  “But you can’t leave me!”

  They heard Sally Hancock’s footsteps on the stairs.

  “You’re not quite ready for sixth grade,” Brook said quietly, opening a book.

  Kobi would talk to Grandmamma. Grandmamma would make Brook go to Horace Mann Elementary. She would make Brook be her best friend just as she had always been. Malleable.

  Before long, Uncle Wim’s car turned into the drive. Sally said she’d be right back and slipped out the door. Although it wasn’t polite, Kobi moved to where she could see them.

  Uncle Wim leaned against the ca
r door, pulled Sally Hancock into his arms, and gave her a long smooch. And Sally Hancock smooched Uncle Wim right back.

  Kobi waved Brook over.

  “Gross!” Brook clapped her hand over her eyes. “Do you think they’re in love?” she asked, peeking between her fingers.

  “They can’t be. Grandmamma says Sally Hancock isn’t Uncle Wim’s type. Plus, Grandmamma says she’s years older.”

  “She doesn’t look older,” Brook said. “I think they’re in love.”

  Grandmamma was wrong about at least two things.

  Kobi wondered what Sally and Uncle Wim were talking about as they stood in the shade beside Uncle Wim’s car. He took money from his wallet and held it out to Sally.

  She shook her head.

  Uncle Wim tried to tuck the money into her shorts pocket. Sally pushed his hands away.

  “What’s he doing?” Brook asked. “Why is he giving her money?”

  “Probably for helping with us.”

  “But he’s unfortunate,” Brook said.

  Temporarily, Kobi said silently.

  As Sally Hancock and Uncle Wim turned toward the house, Kobi and Brook scrambled into their chairs. Temporarily, Kobi said silently again, feeling guilty because they were costing Uncle Wim money.

  TEN

  THE next morning, Kobi passed over the clothes Grandmamma had bought her for school. She put on shorts and a sailor shirt as if she were going to play in the park. Even then, she didn’t look like the other kids at Horace Mann.

  When she got downstairs, Brook was in the kitchen wearing one of her Parisian dresses. Brook looked taller and older in Des Moines than she’d looked in Paris. They didn’t look like a pair anymore. That was what the Great Alighieri called them. His Amazing Pair! His Best Magic Trick Ever! Kobi could feel his warm, proud gaze. She blinked away sudden tears.

  Brook, her back to Kobi, was clattering around in the silverware drawer.

  “What are you doing?” Kobi asked.

  Brook jumped and slammed the drawer. “Nothing. And don’t sneak around like that.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” Kobi said. “You’re counting the silverware, making sure it divides evenly. If it doesn’t, you’re going to fly into a tizzy.”