by Juman Malouf
“I’m sorry, Tatty,” Sonja said miserably. “We were desperate for material.” She knew Tatty would not punish them. She never had the heart. Sonja’s guilt felt like punishment enough. She hated hurting Tatty.
“We need to leave,” insisted Tatty. Her face stiffened. “Tomorrow.”
“Maybe only we should go,” sighed Charlotte, collapsing into a chair. “Everyone’s suffered enough already because of us.”
“Where to?” asked Mr. Fortune Teller.
“School?” Charlotte suggested. Sonja glared at her. Was she crazy enough to want to follow that boy to school?
“School? School.” The old man waved his hand. “No, that’s not for you.” He stood up. “We have no choice. We must move on. I’ll talk to Pershing.” He walked to the broken door and looked back. “Just as a precaution, don’t leave the campsite today.”
The old man hurried out, muttering to himself.
“Don’t leave the campsite?” Sonja said hesitantly.
“That’s what he said.”
“But the Enforcers are always chasing someone or other,” observed Charlotte. She rolled up a pancake like a cigar and ate it in three bites. “What’s the big deal?”
“I’m not sure.”
Sonja tore off the burned edges of a pancake and ate the chewy center. She was sick of pancakes. They ate them at every meal. She closed her eyes and pretended she was chewing a delicious, ripe banana. Sonja had almost forgotten what a banana tasted like—fruit had become nearly impossible to find as the land around the cities shrank.
“Figures we’d get up and go just when we met a friend,” complained Charlotte.
“A friend?” Tatty brightened. “The boy I saw you talking with? I thought he was a Scrummager.”
“Couldn’t we at least say goodbye to him?” pleaded Charlotte. “It’s just around the corner in the Train Graveyard. There won’t be any Enforcers there.”
Tatty shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Me neither,” Sonja said, swallowing. “Too dangerous.”
Charlotte glared at her sister. “Sonja’s only saying that because she’s scared to make friends.”
“Scared?” snapped Sonja. “I’m not scared.”
Charlotte turned to Tatty. “You said you wanted us to meet children our age. Well, here’s our chance.”
“Not today, dearie.” She picked up a ripped dictionary. “We’ve got to clear up this mess. Now, go tell the clowns we need some help with the door.”
“Okay, okay,” muttered Charlotte. Sonja watched her sister as she brushed her hair and tied a pink ribbon in a bow. She was up to something, thought Sonja. Charlotte pulled on her jacket and threw the accordion over her shoulder.
“What do you need that for?” Sonja asked suspiciously.
“After I see the clowns, I’m going to the tombs to practice.” She turned to Tatty. “Is that still permitted in this new oppressive regime?”
“If you promise you won’t leave the campsite.”
“Uh-huh.”
Tatty picked up the cuckoo clock from the floor. She shook it. “You’ve got an hour.”
Charlotte gave her sister a strange look, then ran out of the caravan.
She wouldn’t dare, thought Sonja. After a moment, she threw on her jacket and hurried outside.
“Hey, where are you going?” Tatty called out after her. “I need help!”
Up ahead, Sonja saw Charlotte talking to the clowns. They were still sitting on their caravan steps, but were now taking turns swigging from a bottle. Just as Sonja caught up to them, Charlotte took off again.
“I know what you’re up to!” Sonja shouted.
“Mind your own business!” Charlotte yelled back.
Sonja followed her into the graveyard and past the family tombs. Charlotte jumped over the rickety wrought-iron fence. When she reached the other side, she was about to start running when Sonja screamed, “Porcupine!”
Charlotte stopped in her tracks.
The twins had made a pact that no matter what was happening, even if they were in the middle of an argument, when they heard the word porcupine, they would stop what they were doing and hug.
Sonja stretched her arms over the fence. Charlotte did the same. They hugged with the metal barrier between them.
“You can’t do this,” said Sonja.
“Isn’t it you who always talks about becoming famous? How many times have I heard you go on about Kanazi Kooks? You’re the one who wants to leave the Outskirts and tour the cities as a world-renowned musician.”
Sonja remained silent. Charlotte was right. She had always wanted those things. If she went to school like Kanazi Kooks, she just might have a shot.
“We’re making it hard on everyone if we stay here,” Charlotte continued. “They already resent us. We’re not allowed to perform. The Enforcers are after us. If this goes on much longer, they’ll start to resent Tatty. Wouldn’t we be helping if we went to school and got out of her hair?”
“Perhaps,” said Sonja, “but you’re forgetting one big problem. The magic!”
“But when we played today, nothing happened. Anyway, Uncle Tell told us we can learn to control the magic. It can’t be that hard.”
“Is this because of that boy?” Sonja asked quietly.
“A little, maybe. But the more I think about our troubles, the more it seems like school is the only answer.” She put her hand on her heart. “I swear that I’ll never put any boy before you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
The drizzle stopped, and the sun peered through the clouds. People in tattered rain gear filled the streets from the various junkyards and trash heaps where they lived.
“Fresh meats straight from the city! Cured and canned!” cried a chubby man wearing a porkpie hat and a bloody apron. A pyramid of tin cans was stacked behind him. On their labels was a cartoon of a lamb, a cow, and a pig all smiling together.
Sun-blotched men sold badly bruised fruit and rotten vegetables, and big-boned women carried wooden cages on their shoulders filled with rats and mice. A wiry old man with a stack of papers under his arm shouted, “Get yer news here!”
They stopped at a gate under the words TRAIN GRAVEYARD. A poster in big block letters read:
AUDITIONS TODAY
FOR
THE SCHOOLS FOR THE GIFTED.
CHILDREN
AGES EIGHT TO THIRTEEN
APPLY WITHIN.
The twins studied the sign, anxious. If they were accepted, their lives would change forever. How would they explain it to Tatty? She would object, but she always did what was best for the girls. Sonja looked at her sister. She might lose her to Jack Cross or somebody else. Would it be worth the risk?
Perhaps, if she became the next Kanazi Kooks.
Sonja took Charlotte’s hand, and they walked through the gate together.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Auditions
IN A LARGE SQUARE SURROUNDED BY ROWS OF ABANDONED train cars, a hundred young people of every shape, size, and color waited in a long line. Some carried instruments. Others clutched paintings, sculptures, and manuscripts. Parents fussed with their children’s hair and clothing while the kids chatted excitedly. A platform stood in the center of the square. A young girl wearing a tutu pirouetted across it. A row of judges sat busily scribbling notes.
Charlotte felt giddy. She looked from one child to another, smiling. “I’ve never seen so many kids in my life!”
“Me neither,” Sonja said, anxious.
A voice boomed: “Names?”
Charlotte turned to see a cross-eyed woman staring at them from behind a desk. She wore thick-rimmed glasses, and her hair was pulled back tight in a bun. “Am I seeing one person
or two?” she asked.
Charlotte wrinkled her brow. “Uh—two.”
“Names?”
“Maybe we should watch first,” suggested Sonja.
“No watching,” snapped the woman, tapping the end of her pen against the table impatiently. “You either audition, or you leave.”
Charlotte could see that her sister was starting to lose her nerve. “Charlotte and Sonja Tatters,” she blurted.
The woman scratched ink across a crisp white page in a thick book.
“Hold on, Charlotte,” whispered Sonja. “I changed my mind. We’ve got to go back. Tatty’s probably worried about us.”
“Ages?” the woman asked without looking up.
“Twelve and a half,” replied Charlotte.
The woman handed them each a name tag. “Stand in line.”
Charlotte stuck hers onto her jacket. “Want yours?”
Sonja grabbed her sister’s elbow. “This is a mistake.”
“I thought you wanted to be somebody.”
“I don’t feel safe here.”
“I’m nervous too, Sonja,” Charlotte said softly, “but we’ve got to take the chance. Think what Kanazi Kooks went through to get to where he is.”
“This is different. We’re going to get caught. We’re going to get in trouble!”
“Charlotte! Sonja!”
Jack Cross waved from the middle of a long line of children. Charlotte dove through the crowd, leaving Sonja behind.
When she stopped in front of him, she hoped her face was not as red as it felt. “You look nice—ah—I mean—I like your pin. A musical note. It’s cute!”
Cute! Cute! How could she have said something so stupid? She wanted to melt into the ground and disappear forever.
Jack Cross smiled. “My father gave it to me. He played the violin, too.” He pointed to a bespectacled girl with a cello case and a skinny boy holding a clarinet. “These are my friends Emily and Gustave.”
Charlotte shook their hands eagerly. Sonja caught up to them, irritated. She nodded hello coolly.
“You two from the Outskirts?” asked the girl in the glasses. Her face was covered with brown freckles.
Charlotte nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“They’re performers in a circus,” explained Jack Cross. “Good ones, too.”
“My parents won’t let me go to the circus,” the skinny boy said glumly.
Sonja snapped, “Why? They think we’ll give you the plague or something?” Charlotte pinched her. Sonja yelped, but was drowned out by the sound of a loudspeaker announcing Jack Cross to the stage.
“Wish me luck,” he said cheerfully.
“Good luck! Good luck!” Charlotte yelled after him.
“Jack’s really good,” the girl in the glasses whispered to Charlotte.
Charlotte nodded silently. She was mesmerized. She watched Jack Cross spring across the stage from foot to foot with the violin tucked under his chin and the bow swinging up and down. The tune fluttered brightly into her ears and warmed her whole body. “I really want to go to this school,” she murmured.
“I knew it!” Sonja burst out. “All that stuff about helping Tatty and Kanazi Kooks, that was just to get me to go along with it!”
“That’s not true,” insisted Charlotte. “Anyway, what’s so wrong with wanting to have friends?” She realized Emily and Gustave were staring at them. She smiled feebly.
“Charlotte and Sonja Tatters,” blared the loudspeaker.
“That’s us!” cried Charlotte. She yanked her sister toward the platform, but Sonja would not budge.
“Please,” Charlotte insisted. “I need you!”
Sonja shook her head. “No. I won’t.”
“Fine!” shouted Charlotte. “I’ll go to school without you!”
Charlotte stepped onto the platform. Jack Cross waved to her as he descended the other side. A hundred children’s faces stared up at her in anticipation. She was alone on the stage. There had been so many times she had wished she was not a twin but that she was just plain old Charlotte, not one of two. But now, there was a lump in her throat. She needed her other half.
She looked down at a long table where five female judges sat in a row. They wore stiff navy uniforms and tight hairnets. A man seated behind them wore a bright pink suit and had spiky black hair and large, black-framed glasses. He was impossible to miss. He was Kanazi Kooks. Charlotte had to catch her breath.
“What are you waiting for?” barked one of the female judges. She was short and stocky and had a long nose like a beak. Her eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead.
“She’s waiting for me,” announced a voice.
Sonja was standing beside her sister on the platform.
Charlotte grabbed her hand. “Do you see him?” She whispered.
“I see him.” Sonja bowed to Kanazi Kooks. Kanazi Kooks nodded back to her. Sonja pulled out her pennywhistle. “Let’s show him what we’ve got.” She lowered her voice. “Remember: we’re in control.”
Charlotte nodded. I’m in control, she thought. She put her fingers to the keys of her accordion and took a deep breath. As the first notes pumped out, excitement surged through her. She was playing in front of Jack Cross. She looked for him in the crowd. He was smiling from ear to ear.
Sonja accompanied her with a precise yet expressive sound, and soon, a dizzy, whirling carousel of music spun out all around them. Charlotte played to Jack Cross. Sonja played to Kanazi Kooks. The more they played, the better they played.
“I’m—in—con—trol,” Charlotte murmured.
But she was not.
The music had taken over. It swirled into her head, into her bones, into her blood. Sonja hopped up and down beside her with eyes shut and fingers bobbing.
A strand of lightning zigzagged down from the sky. Clouds rumbled overhead. A crack of thunder shook the ground. Hats leapt up off heads into the air and spun like tops. Drums and cymbals began banging and clanging all on their own.
The audience gasped. The judges stopped writing. Children jumped up and down, running and squealing. Kanazi Kooks remained calmly seated—with a faint smile across his lips.
Charlotte’s eyes flashed open. She stumbled backward. “It’s happening,” she muttered. She turned to Sonja and cried, “It’s happening!”
Sonja squinted one eye open and saw the chaos. Her arms fell to her sides.
There was a moment of frozen silence—and then a tin can flew past their heads. Confused, frightened faces watched them. Charlotte saw Jack Cross in the audience. His mouth hung open. Charlotte’s heart sank. She had seen that look before. He thought she was a freak.
The head judge stood up and marched toward the steps.
“Let’s go!” yelled Sonja.
They leapt off the back of the stage, pressed through the crowd of bewildered children, and climbed over the crumbling brick wall.
The clouds thickened over the Outskirts, and fat drops began to fall. “Did we do that, too?” cried Charlotte. They lifted their hoods over their heads as they continued to run. People on the streets scrambled for shelter. Sonja looked back over her shoulder. No one had followed them.
After what felt like an eternity, they reached the campsite, breathless.
Pershing was standing under the painted sign. His top hat shielded his white-powdered face from the rain. Monkey sat on his shoulder rattling a cracked jug.
The soaking twins came to a stop and stood in front of him, wordless and panting.
“What’s gotten into the two of you?”
Charlotte burst into tears. She would never go to school. She would never see Jack Cross. Everything was ruined because of the magic. She cursed her parents, whoever they were, for passing it down to them.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kats von Stralen
SONJA PULLED C
HARLOTTE INTO THE DRESSING ROOM. It was crammed wall to wall with costumes and set pieces and agitated performers. Lightbulbs dangled from wires overhead. Musky body odor filled the air. After what they had been through, the familiarity of everything made Sonja dizzy. Tatty stood talking to the three clowns with a nervous look on her face. It fell away when she saw the twins. She hugged them tightly. “Where did you go?”
“Call off the search party!” yelled Balthazar, slumping in front of a makeup table. The other two clowns squeezed in beside him and began to blacken their eyebrows with burned corks.
“Sorry, Tatty,” mumbled Sonja. “We went to the Train Graveyard.” She would not lie this time (although she might leave out a few details, like their disastrous audition and seeing Kanazi Kooks—wonderful Kanazi Kooks. If only she had gotten to see him perform!).
Tatty shook her head and sighed. “You went against my wishes again. Luckily, the old man doesn’t know. Did any Enforcers see you?”
“No,” Sonja said quietly.
“It’s all my fault,” admitted Charlotte. “I wanted to see Jack Cross. He plays the violin. He’s practically a virtuoso.” She suddenly stopped talking. Her lips trembled. “I’ll never see him again. Ever! He’s going to a school in a city, and we’re—we’re—we’re just circus folk!”
“Careful what you say about circus folk!” chirped the Miniature Woman, who was doing the splits on the makeup table.
Tatty put her arms around Charlotte and pulled her close. Her anger had disappeared. “You’ll see him again. I promise.”
Sonja did not understand why Charlotte cared so much about a boy she hardly knew. Charlotte was always falling in love with someone. Jack Cross. A Scrummager named Larry. A stray dog.
Bea pulled a ruffled bodice off the rack and stepped behind a ripped screen to change costumes. “I wouldn’t get too hung up on an Outskirter. They’re junkyard types.”
Charlotte frowned. She wiped her eyes. “He’s not a type,” she returned. “He’s a human and a musician.”
Pershing burst into the dressing room. “It’s filling up out there,” he said excitedly. “There’s even a Richer in the audience.”