by Marina Cohen
* * *
After school, Kallie and Grandpa took their usual walk down the steep sidewalk toward the lake. As Pole suggested, she put the box so far out of her mind it was as if it had never existed. She felt almost lighter as they made their way back home—though she did notice Grandpa Jess was walking a bit slower and puffing a bit more than usual.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Never felt better,” he said.
Grandpa Jess was a poor liar. She linked arms with him. They made it back up the incline together.
Kallie’s father came home at his usual time. He washed up, and they all sat down to dinner. Grandpa Jess made sugar shack crêpes with ham and eggs and plenty of maple syrup. It was like breakfast, dinner, and dessert all in one. Kallie complained it was unhealthy as she passed Grandpa Jess her plate for a second helping.
“You need to start learning the family recipes,” he said. “Or when I’m gone, they’ll be lost.”
Kallie’s stomach jerked. “Don’t talk like that, Grandpa.”
“Oh, pay him no mind,” said her father. “Grandpa Jess is as strong as an ox. He’ll outlast us all.”
“This was one of your mother’s favorite meals,” said Grandpa.
Kallie’s eyes darted toward her father. She held his gaze a moment, trying to discern his thoughts, but his expression was unreadable.
“That was delicious,” he said. “I’m stuffed.” He lifted his plate and took it to the sink, where he began to clean up.
After dinner, Kallie and her father played a few games of chess. He adored strategy games like chess, Go, Nine Men’s Morris, and Mancala. He’d taught her these at a very young age and praised her often, claiming she had developed into quite a worthy opponent.
Content with having won once, Kallie went up to her room and got ready for bed. She was about to doze off when she overheard her grandfather and father talking in the kitchen. At first, they spoke in hushed voices, which grew increasingly louder.
“You can’t get away with this forever,” said Grandpa. “One day the truth will come out … and then you’ll have to pay for what you’ve done…”
“That day isn’t today,” said her father. “You’d do best to let sunken ships stay sunk.”
“Ah, but the truth always rises to the surface. The truth is unsinkable.”
“Yes, well, they said that about the Titanic, didn’t they? And where is it now?”
18
PARTNERS IN CRIME
The next few days passed without disruption or peculiar happenings. The dull routine brought back Kallie’s sense of focus and purpose. Unfortunately, it also lulled her into a false sense of security.
At least she had avoided reading for Ms. Beausoleil. She had had a series of unfortunate—yet timely—ailments, including a dry throat, a wiggly tooth, cracked lips, blurred vision caused by an allergic reaction to the dust mites in the pillows … She had even gone so far as to try to form a society for non-read-alouds—known as the NRABC—Non-Read-Aloud by Choice—but no one except Pole had joined, and so they were forced to disband.
“And that is the very end of the adventures of the wardrobe,” read Anna.
Kallie sighed. “Thank goodness for that.”
“But…”
“I knew it,” snapped Pole. “Never let your guard down.”
“… if the Professor was right it was only the beginning of the adventures of Narnia.”
“The beginning! How can it be the beginning?” said Kallie.
“There’s always a catch to these fantasies.” Pole scoffed. “They never let you just move on peacefully.” He punched his pillow. A cloud of dust enveloped him. He coughed, fanning the air.
“Yes, well, now I suppose I’ll just have to read the others in the series,” grumbled Kallie vaguely. Pole shot her a look with a raised eyebrow. “For closure,” she added hastily.
Ms. Beausoleil took the book from Anna and sighed dreamily. A lengthy discussion of theme, motif, character, and arcs ensued. And just when Kallie thought the worst of it was over, the teacher cleared her throat.
“And now, for your next assignment…”
Kallie braced herself. How bad could it be? It couldn’t be worse than the letter. Could it?
“… a diorama depicting one of the settings in the novel…”
There was a flurry of questions and comments.
“Can we pick any setting?” asked Mathusha.
“I just threw out a shoebox,” Taylor said with a sigh.
“Can I use a 3-D printer?” asked Pole.
To add insult to injury, Ms. Beausoleil added, “And you’ll be working with a partner.”
There was a moment of voiceless frenzy. Eyes darted round the room. Secret pacts were made with simple nods, waves, and pointing. Kallie didn’t have to resort to any such insecurities. Everyone knew she and Pole would be partners. As always.
Regrettably, Ms. Beausoleil had other plans.
“I’ll be assigning the pairs,” she said cheerfully.
The dissolution of the previously made pacts was not nearly as silent as their making. Ms. Beausoleil waved off the protests and began forming groups. “Jonah and Queenie … Grace and Ivan … Taylor and Mathusha…”
No one said a word, but smiles fell and eyes rolled.
“… Pole and Saif…”
Pole glanced at Kallie and shrugged apologetically even though it had been completely out of his control.
“… Kallie and…”
Kallie held her breath.
“… Anna.”
Anna’s smile was so large it nearly wrapped around her head. Kallie returned it with a half-hearted wave and a grin one might easily confuse with a painful grimace.
“Well. I suppose we should meet tomorrow, seeing as it’s Saturday, to get a head start,” Kallie said. They had been given the last five minutes of class to organize themselves. “I have allotted myself some free time in my schedule. I can come to your place … I mean, Mrs. Winslow’s…”
“Sure. Of course. We could do that. That would be great,” Anna said. “But, well, Mrs. Winslow is a bit eccentric. She’s absolutely paranoid about having strangers in her house, what with it being so huge and posh and what with her having all that expensive china and valuable crystal and…”
Kallie frowned. “You make it sound like I’d break something.”
“No. No. It’s not you,” said Anna reassuringly. “It’s Mrs. Winslow. She’s odd like that. How about I come to your place? We’ll need paint, of course, and construction paper, and…”
“Whoa.” Kallie waved her hands in front of her face. “I don’t have any crafty things.” She said it as though it were something distasteful bordering on illegal.
“All right. Then we’ll have to buy some,” said Anna resolutely. “There’s a variety shop on Willard Street. Maybe we can get some stuff there.”
“Maybe…” said Kallie. Then she had another thought. “Or how about the Dollar Basket just past the interstate? Where did you say you lived?”
Anna looked side to side. “I’m really not supposed to say…”
“For heaven’s sake,” said Kallie. “Do I look like a thief or an ax murderer? Just tell me where you live so we can coordinate.”
Anna paused for a brief moment. “South Prospect,” she said quietly. “Near the campus.”
Kallie knew the area. It had enormous brick homes with timbered gables, castlelike turrets, and ancient trees on huge properties. Many had been transformed into fraternity and sorority houses over the years. Those that hadn’t had been in families for generations—people with what Grandpa called old money.
“Perfect,” said Kallie. “I’ll ride my bike up Ledge Road and meet you. Do you have a bike?”
“Oh, Mrs. Winslow has several. It’s only a matter of selecting the color and style. But I’ll need to meet you there. I have a few things to do in the morning, so I’m not exactly sure where I’ll be.”
Kallie agreed, and all wa
s settled. “We’ll get everything we need at the shop.”
“And I’m sure Mrs. Winslow won’t mind if I use one of her shoeboxes—she literally has dozens. That way we’ll be all set for Monday. We’re going to make the best partners!”
* * *
The following morning, Kallie awoke at her usual time. She got dressed, had breakfast, and prepared for her journey. She picked up the old photograph, studied it intently, then placed it back on the shelf.
“I’m in sixth grade now,” she said, slinging a small brown purse over her shoulder. “I can go on my own.”
Grandpa Jess stroked his beard. “I’m not sure…”
“Dad said I could when I asked him this morning. He said I would benefit greatly from added responsibility.”
“Well,” said Grandpa, not sounding all too convinced. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive,” said Kallie. Her brown eyes were steady and resolute.
Kallie reached into the hall closet and grabbed her maroon cable-knit cardigan. She didn’t like that it had mismatching gold buttons, but Grandpa had given it to her. Apparently, Grandma Gem had been an excellent knitter. This was the only piece Kallie had inherited from her. It was a bit large, but cozy, and perfect for days you just wanted to wrap yourself in a blanket.
“What’s the name of the store?” asked Grandpa Jess. “Where’s it located?”
“The Dollar Basket,” said Kallie. “On Dorset, near highway two.”
“Oh,” said Grandpa Jess softly. “Are you sure you want to head all the way over there? You could try the variety shop just up the street.”
“I don’t think they’ll have all the things we need,” said Kallie. “Plus, the dollar store might be cheaper.”
Grandpa Jess had a bit of a distant look in his eyes as he ran a hand down the sleeve of the old sweater. He made her promise to ride carefully.
It wasn’t quite fall, but the air was crisp and smelled of woodstoves and fallen leaves. Kallie headed round the side of the house toward the garage and yanked open the old door. She was immediately smacked with a musty odor. The space was small and crammed with generations of Grandpa Jess’s fishing gear. Tackle boxes, rubber boots, rods, reels, and other paraphernalia littered the tight space.
Carefully, she extracted her bike from behind a wall of junk. It was coated in dust. It reminded her of the bike on display at the aquarium—the one that had been submerged in the lake and was now covered with invasive zebra mussels.
She hadn’t ridden it in ages. Luckily, it was still in fine working condition. She swung a leg over the bar, steadied herself, and began shakily pedaling, the handlebars teetering and wobbling until she gained control.
Kallie made her way along the breezy side streets. She’d calculated how long the ride would take so as to be sure she’d arrive on time. She’d made arrangements to meet Anna at precisely ten thirty. Only, when Kallie arrived, Anna wasn’t there.
She rested her bike against the side of the building and paced in front of the store, staring at the basket on the sign made of dollar symbols. This was definitely the backdrop of the photograph on her shelf. She took a deep breath, unsure as to why she’d come and what she’d hoped to find.
All the while, she kept checking her watch. At two minutes, she was annoyed. By five, she began to huff. And after ten minutes, she was positively beastly.
She entered the shop without Anna. She stomped up and down the aisles locating the craft section, glaring at all the paint and paste. She lifted a dusty tub of neon green and held it as though it contained radioactive waste.
“The trouble with being punctual is that nobody’s there to appreciate it.” She quoted Philadelphia reporter Franklin P. Jones.
“Is there something I can help you with?” said a kindly voice.
Kallie turned to see a robust middle-aged woman wearing a long denim skirt and purple Crocs. Over that, she wore an apron with the basket logo.
Kallie adjusted her glasses. “I’m waiting for someone.” She didn’t mean to sound quite so sharp, but her surprise at seeing the apron mingled with her anger at Anna’s tardiness and spilled into her tone.
The woman smiled. “I know that sweater. How could I forget those mismatched gold buttons.” She pointed to the top one with an anchor embossed on it.
Kallie pulled the wool cardigan tighter around her waist. “My grandmother made it. Maybe she purchased the yarn here?”
The woman studied Kallie as though she were a speck on the horizon growing larger and clearer until finally a full picture was formed. The smile slipped from her lips, and she shook her head. “No. I don’t think so,” she said quietly.
The store clerk’s demeanor had changed so suddenly Kallie thought it was very strange. She was about to question the woman further when Anna burst between them.
“Sorry I’m late! I told Mrs. Winslow I had to meet you at ten thirty, but she insisted that we head out early in the morning since it was the best time of year to pick blackberries and fresh kale, and she didn’t want to miss out, and I said I’d only be a minute then hurry straight back home—”
Kallie wasn’t listening. “It’s fine,” she said, cutting Anna’s lengthy excuse short. “Let’s just get the stuff we need. Grandpa Jess will worry if I’m late.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” said the clerk. The smile had returned to her face. She disappeared around the corner.
After some heated debate, Kallie and Anna agreed to construct Mr. Tumnus’s cave. Kallie would make the cave part, and Anna would do the rest. They located several things they could use, including Styrofoam, felt, Plasticine clay, spools, and colored paper.
“Oh, gosh,” said Anna, when they reached the checkout. “This is so embarrassing, but Mrs. Winslow had me in such a rush I forgot to bring money.” She placed the items she carried on the conveyor belt.
Kallie sighed. She got out her wallet, paid, and handed Anna the bag. She didn’t want to bring the bag of arts and crafts supplies home. It would invite too many unwanted questions. “Just don’t forget to bring it all on Monday.”
Kallie took one last look around the shop. The clerk Kallie had spoken to busied herself by rearranging the already neat rows of ribbon in front of the checkout. Kallie stood staring at her a moment longer, then finally turned to leave.
“Did you forget something?” said the woman.
Kallie spun round. “Pardon me?”
“The spools,” she said, handing Kallie the small package. “You left them behind.”
Kallie took it mechanically, pausing again, grappling for the right words. But when she opened her mouth, all she could muster was a brittle thank you.
Anna was already pedaling quickly down the street. Kallie hopped on her bike and scrambled to catch up to give Anna the spools. Kallie pumped her legs as hard as she could, but Anna was quicker and Kallie got stuck at a traffic light.
She thought for sure she’d catch Anna before she turned onto South Prospect—but when Anna arrived at that intersection, she went straight through it and then turned in the opposite direction once she reached Willard.
Odd, thought Kallie. Anna had said she had to return straight home to Mrs. Winslow. Kallie couldn’t help but be curious. She continued to follow.
Though Kallie rode as quickly as she could, she was not used to such physical exertion, and she began to slow. From Willard, Anna turned onto North Street. Kallie nearly thought she’d lost her but then caught sight of the bike as it turned again onto one of the side streets.
Kallie stopped sharply when she saw Anna dismount in front of a tiny, old house that had been extended backward into a townhouse complex. Anna leaned the bike she had been riding against the garage and then climbed the steps to what appeared to be a tiny apartment above.
Kallie wondered whom Anna could possibly be visiting. She thought perhaps she should go up to the door, knock on it, and see for herself. She gripped the package of spools tightly in her hand. Suddenly, giving them to Anna didn
’t seem so important, and an odd feeling came over Kallie, as though she were an intruder—exactly the kind of person Mrs. Winslow had warned Anna about.
Kallie put a foot to a pedal, turned her bike, and rode home.
* * *
Grandpa Jess stood on the porch pacing. Kallie figured he’d probably been there the entire time worrying. He smiled when he saw her and ushered her into the kitchen, where he had a steaming bowl of chowder waiting.
“Did you find everything you need?” he asked.
Kallie nodded. She lifted a spoonful of thick soup and then set it back down. “Did the sweater belong to Grandma?”
Grandpa Jess coughed a few times and then took a sip of water. “Grandma Gem made it. I told you that when I gave it to you.”
“Yes,” said Kallie, eyeing him. “You said Grandma made it. But was it hers?”
Grandpa Jess lowered his eyes. “Finish your chowder, Kallie. Before it gets cold.”
He left the kitchen abruptly. Kallie gathered the sweater in her arms. She breathed in deeply. She had never paid attention to its comforting scent. Lavender. With a hint of lily.
* * *
First period Monday morning was science class. Mr. Bent was conducting an experiment on expansion and contraction, and Kallie was particularly proud when he selected her to be his assistant.
“Matter is not solid,” said Mr. Bent. “In fact, it’s made of atoms and empty space. If we adjust that empty space, we can make solid matter grow or shrink. Let us demonstrate.”
Kallie beamed as she put on a lab coat. There was no need for Mr. Bent to make sure her hair was out of the way, because it was already tied back in her usual tight ponytail.
Unfortunately, the safety goggles didn’t fit over her prescription eyewear, so she had to remove them. Behind the scuffed plastic, her vision was fuzzy.
Mr. Bent asked Kallie to hold up two metal rods. On the end of one was a brass loop. On the other, a ball. He asked her to demonstrate how easily the brass ball could pass through the loop. She did so several times.