The Book of Dares for Lost Friends (17 page)

“No, no. You are. You may not suffer from the more absurd characteristics. You don't suck the ends of your hair, or check your appearance in the mirror, or squeal when confronted with small insects. But you are a girl.”

“Your point?”

“Daughters don't need appointments.”

“You want to ask Lanora to help with her own spell?”

“No. You can pretend to be Lanora.”

This idea was terrible. Val didn't want to be Lanora, even if she could have managed it. “Mr. Nuland will know. Lanora has long auburn hair. I have short blonde hair.”

“I know. But by then, you're in, you see?”

Val picked up a rock and tossed it from hand to hand. “Maybe.”

“I'll help you practice. Come on. I'll be the secretary.”

Tasman stood behind a park bench and pretended as if he were typing. He paused to apply lipstick.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting in character. You should, too. To begin with, would Lanora be playing with a rock?”

Val pretended to throw it at him. Then she dropped it to the ground. How should she be Lanora? She passed her hand over her face and tried to make a mask where her smile had been. Then she glided over to where Tasman was now chatting into an imaginary phone.

“And then you von't belief vat he do next,” Tasman said.

“Why are you talking in a Russian accent?”

“It's Romanian. And stay in character. Approach again.” Tasman pushed Val away. So Val pushed him back. Except he sidestepped her so she stumbled and fell. He sat on her legs and caught her flailing fists.

“This is
not
how Lanora would behave.”

“How do you know? You never met her.” With great effort, Val wriggled out from under Tasman. She was just about to knock him down again when she froze.

“What is it?” Tasman turned to see what Val was staring at.

“It's Lanora.”

*   *   *

Lanora had heard them from Columbus Avenue, an entire block away. Everybody in the whole world could have. Laughing and goofing around like little kids. She had tried to ignore them. She had tried very hard to act like she was ignoring them. Then Val had walked around in a lame way. With her face all grim and her legs like they were half-paralyzed. It was so embarrassing. And then they said her name. Because that pathetic person Val was imitating was supposed to be Lanora.

Why didn't anyone stop them? Where were the grown-ups? The meddling moms? The security guards? Why had Lanora been caught and humiliated for taking a toy cat when these two kids were killing her?

But no one came, so Lanora had to make them stop. She stomped down the driveway where the buses brought the schoolchildren. She put her hands on her hips and tried to shoot death rays from her eyes.

Finally they noticed her. At first Val looked uncertain. Then she whispered to Tasman. Tasman stared at Lanora, as if she were some sort of specimen he was studying.

Lanora tried to smile like she didn't care what they thought. Why should she? They had dirt on their shirts from rolling around on the ground!

Now they were coming toward her. Why were they doing that? They were smiling again. How could they still be laughing at her? She refused to be mocked or pitied or scorned just because of a toy cat.

“Hi,” Val said.

What kind of a thing was that to say? It would have been better if she said nothing, like the other day. But no. Val said “hi” as if nothing had happened. Like she was pretending Lanora's world hadn't come to an end. Val had become cruel, now that she had a boyfriend. Obviously Val didn't know that Tasman was a failed explorer.

Lanora tried to toss her hair back over her shoulder. The wind interfered, whipping her hair across her face. She spat the strands out of her mouth. She turned on her heel. She was glad she had been practicing that in her bedroom. She spun a perfect 180. Despite the uneven ground, despite the wobbling inside, she didn't fall. She succeeded in walking away.

 

Twenty-eight

On Thursday after school, Val met Tasman in the shadow of the Geld Building.

“So that's the Star Tamer's Tower.” Tasman stared up at the skyscraper as if he were trying to find a way to comprehend its overwhelming mass. “You know, I may have translated the passage in
The Book of Dares
incorrectly. It's possible that you're supposed to get a gift from a Tar Tamer. In which case, we should be looking for a man who is fixing roads.”

“Maybe it was Scar Tamer?” Val said.

“A plastic surgeon! And speaking of appearances, you look nice. Very Lanora-esque.”

“I did my best.” Val looked down at herself. She didn't own any skirts, but she had put on actual pants. Her shirt had colorful stripes and no sports team logo or number across her back.

“Do you want me to go in the lobby with you?” Tasman said.

Val didn't answer right away.

“This is where you're supposed to say, ‘No, of course not. I will go bravely into battle while you stay out here keeping a lookout.' Even though there's nothing actually dangerous on the street. Except perhaps whatever is being sold by that hot dog vendor.”

“Just wish me luck.”

He waggled his fingers mysteriously and then bonked her head with his fist.

Val quickly crossed the street. It was kind of hard to walk fast. Her ballet flats had slippery soles. She adjusted her pace so she could approach the revolving door at precisely the moment a chamber appeared. Yes, she said to herself as she walked through easily. As if she had done so every day.

That was the trick. She had to act as if she belonged in this cold, glittering realm. She couldn't look up at the exploding light fixture suspended three stories above her head. She had to treat the Tamed Star like it was just an old bunch of bulbs.

She didn't wait to be approached by the guards. She glided over to the desk and announced, “I'm here to see my father, Mr. Nuland.”

“Is he expecting you?” the keeper of the book said.

“I'm Lanora Nuland,” Val said, with what she hoped was disdain.

“I'm sorry, but I don't see any instructions from Mr. Nuland's secretary.”

“He will
not
be happy if you turn me away,” Val said.

The specter of an angry Star Tamer made a dark cloud. The keeper of the book filled out a name tag with her name and destination. He handed it to Val and performed a secret ceremony under the counter. The metal arms slid back into their mounts. The way was clear. Val was tempted to run to her goal, but she made herself walk all the way to the elevator. Her heels tapped confidently against the glistening floor.

The elevator doors parted. She entered and pressed the button. She rose up and up and up. At least she assumed she did; the ride was so smooth she could have been standing still. The doors opened. She left the elevator and walked briskly to a large table at the end of a corridor.

A beautiful woman sat in front of a computer screen and an arrangement of twisted stems in a crystal vase.

“Lanora,” the woman purred. “How nice to see you. I'm sorry, but your father is in a meeting now. I can take a message, if you like.”

Think fast, Val. The ball is coming. Choose the teammate who is open and has the best chance for a goal. Quick! Quick!

“I will wait in his office.” Val walked briskly away from the woman.

“I'm sorry, but you can't—”

Val saw no need to argue with the woman. Val was going, so obviously she could. The corridor divided; Val had to guess right or left. The odds were fifty-fifty. She headed away from the brighter lights and toward the bigger doors.

A man walked by without looking at her. He was busy with his phone.

Was that Mr. Nuland? The man wore a nice suit. He had short hair. He was tall. These men all looked alike. These men were all Star Tamers, or Assistant Star Tamers. What if Val couldn't recognize the particular one she needed?

She passed shut doors. She passed offices with big desks and leather chairs. She kept walking. She was a hunter in the forest. She was on high alert. She would recognize her prey. She had no idea how, but she would. Didn't he have Lanora's steel gray eyes?

More people passed her. They didn't pay any attention to her. Maybe she was wearing a cloak of invisibility. Then a man's voice called, “Lanora?”

She didn't look back. He sounded like one of the guards.

“Lanora, can I speak with you for just a moment?”

Val had reached the end of the corridor. There was no exit. She pushed open a door and stepped inside.

The room was unoccupied. On the desk were a phone and a computer. Opposite the desk were two leather chairs. An abstract painting dominated the wall above a sleek cabinet. That was all. Did anyone ever sit at that desk? Val thought of her mom's office, with its pictures of her family, the goofy cartoons stuck to the side of the computer, the pencils in a jar decorated by Drew, the dish of candy, and the books everywhere. Mom didn't have a window. But this office had four, two on each side of the corner. The view was unbelievable. New York sprawled at her feet. How unreal the world seemed, without people or sounds or smells.

She turned away from the window to get her focus back. The ball was in her possession, but not for long. The other team was bearing down on her.

Maybe she could take something from this office. Maybe something belonging to any old Star Tamer could be the gift. She looked for a small item. Even the trash basket was empty. She would have to take a chair. Or maybe the picture from the wall.

The door opened.

A minion came in. “Lanora, your father has just made reservations for you and a friend at tonight's performance of
Sleeping Beauty.
You'd better run along.”

Val gritted her teeth. What made her so mad? The words “run along”? The bribe? The choice of show? The knowledge that if the real Lanora were given those tickets, she wouldn't have picked Val as the friend to take? Or maybe it was everything—the office and the tower and the guards and the assumption that she would do what they wanted. Well, they were wrong.

Val sat on the desk chair and locked her arms around its arms, just like when she and her mom had joined with other protestors to make a human chain in front of City Hall. “I need to see my father, Mr. Nuland.”

Saying that name seemed to conjure a voice from the hall. “Can't you people handle this?”

Mr. Nuland strode into the room. He stopped and stared at Val for a moment. He wasn't sure why he didn't recognize his daughter.

“I'm Val.”

“Val?” This puzzled him even more. He might have understood why his own daughter would disrupt his work, but not his daughter's friend. “Why are
you
here?”

“Because we have to save Lanora.”

The words “save Lanora” were blazed across the sky. They were scratched into the plate-glass window. They hung in the room like a cloud of smoke. At least, that was how it seemed to Val. Nothing could be plainer than this. Nothing more important.

But Mr. Nuland was a grown-up. Like all grown-ups, he had a very short attention span. He checked the heavy gold manacle on his wrist that chained him to time and money. He was shocked by how much of each he had wasted on this situation. He shook his head and made a little clicking sound in his throat.

“Don't you understand?” Val said.

As a matter of fact, he didn't. Many grown-ups say one thing and mean another, so they assume that kids aren't speaking the truth, either. Mr. Nuland believed that when Val said “We need to save Lanora,” she really meant “I won't go away until you give me a treat.”

“Miss Campbell, what do we have that our young friend might like? Coffee? Tea?”

Val stared at him.

He couldn't meet her eyes. He adjusted his tie. He checked his watch again. “Miss Campbell, I know you girls keep a supply of candy in your desks.”

He patted Miss Campbell in such a way to push her from the office. He tried to do the same to Val. “Go along with Miss Campbell. Thanks so much for stopping by. But now I really must get back to work.”

“That won't help Lanora.” Val folded her arms and kept her ground.

The other adults in the room trembled. They were right to be afraid. Even though Mr. Nuland couldn't touch Val, he could attack them. And he did, dispatching them from the room with one sharp glance.

Miss Campbell returned with a golden box of special chocolates that she had been carefully rationing to last the rest of the month. She held the open box under Val's nose. The pieces of chocolate were set like jewels in gold paper. Each one was handmade, embossed with a crest, as if to proclaim that they were the property of kings.

Val had never seen candy like this before. She doubted that she ever would again. The candy she usually got was wrapped in plastic paper and sold at any corner store. She licked her lips as she wondered how this deluxe kind would taste.

Mr. Nuland took the box from Miss Campbell and moved it enticingly to lure Val closer to the door.

Val followed. Then she grabbed the back of the chair and slowly shook her head at Mr. Nuland.

“What kid doesn't like chocolate?” He took a piece and popped it into his mouth. He swallowed it whole, without even tasting it. Miss Campbell sighed at the waste.

“The gift has to come from you.” Val pointed to him.

“From me? I don't have any candy. I've got cigars. Ha ha ha. Would you like a cigar?”

“Is that what you think will save Lanora?” Val didn't like how her voice cracked with emotion. She needed to stay grounded. She had to hold the line and fight to get the ball back.

The Book of Dares
had said the Star Tamer's gift must prove his devotion. Maybe Val needed to be clearer. “She needs to know you care.”

“Care! Of course I care!” He spluttered. “Greywacke Academy costs fifty thousand a year. That's just for tuition. She'll still need room and board. She could go to Harvard for less than this will cost me.”