The Book of Dares for Lost Friends (9 page)

Dad put his hand on Drew to keep him in his seat.

Mom left the table to grab the phone. “Why, Emma. How nice to hear from you.”

There was only one reason Lanora's mom would call. Val stared at her plate. She watched red glop ooze away from the pasta. She tried to push it back with her fork.

“Oh. How awful,” Mom said.

“What's awful?” Drew whispered.

The red glop won. It contaminated the garlic bread. The best part of the dinner was ruined.

“I'm so sorry to hear it,” Mom said.

“Hear what?” Drew whispered.

“Stop listening. It's rude.” Val slid down in her chair until she could kick him. She felt like slipping all the way to the floor.

“She's just gotten into a little trouble. That happens. But she's still a wonderful girl,” Mom said.

Emma's voice could be clearly heard. “She didn't even say she was sorry!”

*   *   *

That was true. Lanora had not said she was sorry, no matter how many times her mom complained. Lanora couldn't manage the phrase in any form—not even a mumble of the main word. Lanora didn't think she needed to apologize to anyone. And yet, she actually was sorry.

Sorry her mom had called Val's mom. Sorry that the TV in the cab hadn't filled the angry silence. Sorry she had been squished in the backseat between her parents. Sorry her father had whined about leaving an important appointment to meet them at the juvenile center. Sorry her mom kept trying to find out if the appointment was with a new girlfriend or the same one. Sorry the juvenile center had buzzing fluorescent lights. Sorry the policewoman had a chicken pox scar right between her eyes. Sorry they searched her pockets to make sure she hadn't taken anything besides the cat. Sorry they kept the cat. Sorry a poor person in a poor country had worked so hard to make that black, fuzzy cat. Sorry Val had been in the store to see all that. Sorry Lanora had ever been born.

 

Fifteen

On Tuesday, the news ricocheted around the hallways at school, bouncing off the lockers and the inspirational messages on the bulletin boards. Lanora had been arrested. Lanora was in jail. Lanora was in a psych ward. The only ones who weren't discussing Lanora were the members of the A Team. Even the janitor, pushing his broom to sweep up the gum wrappers, the lost homework, and the hair ties, shook his head about this kind of mess.

During lunchtime, the Poetry Club sat in their customary circle on the floor. When Val came in, they were just finishing a moment of silence—for them, a rare tribute indeed.

“Lanora, Lanora, Lanora.” They spoke her name as if it were an obituary.

“When I first met her, she was reading this book.” Helena opened her own copy of Emily Brontë poems and started to read.

“‘Well, some may hate and some may scorn/And some may quite forget thy name/But my sad heart must ever mourn/Thy ruined hopes, thy blighted fame.'”

“Don't read that,” Val interrupted.

“She objects to rhymes?” Tina said.

“Many do,” Olivia said.

“Especially A B A B,” Gillian said.

“A B C B would have been an improvement,” Tina said.

“I don't care about the rhymes. The poem is so harsh. Like her life is over. When it isn't,” Val said.

“It isn't?” Helena said.

“Not technically,” Tina said.

“Not at all.” Val pounded on the floor.

They all looked at her expectantly.

“She feels bad for her former friend,” Olivia said.

“If only Lanora had chosen soccer as a hobby.” Gillian kicked an imaginary ball with her boot.

“Instead she picked lifting.” Tina spread her hands.

Val opened her lunch bag. She tried to be happy her mom had stopped giving her grapes. But the apple reminded her of Lanora, too. Val crumpled the bag.

“Aren't you hungry?” Olivia said.

Val shook her head. None of the poets felt the same way she did. Lanora had never been their friend. And none of them were directly responsible for getting Lanora in trouble.

“Aha.” Helena pointed her finger in the air. “I have solved all the problems. Rhyme and sentiment.” She cleared her throat and spoke. “‘Well, some may hate and some may scorn/And some may quite forget thy name/But loyal Val will rectify/Thy ruined hopes, thy blighted fame.'”

*   *   *

Those words echoed in Val's head for the rest of the day. Each time she heard someone snigger about Lanora the lifter, Val became even more determined. Yes, she would rectify Lanora! Who else but loyal Val would?

After school, she told her teammates she couldn't go to soccer practice. There was something she had to do. She spoke with confidence, even though she didn't know how she would accomplish the task. Or even exactly what it was.

Val walked slowly to the horrible QXR store. She stood outside the window, watching the store manager watch the security guard watch the customers. Her mom would have marched inside to complain about unlawful searches and seizures. Her dad would have pranked them by trying to purchase lots of expensive items with monopoly money. Her brother would have smushed his face against the glass and left a great gob of snot for the store manager to clean up. But Val knew that rectifying Lanora was more complicated than revenge.

The word, she found out when she looked it up during ELA, meant to put things right. How could Val put Lanora right? Especially if Val had no idea what was wrong.

The music was giving her a headache. She crossed Broadway. She walked up a few blocks and then back toward the park. She didn't have a destination in mind, but she wasn't completely surprised to find herself standing on the sidewalk staring at a sign that said
ANTIQUITIES FROM THE SHIPWRECK OF TIME.

A flock of crows had taken over all the branches of a small tree. Their raucous cries sounded like they were scolding each other. Then one crow opened his beak and stared directly at her.

“I don't believe in spells,” she said.

The crows cackled as they spread their wings and flew away.

“I don't,” she said again. But she entered the little yard and went to peer in the window. The wedjat winked as the sign swung back and forth. She barely noticed it.
The Book of Dares
was gone. In its place was a stone head whose nose had been chiseled off.

“Tarnation, where's the packing material?” she heard the Captain shout.

Tasman answered, “Where it always is.”

“Then we've run out. Bah. Won't get that book shipped today.”

Was he sending away
The Book of Dares
? How would she ever find out what to do? The gate was shut, but not locked. She pushed it open. The hinges creaked. She slipped through the opening and entered the store.

The aisles were blocked with even more stacks of old books, making a maze that only the smartest of lab rats would have been able to figure out. She wandered through the store. She hoped to find Tasman before the Captain found her.

“Did you do that catalogue entry?” the Captain said.

“I'm working on it,” Tasman said.

“Reading the books, you mean,” the Captain said.

“Don't I have to do research?” Tasman said.

“Bah. Just make it up. No one will notice,” the Captain said.

She followed the sounds of Tasman's voice. Finally, in the gap between two boxes, she spotted a blue boot. She reached between the boxes to touch it.

Tasman jumped up in surprise. When he saw her, he grinned excitedly.

Val put her finger to her lips. She took his notebook and wrote: “I have to talk to you. Come outside.”

He nodded. He shut his notebook. She saw the cover was decorated with a unicorn. Obviously he didn't go to public school. If he carried that down the halls of M.S. 10, he'd be dead. Val wondered if he were being homeschooled. But he wasn't at home, he was in a shop. Had he been kicked out of school? Or had he just never gone?

He was beckoning to her. She followed him down a different aisle. They both crouched to keep their heads below the top of the boxes.

“Tasman?” the Captain called.

“I'm going to get packing material,” Tasman said.

He opened the gate. She stepped outside. He clanged it shut.

“This is so amazing. I was thinking about you, and you appeared! I might have powers that are hidden even to myself. Of course we'll ignore the other times when I was thinking about you and you didn't appear. Wait, wait. We won't ignore them. We'll explain them in a different way. Perhaps I needed to be thinking about you while doing something else. Although in this case, I'm not sure what that would be. I know. I was digesting my lunch. I'm sorry. I'm so excited, I'm not making sense. You've come for your own reason—not mine.”

“Lanora was arrested for shoplifting,” Val said.

He opened his mouth and then closed it without saying anything.

“It's my fault she was caught. I saw her about to take something. So I called her name, to warn her. Only she had already lifted a toy cat. It's so stupid to do that. Her father is rich. She could have bought a hundred. She must be under a spell.”

“So that's why you came. You want the book after all.”

“But it's gone. Is the Captain sending it away?”

They both turned to look at the window. The stone head stared back at them with empty eyes.

“Maybe.”

“We have to get it. I don't know what else to do,” Val said.

Tasman seemed to think for a moment. “You would just go take it? You wouldn't be afraid?”

“I wouldn't take it. I would borrow it. And no, I'm not afraid of the Captain. Not really,” Val said.

“I mean, afraid of doing a spell,” Tasman said.

“No,” Val said. “Are you?”

He laughed. “I'm afraid of everything. And nothing. But mostly afraid of…”

“What?” Val whispered.

“It'll be okay. I know how to protect us. I know what we need to get.”

“What kind of thing? Is it hard to find?”

“It's in the shop. At least, I'm fairly certain it's in the shop.”

The Captain's face appeared at the window. He selected one of the small cat-lady statues and returned to the shadows of the shop.

“I'd better go,” Tasman said.

“Wait. What thing are you talking about?” Val said.

Tasman shook his head. “It isn't important.” He said it in such a way that Val knew it was the most important thing in the world.

She took his hand and pulled him out of the yard. “Come on. I know a better place for us to talk.”

He let her lead him until they were on the sidewalk. Then they dropped hands because Val walked a little bit faster and in more of a straight line than he did.

“Are you going to tell me where we're going? Or is the name of the place unknown or unpronounceable or death to those who say it?”

“The Bower,” Val said.

“The Bower. That's most unusual,” he said.

“Lanora thought of it after her father took her to see some Shakespeare.”

“She's lucky to have a father like that.”

“She doesn't anymore. Her parents got divorced. Then he changed jobs. He moved to the East Side. So he never comes around.”

“The East Side!” He placed his hands alongside his face in mock horror.

They left the side street. Now that they were on the avenue, they had to dart around people pushing strollers and dragging dogs.

“What would it be like if human variations were as extreme as the different kinds of dogs? If those ladies were poodles and those guys were labs and those guys were pit bulls and those girls…”

He stopped talking and walking.

“What?” Val said.

“My train of thought crashed into a brick wall. Cars derailed. Countless casualties. Happy journeys cut short.”

“Why?”

“I looked into the eyes of some girls who somehow communicated the concept that I am a worthless waste of time.”

Val looked over her shoulder. From behind, Val couldn't see their faces but she recognized that sleek hair. “They're the worthless ones.”

“Do you know them?” he said.

“No. Those are Lanora's new friends. Or they were. They dropped her.”

“They took her to the wilderness and abandoned her? You're right. It is very important that you bring her back.”

They crossed the last street. Mau sat on the wall that surrounded the park.

“It's like she's expecting us,” Val said.

“She probably is,” Tasman said.

“How would she know I was bringing you to the Bower?” Val said.

“Maybe she's been communing with the universe,” Tasman said.

“Or maybe she's just being a cat.”

Val climbed on top of the wall. Tasman hesitated.

“There is a gate, if you don't want to climb,” Val said.

“You didn't say the Bower was in the park.”

“Why don't you like the park?”

He stared at Val. She smiled. She offered him her hand. He didn't move. She sighed and jumped down from the wall.

“I guess we can go someplace else,” Val said.

“No. Wait. I can do it. You'll be with me. If ever there were a time, it would be now.” He climbed up the wall. He struggled to find the places for his feet. But he made it. He stood on top triumphant. Then he carefully looked right and left and then right and left again. Finally he jumped down.

Val quickly followed. She led him to the top of the large rocks. He carefully searched in all directions before sitting down beside her.

“Tell me about this thing,” Val said.

Tasman patted the gray rock. “This is schist. It's so hard because it was formed by pressure deep within. A metaphoric, metamorphic rock.”

“Do you deliberately refuse to answer questions? Or are
you
under a spell?” Val said.

He didn't speak. She tried to see his face. His eyes were hidden by his hair. The distant sounds of children playing only made him more agitated. He placed his hands on the rock with his fingers spread wide. He took three deep breaths. Then he said, “It's an incantation bowl.”