The Jewel and the Key (11 page)

Addie straightened abruptly and bounded away. “Thanks, Mrs. T.!” she shouted over her shoulder and rushed around the side of the house, hoping she would find Reg there.

But it was Almaz who was standing on the sidewalk examining the empty window frames. She had a bandage on her hand, and her white T-shirt was stained with mustard. Addie guessed the jars in the store had shattered in the quake, and her friend had been helping clean up.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Wow, I feel welcome already,” Almaz said sarcastically. She slumped into a pantomime of disappointment. “Hey, back atcha.”

Despite her teasing, there was a strained, upset look on her face. Addie caught up her nonbandaged hand and squeezed it. “Sorry. I just thought it might be someone else.”

A faint smile flickered across her friend's face. “And I would be fascinated to hear who that might be, except right now I need to borrow Whaley. The banister on our stairs needs to be fixed before it falls down and kills someone.”

As she spoke, Whaley emerged from the back of the store with more wood. “I'll come when we've finished boarding up here.” He glared at Addie. “Which might take hours if I don't get some help. How bout you get out of that flouncy dress and lend a hand? Unless you're planning on declaiming Ophelia's death speech while we hammer—which, by the way, if you don't start helping, really will be a death speech.”

“Ophelia doesn't have a death speech. She just floats and then sinks.”

“Can you come soon, Whaley?” Almaz asked. “The food's going to spoil unless the electricity comes back, and we're so busy clearing up that I don't see how we're going to fix the banister before dark.” To Addie's dismay, the unflappable Almaz looked close to tears.

“Sure I will,” Whaley promised. “Go get changed, Addie!” He disappeared again into the backyard.

“We'll get right over as soon as we're done here,” Addie told her.

Almaz gave her a quick hug and made an effort to look more cheerful. “Now you have to tell me. Who were you expecting?”

“A guy I met,” Addie said, embarrassed. “Just some crazy guy.”

Almaz looked Addie up and down. “Is that why you're so dressed up? You look
good.”
She caught Addie's expression and laughed. “Don't worry. He'll come.” With a wave, she turned around and headed back toward her house.

They worked all the rest of the day, helping at Almaz's and Mrs. Turner's places, clearing up debris, dragging stuff that was irretrievably broken out to the curb, and boarding the store up tight. And even though the lights and electricity came back on by evening, they still had the barbecue in the backyard, much to Zack's delight.

But Almaz was wrong. Reg never showed up.

On Tuesday, all the students were allowed back into the Lincoln building; they'd had a day off while the teachers put their classrooms back together. The whole school had a shaken, confused look, and boarded-up windows made it dark and gloomy. Addie couldn't even stare out of the math room to mentally flee the boredom of Algebra II. Almaz pointed out that Addie's math scores might actually improve because of this, but she wasn't convinced. Mr. Brent's droning didn't sink in any more than it usually did. And drama class was awful.

When she walked in, Keira was leaning back, and Taylor, a co-diva, was French-braiding her hair. Inevitably, a whole group of people were caught up in the hair drama. As Addie walked by, Keira murmured something that caused a ripple of giggles to run through the group. Pretending not to notice, Addie sat down on the opposite side of the classroom with Jake and Sun, and Brian, who had a wispy mustache and told geeky stories of weekends spent with the Society for Creative Anachronism.

“She's just jealous,” Sun whispered. “I thought you were good.”

Addie raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

When Mr. Crowley finally showed up, his shirt was untucked and he looked like he hadn't slept in days. Between the earthquake and Mrs. Crowley's blessed event, the parts for the
Short Takes
had never been posted on the website. So he just read out the names and promised to post a formal list when he had a chance.

Addie was paired up with Sun for makeup and costume design. It was no surprise. And she liked Sun a lot. But it still felt like she'd swallowed a rock when she heard that Taylor had gotten the part of the troll princess.

She'd seen Taylor's audition and it was blah. Just blah. Had Mr. Crowley even watched it? She glanced at Tom and saw him flash a thumbs-up at Taylor. Bile rose in Addie's throat. She wished Whaley were here and she could whisper something caustic in his ear like, “Who the heck do you have to bribe to get a part around here?” She almost laughed, imagining the changes he'd probably make to that question.

It doesn't matter,
she told herself. After all, she was going to the rehearsal at the Jewel right after school. And that was going to be amazing. She just knew it.

When the final bell rang, she threw her books into her backpack, squeezed through the crush of students, and ran out the door.

She scanned the park across the street to see if Whaley was there. Little kids on the playground leaped from the jungle gym to the climbing frame. Above their heads, the wind tore blossoms from the cherry trees and scattered them into the street in great sweeps of pink, like ripped crepe paper. It always made her a little sad, the first storms of spring and the way the wind plundered the flowers off the fruit trees.

No. She wouldn't think sad thoughts. And she wouldn't think about drama class. Only about the Jewel. Anticipation bubbled through her, and she almost danced with impatience. She still felt a little disturbed about that earthquake business with Reg, but the apprehension it caused her had faded.... Where was Whaley, anyway?

A finger poked her shoulder. She turned and grinned at Almaz, who had one ear bud in her ear and one hanging loose at her neck.

“Hey! Didn't see you at lunch.” Almaz took in the green headband holding back Addie's hair and the 1920s vintage dress she was wearing. “Is this the big day? That why you're so decked out?”

Addie gathered her cropped wool jacket tighter over her dress. “Is it too much?”

“Not to those who know and love you. We're used to your wacky wardrobe.”

“I'm serious, Almaz.”

Almaz put her head to one side. “What? Were you supposed to bring your own costume? What if they're doing a modern play? Or Shakespeare or something?”

“They're
not
going to put me in a play. It's just—I guess I just want to make an impression.”

“You always make an impression.” Almaz started to bop her head to the music. “Hey, get this.”

She put the other earbud in Addie's ear and Addie listened, her head bent close to Almaz's. She heard a distant sound, like a jet engine revving up or a bomb exploding. Then a voice from an old crackling recording began to speak. It was a speech—a famous speech. Someone explaining or justifying—or maybe excusing—something terrible. She thought she knew who it was, but the name eluded her. Chanting layered in beneath it, and as the speech finished, the explosion got louder, and dub bass and rapid-fire drums overwhelmed it all.

Addie pulled the earbud from her ear, fixing a quizzical look on her friend. “That speech ... Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.'...Who is that?”

“It's Robert Oppenheimer. The atom bomb guy. It's what he said when they first tested the bomb out in the desert.” Almaz paused. “Oh, come on, why are you looking so worried? The band is the important thing. It's Tackhead. Whaley loves them. He loaded the song for me.”

Addie shook her head. “It's creeping me out. All this stuff about war all the time. I wish Whaley would get over it.”

“Don't be silly. You know he loves that kind of thing.” Almaz pointed down the block to where Whaley was just rounding the corner, wearing a patched green sweatshirt and carrying his guitar. “There he is now. Gotta run. Call me later?” She squeezed Addie's hand. “Let me know how it goes.”

She ran down the steps, slapping Whaley's hand as she passed him, and then, when he wasn't looking, she turned and gave him another glance.
Uh-huh,
Addie thought, and smiled to herself.

“Ready?” Whaley gave the school a glowering look. The streaks of purplish blue under his eye still stood out clearly. “I don't want to hang out here.”

She hurried down to him. “Thanks for agreeing to help.”

“No problem. I didn't think you and Mrs. T. could manage those crates alone. But I got to get to Rico's by five.” He lifted up his guitar case, the one with the initials
W.P.P.
engraved on it under a sticker that said
This Machine Kills Fascists.
“Band practice. And I got some errands to do on Broadway.”

Kirk brushed by, and Whaley flashed him a sardonic peace sign. Addie rolled her eyes. “Why is he still in school when you're not?”

“Come on,” Whaley said. “Let's get out of here. Want to walk?”

She looked up at the low, mottled clouds overhead. “Okay. But we hop a bus if it starts to pour. I don't want to ruin this dress.”

“Some Seattle girl you are. What's a little rain?” Whaley examined her with a faint, amused smile. “Why are you wearing that, anyway?”

“I just thought I should look nice. There's a rehearsal at the Jewel, and Mrs. Powell said maybe she could find work for me.”

The smile disappeared. “Terrific. At least
someone
will be working.”

“What do you mean?” She looked at him more closely, loping along, kind of hunched over and closed in. Despite what Almaz said, Addie thought he had been a little down the past couple days. She knew he was anxious because he didn't have any shifts to cover and he was supposed to be working. But he had to know that was out of his hands. Gently, she said, “Its only been two days since the earthquake. The store will reopen soon. You've got a lot of it cleaned up already.”

He wasn't mollified. “It won't be that soon. There still aren't any windows. The walls need repair, and meanwhile, I'm not earning my keep. I feel like a leech.”

“Can't you help fix the walls? You're good at that kind of thing. And no one thinks you're a leech!” She touched his shoulder. “Come on, Whaley. You're part of the family, all right?”

Whaley didn't respond. It was a familiar feeling, this ache she had in her heart for him. Like she would make his world better for him if he'd let her, but he never wanted her to.

Addie walked along beside him in silence, all the way down Fortieth and back up across University Bridge. The wind was cold here, whipping up whitecaps on the ship canal.
Its really too long a walk,
she thought.
We should jump on a bus.

But already they were off the bridge, walking fast, climbing up Capitol Hill. She looked around and thought there was as much damage here as anywhere else in the city. Roof tiles littered people's yards. There were boarded-up windows in the florist's shop and the French bakery. Then again, this street wasn't as high up as Fifteenth Avenue was, and the Powells' house was much closer to Fifteenth, so perhaps it did make sense that there would be less damage up there. Still, a faint unrest crept into her mind once more.

They passed the big private school that was built like an Italian Renaissance villa, all brown stucco and tile roofs. The grass in the school's playing field glowed in the silver pre-storm glare. One of those rare spring thunderstorms was brewing. The wind spat Addie's hair into her eyes, and the electricity in the air made her skin crawl. Out of nowhere, the image of the angel's stone wings rising over the yew hedge troubled her memory. “Whaley?”

He turned sharply, as if she'd startled him back from some faraway place, and suddenly she wished she hadn't gotten his attention.

“What?”

The cold of the approaching downpour had gotten into her bones. It made her shiver. “You know the war memorial in Volunteer Park? The statue of the angel?”

He nodded.

“Last Sunday, when I was coming back from the Powells', it wasn't there anymore.”

Whaley raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, I saw it when I went to their house. But when I came back, it was gone. The fountain was there, the marble bench, and the hedge. But no angel.”

“So? Maybe a tree was in your way.”

“Maybe,” she said doubtfully. Now she felt foolish.

But Whaley wasn't making fun of her. “This happened on the way back from their house?” he asked. “After you met that guy who said there hadn't been an earthquake?”

“Yes,” Addie said cautiously. Somehow she knew the two things were linked, but her mind shied away from examining it too closely.

Whaley frowned. “It's just strange, isn't it? He says something that happened didn't. You say something that's normally there wasn't.”

They were passing St. Marks Cathedral. The clouds overhead were blue-black. The whole thing with the angel was too spooky. Why had she mentioned it? She didn't want him to treat it as if it had really happened. What she wanted, she realized, was for him to convince her it
hadn't.
“It doesn't matter anyhow,” she said hurriedly. “When I looked again, there it was.”

“Maybe it was low blood sugar? From running all over town with nothing to eat?”

Yes! That could be it.
But the bites of the lemon cake she'd had at the Powells' were still vivid in her memory.

Whaley swerved around a barrier that a road crew had put up on the sidewalk. He and Addie crossed the street. “You mean that memorial with the list of names on it, right? Guys who died in—what was it? World War Two?”

“One,” Addie said. The park was only four blocks up along the next cross street. “Can I show you? You're not in a hurry, are you?”