Читать книгу Shelby and Shauna Kitt and the Dimensional Holes - P. H. C. Marchesi - Страница 3

Earlier that day, the world still seemed exactly the same to Shauna as she ran through one of the empty corridors of the Lamont Middle School building.

“Give it back!” she yelled, with as much determination as she could muster.

Tommy Clark, the biggest thirteen year-old bully in school, stopped and waved her notebook above his thick, red hair. Next to him stood Jesse Olsen, Tommy’s inseparable thug. Jesse was a sweaty, chubby boy who – whether on purpose or not – could not help spitting whenever he said anything. Shauna glared at both of them, and took a tentative step forward.

“What are you gonna do?” Tommy asked, grinning. “Call your brother?”

“I can take care of myself,” she said, trying to sound confident even as her eyes scanned the corridor for any sign of Shelby, who had gone back to the classroom for a book he had forgotten.

“Yeah, where’s your freaky brother now?” gurgled Jesse, enjoying his moment in the spotlight.

“He’s not a freak,” snapped Shauna, stamping so hard on Jesse’s foot that he spat in surprise. She tried to dash past Tommy, but he grabbed her roughly by the shoulder.

“Anyone who hangs out with his sister is a freak,” he yelled, angrily shaking her. “You’re both freaks! You think you can come to my school, and not pay me my protection fee?”

Shauna could have said that neither she nor Shelby had any money, but she knew it would not make any difference. What Tommy really wanted was to bully anyone he could – the money was just an excuse.

On that thought, Shauna decided she needed a more radical approach.

“Here’s your fee!” she cried, biting his hand as hard as she could.

Tommy cursed, losing the grip on her shoulder. Shauna was free – or at least she thought she was, but Tommy grabbed her hair with his other hand, and yanked her back. Now she really was in trouble.

“Leave her alone!” shouted a voice from the end of the corridor. It was Shelby, who had just turned the corner, and was marching in their direction, his eyes bright with indignation.

“What are you looking for, freak?” yelled Tommy, still hanging on to the scrambling Shauna. “This other freak here?”

Shelby’s cheeks flushed with anger, and he ran straight at Tommy, who never even had time to step aside before finding himself on the floor with a bloody nose.

“I warned you,” Shelby said, staring so intensely at him that Tommy, for the first time in that school, actually felt afraid.

“Get him, Jesse!” he whined, holding his bleeding nose.

Before Jesse could count to three – if he could count to three, that is – Shauna stamped on his sore foot again.

“Who’s the freak now?” she cried, as Jesse hopped around on one foot.

“Awesome, Shauna!” cried Shelby, giving his sister a high-five. No one messed with the Kitts. If you messed with one, you had to deal with both. Hopefully, Tommy and Jesse would remember that.

As Shauna scooped up her notebook from the floor, a shrill voice echoed through the corridor – it was Ms. Mould, the headmistress, who had just turned the corner and seen them.

“What is going on here?” she trilled harshly, the heels of her shoes echoing unpleasantly as she flustered forward.

“He broke my nose!” Tommy screamed.

“They started it!” Shelby shouted, defensively.

Tommy’s statement seemed to make a bigger impression on Ms. Mould, who had disliked the twins ever since their transfer from a school in Chicago a few months earlier. When the mother came in with them on the first day, Ms. Mould stared at Fran’s flowing hair and dark eyes, thinking that no regular mother should look that good. Every time she saw either twin, Ms. Mould still felt a pang of envy: the boy had Fran Kitt’s dark, unruly hair, and the girl had inherited those impossibly bright, black eyes.

Something else had bothered Ms. Mould on that first interview: the three of them struck her as far too happy for people in their horrible financial situation. Why were they not miserable, as was to be expected? Ms. Mould often replayed their first encounter in her head: she did not know why they had bothered to come in for a meeting, since she had already determined that there were no vacancies in her school. Their mother, however, had insisted on coming in and introducing herself and her children. As they sat there, in front of her, Ms. Mould suddenly felt unreasonably generous, and decided to let them enroll. What could have possessed her to do that?

They were fairly regular kids, she supposed, except for the fact that they were inseparable. Ms. Mould did not approve of that: siblings who hung out together were much harder to control, and nearly impossible to discipline. Only the previous week, the two of them had resolutely refused to dissect a frog in biology class. Who ever heard of that? When she had called them into her office and demanded an explanation, Shauna had mumbled something about the frog calling for help. Ms. Mould immediately sent Shauna to the school counselor, but the visit did not yield the desired results. When the counselor informed Shauna that frogs didn’t speak, Shauna shyly told him that it was only because people didn’t know how to listen. She passed a battery of psychological tests with flying colors, and the counselor finally had to tell Ms. Mould that Shauna was more emotionally balanced than just about any other kid who had ever entered his office. So Ms. Mould, much to her irritation, had to leave it at that.

Clearly, their mother wasn’t bringing them up properly. During the lunch hour, the history teacher had shown the headmistress Shelby’s most recent history test: to Ms. Mould’s shock, all she could see were drawings of strange creatures. After class, Shelby had apparently told the history teacher that he had forgotten all about the test as he was drawing. As for the girl, she didn’t say much, except to her brother. Surprisingly, though, all the teachers liked Shauna Kitt, though they couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was something about her smile. Every time she saw Shauna smile – and this happened often, since the girl nearly always had a shy smile on her face – Ms. Mould felt pangs of guilt for having told the counselor that the girl was just “plain weird.” Where did such guilt come from? She didn’t know, and she didn’t like it.

As far as Ms. Mould was concerned, then, the Kitt twins were too inconvenient to have around. This was the perfect opportunity to get rid of them.

“I have had it with you two!” she cried, doubling her pace.

Shelby and Shauna looked at each other. Should they stay, and try to talk to Ms. Mould? Definitely not. In silent agreement, they turned around and ran as fast as they could in the opposite direction. Within moments they were downstairs, out the door, around the corner, and free from Ms. Mould’s piercing “You won’t get away with it this time!”

“Mom’s gonna freak out when she finds out,” gasped Shauna, once they had finally slowed down.

“I guess we can tell her tomorrow. Tonight’s opening night, and we shouldn’t spoil it.”

They crossed the street and waited by the bus stop. Different layers of graffiti covered the bus schedule completely, and its peeled-off corners shivered in the frigid November wind. As Shauna stood next to her brother – who was now taller than her, much to her dissatisfaction – she began to freeze. Her old and faded blue jacket was no match for the icy wind, so she started hopping up and down to warm herself up. Shelby, who had lost his gloves and had never told his mother, quickly squeezed his hands inside the worn pockets of his brown jacket.

“I can’t believe you actually bit that guy,” he said, laughing.

“I hope Ms. Mould doesn’t call mom today,” said Shauna, blowing on her fingers to keep them warm.

Shelby shrugged, trying not to look worried. He was worried, however: only the previous week, as he sat in detention, he overheard Ms. Mould talking about them on the phone with a friend, complaining about “the girl with her crazy whims,” and “the boy with his terrible attitude.” Shelby knew she was just hoping for an opportunity to kick them out of school.

The bus finally came into view, lazily turned the corner, and screeched to a halt by the stop. Shelby and Shauna hopped in quickly and flopped onto their seats, relieved to be out of the cold.

“I wish the diva would get sick occasionally,” said Shelby, looking out at the gray neighborhood. “If mom never gets to sing, no one will see how good she is.”

Shauna nodded. Their mother had left Chicago to be an understudy in a Broadway musical, but the current leading actress, sensing her potential, took extra pains to block all her opportunities, secretly hoping that the beautiful, dark-haired singer would give up sooner or later. As far as the diva was concerned, anyone who was a single mother of two, and worked at a diner by day and at a theater by night, should have reasonably given up all hopes of being anything by now.

After a few more exchanges regarding their mother’s evil nemesis, Shelby took his drawing pad from his backpack. His usual motion sickness was beginning to kick in, and drawing was the only thing that made him feel less nauseous – illogical as that might seem to anyone else. Shauna, who had never had motion sickness in her life, looked on as he opened his pad and showed her his newest drawing.

“I did it during History,” he said, sounding highly pleased with himself.

Shauna examined the picture closely, and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“You actually drew Ms. Mould?” she asked, delighted to recognize the face of the headmistress on a giant, twisted monster.

“I think it’s one of my best. Do you think you’ll have place for it in your story?”

“Well, maybe for my next chapter. But you’ll have to change the face. I don’t want Ms. Mould anywhere near my stuff.”

Shelby laughed. Many an art teacher had been disgusted at the “weird” creatures he liked to draw. As a result, he no longer showed anyone his drawings – except for Shauna, of course. She was the only one who could truly appreciate his art.

Shauna leaned back, and stared at the dirty bus window, barely noticing the faded buildings go by. What would her next chapter be about? Something exciting. Maybe she should put Ms. Mould in there, and space-wreck her in a planet full of creepy carnivorous plants.

Shelby was still finishing his new monster, and Shauna was still daydreaming about a planet with invisible mountains, when they realized the bus had arrived at their stop. They scrambled out at the last minute, their imaginary world fading at the dissonant sounds of traffic and the abrupt touch of the cold air.

Walking quickly, Shelby and Shauna crossed several long blocks, until they finally arrived at The Broadway Diner. Nearly frozen, they hurried into the half-empty diner and sat at table in a corner. A woman in uniform, whose wavy black hair refused to be contained within one thick braid, finished taking an order and walked over to where they were.

“How was school today?” Fran Kitt asked, bending down to give each of her darlings a kiss.

“Exciting,” said Shelby, weakly attempting to look away. Fran Kitt’s gaze, however, was not something that could be ignored. Her eyes were jet black, and intense in their brightness. Shelby and Shauna had already noticed that most people avoided meeting her eyes, as if afraid of being pulled right in. Now it was Shelby’s turn to feel uneasy: if he so much as glanced in her direction and met her gaze, she would know everything.

“Hey, Fran!” called Mr. Burgess, coming out from behind the kitchen counter and saving Shelby from a reluctant confession. “I just got some news.”

Fran nodded, looking considerably paler at the old cook’s announcement.

“Ok, Shelby,” she said, with a worried smile. “I’ll figure out whatever it is that you don’t want to tell me later. I’ll get you both some eggs with a side of veggies.”

“Veggies,” complained Shauna, as Fran walked away. “When are we gonna hear that French fries are good for you?”

“Or onion rings?” began Shelby, when a plate crashed loudly to the floor. Fran had dropped a burger and fries, and was now quickly picking up the scattered pieces. Shelby and Shauna hurried over to help her, but she asked them to go back to their seats in a tone they decided not to contradict, though they lingered near her just long enough to hear what she said next.

“I thought the diner would pull through this time,” she whispered to Mr. Burgess, who was picking the top half of the hamburger bun from the floor.

Shelby and Shauna had heard that the diner might be going out of business, but they had simply assumed it would not happen.

“Mom, you’ll find another job,” said Shauna, when Fran finally came back with their dishes.

“Pretty soon you’ll be famous, and you’ll forget all about this place anyway,” offered Shelby.

Although a cloud had crept over her bright eyes, Fran smiled, and then left to refill the coffee at a nearby table. An hour later, when her shift ended, the three of them left the diner. It was dark now, and the wind cut through their faces as they walked briskly down the block. The theater was only a block away, and they reached its back door in record time.

“Stay out of everyone’s way, ok?” Fran said, as they rushed in.

Shelby and Shauna were used to the routine. As Fran hurried off to the dressing room, they meandered towards a corner full of large props, and waited there for their faces, hands, and feet to thaw. Shelby sat on a giant throne he knew would not be used until act two, and Shauna picked a fake, wrinkled log that had tiny, squeaky wheels on the bottom.

As the actors and members of the production crew hurried back and forth, they pretended not to see Shelby and Shauna. No one was particularly happy that they were there when there was so little space to begin with, but for some reason no one ever complained. Everyone was used to seeing them around, and occasionally Shelby and Shauna were even allowed to peek from backstage and watch their mother singing in the chorus. To them, she stood out from everyone else, with her alluring dark eyes shining even more brightly under the intensity of the stage lights.

Wishing he had a more comfortable seat, Shelby took out his drawing pad and focused on the new shape that started to emerge from his pen. Shauna watched him, enviously. She could not explain why, but she felt too restless to write. She fidgeted nervously, wondering what was wrong with her, when she thought she heard a very distant cry for help. She sprang up, scanning the corridor, but there were only busy actors and stagehands running about. As she stood there, wondering if she was going crazy, a late actor ran in, swinging the back door open for several seconds. Shauna caught a glimpse of the back alley, and heard the cry for help again. It was louder this time, and it had definitely come from the narrow, dirty alley.

“Where are you going?” asked Shelby, seeing her walk towards the door.

“I don’t know,” she answered, with vague determination. “I think I heard something.”

Shelby jumped down from the throne, leaving all his stuff where it was. He knew his sister had some kind of weird intuition, and he followed her as Shauna carefully opened the back door of the theater, and peered into the alley. They both peeked outside, and briefly glimpsed the back of a large man turning a corner before he disappeared from sight.

“It’s Mr. Cruddy,” Shauna said, ominously.

Shelby cursed silently. He hated Mr. Cruddy. The convenience store owner was greasy and had eyes that squinted with delight whenever someone was a cent or two short at the cashier. One time, Shelby had been just one cent short of a Twix bar, and Mr. Cruddy had grabbed it from his hand, tearing the wrapper and devouring both pieces right in front of him.

“I saw him carrying something,” Shauna insisted, rousing her brother from his humiliating flashback.

“Let’s check out what he’s up to,” said Shelby, and they both ran to the end of the alley and crouched down. They heard Mr. Cruddy talking in his low, raspy voice.

“I should have gotten rid of you a long time ago,” he said, angrily. “I let you hang around so you’d get rid of mice, not raid my store! Do you think I’m one of those suckers who thinks you’re cuddly? Well, think again, fleabag, because I’ve had it with you!”

Shelby and Shauna now heard the unmistakable sound of a cat’s meow. Unable to resist their curiosity, they glanced around the corner, and saw that Mr. Cruddy was talking to a white cat inside a crate. The crate was much too small for the cat, and she began to howl frantically and paw against its rusty metal bars. Her panic seemed to amuse Mr. Cruddy, who began to laugh hoarsely, as if he were coughing.

“He’s so mean,” said Shauna, woefully. “Can’t we do something?”

Shelby could not bear to see the pleading look on Shauna’s large, dark eyes. He would rather face Mr. Cruddy, even though the store owner had a violent reputation – rumor had it that one of the actors had gotten into a fight with him once, and that Mr. Cruddy had beaten him to a pulp.

“We’ll steal the cat,” Shelby said, his blue eyes bright with determination. “I’m pretty sure we can outrun him.”

They waited quietly. Mr. Cruddy left the cage carelessly on the floor and began to lock up his store.

“Wait here,” Shelby said, making a run for it before his sister could utter a word in protest. As he ran, his heart pounding violently, the only thing he saw was the cage drawing closer and closer. He was nearly there – he was grabbing the rusty metal bars – he had it! Now it was just a matter of running back.

Or so he thought, before he was startled by the painful grip on his arm.

“What do you think you’re doing, you little thief?” cried a furious Mr. Cruddy, squinting at Shelby as he unsuccessfully tried to free himself.

“Get off me!” shouted Shelby, fiercely.

“Did you think you could steal from me, you punk? I’ll show you!”

“Let him go, or I’m gonna call the police!” cried Shauna, running forward just enough to be seen. “I’m getting my cell phone!”

Shelby knew that his sister did not have a cell phone, but Mr. Cruddy did not – he involuntarily weakened the grip on Shelby’s arm, and Shelby bolted with his precious cargo in one hand. The cage was a lot heavier than he had imagined, however, and he had trouble keeping up with Shauna as they ran back to the theater. He thought he could hear Mr. Cruddy’s heavy footsteps right behind him, and anticipated the store owner’s heavy hand on his shoulder at any moment.

“It’s locked!” cried Shauna, shaking the handle of the backstage door.

Why had it not occurred to her that the door would be locked once the show was about to start? She was breathless with fear – what were they supposed to do now?

“The diva’s dressing room!” whispered Shelby, pulling her away. “Her window’s over there!”

Shauna ran after her brother. They reached an old window just above street level – it was barely large enough for them to climb through, but they did, though Shauna crashed down so hard on her knee that for a moment she wondered if she had actually broken it.

“You ok?” asked Shelby, who had somehow landed next to his sister, on both feet, still carrying the cage.

“Close the window!”

Shelby quickly put the cage aside and grabbed the old pole that stood next to the window. Just as he pulled the window closed, they saw the shadow of Mr. Cruddy outside, like a monster prowling in the darkness.

Shelby and Shauna sighed with relief. Missy Lindt, the leading actress who intensely disliked their mother and whom they referred to as “the diva,” always left her window open – they had constantly heard her complaining to the manager that one day the mold in her dressing room would kill her. They had watched her once, from the sidewalk, doing her pre-show vocalizing exercises with her unpleasantly high voice. As soon as she had seen them, she had marched over to where the pole was, and had slammed the window shut – right in their faces! Good thing she was on stage now.

“I thought you’d busted your knee,” Shelby said, seeing his sister get up without too much effort.

“Me too,” said Shauna. “I guess it’s getting better, though.”

An outraged howl from the cage now reminded them that the cat was still inside, and definitely still unhappy.

“Come on out,” coaxed Shelby, opening the rusty door. “We won’t hurt you.”

The cat stretched her little neck outside, and then tentatively stepped out. She was small and thin, with light green eyes and short, white fur – or at least it would have been white, had she been clean. As it was, she looked remarkably like a gray mop. One of her ears displayed several scars, and the other had a deep cut near the base. In spite of her battle scars, however, there was something dainty about her demeanor. Shauna noticed with delight that she had one black paw in front, as if she had accidentally stepped into a puddle of ink.

“You are so cute!” cried Shauna.

The cat seemed equally enthusiastic about Shauna. Purring, she gave Shauna several head bumps, and weaved in and out of her legs.

“That’s not fair,” Shelby said, sourly. “I was the one carrying it the whole time.”

His sourness melted away, however, as the cat gave him an affectionate head bump.

“Maybe mom will let us keep her,” he said. “She’s really dirty, though.”

“Let’s give her a bath!” suggested Shauna, rushing to the small sink in the dressing room and enthusiastically grabbing the soap.

“I don’t know, Shauna,” hesitated Shelby. “Cats don’t really like water.”

“I’ll do it,” Shauna replied, impatiently. “Tippy will be clean in no time.”

“Tippy?” repeated Shelby, unconvinced. “Why do you get to name her?”

“Just stand by the door and make sure no one’s coming,” snapped Shauna, offended that her choice of name had not been embraced wholeheartedly.

“Ok,” he said. “Just for the record, though, I think it’s an awful idea.”

Shauna quickly realized that Shelby was right. At the first glance of water, Tippy tried to scramble away, and then started screaming in protest. Nervous that the noise would attract someone, Shelby carefully opened the door to see if anyone was in the corridor. Seeing an opportunity to escape, Tippy bolted away from Shauna and sped through the door like an animated mop. Shelby and Shauna – Shauna still with her hands wet – raced after her.

“She’s going backstage!” gasped Shauna.

“We’ve got to get her!” cried Shelby, trying to grab Tippy’s tail. The white cat, however, zigzagged her way to the backstage area, and trotted directly onto the stage. Frightened by the lights, the music, and most of all the dancing, she began to run frantically in different directions, seemingly unable to find her way offstage again. The happy, fairy-tale scene soon turned into a nightmare: a singing peasant tripped on Tippy and fell, causing several other peasants to stumble. The king, trying to catch the desperate cat, bumped into the dancing witch, and both of them toppled over. Shelby and Shauna watched from the wings, horrified, as Tippy finally ran to the middle of the stage, where Missy Lindt was resolutely trying to finish her song.

In a desperate attempt to escape the menaces all around her, Tippy leaped onto Missy, climbing onto her head and clinging to the large, blond princess wig with all her might. The audience roared with laughter as the diva screamed and began to flail her arms grotesquely. The conductor stared, wide-eyed, from the orchestra pit, and several musicians actually got up to take a better look at the fiasco on stage.

“Do something!” screamed Missy, hysterically.

As the curtains dropped, a group of people gathered around the diva, including Fran. Shauna felt her face redden with shame as she and Shelby made their way through, and then plucked Tippy from the diva’s disheveled hair. Neither Shauna nor Shelby dared look at Fran, but they could both feel the unbearable weight of her gaze.

“Who let those kids in?” shouted an angry stage manager.

“They’re my kids, Mr. Ginstock,” answered Fran.

“They brought a cat in here?” he cried.

“We didn’t mean to,” said Shelby. “It was an accident!””

Shauna, too nervous to be able to say anything, nodded significantly in agreement. Mr. Ginstock frowned, and Missy Lindt turned to Fran with a threatening pout. The only happy creature was Tippy, who, exhausted with her performance, had settled into Shauna’s arms and was purring softly.

“You had your kids do that on purpose,” shrieked Missy, pointing her bony finger at Fran. “You wanted to embarrass me on opening night, in front of all Manhattan –”

“No, Ms. Lindt, I really – I don’t even know how they –”

“I’m allergic to cats!” gasped Missy, gesturing wildly. “My throat’s closing up!”

“I’m so sorry,” began Fran. “Let me get you some –”

“You’re not getting me anything,” croaked the diva. “You’re fired!”

All the blood left Fran’s cheeks.

“Please, don’t fire her,” pleaded Shauna. “It’s not her fault! We swear it won’t happen again! We won’t even come here anymore!”

Mr. Ginstock looked at Shauna, and his look immediately softened. He turned to Missy.

“They’re just kids, Ms. Lindt,” he said, quietly, hoping to appease her wrath. “Kids do stupid things.”

To everyone’s surprise, Missy Lindt hesitated. For a brief second, she even looked as if she would reconsider.

“Some people are demanding their money back,” one of the stagehands cried, coming in out of breath. “What should we do?”

That settled it for the diva.

“Start by getting her out!” she cried, glaring at Fran. “I don’t want to see her or these brats here ever again!”

Pale as a ghost, Fran gave Mr. Ginstock a pleading look, but he lowered his eyes, and Fran understood that Missy’s words were final.

“I’m sorry, mom,” whispered Shauna, as she and Shelby followed Fran offstage.

Fran said nothing. She entered the dressing room and came out a few minutes later, wearing jeans and a woolen burgundy jacket. Shauna and Shelby dared not utter a word as they followed her out of the theater and into the cold night. They lived just a few minutes away, but the walk felt endless: the weight of having extinguished Fran’s dreams was unbearable.

They arrived at the familiar old brick building with the decrepit laundromat out front. Shauna did not like getting home after the laundromat was closed, for she hated the metal screen that was pulled down in front of it after business hours. It was dirty, and it made her feel as if she lived above a prison. At least they lived on the top floor, as far away from it as possible.

Fran unlocked the steel building door, and they silently climbed the creaky stairs all the way to the top. They continued up a narrow metal staircase that led to the tiny attic they rented. Fran slowly unlocked the door, and they walked into a space that was so small it might have qualified as a large walk-in closet. To one side stood a very small stove and a mini refrigerator, and to the other a pullout sofa and an armchair that functioned as Shelby’s bed at night. Despite the lack of space, Fran had managed to turn the attic into a home: it was clean and orderly, with inexpensive white curtains hanging from the only window in the room.

Their mother looked as if she might have wished to lock herself inside her own room, but all she could do at that moment was go into their incredibly narrow bathroom, and start sobbing. Shauna was about to go in after, when Shelby held her back.

“I don’t think she wants to see us right now,” he whispered, mortified.

Shauna wandered over sadly to their miniature refrigerator. Tippy, who seemed perfectly at ease now, purred loudly in anticipation as Shauna gave her some milk in a paper bowl. Shelby collapsed miserably onto the armchair, and pressed the button on the answering machine. He saw that they actually had messages waiting, and he found himself desperately hoping that there would be good news waiting for them.

“Hey Fran,” started a lazy voice, which he recognized as Martha, another server at the diner. “Did you hear anything about the diner closing? I heard some rumors yesterday about us all being out of a job –”

Shelby pressed the button, and the machine forwarded to the next message.

“Mrs. Kitt,” said a voice that made brother and sister wince, “this is Ms. Mould from Lamont Middle School. I am calling to inform you that, as of this afternoon, Shauna and Shelby have been expelled. There was an incident earlier today involving two other students, and your kids –”

Shelby quickly pressed the button again, and the machine beeped, revealing that there were no further messages.

“We can fix this,” he said, with sudden determination. “Tomorrow we’ll go to school, and explain to Ms. Mould what really happened. Then we can go to theater and apologize to the diva. I’m pretty sure she was about to forgive us when that guy interrupted. By tomorrow night, everything will be back to normal.”

Encouraged by his enthusiasm, Shauna suggested they climb up to the roof and plan their strategy. She opened the window and climbed a flimsy fire ladder that looked as if it would break away from the wall at any moment. Shelby followed, closing the window behind him. Although they had only lived in the attic for a few months, going up to the roof had already become a favorite activity. Up there they could look at the city lights, and feel an unidentified sensation of freedom as they gazed into the night.

“Do you miss Chicago?” Shauna asked, remembering their tiny studio apartment two blocks away from the L-train.

“No way,” said Shelby, emphatically. “I bet it’s freezing there now. At least New York’s a little warmer.”

Shauna looked up at the sky. In spite of the city lights, she could spy several stars shining crisply above her.

“I wish we’d get snow,” she said, after a moment. “I bet there’s snow in Chicago already.”

Shelby knew that his sister loved to watch snowflakes – she would stop whatever she was doing to gaze at snowflakes floating downwards. One time, he had woken up in the middle of the night and seen that she was still curled up by the window, watching the snow come down.

“What’s with you and snow?” he asked.

“I just like it, is all,” she said. Even in Chicago, she was constantly hoping for snow, although snow nearly always meant that their apartment would get even colder than it already was. Still, she couldn’t help it. Something about the quiet descent of white snowflakes was endlessly comforting to her. When no one was looking, she would often raise her hand and pretend that she could summon snow from the sky.

“Do you ever think that someday you’ll do something amazing?” she asked.

“All the time.”

They stared at the sky for a moment without saying anything.

“How are we gonna tell mom about school?” asked Shauna, finally.

Shelby shrugged. Did they even need to tell Fran? Ms. Mould would reconsider for sure – especially if Shauna explained what had happened. Maybe there was even something they could do about the diner closing, though he wasn’t sure what yet. He was just convincing himself that they really should delete Ms. Mould’s message from the answering machine, when he felt a sharp pain in his heart. It was so piercing that, for a brief moment, he was unable to move.

“Ow,” he moaned. “The weirdest thing just happened.”

“Yeah, and it really hurt,” complained Shauna. “Wait - do you hear that?”

A low, moaning sound – like a miserable voice lamenting an unbearable amount of pain – had broken through the loud traffic noise. Shelby and Shauna stood, petrified, as a dark cloud floated past them, and then faded downwards.

“What was that thing?” asked Shelby, his body shivering beyond his control.

“No idea,” whispered Shauna. “Is it gone?”

A deep, loud growl answered Shauna’s question. The sound was so fearful, and so violent, that Shelby and Shauna both knew that something terrible had just happened – and that it had happened right below them, in the tiny attic where their mother had been crying.

“Come on,” urged Shelby, as he and Shauna rushed down the noisy metal steps. They stopped abruptly as they heard the moaning again, and saw an undefined, dark cloud float out the attic window, and then disappear into the night.

“Keep going!” cried Shauna. “Hurry up!”

Shelby scrambled down to the window, and saw Fran lying motionless on the floor. She looked deadly pale, and there were dark marks on her face. Shelby frantically pushed the window open, and nearly gagged at the foul smell that hit him: the room was stifled with a hot, metallic air, and he and Shauna were barely able to breathe as they rushed over to where Fran lay.

“Mom!” he cried, desperately. “Mom, can you hear us?”

“What is that?” asked Shauna, as a glowing sphere, roughly the size of a marble, appeared next to their mother.

Shelby picked it up before he even knew what he was doing.

“It’s warm!” he said.

Before Shauna could touch it, two people appeared in front of them: one was a man with sunglasses and hair spiked upwards, and the other was a woman with square glasses and wavy brown hair.

“Thank you for accepting the invitation,” said Lendox. “Are you Shelby and Shauna Kitt?”

“What is that smell?” asked Marina, before either Shelby or Shauna could answer.

“Klodians,” Lendox said, frowning as he spotted Fran lying on the floor. “She needs help – stand aside, please.”

Shelby and Shauna were not sure what had just happened, or why they should follow the instructions of a perfect stranger. There was something about the man in front of them, however, that gave them a brief but nearly overwhelming sensation of trust. They stood aside, quietly, and watched as Lendox took off his sunglasses. Did he really have lilac eyes?

Amazed, they watched Lendox reach inside his bag, and pull out a small, round vial. Inside it was a liquid so bright they could barely look at it without squinting – it was as if light itself were contained in it. Carefully, Lendox lifted Fran’s head, opened the vial, and poured the liquid into her mouth. Fran’s body glowed for a moment.

“What did you give her?” asked Shauna, stunned.

“We call it vitalix,” Lendox said, putting the empty vial back in his bag. “It is the nectar of a flower that blooms very rarely. Since the dimensional holes opened, of course, it has stopped blooming – I believe I just used the last one on Miriax.”

“Where?” asked Shelby, as Lendox carefully placed Fran on the pullout sofa.

“First things first,” said Marina. “Where’s your dad?”

“It’s just us,” replied Shelby, defensively.

Shauna glanced at her brother: the topic of their dad had always been a sensitive one for him. Their father had died in a car accident shortly after they were born, but Shauna knew that Shelby harbored a deep fantasy that his father was still out there, somewhere, and that one day they would find him.

“I see,” said Marina, awkwardly. “Let me introduce myself, then. I’m Marina Gibbs, and I’m here because –”

Shauna was about to shake Marina’s outstretched hand, but Marina quickly withdrew it to block the violent sneeze that shook her.

“Allergies,” she muttered, sniffing. “Anyway, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“How do you know who we are?” asked Shelby, suspiciously.

“We’ve been sent to find you,” said the engineer, smiling warmly. “Lendox here says the mission can’t succeed without you.”

“What mission?” asked Shelby, noticing Lendox’s elaborate black and white buttons for the first time.

“The mission to save Earth and Miriax,” said Lendox.

”Miriax?” repeated Shelby and Shauna, in perfect unison.

“Yes, my home planet,” Lendox said, as if this were the simplest piece of information in the world. “I am Lendox, vice consul of Miriax, and I have come to ask for your help.”

Shauna and Shelby looked at each other, and a faint smile crossed their lips. Their day was finally looking up.