So in we went.
We tore through the washrooms, stuffing the toilets with all the tissue we could find and turning over the garbage cans; we pulled down fire extinguishers and turned the no-slip rugs upside down; we tried to break the fluorescent lights up above but even I was too short for that. Finally, we came out in the front, where there was a counter and a soft-drink dispenser and some grills.
It was magnificent. I could, I think, have taken it all the way. I could have found a sack of flour, burst it open, tossed a Jumbo-Sized root beer into the deep fryer, set off a tank of propane with the barbecue lighter.
God knows the kids were waiting for me to do it; in the back of my head, Fezkul was telling me, in a language that I was beginning now to understand, to do just that: “Blow it up. Destroy the old wizard. Kill him. Kill his minions. Blow it up, boy! You are the champion! Get it! Blow it up!” Something like sugar was itching through my veins and I was ready for anything.
Anything but what I saw, coming around the cash register with Blair at my side.
“It’s for the best,” said Nick. He was sitting on one of the little plastic chairs next to the window. Lenore was sitting opposite him, her hands in her lap. Her eyes were blank.
“I can’t believe it,” she mumbled.
Nick looked down and then up at her again. “You can’t say you didn’t see this coming.”
I moved closer. Lenore and Nick were as oblivious as any of the other adults — and as much a target. Blair raised the stun wand, aiming for Lenore’s belt-line. I put a hand on her arm, and she frowned at me but held off. I looked at my sister. Her eyes were blank, but I could see her mouth twitching, as she tried to think of some answer.
“What are they doing?” said Blair beside me.
“They’re breaking up,” I said. “Oh man.”
“I didn’t see it coming,” said Lenore. Her voice was low, a monotone. I’d never seen her like this. “Particularly not now — when we can’t even find my brother.”
Nick shrugged. “I know. It’s not the best timing. But Lenore — we’re just different people, you know? We want different things. And hey — your brother’ll turn up. He’s just goofing, I bet.”
Lenore nodded, not looking at him. She crossed her arms, covering the Up With People logo on her shirt and hunching her back like an old woman’s.
Nick leaned back and put his fingers in his front pockets and looked out the window. His head bobbed up and down, like he was listening to some tune inside his head. It was like Lenore wasn’t even in the room. It struck me then: Nick may have been Lenore’s coolest boyfriend yet, but that wasn’t the same thing as saying he was cool. He was lame. Totally, completely lame.
And Lenore was alone. She may have been a real dork in a lot of ways, but she was my sister, and she was alone, and she didn’t deserve that.
“I’m bored,” said Blair and she sulked. “You said we could start a fire.”
“No.”
“I’m gonna,” said Blair, and at that, I turned to her. She was such a little brat. She raised the wand at me, and I looked her in the eye.
“Stop!” I shouted it, and she stepped back, like I’d slapped her. At the same time, the rest of the kids looked at me.
“Stop,” I said again. “Just stop.”
I stepped over to Lenore and put my hand on her shoulder, and she jumped, then looked at me. She smiled, in a happy-sad way that broke my heart. “Sammy,” she said. Her voice was broken. Nick blinked and looked over. “Whoa!” he said. “There you are. We been looking for you all over, bro.”
“Don’t call me that,” I said flatly, and Nick held up his hands.
“Whatever,” he said.
“You guys should get out of here,” I said to Lenore.
She blinked. “Why?”
I was about to say: look around! But as I looked around, I saw that wouldn’t do anything to motivate her. The place, as far as I could tell, was completely empty. There was just us, and a girl behind the counter in one of the orange uniforms who looked like she was swatting at bugs or something.
I didn’t see the little kids; they weren’t a part of this awful, adult world I’d stepped into. And I didn’t want to see the kids; I didn’t want to go back to that other world.
There were more important things here.
I gave Lenore a squeeze. “Let’s just go,” I said.
We met Oliver Natch in the middle of the bridge. He was leaning against the handrail, looking over the slowing traffic heading south to Carlingsburg. He didn’t look as sad or as terrible as he might have before. He looked up as we came and gave me a little smile.
“Come again soon,” he whispered as I passed near, and I said: “Not likely,” and he just shrugged.
“I can’t blame you, Stanley,” he said.
“Sam,” I said and he nodded.
Lenore stopped beside me. Nick had kept walking, and stood at the far end of the bridge, waiting for us. Clearly, he wanted to get the rest of the drive over as soon as possible. You couldn’t blame him — but of course we did.
Natch looked at Lenore. “Your sister?”
Lenore introduced herself.
“Lenore.” Mr. Natch gave a little bow — a courtly bow, as if from another age. “Oliver Natch. I am charmed.” And with that, he gave me a little wink. “Unlike your brother, I think.”
Lenore gave a puzzled frown.
“What are you doing up here?” I asked.
“What? I am doing what I do every year this day and time when I fail to convince Fezkul’s little champion to spill the beans. Waiting — waiting for the storm to pass.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out an old-fashioned pocket watch. “Which, I think, should be nearly finished.” He craned his neck over my shoulder, and nodded. “Yes.”
At the base of the stairs, the door to the Grill and Fun-Park opened, and conversation wafted up: “Come on, honey, up the stairs—” “—museum was cool!” “—how much longer to home?”
“So everything’s okay?”
Mr. Natch shrugged. “Reasonably,” he said. “There will be some cleaning to do. Perhaps a repair or two.” Then he looked at me levelly. “It might have been worse, if little Stanley had chosen differently.”
“Sam,” I said, and he said: “Sam.”
And at that moment, I felt a huge sadness, as I thought about everything I’d done — everything I’d taken part in. What I’d done to poor Tom Wilkinson.
“I didn’t,” I said. “He wanted me to ki—”
Mr. Natch put up his hand and stopped me.
“You chose,” he said. “In the end, it is the choice that all the children make, when they sit at the cusp. They cannot go back — only forward.” And then, Mr. Natch smiled in a way that made me look away. “Oh! How it confounds him.”
Lenore looked at him and looked at me, then grabbed my shoulder and leaned close. “Come on,” she whispered. “This guy is creepy. And I just want to get home.”
“Yes,” said Natch, “you shouldn’t tarry. Tomorrow, after all, is a school day.”
We did tarry, just a bit. Lenore was in a whole lot less of a hurry for all of us to get in the car with Nick when we caught up so she put her hand on my shoulder and leaned close. “Wait outside a minute while I settle some things?” she asked and I said, “Sure.”
I sat down on the rear bumper and watched the door to the bridge. It was flapping open and closed as kids and their parents came through it, heading back to their own cars and minivans and SUVs, escaping the broken spell of Fezkul, and as they went I wondered: How long will that bridge stay up? How soon will it be before some kid takes Fezkul’s advice all the way?