“How about that?” June asked suddenly.
On the right side of the road, gleaming in the gray air, was a red and yellow billboard.
That part was in a huge, flouncy scrawl. Underneath, the sign read:
“Oh great,” said Stan. “Sounds like just what we need.”
“My legs are all cramped,” said June. “Pet and I’ll probably get rickets or scurvy.”
“But that’s not why you get scurvy! It’s from—ouch!” My bruise throbbed. Would I never learn?
“I have to find a restroom,” Linwood pointed out.
Stan sighed. He took the fact that Linwood had only one kidney very personally, something she had done to spite him. Even though we were going nowhere, Stan wanted to get there with as few stops as possible.
“Oh goody!” said June.
Myself, I wasn’t convinced ghosts and floating furniture were such a great idea. There was already enough stuff in the world I didn’t understand.
“They’ll only be disappointed.” Stan’s defense was weak.
Linwood ignored him.
Disappointed was fine with me. A shiver twirled through my body. Best would be transparently fake, though even when we saw that magician who kept dropping the rubber balls, and the pigeon fell out of his pocket, I was still convinced he knew secret things.
June’s eyes were glued to the road, watching for more signs. I took my chance and swiped Pierre’s bag, dumping the contents in my coat pocket and returning the bag to his neck.
My heart pounded, my palm was sweaty. I fingered the loot inside: a pair of metal binoculars, a rubber fish, a glass bottle that I remembered had a miniature ship inside.
“Homemade fudge!”
I glanced up to see another red and yellow billboard.
“No candy,” said Stan. “Not this close to dinner.”
“I’d like some candy,” said Linwood.
“Why do I even bother?” Stan asked the steering wheel.
“What time is it, by the way?” I liked to try to divert their attention when they got like this. Sometimes it worked.
“Three forty-three,” said Stan. “I mean, why do I bother?”
Not this time.
“Stopping at some pathetic little roadside stand is the least we can do for the children,” Linwood said, “after what you’ve put them through.”
“What I’ve put them through.”
“Who said we had to leave town?” Linwood lit a cigarette and assumed her movie star profile. “If you’re in such a big hurry, for God’s sake, then you might as well just drop us off. Go ahead, drop us off. We’re living on my money anyway.”
“I don’t really care if we stop,” I said. “Ouch!”
“Are we really living off your money?” June asked.
“If it weren’t for my father—”
“Goddammit!” yelled Stan. “We’re stopping already, goddammit! All I wanted was to get us to the hotel in Fort Bragg so you could relax and have your shower and your drink before dinner!”
“Well, that’s no reason to shout.” Linwood was all dignity. “I mean, fine, let’s stop, but there’s no reason to shout at us like that. Stan, really!”
There was an extended moment of silence. I looked out the window at the dank night coming down and played with the tiny toys in my pocket. Oddly enough, they soothed me. Were they a kind of charm that could keep off the melancholy of twilight? The air was thick and misty. We were close to the ocean, not Southern California warm sand and suntan oil, but cliffs and spume and tidepools. Maybe in the morning we would go down to the shore and look for starfish and anemones, like in The Restless Sea.
“There it is!” June shouted. “Turn here!”
Madame Miraculo’s Crazy House loomed up from a tangle of huge dark trees, dripping with evening fog. It’s perfectly spooky, I thought, a thrill riding like a monorail up my spine. I tried to remember the lessons I’d learned from all the strange things happening lately. Don’t be scared, be strong. Tommy had hurt me, I had to go to the bathroom again, but Sammy hadn’t. The thing was not to be a little creep. I should be tough like June, or Deane. My weakness was my own fault. Like they said in the Bible, if you don’t have very much, they’ll take that away from you too. The only way to win when you’re scared is to be mad and shout a lot. You can’t be afraid and angry at the same time: it was like air and water—they drove each other out.
Stan pulled the car into the empty parking lot. “Doesn’t look open,” he pronounced.
“Oh, poo.” Linwood stubbed out her cigarette. She waited, as usual, while Stan walked around and opened her door.
June clambered out after Linwood, but I waited a moment. They went up to the door, and then inside, so obviously it was open after all. For a moment, I thought I could stay in the car the whole time, no one would notice. Then I could pluck poodle toys at my leisure and avoid whatever was inside. But Stan reappeared in the doorway, glaring through his sunglasses, arms akimbo.
Reminding myself to be strong and of good courage, I shuffled across the grass, pulling my red coat tightly around me.
I pushed open the heavy door. And inside, the whole thing was right out of Frankenstein! High ceilings with cobwebs, tarnished suits of armor, the whole enchilada. Except for the gift shop, which looked cozy and familiar. To my left, through the glass door, I could see back scratchers and beaded necklaces and those little cedar chests like the one I got at Marineland. June was already checking out the merchandise, and Linwood was no doubt in the ladies’ room. Stan was standing near the entrance of the shop, glaring at a sign that said: ADMISSION TO THE MANSION IS $2.00.
Now, I can’t say exactly why I did this. Maybe I wanted to test myself, or punish myself, or maybe I was just being stupid. Whatever the reason, before there was a chance to talk myself out of it, I snuck under the chain, down the short hallway, and up the dusty staircase.
And it was plenty dusty.
Walking up the stairs, you felt yourself moving much farther away than you should have been. So quiet, and so remote. One of the worst things about this traveling together was that we were always together. At night, I couldn’t play with my cigar box, never mind check out Deane’s book, with June always there. The real part of me felt like it was shut up in a box, too.
At the top of the staircase I relaxed and breathed deep. You were on another planet. Here were the stage props, the filmy curtains, and the peculiar statues—was that Artemis-Diana, huge white marble to my right, poised before a heavy, closed door? But also the air seemed to have a greeny glow, and I don’t think it was just my imagination. There were patches of sparkly stuff drifting around, head-high, weird little clouds. I fingered the poodle toys in my coat pocket.