10

The Sharks Are Circling

Hunched at the computer station in the library, Maria stared down at the riddle she’d received the night before, searching for leads. Who or what was Dizzy? Jack was some kind of painter, she knew. And there were three poets with only first names. She googled: “Jack painter,” “poet Allen,” “Dizzy Village,” but nothing came up on the screen that made any sense. Maria sighed and blew her hair from her eyes. She wanted to crack the riddle before she brought the message to Mrs. Fisher. She rubbed her eyes, then opened them again and stared straight at the screen.

Still nothing.

But there was something. Something moving in the corner of her vision.

Two eyes shone from behind the stack of books. Someone on the other side of the bookshelf was watching her.

Maria quickly turned her head, but the figure ducked.

She shook it off and brought the paper back in front of her. Kids are so annoying, she thought. She had work to do. After all, Edward had ordered her to find Mrs. Fisher’s treasure. If she solved the riddle, maybe the widow would invite her inside her apartment again and feed her warm bread and butter.

Ka-thud!

Four display books toppled onto Maria. A red ball cap darted behind the shelf.

Maria whipped around. She stood up from her desk but saw nothing out of the ordinary, so she sat down again and tried to focus on her task. The library would be closing soon. She typed in “blue plate special” from Edward’s strange riddle. A bunch of diners and menus popped up. Why couldn’t she find anything worthwhile?

“What are you doing?” whispered a voice behind her.

Maria spun abruptly. Sebastian stood before her, grinning shyly.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

“Shhhh. I’m concentrating!” Maria told him, but secretly she was glad to see him. Anything was better than trying to make sense of this blue plate whatever.

“I was thinking that I’d drop by today and get your mom to tell my fortune?”

Maria’s eyes grew big. “NO! I mean … She’s busy.”

But Sebastian persisted. “How do I make an appointment? Do I just knock on the door?”

“Uh. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Maria’s voice grew louder.

Ms. Madigan waved at her from behind her desk.

“It’s just … She doesn’t like visitors,” Maria added in a whisper.

“How come? I thought she was a psychic. Doesn’t she earn her living from visitors?”

“She likes GROWN-UP visitors. Not kids,” Maria said.

“But I would be a paying visitor. I saved up my allowance.”

“I told you no!”

Sebastian was silent for a second. “How much does she charge?”

Maria threw her hands up and slid back in her chair. She knew her mother would not like a nosy neighbor in her parlor and, even worse, a kid that lived directly upstairs. Sebastian would be camped outside her door, and Maria would surely get the blame. Finally, Maria blurted out, “It’s better to just meet here.”

Sebastian puffed out his lip. “If you say so. But it would be much easier to just—”

Maria pretended to ignore him and read the lines to the riddle aloud to herself. “Feast your eyes on this teaser, for your main course is treasure.”

“Treasure?” Sebastian whispered. He dropped down to the seat next to Maria. “Does this have something to do with what you were going on about yesterday? About a treasure?” He snatched Edward’s message from the table.

Maria shot up from her chair and swiped at the riddle, but Sebastian pulled it out of reach. His brow creased, and his lips moved silently as he read. Then he gave the message back to Maria and said, “It’s just a poem.”

“A poem?” Maria was annoyed. It couldn’t be that simple. “It’s a riddle! A clue.”

Sebastian nodded. “And it’s a poem.” He gave an amused smirk and pointed at the lines. “I think it’s a metaphor,” said Sebastian. “We’re learning about them in school.”

“A meta-what?” asked Maria.

“My dad orders the blue plate special in diners. It’s food. The poem seems like it’s talking about food, but it’s really talking about a group of artists. Poems are sometimes riddles because you have to decode their metaphors.”

Maria blew the hair out of her eyes. “But what does it mean?”

“I suspect it has something to do with artists and poets. I don’t know what Dizzy means, but I’ll bet it has something to do with music.”

Maria shrugged. “I knew that.” Then she fell into her chair by the computer.

“Where did you get this?”

Maria turned her head to the screen. “It’s a secret!” She could see Ms. Madigan out of the corner of her eye. The librarian was watching her.

“A secret?” asked Sebastian. “Since when is a poem a secret? Who’s it by, and why do you want to know what it means?”

Maria exhaled loudly before she studied Sebastian. He was smart and asked so many questions. None of them were safe to answer. But he had deciphered that the poem was about artists. And maybe the artists had something to do with the art on Mrs. Fisher’s wall. Could it be that the treasure was behind a painting in Mrs. Fisher’s apartment? Like she’d heard in her dream? He might have just helped her solve where the treasure was. Finally, Maria blurted out, “It’s true. I’m searching for treasure. I followed the woman home yesterday because it’s supposed to be hidden in her apartment. It’s probably behind one of her paintings.”

“No way!” Sebastian said, grabbing the riddle again. He backed his chair up with a loud screech before Maria could snatch the paper back. “Where did you get this information?”

“It’s none of your business!” said Maria, flinging her arms at Sebastian while he held the riddle just out of her reach.

Sebastian folded his arms. “Then I’ll knock on your door!” He waited, as if letting Maria process his threat.

But Ms. Madigan was walking straight toward them.

“Don’t ever knock on my door!” Maria said, and snatched the riddle out of Sebastian’s hand. “I told you my mother hates kid visitors.”

The tap of Ms. Madigan’s heels clicked louder against the floor as the librarian approached. Maria needed to end this conversation fast.

“Okay, I’ll let you come with me to Mrs. Fisher’s if you promise to never, EVER, under any circumstances, knock on my door.”

“Can I call you?”

“No! I mean … I don’t have a phone.”

“Then how will I know when it’s time to find the treasure?”

Maria glanced quickly at the librarian before lowering her head. “You won’t.”

Sebastian sighed and leaned on his elbows at the computer station. “I don’t understand!”

“Hello, Maria,” said Ms. Madigan.

Maria gave a forced smile. “Hi, Ms. Madigan.”

“Glad to see you’re talking with Sebastian. I thought you two would get along.” Ms. Madigan smiled. “But I’m going to have to ask you guys to keep it down a bit.”

“Sorry, Ms. Madigan.” Maria sighed. “Sebastian was just leaving.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“No one has to leave, Maria. I’m just asking that you keep your voices down,” said Ms. Madigan.

Maria stared at her sneakers. She just wanted everyone to leave so she could get back to work.

“Incidentally,” Ms. Madigan began in a cautious tone, “I noticed from the business card that fell from your pocket that your mother works for a local nonprofit.” Ms. Madigan pulled out the bent business card and read, “Mr. Benjamin Edward Factor?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Sebastian said. He looked directly at Maria as if he had been hit across the face. “She’s a psych—”

Maria kicked him under the computer station.

“Ow!”

“Are you okay?” Ms. Madigan asked Sebastian.

He nodded back.

Ms. Madigan turned her attention to Maria again. “Officer O’Malley was hoping to ask your mom some questions but couldn’t reach her.”

Maria began to realize that the librarian was trying to help her, but all she was doing was making things worse. Maria couldn’t blow her mother’s cover. If the cops came, it was over. They’d take her away, and she’d be an orphan. Madame Destine wasn’t all that kind, but she’d taught Maria all she knew, and she fed her.

Maria swallowed. She looked at Ms. Madigan and then at Sebastian. “She’s busy,” she said to both of them.

“I know that,” Ms. Madigan said with a sigh. “When would be a good time to reach her?”

Maria propelled herself from her chair and backed into a bookshelf. So many questions! She needed to get out of there.

“I thought your mother was a psychic,” Sebastian said. “The sign even says so outside your—”

“Be quiet!” Maria whispered. She snatched her message from the table and pushed past Ms. Madigan and Sebastian, jetting for the entrance. She flung open the first door and hit the second one, brushing past a mother with a stroller that was lodged in the doorway.

Maria ran past the iron gates of the brownstone apartments, over the uneven slabs of sidewalk, until she finally reached her home.

There was nowhere else to go; everywhere she turned, the sharks were circling.