4
A Restless Spirit
The next day, Maria hurried down the uneven sidewalk to the library. The one-story, modern structure was wedged between two four-story Victorian brownstones and reminded her of an adopted child standing between older parents. The library building, like her, was a misfit in its surroundings. But upon entering the two doors, she felt safe and welcome.
Although Maria had read all the books in the small children’s section, she didn’t mind revisiting them. After all, they’d been her lifelong friends.
Today she needed to cover her tracks and make it look like she’d been researching the Fishers. Mr. Fox and her mother were already suspicious. She’d spent a restless night in her closet worrying about her mother confiscating Edward’s words. She was happy to escape the house for the library, which was the only place she was allowed to go. Since Madame Destine homeschooled her, she had to let her daughter get books from somewhere.
Maria searched the obituaries, jotting down any notes. Then she sighed. What she wanted right now was to escape. Escape from her lonely life conning widows. She folded the paper and scanned the library. It was mostly strollers and nannies, but there was one kid there. It was the boy who had moved in upstairs from her—she knew because he was always wearing a red ball cap. He had a light brown complexion and a nice smile and appeared to be immersed in his book. Her mother had forbidden Maria from speaking to him.
Maria didn’t own any books at home. She had no television, no music, no computer—no possessions of any kind; just plain, blank sheets of paper and a couple of pens. But in the library, for brief moments, she could read books and live other people’s lives.
She’d read everything by Louis Sachar, Natalie Lloyd, and Sheila Turnage. She’d gone along with Cass and Max-Ernest on their adventures against the Midnight Sun in the Secret Series. She’d been there with Mary when she discovered the key to the door in The Secret Garden. And she’d helped Kyle solve the clues in the Lemoncello books.
Maria sank deep into her chair and blew the hair from her face. “How do I find her, Edward?” she said, half to herself and half to his spirit, who she hoped was somewhere nearby listening. “Where should I look for Mrs. Fisher? If you’re there, tell me what I should do.” Maria glanced around to make sure no one was watching.
She saw Ms. Madigan, scarcely the size of a splinter and lit with red hair, shelving books. She seemed too busy to pay attention to what Maria was about to do. Maria closed her eyes and balanced the pen between her knuckles on top of the paper, then waited for the familiar tingle of Edward to take hold and guide her. She waited and waited until—
“Maria, what are you doing?”
Maria took a quick breath and slowly opened her eyes. There was no telling how many hours she’d been sitting there.
Ms. Madigan stood before her with a police officer in a black uniform. “We’re closing soon,” she said, “But I’d like you to speak to Officer O’Malley for a few minutes before you go.”
A policeman? Here to see her? Maria darted her eyes around the library and realized that most of the visitors had left. She swallowed, trying not to think what would happen if her mother knew a cop wanted to ask her a few questions. That was her mother’s golden rule: no talking to the police. But she had no choice. “Uh, okay,” said Maria.
Officer O’Malley had a bushy brow with a wave of hair that swept above his forehead and splashed into his ears. He pulled out a chair next to Maria’s and eased onto the edge of it, his knees nearly lifting the table in front of him. He leaned in and, in a sympathetic tone, asked, “Is … everything okay at home?”
Maria could tell by how delicately he asked the question that things definitely didn’t appear okay to him. That Ms. Madigan! She’d tipped off the cop. The librarian seemed so innocent when she took the position there six months ago. First, she’d asked Maria how she enjoyed her books. Then she started suggesting some for her to read. Then the book club. Why was Ms. Madigan interfering with her home life? Maria knew that whatever she did, she must act normal. “Sure,” she said, but it came out in more of a whimper.
Officer O’Malley’s forehead creased before he leaned in closer to Maria. “Ms. Madigan tells me you’re the star reader in her library club.”
Maria eyed the book in front of her and brought it closer. She loved the library club, but she couldn’t understand how it had gotten her into trouble with Ms. Madigan.
“She tells me you’re here every day, unattended by a guardian,” said Officer O’Malley.
“Mom homeschools me,” Maria said quickly. “She trusts me to do my work without supervis—”
“I’ve been informed that she homeschools you,” said the officer, cutting her off.
Ms. Madigan peeked from behind the officer, holding a stack of books as if she intended to shelve them, but she didn’t move. Worry lines formed between her eyebrows.
“Ms. Madigan informed me she gave you a permission slip to have signed,” said Officer O’Malley.
“A permission slip?” asked Maria, trying to sound innocent. She vaguely remembered throwing one away two weeks ago. Her mother didn’t want her signature on anything.
“To be signed by your guardian, so you could have your picture taken next to your book report for the library newsletter.” Officer O’Malley motioned with his eyes to the glass case by the entrance, where Maria’s shadow box was prominently displayed. “Didn’t you give it to her?”
“No,” said Maria before looking down at the book in front of her. Whatever she did, she needed to get him off her. A snoop could land her mother in jail.
“You forgot to give her the form?” asked the officer.
“I don’t like having my photo taken,” Maria said, before adding, “I’m camera shy.”
Officer O’Malley appeared to be thinking as he pursed his lips. “We tried calling your mother at the number on your library account, but it seems as if the phone has been disconnected.”
“Mom got a cell phone,” Maria said, making her voice firm to dismiss suspicion. “She disconnected the landline.” Maria tilted her head to see behind the officer. Ms. Madigan appeared nervous, shifting the weight of the books to her other arm.
Officer O’Malley gave a long exhale before he said, “Can I have her new phone number?”
Maria knew she shouldn’t give the officer her number. If he called, he might discover the scam and arrest her mother, but if she did nothing, it would make him even more suspicious. He might even show up at her house.
With some hesitation, Maria reached into her pocket, ignoring the library card and loose change, and pulled out the business card she’d designed for Mr. Fox. “Here’s her work number,” said Maria, but before she handed it to him, she stopped. “Is there any reason to call her if I don’t want my picture taken?” Maria tried to steady her hand from trembling.
Officer O’Malley glanced at Ms. Madigan before he shrugged. “No. I guess not.”
Maria’s heart pounded as she tried to take slow, steady breaths. She pulled the card away and stuffed it back into her pocket.
“Can I go now?” asked Maria.
“Yes, you’re free to go,” said Officer O’Malley.
Maria grabbed her book and took deliberate steps to the kiosk by the doors. She yanked out her library card from her pocket causing a few coins and something to fall out and hit the floor. Then she scanned her card before holding the book’s barcode under the red light. The kiosk dinged, signaling that the book was checked out. Maria dashed to the entrance.
“You dropped something!” called Ms. Madigan, but Maria didn’t care. She’d just escaped a sinking ship, and she wasn’t going to be detained any longer. But as she went through the first door, she could feel the librarian and the cop watching her. Heart pounding, she pushed open the second door and took in a gulp of fresh air. She was free, just narrowly escaping drowning in a whirlpool of questions.
A few days later, Maria picked her way over the jagged slabs of sidewalk pushed up by the trees lining her block. The brownstones glowed burgundy and orange as the sun melted into the tops of the buildings. The leaves crunched under her feet. Maria held her hand out and hit every iron bar on the ornate fences and gates guarding the apartments. When she reached her home, she noticed the curtains had been pulled and the neon PSYCHIC sign flickered and buzzed in the front window. This was her mother’s signal that she was not to be disturbed.
Maria perched on the steps outside her building and opened one of her books. It was not the first time she’d had to wait outside. For a few seconds, she shut her eyes and listened to the other kids playing down the block. The wheels of a skateboard popped and grumbled against the grit of the pavement, and a ball bounced between shouts and laughter. The strollers rattled over the bumpy sidewalk like covered wagons, making their way to Fort Greene Park. The autumn breeze blew around her as she cradled her book, running her fingers across the embossed title: From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.
Whhhack!
Maria’s head knocked back. Stunned, she opened her eyes to find a red rubber ball rolling under her feet.
“My bad! My bad!” called a voice. The slap of feet moved toward her. “I’m really sorry! Are you okay?”
Maria shook her head before she could focus on who was standing on the other side of the gate. “I’m not okay. Your ball hit me.”
“I’m really sorry,” said the boy from the library, adjusting his ball cap. “I’m not so good at throwing, but you probably guessed that.”
Maria rubbed her head. “Well, it looks like you hit your target.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t aiming for you. I didn’t take into account the wind! It was supposed to go over there.” The boy pointed down the block at a group of kids. He turned and grinned.
He had a gap between his front teeth that made a pleasant smile.
“I’m Sebastian,” he said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Maria.”
“What grade are you in?” asked Sebastian. “I’m in fifth. But was bumped up a year.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and waited for Maria to answer.
“Grade level doesn’t interest me,” Maria said with a shrug.
“So … is it true?” Sebastian asked, with a nervous crack in his voice. “Are you the girl that lives with the psychic?”
Maria knew she was not supposed to answer questions from anyone. If her mother saw her talking to this boy, she would yell. But before she knew it, she found herself blurting, “Sure, I guess. She’s just my mom.”
“We moved in above you last month. I see you at the library, but you never play outside. How come?”
More questions? She should shut her mouth, but she wanted him to stay just a little longer. She shrugged. “I got things to do.”
“What kinds of things?” asked Sebastian. “Psychic things?”
Maria rolled her eyes. If only he knew the half of it. But she was keeping her mouth shut.
“And why is the super always in your apartment?” asked Sebastian. “Mr. Fox doesn’t fix a thing in ours.”
Sebastian had gone too far with his questions. Maria had to end the conversation before it went any further. “You ask too many questions,” she told him, turning back to her book and opening it.
Sebastian looked down and kicked at a crooked slab of sidewalk. Maria peeked at him from the corner of her eye.
“You wanna play ball?” he finally asked.
Maria shook her head, staring down at her book. “I can’t today,” she mumbled, but she knew she was forbidden to ever play with other kids. Her mother didn’t want anyone snooping in their business.
The kids down the street called out for Sebastian. He cleared his throat and asked, “Can you hand me the ball?”
Maria retrieved the ball from the step and threw it to Sebastian, but he missed. “I guess I’m not so good at catching!” he said, trying to shake it off with a laugh, but Maria could tell he was embarrassed.
“Sports aren’t really my thing either.” Maria smiled just a little, but inside she was hurting.
Sebastian retrieved the ball and gave his gap-toothed grin.
Maria turned around to see if her mother was looking. The window was dark and foreboding, the heavy curtains still drawn. She wanted to be with the other kids—laughing and playing ball.
Sebastian lingered a moment, tossing the ball in the air.
Maria shut her eyes, still facing her apartment. Please go away, she thought. After a few moments, she heard Sebastian’s feet slap the sidewalk as he ran back down the block to join the other kids.
Maria opened her eyes. The other kids had forgotten her and had begun their game again. She studied her book, but no longer felt like reading.
The door to her apartment swung open, startling Maria into dropping her book. A middle-aged man exited her home. Madame Destine pulled the curtains and peered through the rippled glass at Maria. Then the buzzing of the neon sign died, and its soft glow faded to darkness.