Wunder told himself that all he was going to learn at the town hall was the name of the perfectly ordinary person who had put up the memorial stone. He told himself that it didn’t have anything to do with ghosts or reincarnations or witches.
But even so, that night and the next day, he felt restless, edgy, unsettled. Like he was going somewhere he wasn’t sure he was supposed to go. Like he might find something out that he didn’t want to know.
After school, he hurried in the direction of the bike rack, where Faye was going to meet him. He was at the top of the school steps when he heard Tomás’s voice.
“Hey, Wunder!” he called. “Wait up! I thought we could go to Oak Park. Play some soccer. What do you think?”
Wunder turned to see his best friends coming toward him. “Soccer?” This was another thing Tomás had started doing this year—asking to play soccer. Aside from a few halfhearted attempts at catch with his father—neither of them being particularly athletic—Wunder had never been interested in sports. He shook his head. “I can’t. Sorry, Tomás.”
“Or we could go to the Snack Shack,” Tomás said. “Come on, Wunder. It’s been me and Davy forever.”
Davy had come up next to Tomás. “And what about the Unexplainable and Inexplicable Phenomenon Society?” he asked. “When are we going to have another meeting?”
“Never,” Wunder said, louder and more forcefully than he had intended. Davy flinched. Wunder thought about apologizing or maybe explaining, but then he didn’t.
Down at the bike rack, Faye had appeared. She held up one black-gloved hand.
“I have to go now,” Wunder told his friends. “I have some things to do.”
Tomás stared, goggle-eyed, at Faye. Her black cloak billowed. Her eyes were black smudges. “With her?”
“Yes,” Wunder said. “With her.”
He didn’t say the rest of what he was thinking. He didn’t say that Faye had asked him about his sister, that Faye knew his sister’s name. He didn’t think Tomás knew his sister’s name. He didn’t even think Davy did. He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed down the stairs.
“But, Wunder,” Davy called after him, “I wanted to tell you something! It’s about my paper route!”
Wunder used to help Davy with his deliveries on Sundays, when he had the most. They would take their bikes, cutting through the woods—which Davy would do only if Wunder was with him—talking about the latest miracles and tossing paper after paper.
“I can’t help anymore, Davy,” Wunder said.
He didn’t turn back around.
Faye had brought her bike that day, so after she tied her cloak in a huge, velvety knot to keep it from getting caught in the wheels, they both rode to the town hall. Wunder stayed a little ahead the whole way so he wouldn’t have to talk.
“I go to church here,” Faye told him as they leaned their bikes against the rack next to the fountain.
“In the town hall? Is that allowed?” Wunder asked. “What about separation of church and state?”
“We rent a public meeting hall in the basement,” Faye said. “It’s a very small, exclusive church. You have to speak Korean to attend, so don’t even ask. You’re not invited.”
Wunder’s own church, St. Gerard’s, was big and bright. There were high ceilings and stained-glass windows and polished pews that gleamed. He wasn’t sure how he would feel about going to services in a basement.
“Not everyone needs somewhere fancy to pray,” Faye told him. “My grandfather used to say he felt most spiritual walking in the woods. And I meditate in my room every morning.”
“You do?”
“I do, Wundie,” Faye said, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself. “My grandfather taught me that too. And it gives me serenity throughout my whole day. Don’t I seem serene?”
She stared at him, eyes unblinking, face impassive. Wunder wasn’t sure if it was a serene look necessarily.
“I guess,” he said. “Maybe. Except when you scream.”
“I’m only human, Wundie,” Faye said. “Sometimes you have to scream.”
They went through the double doors of the town hall. Inside, on the far wall, there was a mural of a long-limbed, green-leafed tree, and in front of it was a huge desk surrounded by rows of cabinets.
There was only one person at the desk. It was a woman who was wearing a shiny, bright pink shirt and glaring fiercely at her computer screen. Her gold name tag read EUGENIA. When she noticed them, Eugenia’s bright pink mouth turned up in a sort of grimace-grin.
Wunder paused at the sight of that very unwelcoming expression, but Faye wandered right up to the desk.
That left Wunder no choice. Faye could not be trusted to talk to Eugenia alone.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said, hurrying up to the desk. “I’m Wunder Ellis, and my friend and I had a question about a stone we found in the cemetery—not a grave marker, more like a memorial? Where would we find out about something like that?”
Eugenia had directed her grimace-grin at him while he spoke, but as soon as he was done, she focused her attention back on Faye. Faye stared right back, her face expressionless, her arms crossed under her black cloak.
“I’m sorry,” Eugenia said, not sounding the least bit sorry, “but I really have work to do. Please see your little selves right out.”
“Eugenia,” Faye began. “Listen.”
“I’m sure you’re really busy!” Wunder hurried to cut her off. “We just want to know who bought the stone. Or asked the town to buy it, or however it’s done.”
Eugenia had already turned back to her computer screen. Her bright pink fingernails tap, tap, tapped sharply on the keyboard, dismissing them. “I’m so sorry, dear,” she said, “but I can’t give out that kind of information. Good-bye now.”
“Why not, Eugenia? It’s a public record, isn’t it?” Faye asked, and Wunder noticed with some alarm that the sharpness had already started to creep into her voice.
“Well, I don’t know if it’s public per se,” Eugenia replied, “but I do know that it certainly is not public to two little children, especially when one of them is dressed like some kind of Frankenstein bat creature.”
“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” Wunder said. It was very obvious to him that they were going to have to figure out another way to get what they had come for. “Let’s go, Faye.”
“Public information is public information.” Faye’s voice was even louder, faster, shriller. “You have no right to keep it from us.”
Eugenia looked back up from her computer. Her grimace-grin had become a scowl. “Here’s some public information for you: Graveyards are not playgrounds. It seems to me that you and your friend Mr. Ellis have an unhealthy obsession with death, and I certainly will not be contributing to that.”
“You are discriminating against me!” Faye screeched.
“You lower your voice, young lady,” Eugenia said.
“You are making judgments about my character and my life choices based on my outward appearance! Based on my clothing!”
“Of course I am,” Eugenia snapped. “What are you thinking, dressing like that? And that eyeliner. You look absolutely ridiculous!”
Faye smacked a gloved hand onto Eugenia’s desk, her ridiculously lined eyes blazing. “Here’s some public information for you—we are trying to uncover a very significant miracle. A possible resurrection! And you—you don’t know anything about miracles. You don’t know anything about mystery. You don’t know anything about cloaks! Et cetera!”
“Come on, Faye,” Wunder said. “Let’s just go.”
Eugenia had gotten to her feet. Her hands were on her hips, and she was emitting bright pink waves of fury. “What I do know is that you two better show your little selves out of this town hall before I have to call security and have you escorted from the premises!” She jabbed one pink-nailed finger in Faye’s direction. “You need someone to get you in line. And you need to get to know the Lord!”
“I already know the Lord,” Faye replied. “And if you really knew anything about Him, you’d know that He likes miracles too. And probably cloaks! Robes, for sure!”
“Faye, come on!” Wunder managed to pull Faye toward the door by the much-discussed cloak. He yanked her outside, into the late-afternoon sun.
“Can you believe that woman?” Faye cried, stomping past the fountain. “She’s supposed to be a public servant. And a Frankenstein bat? That doesn’t even make sense!”
“You are wearing black gloves. And a cape—I mean, cloak.”
“I’m a student of the paranormal!” Faye yelled. Then she flipped her hood over her head.
She was under there for quite a while, but when she came out, her face had relaxed into its usual deadpan expression. “I guess we know what we have to do,” she said.
“We do?”
“Break in,” Faye said. “Steal the record.”
Wunder shook his head. “No, Faye. We can’t do that.”
No matter what he believed or didn’t believe, the law still mattered. Breaking and entering would never be okay.
“Wundie. Listen,” Faye said. “You want to figure out who put that memorial stone there, right? If it’s someone with the same name as your sister or someone doing it in honor of your sister or—”
Wunder didn’t want her to say the other possibility again. “Yes, I do!” he cried. “But we’ll get caught. We’ll get in trouble.”
“We won’t,” Faye said. “Because I have a plan. And if we do get caught”—she raised her voice to a scream again—“I will place the blame squarely on the shoulders of Eugenia the Pink Priss!”