CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kai

IT WAS AN UGLY thing, with a fat, furry body and two strange palm-frond antennae.

“It’s a katydid,” Kai said.

“No; it’s the moth.” Doodle and Kai were bent close, watching the insect through the side of the glass jar. They had placed the jar at the edge of Kai’s window.

“Where are its fabulous wings? He’s been that way for hours.”

“They’re still wet,” Doodle explained. “It takes time for them to unfurl, for the hemolyph to get to their extremities.”

“Hemo-what?”

Doodle translated, “Moth blood. It’s not blood, though. It’s yellow.”

“He’s not moving.”

“Kai, he’s been locked up in a cocoon for who knows how long,” Doodle pointed out. “He’s tired. Give the bug a break.”

Kai laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing—just—” She shrugged. “‘Give the bug a break’ sounds like something I would say.”

A smile flickered over Doodle’s lips as she watched the moth. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me. Go get your violin. Our Celestial wants some music.”

Kai scoffed, but she went to the closet and fetched her violin. She tuned it quickly and rosined the bow, then she began to play.

At first, nothing happened, but Kai played on, letting the music fill the room. After a few moments, the moth began to quiver, its antennae moving slowly, as if probing the air around it. The brilliant blue wings opened and slowly beat the still air in the jar.

“Look,” Doodle whispered as one wing flickered slightly. Beyond the window, a hush fell over the night as everything paused to listen.

“I’ve told Mr. Jenkins about your music,” Doodle said as Kai played on. “He wants you to play at the fair.”

Kai’s bow slipped over the strings, letting out a sour screech.

“So you’ll do it?”

Kai didn’t reply, but she kept on playing, considering. She wasn’t sure that she was ready to play in public again. On the other hand, she was sorely tempted to make Pettyfer look like a violin fool and a bug fool. She hoped he would crawl into a hole and disappear out of humiliation. Or maybe just burst into flames. But she wasn’t at her best, musically, after taking off so much time.

Did it matter? She couldn’t decide.

Slowly, slowly, the moth pulsed its wings under the notes from the violin. Doodle snapped a stream of photos with her iPad. And then she unscrewed the top of the jar.

The sudden silence was almost shocking as Kai lifted her bow from the strings. “What are you doing?” she asked, tucking the bow under one arm.

“Setting it free.” The moth didn’t move, though; perhaps it didn’t yet realize what its wings were for. It simply sat on the branch in the jar as if it was perfectly happy there.

“Wait—what? I thought we were taking it to the Lepidoptery Fair!” Spreading her fingers, Kai closed her hand over the top of the jar.

Doodle shook her head. “Now that she has wings, she can’t just sit in the jar for two days.”

“But—we can’t just let Pettyfer win!”

“We have the pictures,” Doodle said.

“The real moth is better! And . . and what about the five hundred dollars?”

Doodle stared as if Kai had just started speaking jibberish. “What about the moth?”

Kai could feel her face turning red. “Is this because your dad works for the casket company?” Kai demanded. “Are you worried that he’ll get fired if we beat Pettyfer? You can’t let him scare you!”

“I don’t think it’s right to keep a moth bottled up, Kai.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and this was when Kai realized that Doodle was actually serious. She really didn’t care about the money. She didn’t care about Pettyfer. She didn’t care about winning. She cared about the moth. A stupid moth. It really was quite stupid; it was still sitting on its leaf in the jar, not even trying to fly away.

Kai’s hand tightened on the jar. “It’s not wrong to want to win, Doodle,” she said. “It’s only fair. Pettyfer doesn’t deserve it.”

“I know,” Doodle agreed. “So, if he doesn’t deserve to, he won’t.”

The moth fluttered. Even Kai could tell that it was thinking about flying.

Kai felt her skin burn like pavement in the sun, the angry heat she had built up rising, turning to steam, swirling around her. “What about me?” she demanded.

Doodle blinked at her. “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because it’s—” Kai shook her head. “Because—” She tried to remember why she cared about winning the Lepidoptery Fair. Well, she wanted to beat Pettyfer. She wanted to show him that she was better than he was! She wanted him to see that he was horrible, she wanted him to feel—

To feel—

To feel how I feel, Kai realized, the idea blowing through her like a breeze. To know what it’s like to be not quite good enough.

The cloud around her finally lifted, disappearing. And just like that, the contest became just a contest again.

It wasn’t proof that she was better than Pettyfer. It didn’t mean anything.

Doodle was still watching Kai’s face, waiting. Kai thought about Ralph, and how he believed in magic. . . . There is magic in the world, Kai thought, and she remembered Doodle’s words: Moths are magical. There was no doubt about it—this moth was very magical.

And magic doesn’t do any good if you keep it all bottled up.

Kai lifted her fingers from the jar. “You’re right,” she said.

The sentence fell to the floor like a boulder, and the moth, who felt the vibration but did not understand its meaning, fluttered through the window and into the night.

There was no doubt about it—this was a big-time small-town event. The friendly old library stood quietly behind a grouping of three large white tents, which shaded several clusters of tables arranged according to subject. People were already milling about, looking at the displays. Kai and Doodle had placed photos of the Celestial Moth—along with illustrations from the diary—on a trifold poster. It stood proudly among the other moth dioramas and reports. In one corner, a long line of children squirmed, watching as a man in a tall striped hat twisted long, colorful balloons into butterflies. At one end of the lawn, the high school a capella group performed a Taylor Swift song. Next to them, a booth was handing out butterfly-shaped cookies and lemonade.

Someone had made a giant—larger than human-size—monarch butterfly puppet, and two people in black bodystockings sweated and tried hard to appear invisible as they made the butterfly dance near the front sidewalk. Lavinia had set up a table selling Luna Juice to benefit the library. There were even games for small children: they could throw beanbags into large wooden chrysalides or have their picture taken with their face appearing in the cut-out hole at the head of a large wooden butterfly. Sidewalk chalk and photos of butterflies and moths were available for anyone who wanted to make street art. A banner stretched across the tops of the tents: 134th Annual Lepidoptery Fair!

“This is completely insane.” Kai gaped at the people with the giant butterfly puppet as she took a bite of the cookie. “Wow, that’s good.”

“Yes, insane but good is pretty much what they’re going for,” Doodle said. “The marching band puts on an amazing show later in the afternoon.”

Kai accidentally inhaled a cookie crumb and had to take a swig of lemonade to wash it down. She and Doodle were sitting beneath a tree near the a capella group. “What marching band? There’s no marching band,” Kai said.

Doodle lifted her eyebrows and pursed her lips, a look that said, Just you wait.

“Doodle!” Holding a stack of cookies in one hand and waving with the other, Carlos, the hipster librarian, loped over to join them. He wore a T-shirt bearing an image of a pineapple and tan corduroy jeans, even though the temperature hovered near one hundred degrees. He held up a glass of Luna Juice. “Have you guys tried this stuff?”

“That’s my great-aunt who’s selling it,” Kai told him.

“It’s awesome. Hey—where’s your display?”

“In the tent on the far left,” Doodle said as Kai pointed lazily in the general direction of their poster.

“Cool; can’t wait to see it. Hey, Professor Hill!” Now Carlos was waving to someone behind them. When Kai turned, she saw a white-haired man in a wheelchair rolling up the front walk. He smiled, and Kai realized that she had seen this man before—when Pettyfer’s dad was honking at him from behind the wheel of a Lincoln Navigator. “Professor, I’d like you to meet Miriam Martell and Kai—” Carlos shook his head. “I’m sorry; I realized I don’t know your last name.”

“It’s Grove.”

“Kai Grove,” Carlos repeated. “And this is Professor Hill. He teaches chemistry at Harlingen College.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Kai and Doodle stood up to shake his hand, which felt both solemn and a little silly, especially when Doodle explained her nickname. “Are you girls scientists?”

“Yes,” Doodle said, just as Kai said, “No.”

“Ah! Healthy dissent.” Professor Hill nodded and his eyes crinkled merrily. “We’ll see what the evidence shows.”

“They did a cool project on Celestial Moths,” Carlos told him.

“Did you?” The professor’s shaggy eyebrows lifted in surprise. Indeed, he was very surprised. “How strange. A colleague of mine overseas just wrote to me, mentioning that very moth.”

“What did he say?” Doodle asked.

“He had questions about the moth and a local company,” Professor Hill said. His tone was oddly serious, and told Kai and Doodle not to ask more. “Well, pardon me—I’d like to have a look at the displays.”

“Nice meeting you,” Kai murmured as he wove his way into the crowd. He was quite graceful with his wheelchair, maneuvering around obstacles and people who seemed mindless of his existence.

“I want to go look at the other displays, too,” Doodle said, and Kai agreed, “Sure.”

“I’m gonna go grab more cookies,” Carlos told them.

“You’ve already got five,” Doodle pointed out.

“They freeze well.” Carlos winked, shoved his glasses up on his nose, and headed back to the cookie booth as the girls walked toward the tents.

Kai thought that many of the adult projects seemed borderline professional . . . but boring. The kid ones were more colorful, and tended to have lots of pictures. Most people seemed to favor the butterflies. Though there was a really beautiful display with caterpillars and a live monarch just beginning to hatch from a chrysalis. One person did a very detailed explanation of the life cycle of the postman butterfly, another of the gypsy moth. Doodle nodded and exclaimed over each one, even the ones done by kindergartners. She smiled proudly as they passed their own display.

“You should grab your violin,” Doodle said. “You’ll be performing soon.”

“I will?” Kai asked. “I don’t remember actually saying I would do it.”

“You will,” Doodle told her. “That’s why your violin case is under the table.”

Kai smiled. “I’m doing it for the moths.” She grabbed the case.

And then they came to the last table, home of the display that both had been silently seeking and dreading the entire time.

Well, that sucks, Kai thought as she looked at Pettyfer’s display. It wasn’t much—just a big shoebox with some sticks in it. This is what he thinks is going to win? He’d put it out on a big table, along with several wood-framed mounted moths and butterflies. Looking at them made Kai sick. They were beautiful and amazing—and dead. A wooden sign beside them said, Frames Courtesy of American Casket. It was shiny with the famous American Casket odorless, eternal varnish.

“Aren’t they nice?” Pettyfer asked, coming up behind her. “Dad had the frames made at the factory.”

“They’re revolting.”

Pettyfer grinned. “That’s a nice violin case you’ve got there,” he said. “Did you find it at Goodwill?”

Hilarious, Kai thought. Just wait until I play, little rich boy. Money can’t buy talent. “Whatever, Pettyfer. It’s not like you’re going to win with a few framed moths and that lame display.”

“That isn’t the display,” Pettyfer said. “That’s just holding the moth. The display is when I show everyone how to preserve and mount it.”

“You’re going to kill a moth at the Lepidoptery fair?” Doodle’s jaw hung open.

“You’re psycho!” Kai cried, just as something fluttered in Pettyfer’s display. The moth had been hidden beneath a leaf, which shifted with its movement.

Doodle gasped.

“Oh, no,” Kai whispered.

It was the Celestial Moth.

“You can’t kill that moth!” Doodle cried. “They’re extirpated in this area!”

“Clearly, they aren’t,” Pettyfer said smoothly. “Just extremely rare. And I’ll show everyone how to pre—”

Kai didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence—she lunged at the cardboard box. Pettyfer grabbed her sweater, but Doodle tackled him, shouting, “Save him, Kai!” Pettyfer still had a grip on her shirt, which was choking her. She whacked him with her violin case, and he staggered backward just long enough for her to grip the edge of the plastic wrap. The box fell to the floor, and a corner of the plastic came free.

“Get it!” Pettyfer screeched as the moth zigzagged out. It paused to land on the American Casket sign, where it sat happily for a moment, until Pettyfer lunged at it. Then it fluttered toward the red flowers that grew in front of the library, paused a moment, and flew away.

There was an electric hum beside Kai, and when she looked over, she saw Professor Hill. He was staring after the moth, which had disappeared around the side of the library.

“I’ll sue you!” Pettyfer shouted, jabbing a finger at Doodle.

“Go ahead!” Doodle shrieked. “Do it!”

Kai had never seen Doodle so furious, and was so impressed by it that it didn’t occur to her to get in between Doodle and Pettyfer. Luckily, it did occur to Carlos, who hurried over to break up the fight.

Kai looked around for Great-Aunt Lavinia. She stood half out of her booth. She had started to come over, and then decided that she wasn’t needed. Instead, she had watched the whole scene with an amused smile. She held up a glass of Luna Juice, a toast. Kai smiled a little and turned back to her friends.

Professor Hill looked up at Kai. “Was that . . . a Celestial Moth?” he asked, breathless.

“Yes,” Kai replied.

She expected Professor Hill to say, Oh, wow! I didn’t know there were any still around here! Instead, he reached out and touched the shiny sign where the moth had landed for a moment. He looked back at Kai. “Take the sign,” he commanded, “and follow me.”

Kai didn’t ask questions; she grabbed the sign and trotted after Professor Hill, who was rolling away at top speed. The hubbub had gone quiet around them, so quiet that Kai could hear the squeak of the balloons as two were twisted together to form a butterfly.

“Hey! Give that back!” Pettyfer shouted. “Get back here! I’ll sue you, too! I’ll sue all of you!” Carlos was holding him by the shoulders, so it was impossible for him to give chase.

Not that it would have mattered. Kai had the sign in one hand and her violin in the other, and there was no way that she was giving up either one. Her magic book had taught her one thing: she didn’t always need to understand what was happening in order to keep moving forward.

She thought about the latest moment in The Exquisite Corpse—the part in which Edwina’s letters stopped. Do you know what Kai did when she read that?

She wrote: Unacceptable. I want a happy ending.

Then she put the book back on the shelf.

Like I said: keep on moving.

THE EXQUISITE CORPSE

I want a happy ending, Parker thought as he stared at his sister in her coffin. She was wearing her best blue dress. I can’t believe this is happening.

There were very few mourners at the service. Most of the friends they had made were gone to Simla, including Trix and Ruddy, and Melchisedec had not yet arrived in Lahore. Still, several business associates attended the ceremony, including one man who had been introduced as Melchisedec’s attorney, but whose blind eye and scarred face suggested another occupation.

The Cathedral Church of the Resurrection was a beautiful pink sandstone structure, newly consecrated. It was not the largest cathedral Parker had ever seen, but it was large enough to whisper the melancholy echo of footeps as the few mourners began to shuffle out.

Melchisedec’s “lawyer” moved up the aisle, as if to approach the casket.

“Excuse me,” Parker told the man. “I would like a moment alone with my sister before the coffin is sealed.”

The man glanced at the casket, where Edwina lay, perfectly still. “I think it is a very elegant casket.”

“My guardian very generously provided it.”

With a nod, the man donned his hat and turned to leave. His footsteps rang up to the vaulted ceiling.

Parker kneeled at the casket. When the reverend came to speak to Parker, he asked him, too, for a moment alone with his sister.

“Of course,” Reverend Allcott said. “Take your time.”

“Please accept this donation for the church.” Parker passed the reverend a thick roll of bills, and the holy man nodded.

“Thank you,” Reverend Allcott replied. “We hope we will one day collect enough to order bells for our tower from England. This will help us.”

Once he had left, Parker kneeled by the coffin and prayed silently. Several minutes ticked by. Finally, he whispered, “It’s all right.”

“Are you sure he’s gone?” Edwina asked. She did not open her eyes. She did not stir, except for her lips.

“They all are.”

Edwina sat up in the casket, and Parker helped her step down. “I felt that man staring at me. I held my breath.”

Parker closed the casket’s top.

“This will be buried tomorrow,” he told her. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“Melchisedec is coming.” She shook her head. “Do you really think he will wait for me to turn twenty-one, and then allow me to return? You should disappear, too.”

“I’m happy here,” Parker said. “Besides, you know our ‘uncle’ has nothing to fear from me. He’s bribed every judge in the county; they would never overturn the will. And I don’t plan to attempt it.”

Edwina smiled sadly at him until he grasped her hand, and they exchanged a warm embrace.

“Here is the ticket for your passage,” Parker said, “and enough money to live on for a while. I’ll wire you more once you’re back in the States. Samir has also provided papers. . . .” Her brother waggled his eyebrows.

“Are you certain that no one will suspect it’s me?” Edwina asked.

“You are now Edie Allen,” Parker told her. “Samir has also given money to several . . . interested parties.” Parker handed Edwina a black canvas bag.

“He’s bribed them, you mean,” Edwina corrected.

“Really, Edwina. There’s no need to be so unsavory.” Parker had a deep practical streak, and he knew that when one was fighting fire, it was often best to use fire. “Your trunk has been packed and sent ahead. A proper trunk; not a casket. Samir really is quite a good man.” Behind him, light streamed in through the stained-glass window, which glowed luminous blue. Edwina thought of her moths.

She would miss her brother, but this was the only way to truly escape from Melchisedec. It was a magic trick. She would return to Ralph, her dear old mole. He would help her.

Edwina kissed her brother’s cheek, and hurried toward the side entrance, where Samir stood waiting for her. He was a native man, very handsome in a bowler hat and smart silver mustache, and he gave a slight bow as she approached.

Edwina clutched her bag in one hand, her violin case in the other. “I’m ready,” she said.