FORTUNATELY, the ground wasn’t very far away.
Van tumbled onto the damp grass. His knees hit the ground, which hurt for a second and would definitely leave a stain on his nicest pants. But he decided not to think about this. He decided not to think about the boys who were probably gaping out the window behind him either. He sharpened his vision into a straight, bright beam, just like he did when he was searching the sidewalks for lost treasures, and he focused that beam on the brown ponytail that was already flying over the brick wall at the very back of the yard.
“Hey!” Van yelled. “Girl from the park!”
The girl didn’t look back.
Van climbed onto a sturdy cement planter and hoisted himself over the brick wall. He landed on both feet in the alley just beyond. He gave the lump in his pocket another pat, making sure the china squirrel was still there.
Meanwhile, the real squirrel was bounding down the alleyway ahead of him, its tail brushing the hem of the girl’s long coat.
“I’m the one who gave you the marble, remember?” Van called, breaking into a run. “I just want to talk to you!”
The girl didn’t slow down.
At the end of the alley, she and the squirrel veered left. Van raced after them.
“Why won’t you tell me your name?” Van yelled. “Is it Anna? Is it Ella? Is it Bob?” Maybe if he guessed right, she would finally turn around. “Is it Rumpelstiltskin?”
The girl ran on.
They tore through blocks of quiet houses and rustling trees. With each block, the buildings got taller. Shops and restaurants grew thicker. The sidewalk got busier, and the world got louder. The girl and the squirrel slipped through the crowds like a pair of scissors through tissue paper. Van wasn’t as smooth, but he was small enough that no one seemed to notice him either.
“Why do I keep—seeing you?” Van was beginning to lose his breath. “Are you—following me?”
At that, the girl finally glanced back. “Am I following you?” Van heard her shout.
“Well—not right now,” he puffed as he chased her over a crosswalk. “But—it can’t be a coincidence—that in this whole huge city—I keep seeing you.”
The girl glanced back again. Her voice was clear enough that Van caught a few words, even though he was panting and traffic was grumbling and the wind was whipping the air between them. “. . . Can’t see me!” she shouted.
“Yes I can!” Van shouted back. “You’re wearing the same dark green coat as before. And there’s a squished French fry on the bottom of your right shoe. And—”
And, so suddenly that Van couldn’t even finish the sentence, the girl disappeared.
There was no puff of smoke, no trapdoor. She just wasn’t there anymore. The squirrel wasn’t there either. The patch of sidewalk they’d occupied was empty.
Van raced to the spot where the two of them had vanished. He looked carefully in all directions.
Just behind him was a store with a bright neon sign. EXOTIC PETS, it flashed, as waves of shifting neon light sloshed around it. Tanks of chameleons and anoles and snakes with skin like fancy bathroom tiles filled the huge plate-glass window. Farther inside, Van could see rows of bubbling aquariums, and gorgeously plumed parrots preening on high perches, and a giant cage of what looked like spiny hamsters. He didn’t see the girl or the squirrel anywhere.
Two doors down was a bakery. In its window, cakes drizzled with chocolate and topped with berries sat on sheets of paper lace. Delicate French cookies formed pastel pyramids, and cupcakes topped with icing roses glistened in the background. The dizzying smell of warm sugar floated through the bakery’s open door. The scent was so distracting, Van almost forgot what he’d been looking for.
The girl. That was it.
Had she gone into the bakery or the pet store?
Van took a small step backward, trying to choose. Bakery or pet store? He bit his lip. Pet store or bakery? And then, for the first time, he looked at the building wedged between them.
It was an office. A small, grayish, closed-looking office. Its single window was covered by plastic blinds. A colorless sign reading CITY COLLECTION AGENCY hung beside the door. It was the kind of place most people wouldn’t even notice. Van almost hadn’t noticed.
As if an invisible hand was pushing him closer, Van stumbled toward the office’s dingy front door. It swung open when he turned the knob.
Inside, the office was dark. Only a whisper of daylight slid through the blinds. As Van’s eyes adjusted, he saw that the office was not only dark, but empty. There were no desks, no file cabinets . . . no furniture at all. He patted the walls, but there didn’t seem to be any light switches either. A funny smell, like old paper and spices and candle smoke, wafted through the air.
He ventured across the carpet.
At the very back of the room, half hidden by a dividing wall, was another closed gray door. Van reached for the knob, expecting to find a musty little bathroom, or maybe an empty storage closet.
What he found instead made him gasp.
On the other side of the door was a steep stone staircase—a staircase so long that Van couldn’t see the bottom. It led straight downward, growing so dark in the middle that it seemed to disappear entirely. But farther down, from somewhere deep beneath the dingy office, far below the city streets, there glowed a green-gold light. A gust of spice and smoke fluttered the tips of Van’s hair.
Van inched onto the steps. The heavy door thumped shut behind him. Slowly, silently, he crept through the darkness, down toward that green-gold light.