The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point (20 page)

She heard Steuart’s voice, “If you
don’t mind, Lady, I’d like to get down now. You’re cutting off my circulation.
Lady, I can’t breathe. My arm’s asleep.” Steuart went limp again like a rag
doll and pretended to be dead. He opened his mouth and hung his head towards
his chest. Della acted as if she didn’t hear Steuart and continued to tote him
around the shop, pausing occasionally to plant another kiss on his cheek.

She pointed to boxes. “Lunch box, match
box, music box? I have no cigar boxes.” She shook her head. “No, no, no, I have
buttons. Buttons are much nicer than boxes, especially cigar boxes, although
some of them have lovely graphics, that is true, but if you absolutely must
have boxes you children should choose these.” She pointed towards boxes holding
music scrolls for player pianos. “The graphics are superior and the paper rolls
are wonderful for art projects. I’m sure you realize that children need to be
creative.” She cocked her head. “Young lady, do you make crafts? You can do all
sorts of things with music scrolls. The only thing you can do with a cigar box
is clutter the damn thing with stickers and junk.” Della kissed Steuart again.
“Oh, you are so irresistible, you dear, sweet little man-one-day-to-be.”

This time Steuart turned his head and
pretended to vomit. Trying to keep Della on topic Sam composed herself, “No,
ma’am, we’re only looking for cigar boxes. We need them for our dolls.”

Della stopped. “Dolls?
Dolls
?” She moved closer to Sam. “You
have dolls? What type of dolls? I love dolls. Why didn’t you tell me? Dolls are
important...” her voice trailed into a whisper, “I’m not certain why.” Della’s
voice became sharp, “What’ve you got kid?”

Quietly, Sam pulled Trista from her
coat. “This is my doll.” Trista and Sam held as still as the broken grandfather
clock leaning against the far wall. Della’s eyes lit up as she leaned in close
for a look. For the first time since entering the shop, Della was interested in
Sam.

“Little darling, little dear, oh, my darling,
please come here and tell me, please…” Della moved closer, “Where did you get
this doll?” Della stopped to compose herself. She lowered her voice and bent
down reaching for Trista with her left hand while continuing to hold Steuart
with her right arm.

Sam took a step back. Della inched
closer and asked, “Where did you get this lovely treasure, so beautiful and
so...” Della took a deep breath, pursed her lips and looked as if she might
faint. Her skin became even whiter than white; all the while she moved closer towards
Trista, reaching to take her from Sam, “Let me see her,” Della demanded as Sam
stepped back. “Let me see her….”

Sam and her brother were frightened.
Trista was mortified. Ed was hiding. The children looked towards the door
knowing they had to leave right away. Sam stepped back and held Trista close to
her chest. Trista sneezed. Della reached for the doll while holding Steuart.
Steuart managed to pull his arms free. Sam prepared to run but knew that she
would not leave her little brother or her friends.
Pop!
The front door slammed.
Ding!
The bell on the counter pinged. A man stood at the counter. “Good morning,” he
said in a cheerful voice. “I was told this is the place to visit for buttons.
Is the button lady here? Sapphire blue, circa 1922, I’m told that you...”

Della stood straight and whipped around
to respond. Steuart pushed his elbows into Della’s ribs and finally broke free.
He ran from the shop. Sam immediately followed.

“Sapphire blue,” Della repeated. “My dear
man, you are in luck today.”

* * *

Steuart ran hard, stopping at the end
of the street to catch his breath. Once she caught up, Sam couldn’t help
staring at her brother who was covered in vulgar, garish pink. “Are you okay?”
she asked.

Steuart rubbed his face across the arm
of his jacket. He looked at Sam and sneered, “No thanks to you.”

“I was doing my best.”

“To help me get kidnapped? Why didn’t
you help me?”

“I was trying to help.”

“That woman’s crazy. She needs to be
locked away. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you help me?”

“I didn’t know what to do. I was trying
to help. I didn’t know if I should grab you and run, or if I should stay and
look for boxes.”

“Forget the boxes—
Grab and run.
”

“Trista peeked from the front of Sam’s
jacket, “Don’t bicker you guys. We were all scared. I thought that woman was
going to snatch me from Sam’s hands.”

“I know, I thought the same thing,” Sam
said.

“Grab and run. That’s all you need to
remember. Grab and run.”

“I’m thankful she didn’t grab me,”
Trista looked at Steuart. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, but at
least you’re bigger than Ed and me.”

Steuart stared down the alley and
whispered, “Not—big—enough.”

“I was frightened too,” Sam said.
“Trista, did you see how she looked at you?”

“What about me?” Steuart asked.

“I was confused. I was worried about
helping you. I was worried about protecting Trista. I didn’t know what I’d do
if she got Trista too. I’ve never chased after an old person before.”

“She’s a strange lady.” Trista said.
“I’m sorry that I sneezed. I thought we were done for.”

“The dust in that place is terrible.
You couldn’t help sneezing. I think she wanted you more than she wanted
Steuart.

Ed pushed open the front pocket of
Steuart’s backpack, and peered out. “Are we safe?”

“You’re safe,” Steuart said.

Climbing out of Steuart’s backpack, Ed walked
across his shoulders, slid down his arm and then jumped into his hands. Looking
up at Steuart’s face, he laughed, “Whoa. That’s a picture.”

“Where were you? Why didn’t you help
me?” Steuart asked.

“Where was I? I was doing what I’m
supposed to do in a crisis situation.”

“I didn’t see you do anything.”

“Exactly.” Ed nodded, “I was hiding.
There was nothing I could do.” He pointed his finger at Trista, “You should
have stayed hidden too. I’m responsible for you young lady.” He looked at Sam,
“In the future, heed your brother’s words—
grab and run.”

“We were in danger Ed. You should have
helped. That woman is dangerous,” Steuart said.

“What would you have had me
do—tell her a joke? She’s such a lovely dear thing.”

Sam, Steuart and Trista scowled at Ed.

“She’s dangerous,” Sam said.

“Dangerous,” Trista agreed.

“Awe, come on girls. Lighten up. How
can you talk that way about Steuart’s new girlfriend?” Ed looked at Steuart and
frowned before continuing, “Seriously mate, I think ruby red is a much better
color for your complexion.”

“That old skeleton isn’t my girlfriend
and I don’t wear lipstick.”

“Hey,” Ed put his hands up. “Don’t get
upset with me.” He put his hand across his mouth and spoke to the girls in a
stage whisper. “Obviously the kid has yet to see a mirror.”

“Hush,” Steuart said.

Ed laughed. “There’s nothing like an
actual skin test. I’m not trying to hurt your delicate feelings. I just think you’d
look better in red.”

“Be quiet,” Steuart said.

Ed continued laughing, “I think your
new lady love has different ideas, huh?”

“Ed, I am not amused.
Pot sit!”

Ed looked at Sam, “What’s he saying
now.”

“He wants you to stop.”

Ed glanced at Steuart, “Our communication
might be easier if you would speak a language I can understand.”

“
Mat
a rue
.”

“I give up.” Ed threw his hands in the
air, and looked at Sam, “I think it’s amusing. Perhaps you’re being a little
overly sensitive.” He turned to the girls, “Don’t you think it’s amusing?”

The girls frowned.

Ed laughed again. “We know I’m right.
See, ruby red is a much better color for you Stew Boy. You’re blushing pal. If
you weren’t wearing that cap, I’m sure we’d see ruby red ears.”

“Ed, stop it,” Steuart raised his
voice. “That’s enough!”

“The ruby red doesn’t go too well with
that nasty hot pink.”

“I said
stop it
. I’m a lot bigger than you.”

“You look good in lipstick. It’s not
your fault that Della chose a bad shade.”

Steuart tensed, “I just realized
something. You’re not a real comedian.”

“What? Not a comedian? What do you
mean?”

“You’re not. You’re an obnoxious little
man.”

“Stew Boy, Comedians are supposed to be
obnoxious. So, be honest with me, how’d you like that dance?”

Ed’s teasing continued until Della’s
voice was heard coming up the street behind her last customer. “Wait, sir.
Wait! Don’t leave. You’ve not seen my complete selection…”

Ed clung to Steuart’s arm, “Quick!
Dragon Burn Awn!”

“What?” Steuart asked. “I don’t
understand.”

Ed screamed, “
Grab and run
—
now
!”

Steuart held onto Ed while Sam helped
Trista move safely into her jacket pocket. The group of four ducked inside the
closest shop. The sign over the door read:
I.M.Felphul—Used
Books and Items of Interest.

A bell was triggered as the children
entered. Other than that, the place was quiet and appeared to be empty. Sam let
out a sigh of relief. She checked to see that Trista was okay.

“Fine down here. What about you Sam?”

“I’m okay.”

“Let’s go home,” Ed whispered to
Steuart.

“I thought you were doing all of this
for the adventure. Where’s your spirit of adventure?”

“Some adventures should never be
repeated.”

“I understand.” Steuart smiled. “It’s
okay. You can apologize now.”

Ed rolled his eyes and chuckled, “
Girth
.”

Sam looked at the store, “Maybe we
should leave.”

“Just be cautious,” Trista whispered.

“See what you can find.” Steuart said. “Ed
and I’ve had more than enough excitement. We’re going to stay close to the
front.”

“You don’t think Trista and I were
frightened?”

Steuart looked at his sister, and whispered,
“I don’t believe you were being held captive by a crazy woman with a puppet
face and dinosaur lips.”

“At least it doesn’t smell like pee in
here,” Ed whispered. “I could barely breathe at Ivy’s.”

Sam pointed to a sign, “Look:
items of interest.
I’ll ask if they have
cigar boxes.” She unzipped her jacket and reached in for Trista. “Ready?”

Trista gave Sam a squeeze, “Let’s do
this.”

* * *

I.M. Felphul’s bookstore was narrow and
deep. The store was in a cold, older building with high ceilings, exposed pipes,
and vintage institutional green walls. Fluorescent tube lighting buzzed and
occasionally crackled overhead. Dark, heavy bookshelves stood tall guarding a
community of stools and ladders that waited patiently for visitors. Worn plank floors
held stacks of books. Towards the back of the shop, a small area was devoted to
comic books and graphic novels.

It’s true that a good bookstore can
help a child forget even the worst of days. Steuart eagerly dove into the
shelves of books and was soon lost inside the fantasy hub. He began searching
for new words. He climbed around the shelves as he opened and closed books. He
read paragraphs, looked at inscriptions, and then stopped to write several new
words on his cards.
Lanate,
flibbertigibbet
and
moribund
were
three of his favorites
.

A clerk sat at the back counter with
his head down.
Sam began walking towards
the back, stopping first to flip through a couple of art books. She found a
museum catalog with a new color floating inside. She looked at the clerk. His
head still down, she reached into her backpack, pulled out a small pair of
scissors and snipped a corner sample from the loose page. She slid the color
into her satchel. “That’s good,” she sighed. It was a cool teal, more blue than
green, with a light hint of red that added a beautiful depth to the hue.

“Shouldn’t we be getting down to
business?” Trista whispered.

“You’re right. Sorry.” Sam walked to
the desk and stared at the man who sat reading. “Hello Sir, we have a
particular interest today. I’m hoping you can help us.”

He didn’t look up until after Sam
completed her sentence. He was a large and gruff looking man with a bulbous
nose and smallish blue eyes that were a bit too far apart for his tiny round
wire frames. His hair, pulled into a ponytail, disappeared behind his back. The
man wore a wrinkled surplus army jacket over a brain zap t-shirt. He looked in
need of a haircut, shave, and maybe a shower. Sam imagined him as a person who
arrived for college, forty or more years ago and stayed. She pulled Trista from
her coat. She held the doll with both hands. “Can you help us? This is my doll.
She’d like a cigar box. Do you have any?”