View from Saturday (9781439132012) (19 page)

Mr. Singh said, “You are a very good driver, Mrs. Olinski.” The rhythm of his speech was something between a chant and a birdcall. “I have not myself a high degree of skill for driving automobiles. For many years we lived on a cruise ship, and so I was a fully mature man before I passed my first driving test. Did you require many lessons to learn to drive a handicapped vehicle?”

“I had a few,” Mrs. Olinski replied. They rode in silence, listening only to the muffled thump and whirr of the tires riding over the interstate before Mrs. Olinski added, “After my accident it took more courage to get back into the passenger's side of an automobile than it took for me to learn to drive again.”

“I can understand that,” Mr. Singh replied. “It often takes more courage to be a passenger than a driver. Of course, Mrs. Olinski, I am in no way making reference to this trip.”

Julian sat alone in the back seat and read the trees and houses and road signs. He said almost nothing, but Mrs. Olinski was never not aware of him. Finally, she said, “Julian makes each mile a journey of quarter inches.”

Mr. Singh replied, “It is a skill he learned when we lived on the cruise ship, Mrs. Olinski. He learned to be a passenger. He learned to read the ocean by the cupful. He also learned to regard each port of call as part of the journey and not as destination. Every voyage begins when you do.”

“When you fill your pen,” Mrs. Olinski said.

Mr. Singh smiled. “Yes, Noah told us.”

S
uspense grew, and the commissioner did his best to sustain it. He took his time between questions. He looked over at the judges, nodded, reached into the bowl, and slowly, slowly unfolded the paper. “This question is Maxwell's.” Everyone knew that. Maxwell would have to answer correctly to tie it up again. The commissioner tugged ever so gently at his French cuff. He adjusted his glasses. He cleared his throat. He read, “In what work of fiction
would we meet the original Humpty Dumpty, and who wrote it?”

The answer came.
“Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
by …”

“No!” said the commissioner of education before they could supply an answer to the second part and throw the judges into a panic about the possibility of having to award Maxwell half credit and create confusion about the score.

There was an audible gasp from the audience. Didn't they all believe—those who had actually read
Alice
and not just said they had—that Humpty Dumpty came from Wonderland? Behind her Mrs. Olinski heard Grandpa Nate Gershom whisper to Grandma Sadie, “I think it's Mother Goose. Logic tells me that an egg would come from a mother and a goose.”

The commissioner of education tapped on his microphone and demanded quiet. While the audience waited, he took his Mark Cross pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote on the back of the question in question: To be discussed: The use of compound questions for match point. He replaced his pen in his inside jacket pocket, turned to his right and asked, “Epiphany, can you answer?”

Nadia, Noah, and Ethan looked at Julian, inviting him to give the correct answer.
“Through the Looking Glass
by Lewis Carroll.”

It was match point. Epiphany must answer a follow-up to be declared the winner. The commissioner looked again at the paper in his hand. Several spaces
beneath and printed in italics was the follow-up:
What was the true name and occupation of the author?
Julian knew: Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson; math teacher, Oxford University.

It was over.

Between reality and realization, there was a pause. It was over. There was a beat—time for hearts to skip. There was a gap—time for hearts and minds to connect. There was a moment for joy to find its home. It was over. And Epiphany had won.

The Maxwell side of the room was the first to clap. Epiphany, the first to cheer.

The team from Maxwell walked over to The Souls, shook their hands as they had been taught to do, and smiled the parched way that losers do.

The Souls smiled triumphantly. At the audience and for the cameras. There must have been a hundred cameras flashing and whirring. With spots dancing in their eyes, they walked to the edge of the small stage and stood in front of Mrs. Olinski and applauded her specifically until everyone else got the message and stood and faced her and applauded her, too. Mrs. Olinski smiled and said thank you and smiled and nodded and said thank you, thank you, over and over again, wheeling her chair in small circles until her smile and her words floated like a frieze around the room.

The Souls came down from the stage then and, two by two, stood on either side of her wheelchair, so the commissioner
had to come down off the stage to give them their trophy. They didn't want it unless Mrs. Olinski was there with them.

And The Souls and Mrs. Olinski shared the trophy that is called a loving cup. And it was.

And then it was all over.

T
hey had no sooner made it to the interstate than Julian fell asleep.

Mrs. Olinski and Mr. Singh were quiet, too. Mrs. Olinski felt a strange sense of loss. She did not feel like a loser, but she did feel a sense of loss. She drove for miles worrying about it. Finally, almost involuntarily, she said out loud, “Win some. Lose some.” She glanced at Mr. Singh and laughed. “Why did I say that?”

Mr. Singh replied, “Because it is how you feel at this moment, Mrs. Olinski.”

“I am happy that we won, Mr. Singh. But I don't understand why I feel a sense of loss. This is not like my accident when my loss was overwhelming. Why, after this wonderful victory, do I feel that something is missing?”

“Because something is.” Miles hummed past before his voice floated back to her. “For many months now, you have been in a state of perpetual preparation and excitement. Each victory was a preparation for the next. You are missing future victories. Have you enjoyed the journey out, Mrs. Olinski?”

“Very much. Every cupful. Like Julian on the ocean.”

“Now, you must put down anchor, look around, enjoy this port of call. Your stay will be brief. You must do it, Mrs. Olinski.”

Julian did not wake up even when they stopped for gas in Oneonta. He had stretched out in the back, and the bright lights of the service station shone through the rear window. His lips were slightly parted. His eyelashes cast semicircles of shadow on his cheeks.

“What do you see, Mrs. Olinski?” Mr. Singh asked.

“I see that angels have landed on his eyelids.”

“Yes,” he answered, pleased. “Angels have.”

A car pulled in behind Mrs. Olinski. Its lights hit her rearview mirror, which she adjusted and then said abruptly, “Mr. Singh, do you know how I chose The Souls?”

Mr. Singh laughed. “I believe you have several good answers. Which would you like?”

“I am not asking for my answers, Mr. Singh. I am asking for yours.”

Mr. Singh replied, “The Souls have all returned from a journey, Mrs. Olinski.”

“A journey, Mr. Singh? All of them?”

“Yes. Each of them. Noah was first.”

“Well, yes, he was the first chosen.”

“And the first to return from his journey. From Century Village.”

“Nadia?”

“From the Sargasso Sea.”

“Ethan?”

“Ethan took a little longer than the other two, yet his journey was the shortest. It was a ride on the school bus.”

“And Julian was last.”

“Yes. Julian was last. His journey has been the longest.”

Mr. Singh said nothing more. Mrs. Olinski drove past several exits on the interstate, waiting. As they approached the ramp that would take them to the state highway that would lead to Epiphany, he had still said nothing. She could stand it no longer. “Mr. Singh,” she demanded, “you must finish. You must tell me what you know about their journeys.”

“They found something, Mrs. Olinski. Noah at Century Village; Nadia on the Sargasso Sea; Ethan on the bus.” He hesitated. “Think about the question that Maxwell missed. They did not know that Humpty Dumpty was not in Wonderland because they never journeyed through the looking glass to find him. How can you know what is missing if you've never met it? You must know of something's existence before you can notice its absence. So it was with The Souls. They found on their journeys what you found at Sillington House.”

“A cup of kindness, Mr. Singh? Is that what I found?”

“Kindness, yes, Mrs. Olinski. Noah, Nadia, and Ethan found kindness in others and learned how to look for it in themselves. Can you know excellence if you've never seen it? Can you know good if you have seen only bad? Julian knows—perhaps even more than the others—about kindness. We have, my son and I, been most fortunate. We have found much kindness when we journeyed on the ship. When sixth grade started, my son found malice. Spite and malice. Mean things were done to him. Julian has told me many stories. Many stories.” The music of his voice faded and stopped. He looked at, not through, the windshield as
if it were a small screen showing one of the many stories, and then back in focus, he said to Mrs. Olinski, “Each of The Souls has had a journey, and so have you, Mrs. Olinski.”

Eva Marie Olinski thought back to the day she had chosen Julian. That was the day she did not choose Hamilton Knapp. She had seen something as she scanned the rows in the auditorium. Something that made her not choose him. She had seen how mean he was, and that was the day she went to tea at Sillington House.

They were riding down Gramercy Road now, and Mr. Singh started to turn toward the back of the van to awaken Julian. He stopped and quietly asked, “Do you know, Mrs. Olinski, how Julian first invited The Souls to tea?”

“How?”

“He sent them invitations hidden in a book.”

“What book might that be, Mr. Singh?”

“The book was
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
He would never make the mistake of looking for Humpty Dumpty there.”

They said nothing more except good night.

As tired as she was, Mrs. Olinski took her copy of
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
down from the shelf. She found the Cheshire Cat but no Humpty Dumpty. As Mr. Singh had said, if you've not seen something, it's hard to know what is missing. She took down
Through the Looking Glass
and found Humpty Dumpty sitting on a wall.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the King's horses and all the King's men

Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty in his place again.

All the king's horses and all the king's men could not have done for Mrs. Eva Marie Olinski what the kindness of four sixth-grade souls had.

She closed her book, put it back on the shelf together again with
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
She went to bed with a grin, which like the Cheshire Cat's, remained for some time after. For a considerable time after.

E
va Marie Olinski let herself down out of her van and wheeled herself to the bottom of the front porch ramp of Sillington House. The Souls were waiting. They opened the front door for her.