“When the stars are novas,
When the tides run out to the sea,
It will be you and me.
Our day will come
When all is broken in pieces,
And a cloud covers the sun we’ll run …”
The silks dropped from the rigging above. Was March the only person to notice that her hand was shaking as she grabbed them? March squinted. He could just make out Jules, standing on a small platform above, ready for her cue. She would do most of the acrobatics. Lemon would primarily swing and sing.
As always, he marveled at Jules’s nerve, so high above the stage that he could only see the glint of her costume.
Lemon’s voice slithered out over the audience now as she was slowly lifted into the air. The crowd went crazy. March began to snake his way closer.
“And the crash and the burn,
And the fire and the ice.
Just bring us to paradise …”
Jules swung down, circling Lemon. Her knees wrapped in the fabric, swinging, making Lemon look better by taking all the real risks.
Jules had gone over the moves in her head, rehearsing on the floor, earbuds in. He’d seen her, eyes closed, learning the routine by heart. He could see now that it helped that Lemon was nervous. Jules had to help her, twirling the silks to get her moving.
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took it out.
SOS she’s out
Her GPS on phone shows movement
Must be a vent in there she got out
Searching but
She’s not anywhere
I’m standing right by the stage. I see the moving dot. I DON’T SEE HER!!!!!
March swallowed and keyed in a command.
Look up
After a moment Izzy’s reply buzzed in.
Up in the scaffolding. She’s heading for the silks!
March craned his neck, chilled at the sight of Blue making her way fearlessly along the metal scaffolding above.
Desperately, he moved his gaze to Jules. She hadn’t seen Blue. He couldn’t warn her. He watched, helpless, as she twisted upside down, wrapping her ankles in the fabric and letting go, twirling fast, faster.
Blue reached the silks and grabbed the one Jules was on. The movement threw Jules off balance, and she knocked into Lemon. The crowd gasped, March right along with them. Lemon’s voice went on singing — now it was clear she was lip-syncing — but her mouth made an O of surprise.
Jules looked up then and saw Blue. She barely hesitated. If March didn’t know better, he would think that this was part of the choreography, how she managed to wrap one knee around Lemon’s silk to steady herself.
Blue yanked the silk, giving it a hard twirl, and Jules jerked to the left but was able to turn it into an acrobatic move, swinging upside down from one of the free silks, while Lemon continued to sing. Caught between her own silks and Lemon’s, Jules began a series of moves to get clear, climbing Lemon’s silk with one hand.
Blue slithered down the silks, one arm raised in triumph, still holding Jules’s in the other, and the crowd cheered. March’s heart was in his throat. Every second was agony. He could see that Jules was off balance. He couldn’t help his twin.
He could only watch.
Wait for her to fall.
Like Alfie.
He couldn’t move. The oily black river moved through him and filled his lungs, and he couldn’t breathe. Zillah.
Blue was close to Jules now, her face a grimacing mask. While they twirled and flipped one hundred feet above the stage, they grabbed each other’s silks, trying to upend each other. It was a desperate fight. The crowd roared, thinking it was all part of the show, part of a song about battles and destruction, and Lemon kept on singing.
Jules swung out, gaining control of her silks, and began to flip in a series of moves to bring her closer to Lemon, hanging from her armpits, then her knees, then her ankles. Suddenly Blue swung after her and hooked an ankle around the fabric. She yanked it hard, and Jules began to slide, falling toward the stage below. The crowd screamed. March felt his lungs constrict. Jules!
At the last moment Jules grabbed a silk and hung on, bouncing. March saw her muscles shaking. He could see panic on her face but doubted anyone else could tell. As Blue began to swing, preparing to launch at her, Jules gave a midair dive so breathtakingly crazy the crowd erupted in a great roar.
As the closing notes of the song began, Jules bounced by her ankles. Then in one smooth move she grabbed Lemon’s silks and slid down right above Lemon’s head, letting her belt out the last notes.
March knew the spotlight would leave Lemon’s face for just a moment, as yellow light traveled from her ankles to her head as she spun upside down. Blue had designed the routine to cover Lemon’s inexperience and also show herself off.
“When cold oceans boil
When heaven falls …”
March tensed in agony. Jules had managed to slide down the silk, one arm lifted.
“… I will hear your caaaaalllll.”
The lights went out, then flashed on, and Lemon flipped to hang by her ankles, twirling while the audience went crazy….
March squinted, but he could no longer see Jules and Blue, just shapes. Then he caught the flash of someone flipping over and over, straight down toward the stage. The two somersaulted to the ground. Lemon wobbled. The other figure hit the stage perfectly.
Jules.
The relief made him cry out loud. He could breathe again. His yell was lost in the crowd’s applause. Lemon lifted her arms, launched herself at the crowd gathered around the stage, and crowd-surfed. As Blue slid down to the stage, Jules launched herself after Lemon. March had squeezed himself to the front, waiting.
Lemon and Jules crowd-surfed toward the aisle. Lemon gave Jules one aggrieved backward look for following her. That wasn’t in the script.
March was close, closer now, holding Lemon up and cheering as he moved forward toward Jules, who was being carried aloft by the crowd. His hand slipped into Jules’s pocket. If Jules had managed to do it, it would be a miracle.
But she was a miracle worker.
He ripped apart the Velcro, and his fingers found the necklace. He slipped it out smoothly and quickly, a classic pickpocket pull.
And then he was gone, melted back into the crowd before Jules had regained her feet, racing toward the exit as a triumphant Lemon acknowledged the cheers and Blue’s sharp gaze raked the crowd.
As he made his way to the exit, March dunked the yellow wig in a trash can and pulled on a baseball cap. He bought a bag of popcorn and munched while he walked, trying to look casual even though his heart was about to bust through his ribs. Izzy should already be outside. Jules should be in the restroom, taking off the makeup and costume. Blue could be anywhere.
He passed fans buying T-shirts and pushed open the front doors, taking a gulp of warm September air that felt full of rain.
Izzy melted out of the background and stood by his side.
“Did she get it?”
“Yeah. But we have to get out of here, fast.”
Jules rounded the corner, heading toward them, her hair now in her customary spiky style, wearing jeans and sneakers that Izzy had secreted in the bathroom for her.
“Subway,” March said, and they dashed across the street toward the entrance.
They started down the stairs. Coming toward them, emerging out of the darkness, was Blue.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
March had known that the subway connected to an entrance within the arena. He hadn’t expected Blue to ambush them, though.
He vowed it would be his last mistake.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’d say so. First tiny missy there locks me in a closet. Then Jules takes over my silks.”
“Guess I just missed the spotlight,” Jules said.
“And Lemon’s necklace is missing,” Blue said. “There’s that. Are you insane? Do you know how many cameras are
in that arena? Not just security, but TV? Phones? I’m guessing it will take about ten minutes for you to be all over the Internet. And then you’re on the road to prison.”
“Maybe,” Jules said. “But maybe they’ll think it’s you.”
“You little …” Blue slowly mounted the stairs.
March waited for her to get to the top. There was no reason to run. Not yet. In the meantime he looked without seeming to look, the way Alfie had taught him. People heading for the subway, coming up the stairs, parting around them. A hot dog vendor to his right. Someone handing out flyers on his left. Traffic moving. Stopping. Taxi being hailed. Black SUV with tinted windows, the kind that celebrities use, changing lanes, probably dropping someone at the concert, or picking someone up.
“So before I alert the police, let’s make a deal,” Blue said as she reached them. “I can make all this go away.”
“The police? That’s the last thing you’d do!” Jules scoffed.
“I’m leading the straight life now,” Blue said. “I’m a pop star, remember?”
“A legend in your own mind,” March said.
“Just got off my ten-city European tour,” Blue said. “Sold-out venues.”
“You had to cancel the last three cities because of low ticket sales,” Jules said. “Only four people showed up in Copenhagen.”
“Lemon Cartelle is my best friend,” Blue continued. “Who do you think they’re going to believe — me or some kids?”
“I wish people would stop saying that,” Izzy said. “Even if it’s true.”
“I’ll bring her back the necklace. You can just take off. We’re family. I owe you.”
“We’re not giving you anything,” Jules said.
March tensed. Black SUV blocking crosswalk.
And then suddenly a word from out of nowhere floated into his head. Copenhagen.
Jules had said Copenhagen. And earlier, when she’d been reciting the cities of Blue’s tour: Dubrovnik.
Another black SUV making a turn, blocking the corner.
Her tour schedule.
Copenhagen.
What had Dukey said?
… jobs in Milan, Dubrovnik, Copenhagen …
… skills your sister has …
“You’re after the sapphire, too,” March said. “You’re a Top Cat!”
Blue smiled.
“Five o’clock,” March said. “I’ll turn them over at five o’clock.”
It was a code he’d devised to alert the gang to danger. It basically meant This is a red alert, follow me. And if he was the twelve o’clock position, their escape would be at five.
Blue scowled. “What are you —”
But she said the rest to empty air. They were gone.
March charged straight at the black SUV, Jules and Izzy right behind him. He just caught a glimpse of the startled driver as he leapfrogged up onto the hood, scrambled over the windshield to the roof, and then slid down, hitting the street. Jules and Izzy were on his heels.
They had surprise on their side, but March knew that it bought them less than a minute. They flew across the side street. March chanced a look back. A furious Blue was already screaming at the driver and getting in the car. That was the one that worried him. The one that was pointing in the right direction.
The map is not the territory.
Thanks to Alfie, March had done his homework. He already knew Brooklyn, but he made sure he knew it better over the past few days, studying street maps online, pacing out the neighborhood around the arena while Izzy pulled off the hack. He knew the location of every subway stop, every alley.
His best bet would be to head toward Prospect Park. It would be crowded with families and joggers and people strolling in the warm September air. Plenty of opportunities to blend in.
He thought all this at lightning speed while cutting down an alley, Jules and Izzy at his side.
“Two blocks to the park,” he told the others as they ran. “We can lose them there.”
They started across the street, but the SUV suddenly roared down the street, going against traffic. Horns blared, but the car kept moving, the driver expertly twisting through the vehicles trying to get out of the way. Heading right for them.
“Other way!” March shouted, and they reversed direction.
Only to face the other SUV barreling toward them. It grazed a van as it surged forward.
“Subway,” March panted. “Three blocks.”
They dived right, down a crowded shopping street. Weaving through the pedestrians, they dodged strollers and dog leashes and couples holding hands. They reached the subway, but yellow police tape was over the entrance and a SUSPENDED SERVICE sign was attached to it. March hit the railing in frustration.
“Another one in five blocks,” he panted.
They made a sharp left, then a right. The SUV was ahead. March reversed and made a left. Every time they saw the car, they reversed and dived down a different street. Their leg muscles were burning now. They were close to worn out.
And then they were lost.
The thing about Brooklyn is, March thought, you can go a block or two and be in a completely different neighborhood. Suddenly the street was run-down, deserted. Some of the buildings looked abandoned, leaning into one another like wobbly bowling pins about to fall. But this was Brooklyn, where real estate was king, and in the middle of the block a twelve-story brick building that still had a faded HOTEL painted on the front sported a sagging banner reading LUXURY CONDOS FOR SALE NOW. The front was boarded up, but he could see the long neck of a crane.
A dark SUV appeared at the end of the street. It stopped, blocking the end of the street.
Behind them, another SUV appeared, blocking that exit as well.
“When in doubt, go up,” Jules said. “That’s my motto. Look at the roof. One after the other, super close.”
“I wouldn’t call it super close,” March said.
“I’ll tell you something I know for sure — those guys won’t jump.”
“What about Blue?”
Jules set her jaw. “We can handle Blue.”
A man whose muscles bulged out of his close-fitting jacket emerged from the car.
“I have an idea. Let’s go up,” March said.
Jules scaled the wooden construction wall in two seconds flat, then reached down for Izzy. March boosted himself up and over.
They stood in a dirt pit, surrounded by heavy moving equipment. Two Dumpsters were full of junk — couches, armchairs, sinks, carpeting. Jules shaded her eyes as she scanned the building. A heavy fabric tube ran down one side of the building, a way for the workers to throw trash out. It ended in another Dumpster.
“They’re taking it apart from the inside,” Jules said. “But it doesn’t look like they’ve gotten far. Hopefully there will still be floors.”
“Yeah,” March said. “That’s key.”
“Don’t look so nervous,” she said. “We used to set up pitches in abandoned buildings all the time.”
“Sure,” Izzy murmured as they pushed aside a tarp to enter. “I’m sure they’re just kidding with that ‘Danger No Admittance’ sign.”
Inside were the remains of a tiled floor, partially jackhammered away. Pale murals ghosted the walls. Part of the ceiling was gone. The musty smell of sadness rose in their nostrils, and they stopped short.
“This is the creepiest place I’ve ever seen,” Izzy whispered.
“C’mon,” Jules said, heading for the stairs.
It was impossible to tell what color the carpet had been — green? Tan? Now it was the color of sludge, with a thick coat of dirt. Footprints from construction shoes merged and separated, creating a pattern of industry and grime. They reached the first floor. The doors had been taken off the rooms and were stacked at one end of the hallway. As they rounded the landing, heading for the next flight of stairs, they passed the open rooms. Quick glimpses of broken dressers, an ancient TV, a busted phone, broken tile in a gaping doorway that led to a cracke
d toilet. A teddy bear was propped up against one wall, wearing a pair of underwear on its head. On the wall of one room someone had written IF YOU WANT A TRUE FRIEND TRY A RAT and WE ARE NOBODY WE ARE NOWHERE.
“Squatters,” March said. “People lived here.”
Jules grimaced. “Yeah, Joey’s garage is looking good.”
They climbed the second staircase. From below they heard a noise. Someone smashing into something and cursing.
The gang was here. Footsteps rang out against the tiled floor.
March felt the sapphires, heavy in his pocket. Just like Alfie, he always kept the loot on him. Safer that way, Alfie used to say. Never trust a landlord.
Should he throw them down into the lobby? Would the men go away? These were guys with weapons. Serious stuff.
Jules read his mind. “We still have a chance. Let’s just get to the roof.”
They raced up the stairs and burst out onto the roof. The sky was lowering, and a few drops of rain fell. Jules whipped her head around, studying her options.
“It’s farther than it looks,” she said. She glanced at Izzy. March knew what she was thinking. They might make it, but Izzy was too small to jump that distance.
“I can do it,” Izzy said.
Jules slowly shook her head.
“Then I’ll stay,” Izzy said. “You go. They won’t do anything to me.”
“I’m not leaving you here with those guys, are you nuts?” March said.
“Nobody’s leaving anybody,” Jules said. She pointed to a pile of lumber. “We can use one like a plank. Come on.”
March hoisted the plank of wood. Izzy and Jules took an end, and March steadied the center. With Jules directing, they lifted it up, and then released it. It smashed down on the adjoining roof.
March looked over the side and gulped. With that double-height lobby, fifteen stories down.
“You know the first rule,” Jules said.
“Don’t look down.”