“Go back to sleep,” Jillian said after her third attempt got the same error message. “I’ll wake you up if I get through.”
“I want to stay awake.”
“If I don’t get through before three, you’re going to have to take over trying to get through. We have to keep trying until midnight tomorrow.”
April had said that it was unlikely they’d get through in the first few hours, but it was upsetting to think that three hours might go by without success.
* * *
It was still dark when Jillian woke Louise. “I didn’t get through and my battery is nearly dead.”
“April got to the border Saturday; she’ll get in,” Louise said with more confidence than she felt. She glanced at the clock. It was three-thirty. Jillian had let her sleep an extra half hour. They needed to be awake for school at five-thirty. Louise reset the alarm.
By failure number seven, Jillian was breathing deeply.
The world has strangely quiet as Louise sat dialing her phone. It seemed as if the whole world was holding its breath, just as afraid for her sister as she was.
* * *
At four twenty-three, the phone clicked instead of immediately giving Louise a recording. Her heart leaped up and then sunk down to her toes as it gave a standard busy signal. She hung up and redialed. It clicked and after a moment of silence, gave a busy signal again. Her heart had done the same dizzying loop of up and down and back to rest.
* * *
“Oh, you do have a phone!” Iggy said when they met him at the subway platform shortly after eight. It had become a ritual at some point that Iggy walked with them to school from the subway station.
“Doh!” Jillian hit dial to try yet again. “Everyone has phones, even the Amish.”
“Isn’t that against their religion?” Iggy asked.
“I report it, not explain it,” Jillian stated.
Jillian’s phone suddenly connected and a man spoke over her phone. “Hey, this is Oilcan. My life imploded and I’m not going to be home until probably Wednesday. I ran over my headset. It’s in a zillion pieces that not even Tinker could fix. If you really, really need to talk to me, call Tinker. Be warned that she’s in full Godzilla mode. If you don’t have Tinker’s number, call Roach.”
They stared at Jillian’s phone for several heartbeats.
“Normally you leave a message after something like that.” Iggy pointed to the still connected phone.
“That’s not the right number.” Jillian disconnected the call.
“Ah, okay, I was wondering. Those sound like gang names. And headsets? Only bikers use those.”
Jillian glanced to Louise as she put her phone away. “I’ll have to look up the right number later.”
“So.” Iggy bounced in place. “Are you psyched?”
“Huh?” Louise said.
“Tomorrow you start flying!” Iggy meant for the play.
Jillian swore slightly as the twins traded glances. They had totally forgotten about the play again in the flood of other concerns. Because of the bombing, all the school activities had been pushed back a week, including the sixth grade class play. They’d made up for lost time on stagecraft with after-school sessions. They hadn’t had access to the stage, however, until last week. It meant they spent the first few days moving pieces of the sets into place, assembling them, and testing their blocking.
Jillian and Iggy started to practice lines which left Louise to consider Oilcan’s answering machine message. They still didn’t know if this man was their cousin, Orville. They’d scripted out a series of questions that they could have asked to establish his identity. If he wasn’t going to be home during the Shutdown window, then they could only leave a message. Should they without knowing if this was really Orville or not?
It was painful to feel exactly nine years old.
* * *
“We could just say ‘Alexander is in danger’ and not give any other information on her, not even her gender, and if it isn’t Orville, he’ll have no idea who we’re talking about.”
They’d hidden themselves in the girls’ restroom to discuss the problem before the homeroom bell rang.
“I don’t know. Two kids call and leave a message about elves kidnapping your cousin—who’s going to believe that? It’s going to sound like a joke.”
“We can have Tesla leave it.” Jillian dropped her pitch to the gravelly tone of Tesla’s original deep voice, before they changed it to sound like Christopher Robin. “Ohayougozaimasu, Orville-san.”
“That could work, but do we say who is going to kidnap Alexander? Sparrow is a double agent working inside the Wind Clan. We don’t know whom she’s working for or why. It isn’t Windwolf; he’s a target too. And Sparrow probably isn’t going to carry out the kidnapping herself.”
“I know! I know!” Jillian cried. “Okay. We’ll call Lain.”
“What? Lain?”
“She’s Alexander’s aunt.”
“But she might not know that. Esme didn’t want April to tell her about Alexander.”
“While Esme was still on Earth.” Jillian wrapped her arms around Louise. “If I was leaving Earth like that, I would know that I was never coming back. And that I would never see you again. I would want the last time we’re together to be all good memories—and that certainly wouldn’t work if I dropped a shitload of crazy on you.”
Louise shuddered at the idea of losing Jillian. “So, you think that Esme would have left a note or something that Lain could read after they’d said goodbye?”
Jillian nodded. “I would. A big long sappy note of everything that hurt too much to say.”
“Like what?”
“You know. Like how I was going to miss waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and knowing that I wasn’t alone. And how scary everything was going to be without you with me. You’re the brave one. I couldn’t do half the things we do without you leading the way.”
“Me? Brave?”
“Yeah!” Jillian squeezed her hard and then let her go, embarrassed. “Anyhow, I’m betting Esme did tell Lain before she jumped.”
The homeroom bell rang, ending their moment of privacy.
“Okay,” Louise said. “We’ll call Lain.”
* * *
Mr. Howe was standing in the hallway with Miss Hamilton, Elle, Darius and Carlos.
“Girls, there’s been a change in plan. The flying instructor is here. They’ve installed the wires for the play and you’re going to be spending today learning how to use it.”
Jillian breathed out a curse that only Louise could hear.
“Today?” Louise asked fearfully.
A weird side effect of playing with the spells, though, was that the residual magic seemed to be giving Louise horrible nightmares. One of the recurring ones was of Jillian falling and it had them both a little edgy about the flying.
“Yes, we were originally scheduled for last Tuesday but—” She paused as the sentence led her to the bombing. The teachers seemed reluctant to discuss it, as if they were told not to bring it up repeatedly.
“But I thought it was moved to tomorrow,” Louise said.
“There was a conflict in schedules and we got bumped to today. Go down to the theater with Mr. Howe.”
He held up his hand to check them and stepped into 502. “Behave!” Mr. Howe growled at his class. “I’ll get a full report, so don’t think I won’t know.”
With that warning, he led them downstairs. The twins followed, exchanging glances that spoke volumes. The flying instruction was a full day affair. Jillian was better at lying but she was going to be strapped into a harness and suspended from the ceiling all day. Louise would have to be the one to call Lain.
* * *
The flying instructor was a giant. He towered over the twins and was nearly a foot taller than even Mr. Howe.
“I’m Rob Noble. I’m with Flights of New York. In the next two days I’ll teach you how to operate the equipment and help you choreograph t
he entire play. I’ve done hundreds of productions of Peter Pan, so I know the characters and I know the scenes. I can give you complete blocking instructions or I can just make suggestions. This is your production, not mine. Today we’ll get you comfortable at flying and then choreograph everything but the fight on the Jolly Roger.”
He held a harness that was a belt with wide suspenders and straps that looped through the legs. The reinforced back had one large ring. “We’ll be using these flying harnesses, and only them. Safety is very important, so never try to hook the wire to something like a belt or a piece of clothing and expect it to hold. The harness goes under a costume. It can’t be dyed or painted, because that might weaken the material. You’ll want a T-shirt on under it; you don’t want it up against your skin. Stage manager?”
Louise put up her hand when she realized he was asking who was acting in that position.
“Okay. Before any practice or performance, it’s your responsibility to check the harness for wear. If it looks like it’s fraying or breaking in any way, you have to tell your teachers that it can’t be used. I’m leaving lots of spare harnesses with your teachers, so don’t try to jury-rig something. Do you understand?”
Louise nodded.
“I will be double-checking the equipment too.” Mr. Howe said.
“The more eyes on it, the better.” Mr. Noble pointed to a dangling rope. “Yesterday we installed the equipment and tested it. This here is called a flying wire.” He took out a flashlight and pointed it up to the ceiling to show where it connected and then followed its path down to a complex set of pulleys and cams. “It’s controlled by what we call a lift line. It used to be that for every flyer, you would need one or two humans on this line. We now have these robots that we will be programming in the choreography. It will be a little tedious, so you have to be patient, but once we have the movement entered, it’s actually easier and safer for the flyers.”
He tucked away the flashlight. “Who is Peter?”
“I am.” Jillian moved up to lean against Louise.
The instructor did a double take. “Oh! Twins! I think you’re going to be the smallest Peter I’ve worked with.”
Jillian put her hands on her hips, jerking Peter’s boldness up like a shield. “Size has nothing to do with talent!”
He grinned. “Of course not. Have you ever taken dance classes?”
“Yes.” The twins had taken a variety of dance classes at the YMCA.
“I take classes at the Dance Conservatory.” Elle stepped forward with ballet flourish. “I’m playing Wendy.”
“Good, good, that will help. Let’s get you into your harness.”
Louise took her place at the lighting board. She needed a stool to reach the array of monitors and switches. Mr. Noble had linked the lift operator robots to the stage’s computer. By design, the board was out of sight from anyone in the audience. Half-blinded by the lights on the stage, the teachers wouldn’t be able to see her if they stayed with the actors. Louise took out her phone and dialed Lain’s number. The call went through but the line was busy. She hissed out a swear word. Until she got hold of Lain, she needed to multitask and learn the software that controlled the robots. She tucked her phone among the various buttons, switches, and slide controls. She hit disconnect and then redial.
* * *
She found a rhythm to her work. The action suggested a melody to her, so she would write a section of song, dial Lain’s number, program in the newest flight movements, check her phone’s screen, tweak the lighting, and disconnect from the busy signal. Carlos and Darius as Michael and John Darling were going to stay comic relief as they struggled with the flying. Jillian and Elle astounded Mr. Noble at the speed with which they learned the basics. He shifted them from the simple single harness that they started with into a three-point harness that would allow more complicated movements.
“Who designed your sets?” Mr. Noble asked as they started to program in the choreography of Peter’s secretive arrival at the Darling Nursery.
“Louise did.” Mr. Howe’s focus was wholly on Jillian as she cartwheeled through the air, fifteen feet up. “In fifth grade, we turn everything over to the kids. Louise designed them and the class built them.”
“Really? Wow.” Mr. Noble gave a tip of a hat to Louise while keeping his eye on Jillian. “Your set is amazing for flying. Most productions forget about the three-dimensional aspects of the play and just do one level. And I really like the New York skyline twist. Never saw that before.”
Louise blushed. She’d considered possible flight movements when she designed the set but it had been only a few minutes of thought, now lost in a flood of all the other considerations such as visual impact, ease to construct, cost, movability and convertibility. The little loft area of Wendy’s bed was actually the flipside of the Jolly Roger’s poop deck, the ship’s railing hidden behind the princess bed. The two sets of steps joined together to make the Jolly Roger’s grand staircase. The long elevated landing between the steps turned to become the gun ports. She’d actually been feeling guilty that she’d designed something fairly plain considering some of the work she’d done on sets for their videos. Then again, those sets had been virtual and didn’t need to be moved down twelve stories when done.
* * *
Because the four actors were taking turns getting individual instructions, they didn’t take a break until the third period bell.
“It’s been three hours!” Jillian cried after Louise updated her on the series of failures. “Who the hell is she talking to?”
“Earth.”
“All of Earth?” Jillian flailed slightly on the stage floor, too tired to do more of a display of frustration.
“Everyone she knows only has one day a month to call her.”
“We’re running out of time. We only have until midnight and it’s almost eleven already. Half the day is gone.”
“We’ll just keep calling until we get through,” Louise said.
“Peter!” Mr. Noble called.
“Coming!” Jillian leapt up and bound lightly onto stage as if she wasn’t tired and struck a pose. “What need do you have of the great Peter Pan?”
Louise was still wondering why Jillian thought she was the brave one. She didn’t feel brave. Her heart jumped in her chest every time she hit redial. The only thing she’d done all morning was listening to busy signals. Jillian seemed fearless, leaping into the air, doing flips and cartwheels, sparring verbally with Mr. Noble while trading lines with Elle.
Did Jillian really think she was the one that led the way? Louise always thought of Jillian was the one that led. It was because Jillian wanted to be a movie director that they did the videos.
Distracted, she wasn’t prepared for the phone to actually ring and then be answered before it rang a second time.
“Dr. Shenske’s residence, can I help you?” A man’s voice snapped over the speaker. “Hello? Anyone there? Oh, freaking hell, stupid phones!”
“Hello? I’m here!” Louise cried before he could hang up. She dropped her voice to a lower, more adult pitch. She should have brought Tesla to act as a filter. “I—I need to talk to Lain Shenske.”
“Dr. Shenske is busy at the moment. She’s supervising loading the van with botanical specimens. There was a big twenty-car pileup on I-279, so the van is way behind schedule. It will be at least two hours until she can come to the phone. I’m fielding all calls from Earth.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Richard Hill. I’m a post-doc from Cornell; I’m doing research for Dr. Karen Purcell. I’m helping out now but I’m going have to fly shortly if I want to get back to Earth today. Startup waits for no man.”
“I really need to talk to her. This is an emergency. Life and death.”
“Oh, geez, you interns are all the same. You’re the third to call this morning. Suck it up and learn how to deal with standard procedures. There’s no cutting corners in field research paperwork.” And he hung up on her.
&nb
sp; Louise stared at the phone, dismayed. Should she call back? Try to explain before he hung up on her again? No, the man would hang up as soon as he recognized her voice. She should hook Tesla into the loop and use his filters to disguise her voice. Actually, she could get Tesla to do the calling and have him loop her into the conversation only if he actually got through to a human.
* * *
So the day went. The telephone number was busy every time Louise tried, except for one time when the connection went through and she heard someone shouting in the distance. “Watch! Watch! Don’t yank out the leads or the spell will collapse!” the woman cried and then they were disconnected.
Louise eyed the phone. If Pittsburgh was on Earth, how were they casting spells? Did Lain have a magic generator too? Did this mean Lain knew Kensbock? Did Lain know where the M.I.T. student was?
“We have time for one more run; can we give it a go?” Mr. Noble called.
Louise had been working on lighting and music to go with the action as she endlessly failed to talk to Lain. She waited until everyone was in their places and then dimmed all the lights except the nursery’s nightlights. She was aware that Mr. Noble and Mr. Howe had come to bracket her as she stood on a stool and worked the control boards. There were half a dozen monitors on the system. There were cameras that showed the audience and what was onstage. There was the screen that showed the programming for the lift-line robotic operators. The controls for the Tinker Bell projector. The sound mixing display. And her phone, cycling through dial, busy signal, disconnection.
This would be the worst possible moment for the phone call to actually go through.
Trying to ignore her phone, she cued in a gleaming figure inside a ball of light that represented Tinker Bell. She zoomed the gleaming circle about the nursery, leaving a contrail of glittering motes.