Any Which Wall (2 page)

Henry thought about this for a bit and sighed in a mildly disappointed way. He often wished his parents were more exciting. Both of them were pharmacists, and he couldn’t think of anything more boring than that. It would be so cool to be the son of a mad scientist and a famous explorer!

“Oh.” Emma nodded and went back to sprinkling too much garlic salt on her pizza. It was nice to sit like this, alone with Henry. Often Henry’s friend Roy was with them, and though the boys were nice enough to Emma, they sometimes forgot to include her.

Roy Levy was Henry’s best friend and next-door neighbor since forever. They’d been born in the same hospital, just fourteen days apart. They’d been in the same fourth-grade class last year, and they were on the same soccer team. Roy and Henry even looked a little alike. They were the same height, with the same mousy shade of brown hair, and the same brown eyes. However, that was where the resemblance stopped, because while Henry was “trouble, and a mess to boot” (his grandma said so), Roy was the kind of boy that grown-ups like—quiet and curious. But don’t get the wrong idea about Roy—even though he kept his shirts clean, Roy was a
lot of fun, so Henry and Emma were generally happy to have him on their jaunts, and they all enjoyed themselves in a summery kind of way.

This might have continued indefinitely if at the end of the fourth week of vacation Roy hadn’t gotten stung seven times by what he called
Apis mellifera
(though they looked a lot like plain old bees to Henry and Emma) during a raspberry raid in a thicket at the park. This caused Mrs. Levy to have a talk with Mr. O’Dell, which resulted in a decision—that Roy’s older sister, Susan, should follow along to keep an eye on everyone
at all times
.

Susan was only two years older than Roy, and until the previous summer, she and her best friend, Tish, had been happy to join in most of Henry and Roy and
Emma’s games. The big girls had liked being in charge—dressing Emma in costumes, bossing the boys around in games of make-believe—but then Tish had moved to New York, and Susan had … changed. The problem wasn’t that she’d gotten taller so that her legs suddenly appeared too long. It wasn’t that she’d cut her long, dark braids into a bob that ended at a sharp point near her chin. It wasn’t even that she’d started wearing nail polish and carrying a pink cell phone. It was simply that she didn’t play with Roy and Henry and Emma anymore, that she didn’t
play
at all, preferring instead to “hang out” with other middle schoolers.

At first, when her mother announced that she’d be spending the summer watching Henry, Emma, and Roy, Susan complained loudly and bitterly, but when she realized that her new best friend, Alexandria, was going to be spending July and August with her father in Chicago, Susan became instantly less miserable at the prospect of babysitting. She didn’t have much else to do, so she dug her bike out from under a pile of garden hose in the garage and dusted it off.

Then, together, the four of them rode aimlessly to the lake and to the store for provisions (candy and soda). They rode to the library and to the swimming pool, and it was fun, but just regular old fun,
common
fun. Henry hopped a lot of curbs and fell down more than a few times, and Roy found a praying mantis, which he kept in a jar.

And if lakes and libraries don’t sound exciting to you, if they don’t sound magical to you, you need to remember that this adventure is one of Common Magic. Henry and Emma and Roy and Susan had yet to
find
the wall, but they
were
on their way, heading slowly toward it.

The wall was waiting for them, just like it’s waiting for you now.

Still, it must be admitted that none of the kids had any inkling of what lay ahead, until Tuesday, when it was too hot to do anything. It was too hot for board games and it was even too hot to ride to the pool, so they were all doing nothing at Henry and Emma’s house. They did nothing in the living room, and they did nothing in the kitchen, where they ate a nothing kind of lunch—tuna fish sandwiches and carrot sticks. Blah.

After that, they sat on the front porch doing a little more nothing. Susan wiped imaginary specks of dust from her silver sneakers and tried tying her laces in a cool new way. Roy made a sundial out of a sheet of paper and a paper clip. And Henry perched at the bottom of the steps, where he attempted to pull a
wad of gum out of his sweaty, messy brown hair.

“That’s revolting,” Susan offered helpfully, looking up from her shoes.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it? I’m
trying
to get it out,” said Henry.

“You should just cut it out,” said Susan, “so we don’t have to watch you play with it anymore.”

“I’m not
playing
with it, and I’m
not
cutting my hair. I did that last time, and it looked stupid. Remember?” Henry stopped fiddling for a minute and the shock of hair in question stood straight up in the air so that thin strands of gum were laced across his entire head.

Susan laughed.

“What?” asked Henry indignantly. “What’s so funny?”

“Just you,” Susan snickered.

“Leave me alone,” Henry grumbled. “I guess I’m just not magically clean like you.”

“It’s not magic,” said Susan, shaking her hair from side to side slowly so that it swished around her chin, “and I don’t pretend to be perfect. It’s just that I’m”—she thought for a second before continuing—“more mature.”

Henry groaned. “Jeez. You don’t have to tell
me
you aren’t perfect, and I know it isn’t magic either, since
there’s no such thing as magic, but what do you want to go and get
mature
for?”

Susan, despite her newfound maturity, stuck out her tongue before she said, “I
have
to act like this, you know. I’m in charge. Of
you
! Remember?”

Henry groaned. “I know you have to babysit us, but there’s a big difference between being in charge for a few hours and acting like a grown-up. Don’t you remember all the cool stuff you used to do? You used to be fun.”

Henry paused, waiting for Susan to snap back, but she just looked down the street in the direction of Tish’s old house.

Henry quit tugging at his hair and sighed.

Roy, who had been listening and thinking, looked up from his sundial and said, “You know, I’m not so sure—”

“About what?” asked Henry.

“About magic, that there’s no such thing,” said Roy.

“Are you
kidding
?!” Henry exclaimed with a hoot. “Just because Susan’s acting all old doesn’t mean
you
have to suddenly turn into a baby! Come on, you don’t actually believe in
magic
?”

“Well,” said Roy, “I don’t know if I
believe
in magic, but I’m not ready to rule it out completely.”

Susan looked up. “Really, Roy? Have you ever seen any magic?”

“No,” said Roy simply. “But wouldn’t it be nice if magic
did
exist?”

“Sure,” said Henry. “But that’s not proof. How can you believe in something you’ve never seen?”

Roy answered logically. “I’ve never seen atoms and electrons either, but I
believe
in them.”

Henry thought about this. “So, you’re really saying you think there might be dragons and unicorns running around?”

Susan waited to see what her brother would say.

“No, not dragons or unicorns,” Roy explained thoughtfully. “They seem highly unlikely, since people would have hunted them down and put them in zoos centuries ago.”

“Then what do you mean?” asked Susan, thinking of her old unicorn figurine collection and wondering vaguely if her mother had ever actually taken it to the Salvation Army, or if the little statues were somewhere in the basement. “What other kind of magic is there?” she asked her brother. “If there
is
magic, I mean—which there isn’t.”

“I don’t know what I think exactly,” Roy answered. “I haven’t given it much thought. I’m just saying there’s
a lot of stuff out there that I don’t understand, and people have been believing in magic for thousands of years, so it just seems … not
impossible
.” He returned to his sundial, having finished making his point.

While all this was going on, Emma had been playing in the front yard with an oversized rag doll named Green Bean Jean. Green Bean Jean was almost as big as Emma and the color of a lime lollipop, with wild orange yarn hair.

Emma clutched Green Bean Jean’s cloth hands in her own, and swayed back and forth, singing softly to herself. Nobody could make out the words, but halfway through the song, Emma dropped to the ground and brought Green Bean Jean down with her in a tumble onto the grass. Then she got up and began again.

Susan watched Emma’s solitary game for a moment. Then she stood up, and it almost looked like she was going to walk down the steps and offer to play too. Emma, accustomed to playing alone, looked up hopefully, but Susan stared off into the distance absently, and the moment passed, so Emma dropped Green Bean Jean, climbed on her bike, and began to coast up and down the front walk.

After a minute, she called out, “Let’s go somewhere!”

“Let’s not,” replied Henry grumpily, reconciling
himself to the idea that he would indeed have to cut the gum out of his hair. He sighed. “Hey, Susan, I give up. You want to cut my hair for me?”

Susan nodded, and though she still looked distracted, she walked over and picked up the scissors from where Roy had been working on his sundial. Susan liked to fix things.

“But I want to ride my bike!” protested Emma.

“So? You’re doing that right now,” said Henry.

“Nooooo. I want to ride it
to
someplace,” explained Emma. “Pleeeeeeeease? You know I’m not allowed to leave the street on my own.”

“No way. It’s too hot,” said her brother. “Wait until it cools off.”

“Yeah, it’s supposed to be ninety-nine degrees today,” seconded Roy, “in the shade.”

But Susan looked over at Emma, astride the small bike, and then at Green Bean Jean sprawled forlornly on the lawn. She smiled, then set down the scissors and said, “Oh, come on, everyone.”

“Huh?” Henry said.

“Really?” Emma asked.

“It won’t be too bad,” Susan said. “At least it’ll be breezy.”

Fifteen minutes later, they all agreed that it
did
feel
breezy riding along the blacktop with the wind in their faces. They pedaled hard and then coasted with their legs stuck straight out (except Emma, who couldn’t yet).

They rode east, past shops their mothers described as “adorable,” stores that sold things like hand-knitted sweaters for cats. They passed a small park and then a bigger park. Beyond the two parks, they passed houses that got farther and farther apart and smaller and smaller, until finally there were no buildings left to look at, just green grass and gently rustling cornfields, and sky for miles.

Only a few minutes into the wonderful green of the fields, the asphalt beneath their bike tires turned to gravel. It made it hard to pedal, but that was fun in its own way too. The kids bumped along with gravel flying and clouds of dust puffing up at their knees. Emma sang a song, and even though it was a little-kid song about a farmer who had a dog (you probably know it), the others joined in.

Here, in the big open fields, as they pedaled and sang at the top of their lungs, the heat was somehow okay. It fit. The kids were sweating and red-faced, but it felt far better to be hot from doing
something
than hot from doing
nothing
.

When the gravel road ended at a tiny path, everyone
stopped pedaling and peered down the narrow dirt path. It was more than a little overgrown, with weeds snarled everywhere and the short cornstalks bent down into the path.

“Knee-high by the Fourth of July,” chortled Emma.

“Except that it isn’t,” pointed out Henry. The corn came almost to Emma’s waist. “Whatever old farmer invented that saying was a lot taller than you.”

“Probably lots of poison ivy in there,” Roy cautioned, leaning down to inspect.

“Yeah, so what now?” asked Henry, looking at Susan.

She was in charge, and they all knew she’d be in the deepest trouble if they weren’t back before dinner, but really, there were only two choices: they could turn back, which none of them wanted to do, or they could follow the path that beckoned to them through the corn.

If you were Susan, what would you have done?

Well, I should hope so!

Flashing an excited grin, Susan tore off down the path on her bike, and with a loud whooping, the others followed. The cornstalks brushed against their legs as bugs cricketed and buzzed in the fields. They couldn’t see any houses. They couldn’t hear the road. There wasn’t
a single person in sight, not even a power line or a streetlight to disturb the enormous sky. The field felt amazing: all green waving fronds, with the big blue above. The kids lost themselves in it, bumping and yelling, pedaling as hard as they could.

Until they saw something. Something dark and tall looming ahead. Something that did not fit.

Susan stopped her bike and held up a hand to shade her eyes. She peered at the dark thing in the distance. “Is it a house?” she wondered aloud.