Escape to the World's Fair (11 page)

T
HE PORCELAIN HAND

M
adame Zee brought out a pitcher of cold water and some paper cups, and then a washbasin and cloth so that they could freshen up. Frances scrubbed her own face and then Harold's.

“Frannie, don't be mad,” Harold whispered. “Madame Zee seems really nice.”

“Let's just be careful,” Frances warned. “She's still a stranger.”

While the others took their turns washing up, Frances looked around. The parlor they were in appeared to be a back room. A set of tied-back drapes marked the entry into another room—which, judging by all the odd bric-a-bric on a table in there, was likely where the fortune-telling took place—and beyond that was the open front entrance. There was a velvet rope hanging across to prevent fairgoers from coming in, but Frances could see people strolling past in the late afternoon sunlight and faintly hear the hubbub of the Pike beyond all the draperies.

“Just a moment,” Madame Zee said as she went behind a partitioned screen. “I must get ready for work.”

Frances still didn't trust Madame Zee, kind as she seemed, so she supposed this was a good moment to take a closer look at some of the stuff in the front room. She motioned for the others to join. “Look at all this hocus-pocus stuff!” she whispered to Jack. On the table was a stack of cards with strange pictures on them and a crystal ball on an iron stand. A tiny plaque on the stand read
MADAME
ZOGBHI
. Frances had no idea how a name like that was pronounced. No wonder this woman had everyone call her Madame Zee—the
zee
was really just the first initial of her last name, and it was probably easier.

“Hey! I found something!” Jack had picked up something from the top of a cabinet next to the table. It was a model of a hand—life-size—cast in white porcelain. It stood straight up on a base just below its wrist, looking as if it could wave hello.

But that wasn't the most curious thing about it. The lines of the palm were marked in black paint, with labels such as
LINE OF FO
RTUNE
,
LINE OF HEART
, and
LINE OF HEAD
. The fingers were marked
MERCURY
,
APOLLO
,
SAT
URN
,
JUPITER
. And then symbols were scattered across the whole hand.

“I guess it's a guide for reading palms,” Frances said.

“I know, but look at the symbols!” Jack turned the hand over and over. “These are on the medallion! And remember I told you I saw some of the symbols carved into a trunk on the boat? They're on this thing, too!”

Alexander came over and looked at the hand too. “We should ask Madame Zee.”

“Ask me what?” Madame Zee said as she came out from the back room. She had wrapped a silk scarf around her forehead, and her dark hair hung loose. Over her shirtwaist she'd donned a robe embroidered with stars, and she wore a necklace made from thin gold coins. She looked more like a fortune-teller now, though Frances figured it was all still an act if she needed a costume.

Madame Zee saw Jack holding the porcelain hand. “Oh! You wish to know about palmistry, yes? Many secrets are revealed in the hand.” She took the porcelain hand from Jack and began to point out some of the features. “These are the lines, and these are the mounts. . . .”

“What about the symbols?” Frances asked.

“Ah, yes. They are for the constellations in the sky. We are born under certain stars. Some people, they are born under the stars of Taurus the Bull—”

Madame Zee paused, for a short bald man had approached the velvet rope at the entrance. “Hey, Catherine!” he called. “I don't suppose you could lend us a hand over at Streets of Cairo?”

Madame Zee gave him a smirk. “
Again?
And close my place for the night?”

“Aw, you know how it is,” the short bald man said. “Maloof didn't show up again, and they need someone to talk to the musicians. You know the language. We'll give you Maloof's wages and some of the tips, too.”

“All right,” Madame Zee replied. “Is such good money, I cannot say no. I will be there soon.” The man walked off and she turned to the children. “These fools, they pay me too well. I must go for a while.”

“But will you tell us more about these symbols?” Jack asked.

Madame nodded. “I will tell you everything. Maybe I will train you so you can run this place while I go help these dunces over at the Streets of Cairo! But for now, you stay and rest. I will return.” She unhooked the velvet rope and stepped outside.

“One more thing!” Frances called. “Your first name is
Catherine
?”

“My second husband, he was American,” Madame Zee said with a shrug. “So I took American name when I marry him. Pretty name, you think?”

“Yes,” Frances replied, and Jack nodded, too. They had so many more questions, but Madame Zee was hurrying off down the Pike, where the electric lights at the entrances to all the attractions were starting to glow brighter as the daylight faded.

The children returned to the back room and settled into a corner that was strewn with rugs and cushions surrounding a low table. There was a small electric lamp overhead, and everything felt soft and cozy. Frances felt Harold slouching against her the way he did when he was tired, and Jack and Alexander appeared to be sleepy, too. But Eli still looked alert—he actually looked nervous.

Jack noticed, too. “Are you all right, Eli?”

Frances knew that Eli was a little superstitious about the medallion, and she wondered if he was uncomfortable being here in the fortune-teller's parlor.

Eli took a deep breath. “I found something I forgot about. I've had it in my pocket this whole time, and it slipped my mind that I even put it there! It could have gotten us into big trouble if someone discovered I had it.”

“What is it?” Frances asked, but Eli was already reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small bottle and set it on the table. The label said
PU
RE GIN
.

“The gin!” Jack exclaimed. “From the steamboat! From when we were hiding down by the crates!”

“I took this bottle out of the crate to see what it was,” Eli explained. “Then the deckhands came by and almost found us. I guess I was so shook up that I just put it in my pocket. And then I forgot all about it.”

Frances picked up the bottle. The label had some tiny print with lots of misspelled words. I
MPORTD FROM
E
ROUPE.
P
REMIUN
S
PIRITS.
She didn't drink gin, of course, but even if she did she had a feeling she wouldn't trust
this
stuff. “We'd better throw it out the first chance we get.”

“Good thing nobody else discovered you had it,” Jack told Eli. “Can you imagine if the guards had caught us at the Temple of Mirth, instead of Madame Zee? They would have searched us.”

“We're all really lucky,” Alexander pointed out. “And speaking of Madame Zee, do you suppose she's originally from Egypt?”

“She must be, if she's helping out at the Streets of Cairo exhibit,” Frances said.

“Guess that's why they call it the ‘World's Fair,'” Eli said. “There's folks from all over the world here, and they're trying to make everything look like a different country.”

Eli was right, Frances realized. The fake mountain was meant to look like Germany, and out on the Pike they'd seen signs for places called I
RISH
V
ILLAGE
, M
YSTERIOUS
A
S
IA
, S
IBERIAN
R
AILWAY
.

“I know it's supposed to feel like we're traveling the world,” said Frances. “But really, it sort of feels like we're in a big circus.”

“Or even a zoo,” Jack added. “Did you hear about that tribe they brought here from the Philippines? There was someone in line at the peanut cart talking about them. How everyone just goes and gawks.”

“Well, I want to say hello to them,” Harold murmured, still leaning against Frances. “Maybe they are nice.” He sat up straight now. “I think the World's Fair is like a really big Wanderville.”

Alexander grinned. “It sort of is, isn't it? It's like a town made of dreams.”

Frances nodded. “And all these places where you can go and pretend you're somewhere else . . .”

“Or where you can make it feel like home,” Harold said, sleepily. He glanced up at Frances. “Can we go over by the palaces tomorrow . . . and find Wanderville there?” he asked, his words getting slower.

Frances eyed the faces of the others. Jack, Alexander, and Eli all looked as exhausted as she felt, and uncertain, too. There'd been no signal yet from Dutch and his friends, and they still hadn't found the Temple of Promises or Moses McGee. But she had a feeling that they were getting closer.

“I don't know,” she told him. “But I do know that the next chance we get, we'll build a palace in Wanderville.”

“Okay,” Harold mumbled.

After a moment, Frances could hear him snoring softly. Across from her, the boys were stretching out on the rugs and pillows.

Good idea,
she thought as she curled up next to her brother. Then she was asleep, too.

• • •

Frances dreamed they'd discovered the Temple of Promises, which was like the beautiful domed palace she'd seen when they'd first arrived at the Fair. But when she went inside it was full of mud, and her feet were stuck, and across the room Mr. Zogby and his car were stuck, too, with Dutch and Finn and Chicks and Owney trying to help him. Then suddenly the car's motor was going but making an awful sound:
Bap! BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP!

Frances shook herself awake. But the noise continued.
BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP!

When it stopped, Frances sighed and rubbed her eyes. But after a few moments it started again, only not quite as loudly, as if it were not quite as close.

She figured it out.
Someone is hammering something.
Someone was going up and down the Pike with a hammer and nails!

She looked around. Madame Zee wasn't there, but nearby the boys were stirring awake—they must have heard the hammering, too.

“What's that noise?” Alexander muttered.

Frances stood up. “I'll go check.” She went through the curtain to the front room. The entrance had been closed for the night with a large sliding door. Frances pushed it aside enough to peer out. It was morning, and she supposed the Fair had recently opened for the day. She heard the hammering noise again and spotted a workman going from building to building, nailing up a poster or notice of some kind. She took a step outside and saw that one had been nailed to the door.

The first four rows of type were the boldest, with letters like a wall of bricks, and reading them felt like she'd hit that wall, straight on.

REWARD 9 YOUTHS AT LARGE! INCORRIGIBLE—WILD—DEFIANT
HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?

Frances's hands shook as she ripped the poster down.

I
NCORRIGIBLE, WILD, AND DEFIANT

“H
ow do you know it's about us?” Jack asked.

“Read the whole thing,” Frances insisted, shoving the poster at him. “Then read it aloud.”

Jack laid it out on the parlor table and pored over the fresh print:

REWARD 9 YOUTHS AT LARGE! INCORRIGIBLE—WILD—DEFIANT
HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?

SPECIAL EXPOSITION NOTICE

Mr. Edwin Adolphius and the Society for Children's Aid and Relief are offering a generous reward for the apprehension of several waifs who have taken leave of their guardians and are believed to be on the grounds of the Fair.

They are responsible for many acts of property damage and hooliganism aboard the steamboat
Addie Dauphin
! They are:

4 boys, ages 14 to 15, very rough in nature

3 boys, aged about 12, two hailing from the gangs of New York, one a sharecropper runaway

1 girl, age 11, wearing breeches, very hoydenish in appearance

1 boy, age 7, bright auburn hair, possibly a hostage

Report all sightings to Mr. E. Adolphius, c/o the Southern Hotel.

Jack felt sick to his stomach. He had had a feeling Edwin Adolphius would come after them, but he had no idea it would be like
this.

“They called me
hoydenish
!” Frances shook her head in disbelief.

“Only because you wear breeches,” Alexander said. “But you're not a hoyden! You're . . . uh, very refined and proper. Even when you don't wear a dress.”

The look on Frances's face changed from angry to slightly suspicious. “Well, I couldn't care less what anyone says about
me,
” she said quickly, looking down at the poster again. “But why does this poster call Harold a possible hostage?”

“So that people will think we're dangerous,” Jack said indignantly. “It's all just a ploy!”

Eli grinned. “So you and Alexander aren't really from New York gangs?”

“I bet Dutch and his friends would be impressed,” Frances said with a snort.

“But wait!” said Jack, suddenly reminded. “Do you suppose they're all right? They're mentioned on this poster, too. What if they've been caught already?”

Alexander rubbed his head. “If they're still hiding out by the gates, they might be safe.”

“But then again, they might not even know that there's a search out for all of us,” Frances pointed out. “We need to go warn them!”

“Good idea.” Jack glanced around the parlor. “We should also talk to Madame Zee! But where is she?” He was still hoping she'd tell them more about the mysterious symbols. Maybe he could even show her the medallion.

“Do you suppose she came back here during the night?” Frances went over to where they had been sleeping. Harold had been the last to awaken, and he was sitting up now with a small fringed blanket draped over his shoulders. “Look.” Frances picked up the blanket. “This wasn't here when we went to sleep. She must have covered Harold up. Maybe she's out getting breakfast.”

“What if she sees the poster?” Jack fretted. “We need to find a way to explain it to her.”

“It might be too late,” Eli said. He pointed to the low table next to Harold. “Remember we left the gin bottle there? It's gone now!”

Frances's eyes got wide. “Madame Zee took the gin?”

They looked all around the parlor and checked the front room. But the bottle couldn't be found.

“Maybe she just likes gin,” Harold said.

“Or maybe we're already in trouble,” Jack said. His head was reeling as he imagined Madame Zee marching to the nearest guards' station. They'd meant to throw out that bottle, but the fact that they had it in their possession made them sound just like the “incorrigible” kids that poster claimed they were. And now Madame Zee had the bottle as evidence.

“I should have never picked up that stupid thing in the first place!” Eli moaned. “We'd better leave. Madame Zee could be turning us in right now!”

“And we ought to find Dutch and Finn and the others and warn them about the poster,” Jack added. He hoped it wasn't too late for them.

They started for the back door, but Frances said, “Wait!” and dashed behind the partitioned screen that Madame Zee had changed behind the night before.

“What are you doing?” Jack said, eyeing the door anxiously. “We have to get out of here!”

“But we also have to make sure nobody spots us!” Frances called back. “Everyone will be on the lookout for a girl in breeches!”

A moment later Frances emerged, wearing what appeared to be a gypsy's dress with a spangled sash.

Jack had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “You look crazy.”

“It's the only thing that was short enough in the skirt.” Frances sighed.

“No, you're perfect!” Alexander said. He turned red for some reason. “I mean . . . there are all these costumed dancers here at the Fair and . . . and you look just like one of them. You'll blend right in.”

Just then Jack remembered something else. “What about Harold?” he asked. “The poster mentioned his red hair. How do we hide
that
?”

They all studied Harold as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. Somehow, Jack thought, his hair seemed brighter than ever. “Do we have to walk by the clown head again?” Harold asked.

“You know what, Harold?” Frances said. “Maybe it's better if you just stay here and hide for now.”

With all the hanging draperies, it wasn't hard to find a corner in the front room where Harold could sit unseen, close enough to the front entrance to make an escape if necessary.

“Sit tight until we come get you,” Frances explained. “I'll call you from outside and you can slip out.” Harold nodded, and Frances hugged him tightly.

At last Jack slid open the door at the front entrance. “Let's go!” he whispered. He hoped they could get to Dutch, Finn, Chicks, and Owney in time.

• • •

It didn't seem safe for the four of them to walk down the Pike together, since people seeking the reward from the poster would likely be looking for a group of children.

Jack eyed the crowded avenue. “Two of us should walk ahead.”

“You and Eli go first,” Alexander said. “Frances and I can follow a little ways behind you.”

“You do that, Alex,” Eli said with just the slightest smirk on his face.

Jack wanted to ask Eli what he thought was so funny, but as they joined the throngs of fairgoers walking along the Pike, his attention shifted as he realized they'd lost their bearings. Yesterday Madame Zee had led them to the fortune-teller's building from a back alley, but now they were in the middle of the Pike, which appeared to stretch half a mile in either direction.

Jack looked behind him. Frances and Alexander had the guidebook with the map, which they were anxiously studying. They seemed lost, too. The fake mountain where the older boys were hiding was at one end of the Pike—but which end?

“I see it!” Eli said, pointing to the east. “The mountain! Let's go!”

They strode as fast as they could go without running. The Pike seemed to be getting busier by the minute, with barkers in front of every other amusement, and after every few steps music or cheers would burst from some entrance or gathered crowd nearby. But Jack tried to keep his gaze straight ahead. He didn't want to risk making eye contact with anyone, lest someone guess that he and Eli were two of the children “at large.”

Eli stopped abruptly. “Hey!” he said.

Jack froze, ready to run if he had to. “What is it?”

“Remember how I heard that some of my mama's kin were working here at the Fair?”

Jack nodded.

“Well, that's my cousin Willie over there, I know it!” Eli pointed across the avenue to a teenage boy who was setting up chairs at an outdoor restaurant.

Before Jack could reply, Frances and Alexander caught up with him and Eli. They were half out of breath.

“The signal!” Frances said, panting.

“The flag!” Alexander added. “It's up! On the mountain!”

Jack looked up at the top of the fake mountain. He hadn't been able to make it out before, but now that they were closer he could see, sure enough, a stick jutting out of one of the highest crags. A stick with a bandana tied to it like a flag.

“Uh-oh,” Jack whispered.

“Do you think the boys are still hiding?” Eli wondered. “I don't see them up there.”

“And do you suppose the signal means they saw Miss DeHaven coming through the front gate?” Frances asked. “Or Edwin Adolphius? Or both?”

“
Edwin Adolphius,
” Alexander said, his face pale as he looked past Jack.

“What?” Jack asked.

“Don't turn around,” Alexander whispered. “Just run.”