The Lost Girl of Astor Street(6)

“Fine.” Lydia isn’t perfect, of course, but she’s always polite to Walter when they happen to be together. Even if she does disapprove of us being friends.

Quarrelling isn’t how I want to spend our limited time together. I shake away my annoyance. “Well, whoever she is and however much pin money she’s accustomed to, I hope she knows how lucky she is to have caught your eye, Walter. But you should know that I will personally flog you if you give up baseball for her. Because unless you’re ready to marry her now—” My feet stop moving. “You’re not, are you?”

“No. Audrey still has some school to finish. And it’s early still. We’ve only been out a few times.”

That’s a relief. I’ve always expected Walter to marry, of course, but knowing I have time to adjust to the idea is nice. “It seems to me, then, that there’s still time for you to give baseball a try before you need a ‘dependable future,’ as you put it.”

Walter is quiet for the next block, and I can tell by the way he repeatedly buttons and unbuttons his coat that it’s a thoughtful kind of silence. “I suppose I’m just frustrated over how little playing time I’ve had recently,” he finally says. “You’re right. I’m still young, and I always expected there to be hard work. It’s just harder than I thought it would be, being out there all alone without Mother or you.”

“Well, you have Audrey now.”

His mouth quirks in a soft smile. “True.”

I squeeze his arm. “You’re close, I can feel it. I hate to think of you giving up when you’ve worked so hard. And—”

My gaze catches on something strange ahead on the sidewalk. A crumpled girl with long flames of hair who’s wearing a uniform identical to mine.

A scream rips through the bright blue afternoon—my own.





CHAPTER


TWO


I grasp my skirt to provide my knees freedom to run. “Lydia!” I’m yelling even though I know she can’t hear, that she’s not with us.

With Walter’s long legs and athleticism, he beats me to her bent frame. But he just gapes at her, same as I must have during the seizure I witnessed last month. I collapse beside Lydia and call to mind the questions I heard Dr. LeVine asking Mrs. LeVine last time. How long did it last? What were her arms doing? Her legs? Did she lose control of her faculties?

Even with my attempt to frame the moment in a list of scientific details, the sight of Lydia seizing has me biting in another scream. Her neck is angled back, and her eyes are rolled up, unseeing. Her throat makes a repetitive clicking noise, like the skipping needle on a record that needs turning over. Her arms are both extended, as if she’d been pushing someone away when the seizure struck, and her knees are tucked up beneath her rumpled, urine-soaked Presley school skirt.

“Oh!” Blood. A stream of crimson leaks onto the concrete. I want to curl into a ball and weep, but instead I lean closer to the sidewalk until I can see the source of the blood. A scrape on her right temple.

“What’s happening?” Walter’s words are hoarse.

“She’s having a seizure.” My voice is quiet but steady. “She must have been standing when it happened.”

“What do we do? How do we make her stop?” Panic oozes from him.

“We can’t.” My hands smooth Lydia’s hair, her skirt. “She has to come out of it on her own. But we need to get her home.”

“I’ll run for Matthew.”

“No, she’d die if he saw her this way.” I glance around to get my bearings. It’s a miracle no one has seen yet. “Can you carry her? We can cut between those houses to the alley and then take her through the LeVines’ back door. If you can carry her, I’ll run ahead to phone for her father.”

The repetitive clicking stops and a groan gurgles in Lydia’s throat. Her legs stretch indiscriminately, nudging her skirt up and scraping her silk stockings along the concrete.

The fear that had squeezed my heart eases. “She’s coming out of it.” I lean close to her face. Her eyes are no longer rolled. Now they’re milky, unseeing slits. “Lydia? Can you hear me?” The corner of her mouth twitches up, but it seems involuntary.

I stand and brush crumbs of concrete from my hands. “It’ll be a while before she’s really aware. If it’s like last time.”

“Should I pick her up?”

“Yes.”

Walter presses his flat cap firmer onto his head and crouches beside Lydia. A shudder runs through him, and then he lifts her up into his arms.

I nod to the narrow gap between the houses. “Can you squeeze through there?”

“Just run, Piper. I’ll get her there.”

“Try not to be seen,” I call as I hike my skirts up over my knees and take off. The gap between the houses is so narrow that I can hardly run without one of my elbows brushing against the brick siding. I burst into the alley, look both ways, and run south to the LeVines’ home.

Their back door is locked. I pound on the door while keeping my gaze up the alley, waiting for Walter to come through with Lydia.

Tabitha opens the door, a broom in one hand and a scowl on her weathered, brown face. “Miz Sail, what on earth are you—”

“Lydia,” I pant out. “Call Dr. LeVine.”