Dreamland Social Club(27)

He pointed to an address written on the board, the school’s address. The class groaned.

Mr. Simmons just kept talking. “Be creative. Have fun with it. Bust out your crayons or markers if you must!”

Jane studied the main word in question—the hard corners of the F, the symmetrical curve of the U, and the jagged rise and fall of the N—but nothing was clicking. There was nothing fun about this assignment at all.

A tightly folded piece of paper landed on her desk as Mr. Simmons went on with his lesson, and she held it down low and out of sight to open it. Probably from Babette.

It said: “Still looking for that damn postcard. Want to go to the Anchor after school on Thursday?”

She looked over at Leo and he raised his eyebrows. Jane just nodded and then the bell rang.

Babette asked, “Where is your postcard going to be from?” as they headed out of the room.

“I’m not sure.” It was hard to talk to Babette while walking—and while freaking out about Leo’s invitation—but she had to try. “What about you?”

Babette looked up. “The Mermaid Parade last year. Hands down.”

“What, exactly, is the Mermaid Parade?”

Babette’s eyes widened into large blue pools.

“Sorry. But I don’t know,” Jane said.

Babette shook her little head. “You, my dear, are in for a treat.”

“How many Preemies does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” a geek said as he passed them in the hall. Jane and Babette both braced for the punch line.

“I don’t know, but it only takes one of me to screw a Preemie.”

“I swear,” Jane said to Babette when the geek had passed, “I’m just going to give them the stupid horse.”

“And let them win?”

“They’re already winning!”

“What did I tell you about reading the newspaper?”

“I read it!”

Babette stopped and huffed so that her black hair lifted off her forehead for a second. “Here’s the thing about newspapers, Jane. They have news in them. Like every day. Different news.”

“Just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“The city just announced that it’s going to restore the Claverack carousel as part of this whole redevelopment that’s happening. It’s like a landmark, and they’re moving it to like Ohio this winter to have it fixed up. Maybe they’d want the horse, since it was part of the original.”

So the carousel was still here? Which meant the Claveracks were probably looking to sell the horse to the city, which wasn’t the worst idea in the world, not if the horse could take its rightful place back on the original Claverack carousel. Maybe Preemie had guarded it for all those years awaiting just this sort of project. He must have had a reason for keeping it, right?

“I just want them off my case,” Jane said finally, having no idea how to go about seeing if the city even wanted the damn horse.

“You think that’ll happen if you hand it over?”

“It’s worth a shot!”

“I see you didn’t inherit Preemie’s spine.” Babette shook her head and walked away.





Rita, whom Jane found in the hall heading for the cafeteria at lunch that day, looked at her apologetically, then said, “So my aunt remembers your mother.”

Jane’s body jolted. “She does?”

“Yeah.” Rita made a wincing face. “But that’s all. She knew of her. She wasn’t friends with her. She’s not sure they ever actually talked. It’s a big school, you know. Was then, too.”

“Oh.” Jane’s mood deflated. “Well, thanks for asking.”

Rita chewed her lip for second, then said, “Legs said you were going to try to find her in the school paper, but then you never followed up.”

“He told you that?” It seemed a weird thing to share.

“You should do it.” Rita shrugged, then said sadly, “I guess you don’t remember a lot about her.”

Jane could only shake her head, holding back tears. “I need to go in here,” she said, indicating the girls’ bathroom, then she ducked in with a small wave. She sighed with relief when the other girl in there went on her way, leaving the room in silence. She went into a stall and just stood there and wondered how long she could stay without being missed.

One hour? Two?

One day? Two?

The stall’s thick pig-pink paint was carved up with graffiti, and Jane started reading it, wondering how old it was and whether any of it might date back to her mother’s high school years. She hadn’t seen any trophies. There were no old photos in glass cases. Nothing.

SAVE CONEY, she read.

Followed by: SCREW CONEY.

And then Coney crossed out and replaced by YOU.

Next to that someone had carved out CARNY ISLAND HIGH.

To which had been added SUCKS.

Looking farther up, some newish-looking writing made her want to hide out forever: PREEMIES MUST DIE.





She might have just turned up for the meeting of the Dreamland Social Club that week if it hadn’t been for Venus, who found her in the hallway after school and said, “What are you still doing here?”

“Oh,” Jane said. “Nothing.”