Dreamland Social Club(56)

“I’m sorry this is all so hard on you.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I guess I didn’t think it through. What coming here would dig up.”

“It’s okay,” Jane said. “I mean it’s good. It’s just that . . . well, I’m leading the dig. I mean, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he said. “Dig away.”





CHAPTER nine


THE FLOORBOARDS WHINED. The stairs whistled “Dixie.” The noir scene replayed itself as Leo stepped out from behind the lamppost, and then they walked and talked until Leo shushed her as they slid down an alleyway behind Wonderland, backs to the wall. He held a finger to his lips to emphasize the point. Jane got it.

Quiet.

He poked his head around the corner of the building and pulled it back.

A metal clang, and then the sound of something being dragged was followed by a slow, scraping hiss.

Leo indicated with a nod of his head that they were about to move, and then he took her hand—a shock of warmth, strength—and led her just a few steps around the corner and through a door. The man dragging the trash bags to the nearby Dumpster didn’t see or hear.

“Quick,” he whispered when they were inside. “Over here.”

They ducked behind something after climbing over a low wall, and Jane saw they were on a bumper-car course. She’d walked past it a few times in the last few weeks, had heard the pounding techno beats and the hum of the electric cars. But now the room was dark, the cars uncharged. She waited and breathed and waited and breathed and felt a sort of tingle lingering on her hand where Leo had held it until just a second or two before.

Jane heard the sound of the door closing, and then the sound of a key in a lock. She had to fight the irrational need to pull her key from her pocket and try the same door.

Leo said, “Okay,” and stood up. “Coast is clear.”

“What are we doing here?” Jane said, dearly hoping Leo didn’t want to ride bumper cars.

“You’ll see.” He headed for the stairs. “Come on.”

When they had reached the black tar roof and sat down on Leo’s small blanket, Jane said, “Are you going to explain?”

She wasn’t complaining about the view—she could see the Wonder Wheel, the Parachute Jump, the Cyclone, the projects, pretty much everything there was to see on Coney—but she’d hoped for more.

“This”—Leo slapped the roof with his palm—“is where the entrance to Luna Park used to be. I still think of it as the heart of Coney Island.”

But why bring her here? It’s not like he knew about her name, her namesake. Unless maybe his mother knew and had told him?

He said, “Which means that the Elephant Hotel was here, too, even before that.” He pulled a bag of peanuts out of his backpack and Jane felt a rush of love—yes, love—for him. “I know it’s not enough to make a bed, but . . .”

He opened it, offered nuts to her.

“I actually don’t like peanuts,” she said, and he laughed and said, “More for me.”

She stuck a hand in the bag, pulled out a peanut, and sniffed it. “But I appreciate the gesture all the same.”

Leo cracked open a nut, popped it into his mouth. “You used to be able to look out of its eyes, they said, and see the ocean.” He produced a small map from his backpack and shined his flashlight on it. “So the way I see it, the entrance to Luna would have been there.” He pointed to his left and then turned around to face the long roof behind them. “And the Helter Skelter would have been over there.” He pointed. “And the Shoot the Chutes just beyond it and then the lagoon.... And right there would’ve been Trip to the Moon.”

Jane felt herself drift away from his words, into her mind’s eye, imagining that Electric Eden, those spires and minarets, the herky-jerky motion of the vessel that would take people to meet the singing Selenites on the moon.

Leo stopped talking, sat, and lay back. Jane did, too. After a quiet moment thinking about all those crazy games, and the mermaids and turtles she’d met on her way to the North Pole, she said, “I’m sort of sad that the Bath key is the only one left.”

“Have you tried it out anywhere?”

“Just every bathroom door I’ve come across anywhere the last few days.” Jane was looking at a cluster of faint stars, trying to decide if they were a constellation she should recognize. “Ever since your mom mentioned the journal, I’ve been wondering if it would say stuff about the keys.”

Leo sat up. “Well, you know what they say.”

“What do they say?” Jane sat up, really wanting to know.

“You’ll find it as soon as you stop looking for it.”

“What’s that even referring to?” Jane shook her head. “Find what?”

Leo laughed. “I don’t know. Love, probably. A million bucks. Whatever you’re looking for.”

Her face got warm, just hearing him say the word love. “I really can’t believe this is where Luna Park was.” She looked around at the roof, scattered with old bottles and cans; it was hard to see it as the hallowed ground she’d imagined. “It’s sort of depressing.”

Leo ate another peanut. “I read this essay once about how being on Coney Island is like looking at a double-exposed photograph, how past and present are both always there.”