Dreamland Social Club(82)

After the presentation, Legs led Jane to a tank for tiny seahorses in a darkened corridor, claiming he wanted her help with his story. Jane didn’t really think she’d be much help and had never helped Legs with a story before, but then he said, “You’re really pretty, you know,” and Jane knew it wasn’t about the story at all.

“Thanks,” she said as she watched seahorses gallop slowly through the water, using their curly tails to maneuver. They were yellow, with round black eyes, and so very tiny and beautiful. She wished she could shrink herself and dive in and escape all this awkwardness.

She cleared her throat and said, “Okay, so what are you going to lead with?”

“That.” He bent down on a knee like he had that day so long ago, and he had a funny look in his eyes and then a second later, he was leaning in as if to kiss her. He said, “That was my lead. That you’re really pretty.”

“Legs—” she said, putting up a hand.

“Sorry.” Sadness seemed to shrink his face to a normal size. “But why not? I mean”—he backed off—“we get along great. We spend all this time together.”

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain. I’m just happy with the way things are, with us being friends.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t need friends.”

She said, “But I do.”

“Jane,” he said. “Give me a break.”

It was only then that Jane realized she actually had friends. A bunch of them. Real ones. Maybe for the first time ever. Because even if things never got better for the Dreamland Social Club, she still had Babette and Legs and H.T. and, well, Leo.

Legs said, “Have you ever thought that maybe you are to him what I am to you?”

She took a second to try to parse the words but was still confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Leo. I mean, he must just see you as a friend. Because wouldn’t something have happened by now?”

“I’ve got to go,” Jane said, looking into the tank and saying a silent farewell to the yellow seahorses. “I’m sure your story will be great.”





She stepped out into the Aquarium courtyard for some air and saw Leo standing by the penguin environment. She clicked over in her heels and he turned. “This is where Dreamland used to be, you know.”

She shook her head.

“This penguin palace might have been the Helter Skelter or Midget City or Hell Gate. Preemie’s little incubator might have been right here for all we know.”

Jane sighed. “You hated it.”

“No.” Leo stood up straighter, shook his head. He looked so grown-up in that suit, but so sad, too, which was maybe par for the course. Jane wondered whether all of this had made her more grown-up and more sad, too. “I didn’t hate it. I wanted to. But no.”

“And the Tsunami?”

“If the goal is to scare the crap out of people, I’d say your father pretty much hit the nail on the head.”

They stood there in front of fake icebergs and shimmering black water lit from below—a few people walked by, laughing and talking—and then Leo said, “You and I have some unfinished business.”

She thought back to the peanuts and the rooftop and the way she was sure he’d been about to kiss her that night, would have if it hadn’t been for the situation with Legs. She thought about the night at the Anchor, about the scurrying and what it might have interrupted, and said, “We do?”

“We do.” He turned to face her and said, “The Bath key.”

“I actually asked your mom about it,” Jane said, and she pulled the key from her purse. “But she wouldn’t tell me anything except that my mother had a thing for secrets.”

Leo was nodding. “She said the same thing when I asked her.”

“You asked her?”

“Yeah.” He took the key from Jane and studied it closely. “And I’ve been thinking that when people have secrets they sometimes leave clues.”

“True,” Jane said. “My mother wrote a note in an old book of mine that said that mermaids were good at keeping secrets, and I did find the keys inside a mermaid. But beyond that, I don’t know. ‘Bath.’ It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, obviously, there’s not exactly a perfect trail of bread crumbs,” Leo said. “But maybe there’s still a crumb or two out there.”

“Maybe,” Jane said, but she wasn’t convinced.





CHAPTER nine


THE FLIERS WERE BACK in the morning and in numbers that indicated great urgency. Jane stopped to read one that said, dreamland social club

EMERGENCY (YES, AGAIN) MEETING TODAY.

RIGHT NOW. ROOM 222.

She’s not dead yet.



Jane hurried upstairs and found most of the rest of the club already assembled.

“I think we should cancel the mermaid funeral,” Babette said after the meeting was called to order. “I mean, what’s the point anyway?”

“Fine by me,” Venus said.

Minnie said, “Me, too.”

H.T. said simply, “But Little B, you were so excited.” And Jane suddenly wondered what it meant that Babette let H.T call her that.