Escape to the World's Fair Page 11

  “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.

  21

  INCORRIGIBLE, WILD, AND DEFIANT

  “How 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.”

  22

  THE NAME ON THE CURTAIN

  Frances was glad she hadn’t picked a longer dress from among Madame Zee’s things. If she had, she might not have been able to run so fast! But even still, the Pike was getting so busy that they could only move in short bursts, dashing from one clearing in the crowd to another.

  The four of them darted into a side passage next to an exhibit called Fair Japan.

  “Did he . . . see us?” Jack asked as he tried to catch his breath.

  Frances nodded. Her stomach had had a twisted-up feeling from the moment she and Alexander had spotted Edwin Adolphius. His eyes had met theirs, and she’d seen the spark of recognition through his beady stare.

  “So what do we do now?” Eli asked.

  “It’s too late to warn Dutch and the others about the poster,” Alexander pointed out. “We have to hide.”

  “And we have to get Harold!” Frances said. She thought of him hiding back at Madame Zee’s. Her brother couldn’t sit still for more than half an hour—how long had it been since they’d left? She peered around the corner and looked up and down the Pike.

  “Be careful!” Jack whispered. “Adolphius might see you! I don’t think we’ve lost him yet!”

  Frances didn’t see Edwin Adolphius. But what she did see was a crowd forming on the walkway in front of Madame Zee’s place. A big crowd—around the place where she’d left Harold!

  What is happening? Frances felt her heart thudding as she bolted around the corner toward Madame Zee’s.

  By the time she reached the crowd, Alexander, Jack, and Eli had caught up.

  “What’s going on?” Alexander asked, but Frances didn’t know. The crowd ran the length of the entrance to Madame Zee’s and was already four deep. Frances stood on her toes to get a better view and saw that the velvet ropes had been used to make a space between the threshold of Madame Zee’s and the crowd. A space, Frances realized, like a stage. A set of painted curtains concealed the entrance.

  Frances chewed her lip nervously. Her brother didn’t seem to be anywhere in the crowd, so she crossed her fingers and hoped that he was still hiding inside. She’d sneak in there soon enough, as soon as this thing—whatever it was—was over.

  “Excuse me,” Frances said to a woman who stood next to her adjusting her straw hat. “Is this some kind of show?”

  “It’s a demonstration,” the woman whispered. “On the mysteries of the ancient realm.”

  “Oh.” Frances had no idea what that meant.

  “No, I heard it’s a séance,” a man nearby said. “And somebody gets hypnotized.”

  “Oh, that’s over at the Moorish Palace, and that’s all fake,” the straw-hatted woman replied. “This lady is for real. They say you won’t be able to believe your own eyes!”

  Frances tried to get as close to the velvet rope as she could. She looked around and saw that the boys had done the same thing in different spots across the crowd. Jack was gesturing frantically, trying to get her attention.

  What? Frances mouthed.

  Look! Jack mouthed back, motioning to the curtain.

  Frances craned her neck to make out the words on the curtain. The Mesmeric Marvels of Madame Zogbhi, they read. She still didn’t know how to pronounce that name, but something about it made her brain itch. She just shrugged back at Jack, who looked frustrated.

  “What is this place, anyway?” Frances asked the straw-hatted woman.

  “Why, it’s the Temple of Palmistry,” the woman replied.

  Frances blinked. Suddenly her brain was getting even itchier.
>
  “Excuse me, could you say that again?” Frances asked the woman.

  The woman sighed. “The Temple of Palmistry. Do you have a Fair guide? There’s an ad for it in there.”

  The guide! Frances’s heart raced as she tried to remember who had the little booklet. Alexander’s got it! She made her way as quickly as she could to his spot in the crowd, only a few feet away from the velvet rope. “Sorry,” she whispered as she nudged and stumbled. The crowd was becoming denser, and she had a feeling the show would start any minute. But she had to see for herself . . .

  “What are you doing?” Alexander asked as Frances practically yanked the guide out of his pocket and started flipping through the pages.

  “I think we’ve found the Temple of Promises!” Frances said. “Look! It wasn’t shown on the map, but it’s advertised here!”

  She pointed to the page:

  THE TEMPLE OF PALMISTRY

  MRS. CATHERINE MCGEE, PROPRIETOR. DIVINATIONS, FORTUNES, AND EXHIBITIONS OF ANCIENT MYSTERIES SO REMARKABLE AS TO CONVINCE THE MOST SKEPTICAL. LOCATED ON THE PIKE

  “Do you see?” Frances asked him. “It’s not the Temple of Promises, but—”

  “The Temple of Palmistry!” Alexander finished. “And it wasn’t Moses McGee we were looking for, but Mrs. McGee!”

  Frances nodded. “We’d just heard the words wrong! And Mrs. McGee is Madame Zee, isn’t it?” she said, suddenly making the connection. “She said her name was Catherine!”

  “There she is now!” Alexander whispered. Frances looked up in just time to see Madame Zee step out from between the curtains, wearing a robe that was even more resplendent than the one she’d donned the night before.

  “Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Welcome to the Temple of Palmistry, and I am . . .” She pointed to the words painted on the curtain. “Madame Zogbhi.”

  Frances’s jaw dropped when she heard the name spoken. It was pronounced Zogby!

  She turned to Alexander, who looked just as confused as she felt. “But how . . .” he mumbled. Frances knew what he was wondering: What was the connection?