I only vaguely heard Jo’s exclamations, absorbed as I was in Teresa’s explanation, most of which I did not really understand. But, meet her here Monday afternoon? I would need the pastor’s permission to skip out on advanced Bible studies. Perhaps he would allow me a break, just this once.
There was a clatter and thump of books falling down in the next room, and then Jo burst in.
“Look at this! Just look!” She was panting, and there was a wild look in her eyes.
“Jo, what is it? What did you knock over?”
“Never mind that. Look what I found!” And she thrust an oversize book into my hands.
I glanced at the elderly periwigged gentleman on the cover and shrugged. “Yes? ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, The Later Symphonies and Sonatas.’ So what?”
“So what?” I have rarely seen Jo at loss for words, but she was positively spluttering. “Mozart died at age thirty-five, in 1791! There were no ‘later symphonies and sonatas.’ The man in the picture has to be what, at least as old as Granny when she died?”
I winced. Our grandmother had passed away the day after her eightieth birthday after complaining of a bad stomachache. She ate too many oysters at her birthday party, Dad had said. Mum had fried them for her, and she had done as good a job as any from-here. Better, even.
“Did it matter?” Mum had retorted. “She died happy, did she not?”
“So he looks old in this picture,” I said, annoyed at Jo for bringing up the unpleasant memory.
“So here are two complete symphonies that Mozart never lived to compose? This book has complete scores for Number 67, ‘London,’ and Number 82, ‘Undiscovered Worlds.’ In real life, Mozart’s last symphony was Number 41, ‘Jupiter.’ Plus there are four violin sonatas in this book, which I could play myself!”
“I suppose you could, but how would you explain where you found them? Who would believe unknown works by Mozart exist?”
She lifted her chin. “I could say I wrote them myself.” But she withered at the look I gave her. “No, I suppose I couldn’t. But shouldn’t I bring this music into the world somehow? And what about this book here, the one that talks about colonies on the moons of Jupiter! Don’t you think that could help get people excited about what Dad and everybody are doing at the DRRAGON base?”
I did not know how to answer so I changed the subject, showing her Teresa’s latest letter. Her face lit up as she read.
“See, I was right! She’s from a different world. Ooh, and look at this… Monday afternoon, huh? Tom and Teresa, sitting by the sea, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then they ride off in their ’lectric carriage… Ow!”
“Do Mum and Dad know you sing such naughty songs?”
“The main point is, I was right. She is from another world. You’re in love with an alien!”
“I am not in love with anybody. I have yet to meet this girl. She may not even exist.”
“Oh, she exists all right. Though her handwriting is pretty messy for a girl’s.” A mischievous look came into Jo’s eyes. “What do you suppose she looks like?”
“She is a tall redhead with jade-green eyes and long legs… No! I did not mean to say that!”
“That’s your ‘type,’ huh? Oh, I remember! That’s what Ginny Jones looks like.”
Ginny was in my class at Gingo Teag High School, before my parents sent me off to St. George’s. She was Miss Junior Nanticoke two years ago. As to her awareness of my existence, we might as well have lived in different universes rather than the same island village.
“It’s all right, big brother,” Jo said, giving me a hug. Clever—I could not hit her while she was hugging me. “I’m sure she’s beautiful, whatever she looks like. Hey, do you think I could convince Mum and Dad to let me stay here through Monday? No? Well then, you’re just going to have to send me a voice-gram as soon as you return from walking out with Teresa!”
“And what makes you think I would do that?” I said, pushing the annoying little pest away.
“Because if you don’t, I’ll tell Mum and Dad everything!” She squealed as I grabbed for her, ducking under my arms and scuttling off to the front of the store. By the time I caught up with her she was behind the counter, frowning thoughtfully at her reflection in the mirror. “What am I supposed to put in here that’s worth six unknown works by the greatest musical genius who ever lived?”
“I do not know,” I growled. “I do not think you own anything worth a farthing!”
“Now Tom, that’s just mean. You have to try for witty, big brother. Like, ‘I do not think you own anything that is worth as much as my life once Dad discovers that I do not want to become a DRRAGON engineer!’”
This time I actually tried to punch her in the nose, but I could not reach her over the counter. However, she ducked and, with a thump, hit her head on the corner of the counter.
“That’s it! I’m telling!” she howled.
“Go right ahead,” I said nastily. “And you can tell them where it happened, too, which is not where you said we were going in your note!”
We had both forgotten about Tiferet, who suddenly leapt on the counter between us and hissed, with her tail fluffed up and her teeth showing. We both started back. But instead of being afraid, we were both ashamed. Or at least I was, and Jo blushed. We both straightened up, Jo rubbing her head where she’d hit it.
“You’re not developing a lump, are you?” I asked uneasily. Mum would kill me if she heard me contracting my words! If she doesn’t kill me for what just happened to Jo!
“I don’t think so,” she muttered, avoiding my eyes. “Let me see what I have to leave.”
She spilt out the contents of her pockets on the counter. Some loose change, a miniature harry bear—one I had not seen before, so it must have been new, with its hopeful smile and little bow tie—and a tiny cobalt-blue whelk shell, worn smooth and bright from years of being carried around.
She had found it on a trip to Assa Teag. Only six or seven at the time, Jo was so proud when she found it out on Dragon’s Cove Hook, a long flat streamer of grey sand at the southern tip of the island. What she never knew was that I saw it first, rolling around almost invisibly in the swirling muddy water of the cove, and I picked it up and put it carefully down beside her when her back was turned so she would think she had found it. Now she looked at the shell, and raised her head, tears in her eyes.
“Shelly? I have to give up Shelly?” she whispered.
I shook my head slowly, not to say no, but because I did not know what to say.
“Can’t I give up new harry bear instead?” she pleaded.
I looked away so she would not see that my eyes were damp too. A moment later I heard a clatter from the register. Then she took my arm.
“Come on, Tommy, let us go find Mum and Dad now,” she said. She took Teresa’s letter out of my hand as we walked out the door into the grey cold. “Remember, big brother, not to worry about anything. As Gloria said, just relax and enjoy the walk.” Then she paused with a frown. “Who’s this ‘Einstein’?”
Chapter 5
Mom drove me to 30th Street Station the day before Thanksgiving, grumbling all the way about how unfair it was that Dad got me for the holiday “when we’ve always gone to Aunt Maria’s house for Thanksgiving.”
That had been our family tradition only since Nana died, but all I said was, “It’s all right, Mom. I want to go.”
This didn’t improve her mood any, and besides, she was still unhappy about me taking the train on my own. As if I was ten! But she looked so miserable I hugged