Chapter 3
“I mean, we’re not really fairy godmothers,” Ray said as he loped along beside Rose. They were walking down the busy street, and Rose seemed to be looking for something. “You know, not with magic or anything.”
“What?” Rose asked, stopping short on a corner in the beam of a streetlamp. He all but ran up her heels, and cursed under his breath. She looked distracted, her gaze flicking over the buildings and bushes and lampposts, but not really seeming to see any of them.
Ray raised his voice over the sound of the traffic. “I mean, this is a benevolent organization or something, what you said. We raise money for needy kids, right?”
“No, we don’t,” Rose said, as if hearing him for the first time. She turned to meet his gaze, and the sharp, dark eyes looked straight into his. “Remember Cinderella? Remember her fairy godmother, the one who gave her clothes and transportation for the big night of her life? We get a child whatever he or she needs. By magic.”
“But Cinderella was a kid’s story,” Ray protested.
“Not at all! Her fairy godmother was one of us, a member of Hochunit 23, in Bavaria, as a matter of fact. It’s still in operation. A lot of the local federations have disbanded for lack of membership, but in many places we’re still going strong. Like here.”
“We buy clothes for kids?” Ray asked, struggling to hold on to the part of her discourse that he thought he could understand. “Where do we get the money?”
“We help children more directly than that. Money doesn’t solve every problem, Raymond, not the really important ones. The most important things in life can’t be bought with money. You ought to know that by now.”
Raymond thought about the car he’d been wanting ever since he got his first bike. That was mondo importante, but Rose’s words brought back other memories, like his father’s face beaming when Ray brought home a high school report card of straight A’s. Never happened again, which made the memory all that more precious. He couldn’t buy that moment back for a million dollars, and he could get fifty great cars for that kind of big bucks. Suddenly, he was back on the street on a hot, noisy night, and Rose was watching him.
“Yeah, I guess I know,” he admitted, with an uncomfortable shrug. He was trying to keep his vulnerable side hidden from Rose, but it didn’t seem to do any good. She read minds.
“You’re thinking,” Rose said, patting his arm and smiling up at him. “You’re definitely Mrs. Green’s grandson. That’s where these children need our help, in the self-esteem department a lot of the time, but in other ways, too. Of course we really use magic. Otherwise we’d just be godparents, right? Not fairy godparents.”
“Right.” Ray still felt lost, but he was sure now it was Rose who was missing on half her cylinders, not him.
“Right,” Rose said emphatically. A thought struck her, and she turned and pointed to the right, up a side street. “Yes! This way, Ray.”
He hurried along beside her, the flap-flap of his sneakers hitting the pavement in andante accompaniment to the tick-tick-tick rhythm of her low-heeled shoes. Her legs were about half as long as his, but he had to scurry to keep up with her. “Ma’am, uh, Mrs. Feinstein …”
She reached out and grabbed his hand again. That seemed to be something she did. He’d just have to live with it, or quit and go tell his grandma he couldn’t stand working with an old white lady. “Call me Rose, honey.”
“Rose. Thank you, ma’am. Uh, where are we going?”
“First stop of the night.”
“But where is it?” He looked up the street. Like miles and miles of other residential streets in Chicago, including the one he lived on, this one was full of brick or stucco houses, apartment blocks, and six-flats. Old-fashioned light poles topped by new, hot yellow sodium vapor lights shone at the corner and in the middle of every block, illuminating mail boxes, trees, little squares of grass surrounded by swinging chains, and bumper-to-bumper lines of parked cars on both sides of the street. The overhead El tracks cut through the neighborhood about three blocks away. “What’s the address?”
“I don’t know,” Rose said, with a sharp look. She raised her hands to stave off another question. “All right. Lesson one. We go where we’re needed, where a child needs us. How do we find the child?”
Raymond shrugged. More mysticism. She sounded like she was putting him on, but she was all business.
“I dunno.”
“This is how you find out. Take out your wand.”
“No!”
Rose looked impatient. “This is lesson one. You’re my apprentice. Take out your wand.”
Raymond looked around. There were people everywhere, some of them walking up the street between them right now. The wand was a puking, wimp thing, about eight inches long, painted baby blue. The little star on top had rounded points. He wanted to keep it right where it was, deep in his jacket pocket.
“No, ma’am.”
Rose sighed. “All right, I’ll do it.” She reached into her handbag and drew forth a slender rod. Ray goggled, watching the thing getting longer and longer and longer. The bag was no more than seven inches deep, but the wand had to be a good foot and a half. In keeping with her name, it was rose-colored, and the star at the top gleamed and glistened silver, gold, and pink. Ray tried to study it, to find out how it made those moving rainbows even though the nearest light was a stationary streetlamp.
A man pushed by them, briefcase held out ahead of him to clear the way, too busy to say “Excuse me.” Ray stepped in front of Rose to hide the wand.
“Hey, put that thing away,” he murmured out of the side of his mouth. “People are going to think we’re crazy.”
“They can’t see it, Ray,” Rose said with a motherly smile, stepping out from behind him. “All they can see is our hands. Wands are invisible while we’re on duty. They probably think I’m asking you for directions. Watch me.” She took the end between her fingertips and extended the star in a broad arc. “When I hold the wand out like this, I can feel need strings. Each string is attached to a child who has a longing.”
Ray put his hands in his pockets and bent down to see. He peered closer, expecting to see the same veil of light the Blue Fairy spread on them at the union meeting. “I don’t see any strings.”
“You can’t see them unless you have your own wand out.” Ray dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “Don’t worry,” Rose promised him. “Nothing bad will happen. That’s just a training wand. It doesn’t have enough pfft”—she blew through her lips—“to break a soap bubble, but it’ll teach you everything you need to move on to the real thing.”
“Yeah, right.” Ray put all the skepticism he felt into two words. Rose smiled at him encouragingly. She must think the craziness was catching. At last, he reached into his pocket.
The baby wand had looked like a painted pencil when he got it in the guildhall, but when he took it out this time he felt a kind of electric shock. “Wow!”
Rose nodded, studying him critically. “You’ve got the aptitude. No question about it.”
Ray whisked the small stick through the air and felt texture there, as if he was running it over a ridged surface. Impossible. He tried it some more to make sure he wasn’t simply imagining the sensation. It was real. Magic really existed? He goggled at Rose, but she just nodded encouragingly at him to try it again, so he continued to wave the stick around. After a few moments, he began to get a feel for the shape of the air. Some of the bumps were higher than others. The high ones were more intense-feeling than the low ones. He deliberately stopped with the wand resting on a high, and felt the thrill of tension.
“This is weird! How come I didn’t feel this before, when I got it?”
“We suppress a lot in the hall,” Rose said. “Otherwise the roof would blow off.” Raymond let scorn and disbelief show on his face. She shrugged. “It happened once. Ask your grandmother. She was there.”
He’d rather have dropped dead right there on the sidewalk than ask Grandma the kind of question she might answer with that look, so Raymond just returned his attention to the feeling he got holding the wand. A nice sensation. He should have been terrified of it, but the wand wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t fear it if he tried. He liked it. Rose was right, there was nothing bad in the wand. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he just did. The feeling reached way down inside him and lit him up like springtime. He smiled and let out a deep breath.
“That’s good,” he said.
“That’s exactly what it is.” Rose nodded firmly. “It’s good. You have a lot inside you, and it resonates.”
“Aw, come on,” Ray said, embarrassed. The sensation faded just a little, and he felt bereft at the loss. He clutched the little pencil-wand more tightly. Rose stared off into space, her eyes half-closed.
“There’s that verse, by Tennyson I think, about Sir Galahad. Ever hear it? ‘My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.’”
Ray gawked at her. “Bullshit,” he said.
Rose shrugged. “Not everything that’s hackneyed is false, Ray. Keep your chin up,” she admonished him, reaching up to chuck him in the jaw with her knuckles. “It comes and it goes. You enjoy the high points and wade through the lows. We all do. It’s one of the balances of the job.”
“About those rewards,” Ray wanted to know, as Rose turned to walk along the street again. “I heard something like a pension plan…?”
“Later,” Rose said, with that exasperating smile of hers. “Wait until you do the job first, if you don’t mind. There are children out there who need us. Follow me.”
O O O
Half a block later, they stopped in front of a brick apartment building. Ray eyed it, wondering what was special about this one, out of half a dozen just like it to either side. The brick was the same yellow, the lintels and doorframes made of cast concrete just like the sidewalks. There was no neon in any of the windows saying, “Help me!” His fingers felt for the wand in his pocket.
As soon as he touched it, he felt those need strings again. Sure enough, there was one strong enough to pull him. They walked along the narrow sidewalk that led into the U-shaped building’s courtyard, toward the entrance. Ray had all he could do to keep from veering off to the left where the sensation was emanating from. Somebody was hurting, hurting really bad. Ray wanted to make it better.
Rose reached the door and shook the black-painted doorknob.
“These security systems,” she said, stepping back a pace to shake her head. “It seems like such a good idea, but it doesn’t keep out a really determined burglar. The person who it makes the most trouble for is the person who lives there.”
“For us, too,” Ray said, looking over her shoulder. “So what do we do, ring all the bells and get somebody to buzz us in?”
Rose gave him an exasperated glance that approximated Grandma Green’s look enough that he backed away from her.
“We have other means,” she said. “Locked doors do not keep us from doing the job. Come on.” She turned and trudged back toward the place that had been pulling Ray.
The wall rose steeply three stories out of a thick bank of juniper bushes like green steel wool. Rose looked up, and peered at the wall as if estimating a jump.
“Second floor,” she said, pointing with the star of her wand. Ray saw, and felt, the need string going up to the window.
“Might as well be a hundred if we can’t get in,” Ray said.
“Oh, we can,” Rose said. “Come on.” Grabbing Ray’s upper arm with one hand, and brandishing the wand with the other, she marched forward into the bushes.
“What are you doing?” he cried.
“We’re going in,” Rose said. Ray tried to yank back, but she had a good grip on him. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his free arm to protect it from the thorny evergreen. A dozen paces later Rose stopped short again, and Ray stumbled.
“Watch where you’re going,” she said. “You could hurt yourself.”
Ray opened his eyes. The evergreens were gone. He couldn’t see the stars, and the air was cool and musty instead of steamy. It took his brain a couple of minutes of terrified confusion until he realized he was actually inside the building. But how? He spun to look behind him. There was no door. A few feet away on one side was the outline of a boarded up window. They hadn’t come from that direction anyhow. He wasn’t that disoriented. There was only one conclusion he could reach, and he blurted it out before he could stop himself.
“We walked through a wall! We walked through a solid brick wall!”
“That’s right,” Rose’s voice said. “You have to learn to trust me, you know. It’s a terrible thing not to trust.”
He couldn’t see her clearly. She was a short silhouette in front of him. The only thing really visible, that he could hold on to for a reference point, was the star on the wand. It gleamed with a comforting light. Ray groped in his pocket for his own wand. The goodness made him feel a little better, but what he really wanted to do was sit down. He pushed away from Rose and felt around him for any kind of solid furniture, and finally sank to the dusty, coarse carpet. He wrapped his arms tightly around his knees.
“We went through a wall,” he said to the pink star. “How?”
“We have special abilities when we’re on the job,” Rose said. “Do they help you when you’ve missed a bus? No. Do they help when you lock yourself out of the apartment? No. But this is so nothing can stand between you and a child who really needs you.”
The children. Ray thought about them, and gradually the shock began to wear off. Magic was good, because it helped children. Rose acted like it was a normal, okay, everyday thing. Maybe this lady wasn’t so crazy after all. He hadn’t been seeing things in the Assembly Hall, and there were veils of light that came out of wands, and beams of light that led you to kids. He had a magic wand in his own pocket, and he was going to do stuff with it for children.
“Penny for your thoughts, honey,” Rose said.
As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he could see that he was in a big room. A hallway and the darker patches of two doors showed on the wall opposite the one they came in. Her short, plump figure became more visible.
“Rose?” he asked plaintively.
“Yes, honey?”
“What if I don’t like being a fairy godfather? You didn’t swear me to secrecy or nothing.”
“Or anything,” Rose’s voice corrected him immediately. “If you find you don’t like it, quit! Go home! You don’t have to do this at all if you don’t want to. It’s entirely voluntary. We can’t force service like this. No good would come of it.”
“You gonna come after me and curse me if I do?” Ray asked. He was surprised how small his voice sounded in the empty room.
The shape that was Rose crouched beside him and drew him into the cozy pink light of her wand. Her face, in the unearthly glow, was very serious.
“There is and will never be any coercion on you from the FGU or from me, Raymond,” she said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can tell anyone you want to, about all of it. Who would you like to tell?”
Ray thought about telling his parents, or his little sister and brother, or his friends how he walked through a wall with a crazy lady, and how he was going to go grant wishes for unhappy kids. He thought of telling his girlfriend and watching her face go blank with horror and shock. In his vision the men in the white coats arrived in an ambulance and strapped him up in a straitjacket. He swallowed.
“I guess nobody now,” Raymond said, looking up at her. “But I can if I want?”
“Anybody,” Rose said, positively. “Come on. Our first customer is waiting.” She waved an arm as he scrambled to his feet. “Help an old lady up, honey.”
O O O
Rose led him out of the room by the light of her wand, opened a door, and let them out into a wider hallway that smelled of laundry starch, dust, garlic, and disinfectant. Along the hall to either side, Ray saw the outlines of two or three doors with a faint strip of light coming from underneath, and a split staircase leading down to the left and up to the right. He heard noises for the first time. Somewhere in the building were the sounds of conversation, a baby crying, a dog barking, and two or three televisions blaring. “Where do we go?”
“Shh,” Rose hissed, holding her wand to her lips. “That’s a deserted apartment we came out of.” The star of the wand moved toward the stairs. “That way.”
She stumped up the wide staircase. Ray trailed behind her, his rubber soles catching on the thin, Persian-style carpet on the broad treads. His heart pounded in time with his steps.