Rebecca didn't know. If only she'd taken Rebecca's hand,
they'd both be invisible right now. Instead, Lisette was nowhere to be found,
and Rebecca ... well, she was clearly, completely, totally visible.
And standing in the grassy alley, looking extremely startled, were
Helena Bowman and Marianne Sutton. They were both still in their school
uniforms, Helena clutching a perfect posy of waxy white flowers.
"What are you doing here?" Helena sounded
outraged. "How dare you climb all over my family's vault?"
"I'm not ... I'm just -- sorry." Rebecca lumbered over
the boundary fence, almost losing her balance and knocking her elbow against
the neighboring tomb. She'd never thought that Helena or anyone else might
visit this place during the day, but of course they did: Their family members
were buried here. Helena must be bringing fresh flowers to leave at the gate of
the tomb. "I was just looking around."
"Then take a tour." Marianne gripped Helena's arm as
though her friend needed propping up. Helena was looking wan, and a
little frail, with dark circles under her eyes. "This isn't a playground!
People are buried here, you know."
Rebecca hated being caught like this: There was nothing she could
say to explain why she was on the wrong side of the
103
railing, and she'd already apologized. Something in the tone of
their voices made her reluctant to apologize again.
"I have to go," she said, and clambered onto the
pathway, weaving to avoid bumping into Helena. She walked away as quickly as
she could without running, before either of them could say another word.
Rebecca might be late to meet Anton, but she didn't want Marianne and Helena to
see her running. She didn't want them to think they'd scared her away.
104
***
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
***
Anton was waiting for her: he seemed relieved rather than annoyed
when Rebecca ran up, burbling her vague excuses. How could she tell him the
truth -- that she'd spotted a ghost in the cemetery and darted in for a quick
chat, only to be turfed off the Bowman family grave by Anton's BFFs, Helena and
Marianne? It was easier to say she'd had to stay late at school.
"The last two streetcars have been full. Some car-dealer
convention," he told her. "Like they have anything to celebrate! Do
you want to just walk?" "Sure!"
"The only thing is, it's about three miles to the park, so I
don't think we'll make it all the way. I can't stay out too ... "
He didn't finish his sentence, and Rebecca didn't press him. They
weren't supposed to be out together, end of story. Today they were both in
disguise, in their civilian gear: Anton had traded his St. Simeon's blazer for
a brown MAKE LEVEES, NOT WAR T-shirt and an American Eagle hoodie, so
105
he almost looked like a normal teenage boy rather than some
Patrician heir.
They strolled along the center of the broad avenue, walking down
the disused streetcar tracks -- a sandy lane rimmed with grass lush from all the
rain. Joggers thudded past them, some of them running in chattering pairs, some
pulling dogs on leashes. Anton pointed out the plastic beads dangling high in
the oak trees, relics of this year's carnival parades.
"The parades run along -- what is it, the south side of the
street?" Rebecca asked him, trying to get her bearings.
"The river side," he corrected her. "And over there
is the lake side, and what we're walking on right now is called the neutral
ground. North and south don't mean much here. Most of the West Bank isn't
really to the west of us at all, because of the way the river curves. And now,
though we're really following the river, we're walking into Uptown -- and it's
called that because it's upriver of the Quarter."
"Confusing," she told him, and he shrugged: He was used
to this, she guessed, having never lived anywhere else, but Rebecca had grown
up in a city where streets were on a grid. "Are you a member of Septimus?
Do you get to sit on a float?"
"Ride," he said, grinning at her. "I'm not a
member, but my father and
they'd both be invisible right now. Instead, Lisette was nowhere to be found,
and Rebecca ... well, she was clearly, completely, totally visible.
And standing in the grassy alley, looking extremely startled, were
Helena Bowman and Marianne Sutton. They were both still in their school
uniforms, Helena clutching a perfect posy of waxy white flowers.
"What are you doing here?" Helena sounded
outraged. "How dare you climb all over my family's vault?"
"I'm not ... I'm just -- sorry." Rebecca lumbered over
the boundary fence, almost losing her balance and knocking her elbow against
the neighboring tomb. She'd never thought that Helena or anyone else might
visit this place during the day, but of course they did: Their family members
were buried here. Helena must be bringing fresh flowers to leave at the gate of
the tomb. "I was just looking around."
"Then take a tour." Marianne gripped Helena's arm as
though her friend needed propping up. Helena was looking wan, and a
little frail, with dark circles under her eyes. "This isn't a playground!
People are buried here, you know."
Rebecca hated being caught like this: There was nothing she could
say to explain why she was on the wrong side of the
103
railing, and she'd already apologized. Something in the tone of
their voices made her reluctant to apologize again.
"I have to go," she said, and clambered onto the
pathway, weaving to avoid bumping into Helena. She walked away as quickly as
she could without running, before either of them could say another word.
Rebecca might be late to meet Anton, but she didn't want Marianne and Helena to
see her running. She didn't want them to think they'd scared her away.
104
***
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
***
Anton was waiting for her: he seemed relieved rather than annoyed
when Rebecca ran up, burbling her vague excuses. How could she tell him the
truth -- that she'd spotted a ghost in the cemetery and darted in for a quick
chat, only to be turfed off the Bowman family grave by Anton's BFFs, Helena and
Marianne? It was easier to say she'd had to stay late at school.
"The last two streetcars have been full. Some car-dealer
convention," he told her. "Like they have anything to celebrate! Do
you want to just walk?" "Sure!"
"The only thing is, it's about three miles to the park, so I
don't think we'll make it all the way. I can't stay out too ... "
He didn't finish his sentence, and Rebecca didn't press him. They
weren't supposed to be out together, end of story. Today they were both in
disguise, in their civilian gear: Anton had traded his St. Simeon's blazer for
a brown MAKE LEVEES, NOT WAR T-shirt and an American Eagle hoodie, so
105
he almost looked like a normal teenage boy rather than some
Patrician heir.
They strolled along the center of the broad avenue, walking down
the disused streetcar tracks -- a sandy lane rimmed with grass lush from all the
rain. Joggers thudded past them, some of them running in chattering pairs, some
pulling dogs on leashes. Anton pointed out the plastic beads dangling high in
the oak trees, relics of this year's carnival parades.
"The parades run along -- what is it, the south side of the
street?" Rebecca asked him, trying to get her bearings.
"The river side," he corrected her. "And over there
is the lake side, and what we're walking on right now is called the neutral
ground. North and south don't mean much here. Most of the West Bank isn't
really to the west of us at all, because of the way the river curves. And now,
though we're really following the river, we're walking into Uptown -- and it's
called that because it's upriver of the Quarter."
"Confusing," she told him, and he shrugged: He was used
to this, she guessed, having never lived anywhere else, but Rebecca had grown
up in a city where streets were on a grid. "Are you a member of Septimus?
Do you get to sit on a float?"
"Ride," he said, grinning at her. "I'm not a
member, but my father and
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