So the day went. The telephone number was busy every time Louise tried, except for one time when the connection went through and she heard someone shouting in the distance. “Watch! Watch! Don’t yank out the leads or the spell will collapse!” a woman cried and then they were disconnected.
Louise eyed the phone. If Pittsburgh was on Earth, how were they casting spells? Did Lain have a magic generator, too? Did this mean Lain knew Kensbock? Did Lain know where the M.I.T. student was?
“We have time for one more run. Can we give it a go?” Mr. Noble called.
Louise had been working on lighting and music to go with the action as she endlessly failed to talk to Lain. She waited until everyone was in their places and then dimmed all the lights except the nursery’s nightlights. She was aware that Mr. Noble and Mr. Howe had come to bracket her as she stood on a stool and worked the control boards. There were half a dozen monitors on the system. There were cameras that showed the audience and what was onstage. There was the screen that showed the programming for the lift-line robotic operators. The controls for the Tinker Bell projector. The sound mixing display. And her phone, cycling through dial, busy signal, disconnection.
This would be the worst possible moment for the phone call to actually go through.
Trying to ignore her phone, she cued in the gleaming figure inside a ball of light that represented Tinker Bell. She zoomed the gleaming circle about the nursery, leaving a contrail of glittering motes.
“Oh wow,” Mr. Noble breathed. “That is cool. I’ve never seen that before. What are you using?”
“A holographic pinpoint projector.” Louise moved the light about as “Tinker Bell” searched for Peter Pan’s lost shadow.
“Where’d you get it?” Mr. Noble whispered.
“I made it,” she admitted since Mr. Howe was standing right there. “I recorded a silhouette of my Barbie doll using stop-action for the wings’ flapping and then looped it.”
“Oh! Really?” It was impossible to judge if his whispered question was just surprise or disbelief.
“This is a school for the gifted, Mr. Noble,” Mr. Howe said.
Onstage, the window opened and Jillian peered in, impossibly high and half upside-down. Then she flew in and landed in a crouch. She was just in T-shirt and jeans, but she’d mussed her hair so she looked half feral.
“Tinker Bell,” Jillian gave a stage whisper as she slinked across the nursery like something wild. “Tink, are you there?”
“You two are scary good,” Mr. Noble whispered.
Louise caught the flash of light on the auditorium camera as someone opened the door and stepped into the darkened room. She didn’t catch who it was, but she had the sudden sense of impending doom. She glanced at her phone. It was dialing again. She made a big sweeping gesture with her right to cue up Tinker Bell’s gentle tinkle of bells that was J.M. Barrie’s “fairy language” and with her left quietly cancelled the phone call.
After Jillian did Peter’s joyous flight at finding his shadow, she shortcut through the scene to get to the flying. “I’ll teach you how to jump on the wind’s back and then away we go.”
Carlos and Darius were still awkward, despite the day’s work, but luckily in a silly, laughable way. Elle was graceful and refined. Jillian managed to impart boyish swagger as she zoomed about the stage as if she had been born with wings.
As Jillian landed, crying “Now come!” and pointing out the open nursery window, Louise’s phone rang. Mr. Howe looked down at her phone as “Mom” displayed on the screen.
“Louise,” he chided.
“I was expecting my mom to call, so I had it out,” Louise lied. “Can I answer?”
The lone person in the audience clapped, distracting him.
He huffed. “Yes. Since it’s your mother.” And he stalked out to see who was on in the auditorium, applauding.
“Hello?” Louise tentatively answered her phone.
“Louise, I forgot all about the fact that you two need gowns for the gala.” Her mother sounded like she was juggling a hundred things at once. Death would fall on anyone that made her drop what she had in midair.
“Gowns?” Louise cautiously tried to weasel out of whatever her mother had planned.
“Gowns, like dresses, only fancier.”
Louise gasped as she realized who had to be in the dark auditorium. “You want Aunt Kitty to take us shopping?”
“I called the school and let them know that she was picking you up. I didn’t want you to miss her.”
Louise brought up the auditorium lights and verified her guess. “She’s here now.”
“Be good for your aunt. Love you.” And she hung up with no idea that she’d just thrown all their plans into ruin.
There was a conspiracy to put little girls in pink and yards of tulle. It was tempting to agree to the first dozen they saw, but since they’d failed to reach Lain for almost fifteen hours, they held their ground. On the fourth store, they found a black satin full-length dress that the twins loved at first sight. It had a ruched sleeveless bodice and empire waistline wrapped with a matching black pleated sash.
“Are you sure?” Aunt Kitty asked a dozen times. “It’s awfully grown-up.”
“It’s perfect.” Jillian turned in a circle to show it off to full effect.
Aunt Kitty took a video and sent it to their mother. “We’ll see what she thinks.”
A minute later a firm “No black, it’s not a funeral” text came back.
Two stores later, just shy of closing hours, they found two matching tea-length dresses of soft shimmering yellow with wide black belts. The dresses had poof skirts thanks to layers of crinoline but were fully lined, so the itchy material didn’t touch bare skin. With their mother’s texted approval, the dresses were bought and they headed home, exhausted.
They spent the last hour getting ready for bed with phones in hand, dialing, disconnecting at the first tone of the busy signal, redialing. The minutes ticked down and then Shutdown was over.
They stared numbly at the clock as it turned to midnight.
“What do we do?” Jillian asked.
Louise called April, who answered on the first ring.
“Hello?”
“Ugh!” Louise flopped back in bed. If April answered, she wasn’t on Elfhome.
“Hello?” April said again.
“It’s us,” Louise said.
“Oh.” It wasn’t a good sounding “oh” but a “but I’ve got bad news” kind of “oh.”
“What happened? Is it Alexander? Did something happen to her?”
“No, no, it’s that I didn’t get across the border.” April sounded tired, but not stressed, yet somehow Louise was sure that she had horrible news. “I’d gone to Cranberry to try and get across. Normally it’s the best bet. There was a shoot-out on Veterans Bridge, though, and things got all screwed up.”
“A shoot-out?” The post-doc had mentioned a twenty-car accident but nothing about a shoot-out.
“I’m not sure what happened — the details are really sketchy — but apparently there was a big pileup on Veterans Bridge. There was a heavily armed group of smugglers in one of the cars, and they tried to kill the cops that showed up to direct traffic. They shot at least one person, and they rigged a bomb to take out the bridge. The EIA bomb squad managed to defuse it. Then the rescue teams used Earth-based life-flight helicopters to fly out the wounded.”
All of which would have stopped traffic incoming from Cranberry completely.
“I did get through to my parents and cousins,” April continued. “At first they didn’t know whom I was talking about. I think my mom is going senile early; Old Man Bell saved my life, and she didn’t remember him at all. She was no help. I had more luck with my cousin, Ellen. It took ten minutes of describing the hotel on Neville Island, Old Man Bell, and his two grandchildren who build go-carts, for her to figure out who I meant. Apparently Alexander doesn’t use her real name.”