The rat queen, p.15
The Rat Queen, page 15
He had been listening! “Yes! Mr. Dennison said I was a hero. He’s a hero, too. He jumped in the pond and saved us both.”
“I will have to thank him for that.” He fixed Annie with an intent gaze. “I would not want to lose you to some reckless impulse.”
“I won’t go on the ice,” Annie said. “Anyway, it melted. It’s Fool’s Summer.”
Papa smiled. “I have not heard that expression in many years.”
“Ozols told it to me.”
“Have you told Ozols about our burna?”
“No! You said not to!”
“Why have you not been feeding the burna, Annike?”
Thunk. His question felt like a punch to the gut. He knew.
“I’m sorry.” Her words came out like a squeak.
Papa pressed his lips tight together. Annie braced herself for a scolding, but he only sighed. His shoulders sagged and suddenly he appeared old again. He lowered himself into his big leather chair and closed his eyes.
“Why?” he asked again, in a voice so quiet she almost couldn’t hear it.
“Because I think it keeps me from growing up,” she said.
Papa did not reply immediately.
Annie waited. After a few more seconds she asked, “What is down there?”
Still with his eyes closed, Papa gave his head a little shake. “It is nothing.”
“You said it was magic.”
“Magic is a word we use for things we do not understand.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Annike, the burna is nothing but a family ritual and a hole in the floor. The important thing is that we confess the things we have done — things we ought not have done — and make them go away. You will grow up — eventually.”
“But all my friends are growing up faster!”
“Annike . . . I want you to be happy, and at peace. Would you rather grow up bearing the burden of your regrets?”
Annie did not know how to answer that, so she asked, “Why doesn’t Ozols do it? Isn’t she family?”
“Yes, but she is Ozols. We are Klimas.”
“Did my mother?”
He shook his head. “Your mother was an angel. She performed no regrettable acts.”
“So why is it only for us?”
“Because that is the way of it.”
Which was no answer at all. “Why do I get taller when I don’t feed the burna?”
Papa looked away. “That is coincidence,” he said.
Annie didn’t believe him, and that made her feel sick inside.
“You must continue to write things down,” he said. “You must feed the burna.”
Did he want her to stay a little girl forever? Never grow up. He was always saying that.
“Are you listening to me?” He was looking at her again, his eyes dark and tight.
Annie looked down. “Yes, Papa.”
“Look at me. Promise me.”
Annie looked at his face. She had never seen him so serious.
“I promise,” she said.
“Good. Now go eat your supper. After dinner, you will write down all the things you have done — including disobeying me — and feed them to the burna.”
Annie picked at her dinner. The lamb stew was good, but she wasn’t hungry. She told Ozol that she wasn’t feeling well and went to her room. She wrote down everything she had done wrong while Papa was in Litvania. She filled six whole pages. Some of it made her feel bad, but at the same time she remembered the sweet taste of stolen fudge, and the feeling she’d had when she saved Arthur’s life, and the fact that she disobeyed Papa and grew more than an inch.
She would feel better about the things she had done when she put the pages in the burna, but what about the things she didn’t feel bad about? Would she forget how good the fudge had tasted? She read what she had written, then tore up all the pages. She didn’t want to forget about saving Arthur. She didn’t want to stop growing. She rolled a blank piece of paper into a tight tube, took it downstairs, and put it in the burna. Papa, sitting at his desk, nodded approvingly. He looked tired, but much better than before. He was almost completely cicenjaed.
Annie had another leg ache that night, but it did not last long. She heard only the faintest whisper of the whispery sound. The next morning when she measured herself, she had grown another eighth of an inch.
Papa didn’t notice.
Every night, Papa would ask her, “Did you feed the burna today?”
“Yes, Papa,” she would lie. And then she would feel bad. She started writing down other things — nonsense like,
I’m a winky dinky wuzzle puzzle
or
Once upon a time there was a girl so big she could touch the moon.
She would roll up the paper and put it in the hole so that when Papa asked her if she’d fed the burna, she could say yes and not be lying.
She measured herself every day. Some days she couldn’t tell any difference, but some days she could. She was growing, but it was so gradual that Papa didn’t notice — or he pretended not to notice. Every week her shoes got a little tighter and her pants got a tiny bit shorter. When she sat on the swing set in the side yard, she had to tuck her feet up high or they would drag on the ground.
Fool’s Summer lasted only three days. For the next two weeks, the days stayed in the forties. Annie was on the swing set wearing a sweater and a hoodie. She was thinking about going back inside to get a pair of gloves because the chains holding up the swing were cold on her hands, but if Ozols spotted her, she’d assign her some chore to do.
Wondering whether she could sneak in through the back door, she looked up and saw Arthur’s mother standing on the porch talking with Ozols. Arthur, wearing a brand-new puffy parka with the hood up, was coming toward her.
“Hey, Arthur,” Annie said.
He sat on the other swing.
“How come your mom’s here?” she asked.
“She has to go to work,” Arthur said.
“Where does she work?”
“She got a job, so you have to take care of me.”
“I do?” Annie was confused.
“Push me,” Arthur said.
“Okay, but just for a minute,” Annie said. She got behind him and pushed him up as high as she could, then backed away quickly. When he reached the end of his backswing, she ran forward and pushed again.
“I bet if I pushed even harder you could go all the way around in a circle.”
“Don’t!” Arthur yelled.
“I won’t. I’m just saying.”
Arthur dragged his feet to stop. He got off and looked up at Annie. “You’re bigger than you used to be,” he said.
“I know. I was under a magic spell that kept me from growing. But I defeated the spell, so now I’m getting bigger.”
“You’re lying. There’s no such thing as magic,” Arthur said confidently.
Annie did not like to be told she was lying, even if she was lying.
“You are very irritating,” she said.
“My mom says that, too.”
The two women had gone into the house.
“Come on, let’s find out what they’re talking about,” Annie said.
When they got inside, Arthur’s mother put her hands on his shoulders.
“You be good,” she said. “Do what Ozols and Annie say. No running off, and no mischief. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Okay,” Arthur said.
Emily Golden stood up and looked at Annie. “Thank you, Annie.”
“For what?” Annie asked.
“For looking after Arthur.”
Annie looked at Ozols, trying to make sense of things.
“Arthur will stay with us three afternoons a week while his mother works at the bookstore,” Ozols said. “You can be his babysitter!”
“Do I get paid?” Annie asked.
Ozols said, “Dear, we are neighbors! Neighbors help neighbors.”
“I’m sure I can bring you something, Annie,” Emily Golden said.
After Arthur’s mother left, Ozols told Annie that she had been rude.
“I wasn’t trying to be,” Annie said. “But Fiona’s sister gets paid for babysitting, so I thought I would, too.”
“That is understandable, but your timing was not nice.”
Annie didn’t understand that, but she said, “I’ll apologize when she comes to get Arthur.”
“Good. Now, I trust you’ll keep Arthur amused while I hang out the sheets.”
After Ozols left, Annie asked Arthur what he wanted to do.
Arthur shrugged.
“How about if I read you a story?” Annie said.
“What story?”
“A Litvanian story.”
Annie couldn’t read any of the stories in the Litvanian fairy-tale book, but she remembered them. She sat Arthur down on the sofa in the library, opened the book, and pretended to read.
“Once upon a time a little boy named Arthur was picking berries, and he ran into a changeling.” She knew that wasn’t exactly right.
“What’s a changeling?” Arthur asked.
“A funny-looking little creature who can turn into a bear. And the bear chased the little boy away and ate his goat.”
“What goat?”
“The little boy had a goat.”
Arthur leaned across her arm and looked at the picture.
“That’s a little girl and a big dog,” he pointed out.
“Actually, it’s a wolf. And it’s not really a wolf, it’s the changeling.”
“But you said it was a bear.”
“It was, but changelings can change. The changeling turned into a wolf to scare away a dragon and then a girl named Annie came along.”
“Did the wolf eat her?”
“No. Annie made the wolf turn into a bug, and she stomped it to death.” She was pretty sure she had that part right.
“Then what happened?”
“That’s the whole story.”
“That’s not a very good story,” Arthur said.
“It’s Litvanian,” said Annie, closing the book. “Litvanian stories are always like that. But they have magic in Litvania.”
“Where is that?”
“I’ll show you.” She led him over to the big globe and pointed out Litvania.
Arthur put his nose to the globe so his eyes were only an inch from Litvania. “I don’t see any magic.”
“It’s not the kind of magic you can see.”
“Then how do you know it’s real?”
“I have a magic amulet.” She pulled up the chain around her neck and showed him the Saint Christopher medallion she had stolen from Miss Mekas. She had been wearing it ever since Mekas left. “And we have a magic room.”
“Where?”
“In the cellar.” Annie pointed at the floor.
Arthur thought for a moment. “Show me.”
“I can’t. It’s locked.”
“You’re just saying that!”
Annie rolled her eyes and dragged him out of the library and into the kitchen. She grabbed the knob on the cellar door and shook it. “See? Locked. And I don’t have a key.”
“Did you ever go down there?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t open the door to the magic room because it has a padlock.”
Arthur looked closely at the old-fashioned doorknob and the keyhole-shaped keyhole. “How did you get in this door?”
“With a screwdriver.”
“Let’s do it again.”
“I’m not supposed to.” Annie wished she hadn’t said anything. The thought of going back into that cellar made her neck all prickly.
“Hello! What’s this mischief?”
Annie spun around. Ozols was standing in the doorway looking at them with her arms crossed.
“Nothing,” Annie said. “Arthur was just asking about the cellar. I told him we couldn’t go down there.”
“Hmm,” Ozols said with narrowed eyes. “See that you don’t.”
Annie said, mostly to escape her tanta’s distrustful gaze, “Let’s go outside, Arthur.”
Still with her arms crossed, Ozols watched them leave through the back door.
“She’s kind of scary,” Arthur said once they reached the street.
“She’s okay,” Annie said. “Only she’s kind of weird about some things.”
“Like your basement?”
“It’s a cellar.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I don’t know.”
When they reached the sewer grate, Arthur stopped. He didn’t get on his hands and knees and press his face to the grate like he used to; he just looked down.
“You know what?” he said.
“No, what?”
“We should go down there sometime.”
“In the sewer? No, thank you!”
“I mean your basement.” He started walking again. “If they keep it locked, there must be something interesting down there.”
When Arthur’s mother came to get him, she handed Annie a big fat book with a shiny red cover: The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales.
“Ozols said you like fairy tales,” she said.
“She certainly does,” said Ozols.
Annie paged through the book. The print was small, and there were very few pictures. But at least it was in English.
“Thank you,” Annie said. “I’m sorry if I was rude earlier.”
“Oh, you weren’t rude, Annie. Thank you for looking after Arthur,” she said. “I’m scheduled to work again tomorrow afternoon. Will you be able to watch him then?”
“I guess so,” Annie said.
“Of course we will,” said Ozols.
Every time Annie walked past the cellar door, she thought about what Arthur had said: “If they keep it locked, there must be something interesting down there.” According to Papa, there was nothing under the tower, just a dark space filled with scraps of pink and yellow paper. But Arthur had a point — why did Papa keep it locked? There had to be something there, something magical — like the magic urn that ate the sins of the Queen-Whose-Name-Is-Forgotten. Something that kept her from growing. It wasn’t just writing down what she had done, and it wasn’t just putting tubes of paper in the burna. It was only when she did both things that she stopped growing.
She asked Ozols why Papa kept the cellar door locked. Ozols stopped wiping the stove top and just stood there for a few seconds before saying, without looking at Annie, “I’m sure he has his reasons.” Which was the same as saying nothing at all.
“Like what?” Annie said.
Ozols turned to Annie and said, “Annie . . . your father wants you to be safe. You know you got hurt when you were a little girl —”
“I’m not a little girl now! I don’t fall down stairs anymore.”
“Yes, but your father, he worries. That cellar holds unhappy memories for him. It was just after you fell that Kundze — your mother — became ill.”
This was new information. Annie held her breath, waiting for more, but Ozols went back to cleaning the stove top. Annie let her breath out and asked, “Was it the zelty maras?”
Ozols pressed her lips together and gave her head a little shake, then a nod. “I believe so. She never got better. I should not be telling you this.”
Annie stared at her. “You mean my mom died because of me?”
“No! No, you must never think that! She did not respond well to treatment here, so your father flew with her back to Litvania, where the zelty maras is better known, but the Litvanian doctors could not cure her. You don’t remember, but I came here to take care of you while your father was gone. Annie, you must understand that your father has strong feelings about you never going in that cellar again. You should respect his wishes.”
“He goes down there sometimes,” Annie said.
Ozols frowned.
“At night,” Annie added.
“Probably he is just checking on the furnace,” Ozols said.
Annie didn’t argue anymore. In truth, she did not want to go back into the cellar. Her curiosity was not great enough to overcome her fear of what she might find if she were to open the door to the room under the tower. It wasn’t just the whispery scratching she had heard. It was more than that. She was afraid to find out what happened to all the papers swallowed by the nuodeema burna. Papa did not want her to know. Ozols did not want her to know. And without Papa — without Ozols — she had nobody.
That night, Annie was awakened by the dull drone of Papa and Ozols talking downstairs. She listened sleepily, not able to make out the words. She was drifting back to sleep when the tone of the voices changed. Papa’s voice became deeper; Ozols’s voice rose in pitch. Annie sat up. It sounded as if they were arguing.
She slid off her bed, moved quietly to the door, and pushed it open a few inches.
“ — don’t care, Lukas! If you must have this life of yours, fine! Leave Annike out of it!”
Annie crept to the top of the stairs.
“Annike is my daughter.” Papa lowered his voice and added, “I will do as I think best.”
“As you did for Kundze?”
“Annike is strong. She is a Klimas.”
“Only half!”
“Lower your voice,” Papa said. “You’ll wake her.”
“I’ll do more than that! She is old enough to know the truth.”
What truth? Annie wondered.
“This is not your concern, Vaira. If you cannot do as I wish, then leave.”
“I will not! I promised my sister I would care for Annike if anything happened to her, and now it has. You happened to her. What if she hadn’t recovered from the maras? What if she gets sick again? She could have died!”
“She won’t get sick. I have the situation under control. And you will say nothing to her.”
“Am I to lie, then, Lukas?”
“Simply say nothing.”
Ozols muttered something Annie could not make out. She heard her father’s footsteps coming toward the stairs and quickly returned to her room and slid beneath the covers. A few seconds later, Papa looked in on her. She lay perfectly still with her eyes closed. He backed out and closed the door.
The next morning, Annie woke up to the sound of Papa’s car driving off. She went downstairs and measured herself against the doorjamb. She hadn’t had a leg ache in three days, but she had gotten a bit taller — maybe another tenth of an inch? It was hard to tell. She went to the kitchen. Ozols was sitting at the table nibbling on dry toast and sipping tea.
