Anne Ursu: The Shadow Thieves

"Well, okay then. Good kitty" said Charlotte. And she would fall asleep happily with Mew next to her, unaware that in a few minutes she would be dreaming of falling through the earth again.

ZACHARY MILLER ARRIVED ON SATURDAY NIGHT, along with Charlotte's uncle, who had flown all the way over from London to drop off his son. Charlotte told her mother that she thought this was a bit excessive and thirteen-year-olds were perfectly capable of making the journey by themselves, and international travel had gotten rather sophisticated since the invention of the airplane, and the language difference between England and America was not so great that Zachary wouldn't be able to cope in the airport, but Charlotte's mother told her that if she were sending her child to Europe to live, she'd want to come drop her off too, missy.

The Mielswetzski household was in a flutter all day. Bartholomew was running up and down various walls. Mrs. Mielswetzski changed the curtains in the guest room ("Zachary's room") again to a nice masculine gray flannel, for fear the boy would find all the taupe overwhelming. Mr. Mielswetzski spent the day making his special chicken cacciatore. Mrs. Mielswetzski bought a cake, and Mr. Mielswetzski decorated it with WELCOME HOME, ZACHARY, which, if you asked Charlotte, was overdoing it-but once again, nobody had asked her. They took great pains to decorate the dining room-Mrs. Mielswetzski put up balloons, and Mr. Mielswetzski put up streamers. Bartholomew began to do furious laps around the entire room, buzzing over the table and under the chairs, trailing streamers and balloons behind her until an hour before the Millers' plane was to arrive, when Charlotte found her passed out on the floor, wrapped in paper streamers and Scotch tape.

"Well, I guess she didn't like the decorations," said Mr. Mielswetzski.

"Or maybe she liked them too much," said Mrs. Mielswetzski.

So Charlotte and her father spent the next hour removing streamers, tape, and kitten from the dining room, while Mrs. Mielswetzski drove to the airport.

Two hours later the cake was decorated, the dining room cleaned, the tablecloth laid, the table set, the chicken cacciatored, and the Mielswetzski family car was pulling into the garage. Charlotte was in her room putting on her green sweater, which looked excellent with her hair. Charlotte had a strange urge to impress her unknown cousin from London, even if she didn't know what to think about his arrival; no matter what, it never hurt to look your best, and maybe if Zachary liked her, he would take her back with him to London. She heard the garage door open and pursed her lips, wondering how her life was about to change.

"They're HERE!" shouted Mr. Mielswetzski.

"I SEE," shouted Charlotte.

"Well, come on DOWN!" shouted Mr. Mielswetzski.

On her way down the stairs Charlotte stopped at the landing to see if she could catch a glimpse of her cousin, but it was too dark outside-all she could make out were dim forms. She took a deep breath and headed to the kitchen.

"Are you excited?" asked Mr. Mielswetzski.

She shrugged.

"That sweater looks beautiful on you. I'm sure your cousin will like it."

Gross, thought Charlotte, wishing she had worn something else.

But before she could protest, the door opened. "Here we are!" sang her mother.

There was a flurry of motion then- Charlotte was given a large hug by someone who was probably Uncle John, while her parents bobbed around beside them. Charlotte felt herself being steered in the direction of the living room, and before she knew what had hit her, she was standing in the living room alone with her cousin, who was holding a glass of soda (with ice and a lemon wedge), while the door closed gently behind them.

Charlotte stared at Zachary, who was looking blankly at the icy, lemony, soda-y glass in his hand. He was tall, a whole head above Charlotte, and very thin, like a boy who could run very fast when called on. But he didn't look like he had done much running lately; his brown skin seemed very sallow, his eyes were sunken in, and his face was gaunt. He looked tired-as anyone might after an all-day flight, Charlotte reminded herself.

"Was your flight okay?" she asked. It seemed like the thing people said.

"Um, yeah," he said. "Bit long."

"I bet," Charlotte said. "I've never been on a flight so long. How long?"

"Uh… seven hours," he said.

Words sounded so much cooler out of Zachary's mouth. Charlotte wished she talked like that. Maybe when she went to England someday, she would pick up a nice accent, then even when she said stupid things, no one would notice because her voice was so cool. It's one thing to get together with all your friends and dye your hair blond, it's another thing to have a British accent.

"So," Charlotte said, "do people call you Zach or, uh-"

"Zee," he said. "I like Zee."

"Cool," said Charlotte. Well, Zee was certainly much cooler than she was. He would be a good person to have on her side, assuming he didn't completely disown her for being a baboon, which he probably would.

"Yeah," he said.

"So, um.."

"So."

"Well." Charlotte took a deep breath. "You're going to start school on Monday?"

Zachary-Zee-yawned, a full-face yawn that seemed to stretch to his hairline. His brown eyes watered. "Sorry," he said formally, "I'm really knackered."

"What?"

"I'm knackered," he repeated loudly.

"Oh," said Charlotte.

"So, yes," he said, wiping his eyes. "I'm going to your school. We'll be in the same year?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You can give me a tour," said Zee.

Charlotte relaxed a little. Maybe he didn't think she was a super-loser-freak-even if she had been acting like one, he was too tired to notice. "'Course I will," she said. "No problem."

"Brilliant," he said softly, which Charlotte thought was a bit of an overstatement. "So, um, how is it? School?"

"Okay," Charlotte shrugged. "It's school."

"And… your, uh, classmates… what, uh…" He shifted a little. "What are they like?" He was looking at her strangely.

"Oh, you know…" Charlotte shrugged.

`Anything… odd?" he asked.

"Odd?" Charlotte stared at him.

"Oh, you know…" He bit his lip. "Is everyone… feeling… okay?"

"Feeling okay?" Charlotte blinked. "You mean… are the kids sick?"

"Yeah. You know"-he laughed a little-"does your school have a plague? Bubonic or, um…" He trailed off. He seemed to be trying to make a joke, but Charlotte could not for the life of her figure out what the joke was. It must be a British thing, she thought.

"Well, there's a plague of blondness," Charlotte said.

He blinked at her and opened his mouth, but just then a loud crash came from the dining room. Charlotte and Zee exchanged looks. Mr. and Mrs. Mielswetzski emerged from the kitchen. They all went into the dining room, to find the entire tablecloth scooted over to one side of the table, broken plates on the floor, and a very scared-looking Mew frozen under the table.

"Oh my goodness," said Mr. Mielswetzski.

"Oh my goodness," said Mrs. Mielswetzski and Uncle John.

"Poor kitty," said Charlotte.

The five of them stood staring at the mess for several moments. Mrs. Mielswetzski let out a heavy sigh, and Mr. Mielswetzski clapped his hands together.

"Well," he said. "Shall we eat in the kitchen, then?"

"May I help you, Uncle Mike?" said Zee with utmost politeness. Charlotte gaped at him. Oh, great. That's all she needed-a cousin with a good attitude. She could see he was going to make her look very, very bad.

At dinner the family made polite conversation across the small kitchen table, as polite as could be when you were constantly elbowing the person on your right. Charlotte was elbowing Uncle John and being elbowed by her mother. Charlotte excused herself the first couple of times, but soon she gave up. There were better ways for a growing girl to expend her energy.