Anne Ursu: The Shadow Thieves

Zee, though, issued a formal apology each time he elbowed Mr. Mielswetzski. The first few times Charlotte's father assured his nephew that it was no trouble, no trouble at all, it can hardly be helped, don't worry yourself over it, young man, I'm elbowing my wife right this minute. But as the elbowing and apologies accrued, and it became more and more apparent that all his jovial assurances were for naught, the vitality was slowly sapped from Mr. Mielswetzski, and by the end of dinner he was practically helpless.

It wasn't just the elbowing. Over the course of the dinner Charlotte watched, amazed, while her cousin comported himself as if he were eating with the Queen. Everything was "please" and "thank you" and "excuse me." His napkin rested cleanly in his lap, his posture was impeccable, and his knife stayed perched, blade in, on the rim of his plate. "My, so polite," her mother kept saying.

"Thank you, Aunt Tara," said Zee.

"Don't worry," whispered Uncle John to Charlotte. "Half the British kids act like this. It's in the water. Makes us all look like a bunch of drooling apes."

Charlotte glared at him. He didn't notice.

She studied her cousin through the dinner, through the chicken cacciatore and the cake and the clearing of the table (with which he insisted on helping). She studied him when the whole family adjourned to the dining room to clean up Mew's mess – despite Mrs. Mielswetzski's best efforts to send the weary travelers to bed. She kept replaying the conversation in the living room in her mind. Maybe he's really paranoid about getting sick, she thought. Maybe he's an athlete, or he had a friend who died of the black plague and for the rest of his life he's been afraid he'll get it too. It's not a rational fear-but then, fear is not rational, is it? Or maybe he was just craz -mentally ill. (Her mother did not like it when she referred to people as crazy) She'd read about people like that; they think germs are everywhere and are always washing their hands and stuff. Or maybe he thought that American schools were really, really dirty. Charlotte wanted to ask him, but if he really was nuts, it probably wouldn't be polite to mention it. Once upon a time there was a weird boy named Zee who suffered from a strange fear…

Or so Charlotte was thinking as they picked up the last shards of plate and pieces of silverware from the dining-room floor. Mr. Mielswetzski swept, Mrs. Mielswetzski went to shake out the tablecloth,

Charlotte put the silverware in the dishwasher, and Zee accidentally stepped on Mr. Mielswetzski's foot.

"Oh! Uncle Mike!" exclaimed Zee loudly. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"No," sighed Mr. Mielswetzski, "it's fine."

When Charlotte went to bed, Mew did not join her. Charlotte left her door open and waited. Mew did not come. Finally she got up and went to find her cat.

It did not take her long. When she passed by the guest room-no, Zachary's room-she saw a hint of fuzziness behind the half-open door. She stopped and peered in (which was almost certainly not polite) and there, snuggled up next to her cousin's head, was Bartholomew.

I didn't say be that nice to him, she thought.

Charlotte made her way down the stairs to the kitchen for a glass of water and perhaps -just perhaps a kitty treat to be placed conveniently in the doorway to her room, but she stopped just outside the kitchen door. Uncle John and her mother were talking in voices that suggested they did not want to be disturbed.

So Charlotte crouched behind the doorway to listen. "I really appreciate your taking him like this," said Uncle John.

"I keep telling you, it's our pleasure," said her mother. "I think it will be good for Charlotte, too."

Charlotte bristled. And why, exactly, is that? She would have liked to stomp in and ask, but that probably wouldn't have been a good idea, so instead she just waited.

Alas, Uncle John wasn't nearly as interested in Charlotte as Charlotte was. "Well, Suz and I are really grateful."

"Anyway, it's all for a good reason, right?" her mother said. "It's so exciting that you got transferred back here. You've been gone so long!"

"Right," said Uncle John quickly. "A stroke of luck."

Charlotte thought this was the most boring conversation she had ever eavesdropped on. If adults are going to talk in quiet voices, they have a duty at least to say something interesting.

But then Uncle John cleared his throat. "Listen, um, Tara… I…" Charlotte could not help but notice that he sounded extremely uncomfortable. She perked up.

"What?" Charlotte's mom asked.

His voice got very low then, and Charlotte had to keep her body very still to hear. "If Zee says or does anything… unusual…"

Unusual? thought Charlotte.

"Unusual?" said her mother.

"Just… anything."

"John… he's a teenage boy," Charlotte's mom said gently. "I think he may have a license to be unusual."

"Well…" Uncle John coughed a little. "True. But… anyway, if you notice anything… you'll let me know?"

Charlotte had already noticed several things, this conversation being high on her list. There was something weird about her cousin, that much was true. Uncle John knew it, but whatever it was, he certainly wasn't going to tell her mother. Charlotte waited for more explanation, but none came. Her mother and Uncle John soon started to be very boring again, and Charlotte, forgetting all about her kitten treat, went up to her room, where she could think in peace.

IN THE IMMENSE SPRAWL OF SUBURBS AROUND Charlotte's hometown, conveniently located off one of the vast freeways that encircled the area, just minutes from the international airport and accessible from several major bus lines, there stood an enormous mall. This mall, better known as the Mall, was the biggest mall in the United States (though not in North America. That distinction belongs to the Mall in Vancouver, British Columbia. If you want to be picky). Each floor of this mall was more than half a mile around. The Mall had 520 stores and sprawled over 4.2 million square feet. It had the largest indoor amusement park in the nation, with thirty rides, including a roller coaster, a Ferris wheel, and a water ride thingy. It had a fourteen-screen movie theater and more than fifty restaurants – including several that billed themselves as dine-u-tainment. It had a bowling alley, an aquarium that housed 4,500 creatures (including sharks), a theme park entirely devoted to cereal, and a blimp made with almost 140,000 LEGOs.

The Mall was Big. It was Huge. It was Mega. But despite its size, the Mall was generally very well laid out. All of the stores sat on the central avenues, so none could be missed. Egresses were well marked and easy to find. There were plenty of restrooms, and large kiosks stood at convenient locations, displaying large, easy-toread maps for the benefit of the bewildered Mallgoer.

There was, however, a small hallway that did not appear on any of the maps. Most people did not even know it was there. You could pass it right by, swinging your shopping bags and drinking your large soda or fruit smoothie, and not even notice the nondescript corridor that lurked somewhere between the store devoted to foot sculptures and the store that sold cheese.

If you did not notice the nondescript corridor, you certainly would not notice the nondescript door at the end of it, nor would you notice the nondescript sign with nondescript letters that read, nondescriptly, NO ADMITTANCE.

No one who worked at the Mall thought much about that door. Certainly no one used it. The security guards assumed it was for the maintenance people. The maintenance people assumed it was for the cleaning staff. The cleaning staff assumed it was for Mall officials, and Mall officials didn't really think about it at all.