Jinx

Chapter Three

Or at least, that's what it looked like to me. And okay, I'm used to our backyard in Hancock, which is completely filled with my younger brothers' and sisters' bikes and plastic toys, a swing set, a dog run, Mom's motley vegetable patch, and large piles of dirt, dumped there by Dad, who is forever working on a new addition to the house, which has never quite gotten done. 

This backyard, however, looked like something from a TV show. And not Law and Order, either, but something along the lines of MTV Cribs. Walled on three sides by moss-covered brick, roses were growing—and blooming—everywhere. 

There were even rose vines wrapped around the sides of a small, glassed-in gazebo over in one corner of the garden. There was a wrought-iron table surrounded by chairs and a cushioned chaise longue beneath the sweeping branches of a newly budding weeping willow. But best of all was a low fountain, which, even with the windows closed three stories up, I could hear burbling. A stone mermaid sat in the center of the five-foot-wide pool, with water shooting up out of the mouth of a fish she was holding in her arms. I couldn't be sure, being so high up, but I thought I saw a few flashes of orange within the pool. Goldfish!

"Koi," Petra corrected me, when I said it out loud. Her voice was getting back to normal, now that we weren't discussing Tory, I couldn't help noticing. "They are Japanese. And do you see Mouche, the Gardiners' little cat? She sits there all day long, watching them. She has not caught one yet, but she will, one day." I saw the sudden flare of a match being struck beneath the glass roof of the ga- zebo. You couldn't really see in, because the glass was frosted. 

Tory and her friends must have been inside, but I couldn't see them, just their shadowy movements, and the flame. 

It appeared that Tory and her friends were smoking. That's all right, though. I know plenty of people our age back in Iowa who smoke. Well, okay. One. Still, everyone had told me things were really different in New York. Not just things, but people, too. People my age, especially. Like, people my age in New York are supposed to be way more sophisticated and older for their age than people back home. And that's okay. I can handle that. Although my stomach, judging by the way it had suddenly turned back into a knot, seemed to disagree.

 "I guess I should go down and say hi to Tory," I said...because I felt like I had to. "Yes," Petra said. "I suppose you should." She sounded like there was something she wanted to say, but for the first time since I'd met her, she went mute instead. Great. So what was up between her and Tory?

And what did you want to bet that, with my luck, I was going to walk into the middle of it? "Well," I said, more bravely than I felt, letting the curtain liner drop back into place. "Would you mind showing me the way?" "Of course." Petra, it appeared, wasn't the type of girl to stay quiet for long. As we went down the stairs to the second floor, she asked about the violin. 

"You are playing it long?" "Since I was six," I said. "Six! Then you must be very good! We will have a concert some night, yes? The children will love this." I kind of doubted this, unless my cousins were really different from the kids back home. Nobody I know in Hancock likes listening to me play. Except maybe when I do "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." But even then, they kind of lose interest, unless I sing the words. And it's hard to sing and play at the same time.

 Even Patti Scialfa, Bruce Springsteen's wife, who can play the violin and sing, never really does both at the same time. Then Petra asked if I was hungry, and told me about the cooking class, Mrs. Gar- diner had paid for her to go to so that she could learn to make American food for the children. "I was to make filet mignon for your arrival tomorrow, but now you are here, and I think for dinner tonight, we are having Chinese food from Szechuan Palace! I hope you are not minding. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner have a benefit they have to attend. The

Gardiners are very kind, giving people, and are always going to benefits to raise money for worthy causes...there are many of these in New York City. And Chinese food here is very good, it is authentic—Mrs. Gardiner even says so, and she and Mr. Gardiner have been to China for their anniversary last year—Oh, here is the door to the garden. I guess I will be seeing you, then." "Thanks, Petra," I said, giving her a grateful smile. 

 Then I slipped out the glass door that led to the patio overlooking the garden and went down the steps to the garden itself (clinging carefully to the wrought-iron rail to avoid a second near-disaster with a set of stairs). Here the sound of the fountain was much louder, and I could smell the heavy scent of roses in the air. It was weird to be in the middle of New York City and smelling roses. Although intermingled with the rose smell was the scent of burning tobacco. I called out, "Hello?" as I approached the gazebo, to let them know I was coming. No one responded right away, but I was pretty sure I heard someone say the F word.

 I figured Tory and her friends were scrambling to stamp out their cigarettes. I hurried to enter the gazebo, so I could say, "Uh, don't worry. It's only me." But of course, I found myself speaking to six total and complete strangers. My cousin Tory wasn't anywhere to be seen. Which is, you know. Just my luck.