Juliet Dove, Queen of Love Page 4

  Samantha turned on him in fury. “Let go of me, Tyrone! Let go or I’ll scream, and you’ll really be in trouble.”

  Tyrone stared directly into her eyes. “Get away from Juliet,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Get away—and stay away.”

  They glared at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. It was Elizabeth who broke the standoff. “You two should join the drama club,” she said with a laugh. Reaching out, she took Samantha’s free arm, the one not being held by Tyrone, and said, “Come here a minute, Sam. I want to talk to you.”

  Tyrone let go, and Elizabeth led Samantha away. Juliet watched, amazed as usual at the confident way Elizabeth could deal with people.

  Suddenly she realized that Tyrone was still standing there. “Thanks,” she whispered, scarcely able to look at him.

  Tyrone shrugged modestly. “No problem. If Samantha gives you any more trouble, you just come get me.” He paused, then asked, “You mind if I walk home with you?”

  Juliet shook her head mutely, too shy to speak. Even as she did, she realized that she wasn’t sure if that meant “No, don’t do it!” or “No, I don’t mind.”

  Tyrone had no such questions. “Great! See you after school!”

  So they walked home together: Juliet and Tyrone . . . and Arturo, who had been walking home with her for years and was clearly not pleased to have Tyrone join them. To Juliet’s relief, the boys talked all the way. Most of it was bragging, but it saved her from having to do any talking herself. She left them shuffling their feet awkwardly on her doorstep and hurried into the house.

  “Is that you, Juliet?” called her mother. “You’ve got a friend here.”

  Juliet hurried into the kitchen. Gil Jordan was sitting at the table, a plate of Mrs. Dove’s cookies in front of him. He looked miserable. “Hi, Juliet,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, annoyed with herself even as she spoke for how rude she sounded. She saw her mother scowl.

  “I wanted to apologize for what happened in school today,” said Gil.

  Juliet ducked her head. “It’s all right,” she murmured, wishing he would just go away.

  “Well, I’d better get back to work,” said Mrs. Dove cheerfully. “Got a deadline to meet!” She scurried out of the room, pausing at the door to turn and wink at her daughter.

  Traitor! thought Juliet, amazed that her mother could believe she actually wanted to be alone with a boy.

  As soon as Mrs. Dove was gone, Gil stood up and said, “I didn’t just come to apologize, Juliet. I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day. I don’t know what’s happened, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I think I’m in love with you!”

  Juliet stared at him in horror. Before she could think of what to say, Gil dropped to his knees, clasped his hands in front of him, and cried, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

  Juliet could feel the dreaded blush painting her face, and her heart was fluttering like a trapped bird. “Gil, stop it!” she pleaded.

  “Then stop being so beautiful,” he replied miserably.

  That pushed Juliet over the edge. “Get on your feet, you miserable goofball. You’re not in love with me, you’re just making fun of me. I don’t know why, but it’s really, really mean of you. Stop it. Stop it now!”

  To her horror, Gil burst into tears.

  “Don’t do that!” she cried.

  “I can’t help it. You’re stomping on my heart!”

  “That’s it!” cried Juliet. “This is not a country-and-western song. Now get out of here. Go!”

  “I’m sorry,” moaned Gil. “I’m so, so, so, so sorry. Can’t I stay? Please?”

  “Out!” cried Juliet.

  Still weeping, Gil fled. Struck by a sudden pang of guilt, Juliet turned and raced up the stairs, eager for some privacy and a chance to sort through the weird events of the day. She hurried past her own room, preferring instead to head for the attic, which was where she always retreated when she felt especially overwhelmed.

  The attic had been divided into two spaces. If you turned left at the top of the stairs, you entered the Dovecote. This was her mother’s world, a studio space her parents had built for Mrs. Dove after The Sheldons started to become really successful.

  Juliet loved the Dovecote. It was bright and airy, partly because the roof had four large windows—skylights they were called—to give Mrs. Dove lots of natural light for her work. Even better, Mrs. Dove had insisted on adding a long work space against one wall that was reserved exclusively for the children, so they could come up and do art projects while their mother was drawing. Even without talking, it was a very companionable way to spend time together.

  But much as Juliet loved the Dovecote, she loved the other side of the attic even more. This was the area you entered if you turned right at the top of the stairs, and it was as raw and unfinished as the studio side was sleek and modern. Here, you could see the wooden slats of the original roof nailed to the wide timbers that supported it. Here, too, was piled the accumulated stuff—Juliet refused to call it trash, which was her father’s preferred word for it—of generations.

  The best stuff, of course, was from Great Aunt Bessie’s world travels: boxes and bundles and trunks of things she had carried back from her journeys. When Juliet was little, Margaret used to bring her up here on “expeditions.” These days Margaret didn’t seem much interested in the attic, which Juliet thought was too bad.

  Two years ago, shortly after the poetry jam disaster, Juliet had claimed a corner of the attic for her own. In it she had placed an old rocking chair that rocked perfectly well even though it was chipped and marred. Then she had added a shelf with some of her favorite books. And against one of the walls she had leaned a painting that Great Aunt Bessie had brought back from Greece. It showed a field of yellow flowers with a boy standing in the foreground, watching over a flock of goats. The boy had a sad look on his face that fascinated Juliet, and she had studied him over and over since she was little.

  Plunking herself down in the rocker, Juliet began trying to make sense of the day’s events—especially the bizarre scene with Gil just now. She placed her hand at her neck, and began tracing the chain with her fingers. It was hard to believe that the amulet could have anything to do with the crazy things that had happened. Then again, everything had changed since she first put it on. Should she take it off?

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” she told herself, speaking aloud as she sometimes did in the privacy of the attic. “This amulet couldn’t really make the boys act so weird.” She paused, then said, “Or could it?”

  “Oh, it could,” said a small voice from somewhere behind her. “Believe me, it could!”

  Juliet leaped to her feet. “Who said that?” she cried. She spun to look behind her. But there was no one there—at least no one that she could see.

  “Don’t be so frightened,” said another voice. The first voice had been male; this one was clearly female. “Look, we aren’t going to hurt you. We just want to talk.”

  “Yeah, and we had a deuce of a time finding you,” said the first voice. “What the heck are you doing way up here?”

  Juliet bolted across the floor, heading straight for the Dovecote. Her mother wasn’t there. Heart pounding, she turned and raced down the stairs and to her own room. Slamming the door, she threw herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if she was losing her mind.

  She had just begun to catch her breath when the little male voice said, “Geez, Juliet, we told you we aren’t gonna hurt you. But we do have to talk to you.”

  This time the voice was coming from under her bed.

  FIVE

  Roxanne and Jerome

  Raw terror gripped Juliet’s heart. For as long as she could remember, she had been afraid of what might be under her bed. Now her horrible fears about something lurking there had come true. She stared at her door, wondering if she could reach it before whatever was under the bed could grab her. She decided not to try. The bed might
be safe territory, but once she put her feet on the floor, she knew she would be fair game.

  “Are you going to come down and talk to us?” demanded the female voice. “Or do we have to come out?”

  Juliet remained silent, hoping that if she didn’t answer, the voices might go away.

  “Did you hear me?” demanded the female. “We know you’re up there, so don’t try to pretend you’re not! It isn’t gonna do you any good!”

  “How many of you are there?” asked Juliet.

  “Just the two of us.” This from the male. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’d better talk to us.”

  “What are you?” asked Juliet. “Some kind of spirits?”

  “Oh, that’s a good one!” said the male. “Us, spirits!”

  “Well, then, what are you?” Juliet persisted.

  “Come on down and take a peek,” said the female.

  Juliet had no intention of giving whatever creatures were lurking beneath the bed a chance to drag her under there with them. Heaven alone knew where they might take her once they had her!

  “You come out,” she said firmly.

  Instantly she regretted the words. She had read enough stories to know that magical creatures often could not enter a place until they were invited. And now she had gone and done just that.

  “Wait!” she cried. “I changed my mind. Don’t come out! Just talk to me from where you are!”

  Her retraction was too late. She heard a rustling and a scuttering. Quaking with fear, she buried her head under the pillow to wait for the worst.

  “Well, here we are!” said the male. “Sheesh, will you at least look at us!”

  Juliet shook her head, then realized the gesture would be invisible to her unseen guests. “I can’t,” she said softly.

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Juliet,” said the female. “We won’t hurt you. But we do have to talk to you.”

  “And we ain’t goin’ nowhere till we do,” said her partner. “So you might as well get it over with.”

  Trembling, Juliet scooched to the edge of the bed and peered down.

  “You’re rats!” she cried, her voice filled with horror. Quickly she pushed herself back across the bed so she could no longer see them.

  “What were you expecting?” called the male rat. “A pair of pixies? Now get back over here. My name is Jerome, this is Roxanne, and we are not—repeat not—going to bite you.”

  Juliet inched forward just far enough to peek over the edge of the bed again.

  “Pleased to meetcha, Juliet,” said Roxanne, standing up and waving.

  Juliet slid back a couple of inches. “How do you know my name?”

  “Amazing, ain’t it?” said Jerome. “It’s like we’re psychic or somethin’.”

  “Impossible is more like it,” said Juliet.

  “Well, if it’s impossible, then how come we’re doing it?” asked Roxanne, crossing her little arms defiantly.

  “Maybe you’re not real,” muttered Juliet. “Maybe I’m just losing my mind!”

  “Oh, puh-leeze,” said Jerome. “We don’t have time to waste with monkey sauce like ‘Maybe I’m crazy!’ You’re sane, and we’re talking. Get used to it. Can we just get on with this?”

  Since it was clear that whatever she said, the rats were going to keep talking, Juliet came forward just far enough to see them again.

  “That’s better,” said Roxanne. “Now, the reason we’re here is we have a message for you.”

  “That’s our job,” said Jerome proudly. “We’re messenger rats.”

  “Who do you work for?” asked Juliet.

  “The old man,” said Jerome.

  “What old man?”

  “Mr. Elives,” said Roxanne. “The man who runs the magic shop.”

  “You mean the place where I got the necklace?” Without realizing it, Juliet put her hand to her neck. She cried out in surprise. The amulet was warm.

  “That’s the place,” said Jerome. “Elives’ Magic Supplies, S. H. Elives, proprietor.”

  “Does Mrs. Elives want her pendant back?” asked Juliet. She blinked, then said in a puzzled voice, “Hey! How come I can talk to you about this?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Roxanne.

  “Well, I tried to tell my friend Elizabeth about the amulet today, but I couldn’t say a word. It was like I was under a spell or something.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Roxanne.

  “You’re not kidding,” said Jerome. “But the old man warned us this thing was going to be trouble.”

  “So was it Mr. Elives’ wife who gave me the amulet?” asked Juliet.

  “Not very likely,” said Roxanne, “since there is no Mrs. Elives.”

  “Then who was the lady I talked to?”

  “We’re not sure,” said Jerome, his voice no longer so cocky. “That’s why the old man’s so nervous.”

  Juliet shook her head. “I don’t understand. And I still don’t understand why I can talk to you about this thing when I couldn’t talk to Elizabeth.”

  “That’s probably because we’re magic,” said Roxanne. “As for the rest of it, it’s a little complicated.”

  “Nah, it ain’t complicated,” said Jerome. “It’s just plain goofy. Look, here’s what happened. Elives went off to do some business, and when he came back, the owl—”

  “Uwila,” put in Roxanne.

  “Uwila,” said Jerome, glaring at her, “told him what had happened when you came in the shop.”

  “Boy, was Mr. Elives upset!” said Roxanne. “I never saw him so mad.”

  “Which is going some, considering how cranky he is most of the time,” added Jerome.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” said Juliet. “What happened?”

  Jerome glanced from side to side, then said, “The short version is this: Some dame none of us ever heard of snuck into the place and gave you—well, whatever it was she gave you. And if you knew how hard it is to get into that shop, you’d understand how weird that really is.”

  “What’s so hard about it? I just walked in.”

  “Have you tried going back?” asked Jerome with a smirk.

  Juliet shook her head, this time a definite “no.”

  “Well, let’s just say you’re not getting back in unless the old man wants you to.”

  “Or unless she—whoever she is—does something again,” said Roxanne, sounding distinctly nervous now.

  “So does Mr. Elives want the necklace back?” asked Juliet, half hoping that the rats would take it from her, half wanting to never let it go.

  “He can’t want it back,” said Jerome, “on account of he never had it to begin with. There’s nothing missing from the shop—and trust me, kid, he’d know if there was.”

  “So whatever that necklace is, it’s something that woman brought in with her,” said Roxanne.

  “Why would someone sneak into a store just to give away something that wasn’t in the store to begin with?” asked Juliet, totally confused now.

  “That’s what Mr. Elives wants to know!” said Roxanne. “In the meantime, he sent us to get the amulet.”

  “But it’s mine,” said Juliet, startled to hear herself claim it. “The woman gave it to me!”

  Jerome sighed. “The old man doesn’t want to take it away from you. He just wants to look at it, to see if he can figure out what’s going on. But I gotta tell you, kid, if he says it’s too dangerous to keep, I’d take his word for it.”

  “So if you’ll just give us the amulet, we’ll take it to Mr. Elives, let him look it over, and come back here to tell you about it as quick as we can,” said Roxanne.

  Juliet started to put her hand to her neck, then said, “Wait a minute. How do I know I can trust you? How do I know you’re not trying to steal the amulet?”

  “Geez, kid, it’s not like we carry official badges or something,” said Jerome. “But, if you really want to know . . .”

  He looked questioningly at Roxanne. She nodded.

  “
Okay, wait a sec,” said Jerome. He scurried back under the bed, only to return a moment later carrying a small envelope. Standing on his hind legs, he held it up to Juliet.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Just open it,” said the rat.

  Juliet reached down and took the envelope. It was not sealed. Inside was a small black-and-white photograph of an old man standing at a counter. She recognized the counter by the cash register with the owl perched on top. It was the counter at the back of the magic shop.

  “Tell it your name,” said Jerome.

  “What?” asked Juliet, thinking she had misheard him.

  “"Your name,” said Roxanne impatiently. “Say your name to the picture.”

  “What for?”

  “Just do it, will ya?” said Jerome.

  Juliet sighed. Holding the picture in front of her and feeling very silly, she said, “My name is Juliet Dove.”

  At once the image began to move. The old man looked out at her and said, “Greetings, Juliet Dove. I send you best wishes from the magic shop. I also send you apologies. I am very sorry I was not here to greet you when you came to my door.”

  “That’s all right,” said Juliet. “I wasn’t—”

  The voice went on speaking, and Juliet realized that he couldn’t hear her. She blushed for imagining that he could have, then thought, Well, why not? It’s a magic postcard, after all!

  “I am still trying to discover who it was that did greet you,” continued the old man. “However, I do know from Uwila here”—he gestured to the owl—“what happened while you were in the shop. It is urgent that I examine that amulet, Juliet Dove. If it is harmless, I will gladly return it to you. On the other hand, it hardly seems likely that anyone would have gone to so much trouble to get it out into the world if it were harmless.

  “Now, I realize it is possible you might wonder if I am simply trying to trick you so that I can gain this powerful item for myself. But I would ask you to think back to your conversation with the woman who gave it to you. Was her manner that of someone who belonged here? Or did she seem nervous, ill at ease, in a hurry? I believe that a little reflection will assure you that something was wrong when you came into the shop.