Part 17 (1/2)
Mrs. Waterberry nodded. ”And there are parts I simply don't know the answers to. You are as much of a mystery as the deli-”
”The deliverer? Do you know anything about it?”
”I know enough to know I don't want to know about it...and, trust me, you want to stay far away from this topic.”
”So I hear.”
”Take this.” She handed me what looked like a tiny, stuffed hermit crab.
”Um, thanks. But...why and what for?” I asked, rolling it in my hand.
”It's a key.”
”Oh, so there's a key hidden inside its fluff?” I said, squeezing it.
”Nope. It is the key.”
”Stuffed hermit crab key. Random. Okay, well, what does it open, and how the heck does it work?”
”No clue. You'll find out when he contacts you again.”
”Trey! You've been helping him?”
”Sure have.”
”He sent me a message-a circle with spikes at the top and an arrow pointing to the number seventeen. Here,” I said, digging the note out of my bag and handing it to her. Knowing Trey, he would consider Mrs. Waterberry exempt from the 'Squiggle ONLY' clause of his note. ”Do you know what he's talking about?”
”The circle with spikes at the top could be a sea creature...maybe a partially plucked puffer or a fixated fliptarr. Both will cause havoc. The seventeen could be any number of merp myths...the seventeen siren sagas, seventeenth serendipity of the Sandtalian calendar, squid sting murders from the seventeenth century...I just don't know. Best if you just keep this and the key with you,” she said, handing the clue back to me. ”Whenever Trey can make contact, you'll need to act. Until then, observe. Leave the clue chasing to Trey. He's the intuitionist and far better equipped than a reader to make improbable discoveries. You will only boggle your brain and probably put him in even more danger if you try and do his job. After all, you have a new occupation now...Savior. Remember, your ears and heart will only deceive you.”
I'm sure the half-terrified, half-dumbfounded expression plastered on my face at that moment was hilarious. Sadly, I wasn't much for laughing.
”Sorry it took me so long. I couldn't figure out which blue velvet box you wanted, but then all the others suddenly disappeared,” said Airianna, handing the box to Mrs. Waterberry.
”How very interesting,” said Mrs. Waterberry, stealing a wink at me.
”You know, the dress is gorgeous, but, Marina, it's not red,” said Airianna. ”The rules say our dress must be red.”
I could accept my fate and wear this dress, effectively announcing myself as a threat to the Ravenflames, or I could hide. Listening to my instincts, I made a decision.
”Don't care. It's a me dress.”
”And you're not Cinderella, are you?” asked Mrs. Waterberry.
This old gal really understood me. ”Nope, and I never will be.”
”Although, these might make you feel a little like her, and what's so bad about that from time to time?” Mrs. Waterberry removed a pair of sparkling crystal heels from the blue velvet box. ”Take them. They're yours now.”
”Now those I approve of,” said Airianna.
With my new dress and shoes in hand, I said goodbye to Airianna, thanked her for her help, and headed home to wait the long two days before I could slip on the ocean dress. I, Marina Valentine, enemy of dresses, rival of high-heels, friend of jeans and t-s.h.i.+rts alike, am giddy to put on a dress.
Chapter Twelve.
Ballerina Interrupted.
Valentine's Day. I was all ready for the ball and feeling shockingly whimsical. My hair was s.h.i.+ny and full, and my dress was elegant and flowing. Since slipping on the shoes, I've decided this whole dressing up thing wasn't so bad after all.
”Sweetie, the limo's here. Oh, Marina, you look so beautiful,” said my mom when I walked into the living room. ”I still can't believe how kind that old shopkeeper was to give you this outfit. You look like an angel.”
”You really think so, Mom?”
”Breathtaking,” she said, her eyes glistening.
”Uh, the one who has the breath-stealing power tonight is you.”
”You don't think it's too red? You know how red can look hooker-bright on a blond,” she said, twirling in her long gown.
”Mom, you're a total Kate,” I said, putting a pack of gum in my purse.
”Well, now, which one? There are tons of Kate's in Hollywood.”
”I mean, look at them. Does it matter?”
”Good point. Hope you won't mind walking in with your old mom.”
”You're hardly old, and I wouldn't want to walk in with anyone else.” Well, except for Troy Tombolo, but that was unlikely to happen in this lifetime.
On a glorious February night, my mom and I crawled into the back of a black limousine and enjoyed the ride to the ball.
”Aren't you excited to see Hambury House? I've been looking forward to it all week!”
”The ball isn't being held in town?” Only now did I notice the limo driving away from downtown-reckon I was too preoccupied playing with the crystal dolphin, mermaid, and seahorse charms adorning my dress.
”I told you this week about Hambury House. Don't you ever listen to me?”
”Of course...just not that day, apparently.”
My mom sighed and rolled her eyes. ”Hambury House opens its doors once a year for the annual Valentine's Ball. Its owner is a mysterious recluse. Yet, the house is somehow ready for the ball practically overnight with no help from any townsfolk.”
”n.o.body knows who owns the house?”
”Not a soul. Fascinating, isn't it?”
”That's one word for it.”
Twenty minutes later, the limo pulled up in front of a magnificent manor. Giant cupid balloons towered over the brightly lit, peach-colored estate. My mom and I filed in with the rest of the guests as heart-shaped fireworks illuminated the sky above.