Free Penult by A. Sparrow Page B

only
fourteen.”
    “ You’re positive she’s not
still in Wales?”
    “ I went through every
corner of Cardiff. Retraced all her steps. She was helping out a
band. Punk band. Roadie, groupie, whatever you want to call her.
Living with them. Carrying their equipment. Singing, sometimes,
although she has a terrible voice. But she’s not there. She left
without even telling them, although she packed her
things.”
    “ She packed? Well, that’s a
good sign. Means she wasn’t kidnapped, maybe.”
    “ If she was coerced, it is
just as bad. Papa knows how to push her buttons.”
    “ Don’t worry. She’s a tough
little cookie. The fact that she hasn’t shown up in Root is a good
sign, right?”
    “ Maybe,” said Karla. “Maybe
not.”
    ***
    We got to Edinburgh on time and had a
bit of a wait between trains. Finally, I finally got to see a bit
more of the wondrous city beyond the train station. It was crazy,
with all the castles and the different layers of streets and their
verticality. I had never seen anything like it.
    Even though it was drizzling, Karla
plopped herself down on a wet bench and refused to budge. She was
in a bit of a funk. It took all the charm I could muster, which
isn’t much admittedly, to get her off her butt to go
shopping.
    She needed some clothes badly to
replace some of the rags she was hanging onto. But she just
couldn’t get into it. All I got her to buy was a flannel shirt and
a pair of cheapo jeans from a tourist shop. She glared at my little
black card when I pulled it out, but said nothing.
    I wasn’t crazy about going to
Inverness, either. Nothing against that town, just that some of the
most horrible days of my life were spent in Edmund’s church
basement.
    Once I got her back on the train, a
pall fell across her face like a shadow. She sank deeper and deeper
into herself every mile closer to Inverness, accumulating layers
like so many coats of hard shellac, re-erecting defenses that she
had previously shed. This wasn’t surfing. This was
depression.
    I tried not to take it too personal,
but I had to wonder what it said about our relationship when I
practically floated through the world in her presence, but she
acted like she was wearing a hundred pounds of lead weights? Did
she not want to be with me? Did I not matter as much to
her?
    Of course, she had some extra baggage
to weight her down. Isobel meant a lot to her. She was her only
sibling, her sole confidante through some enormously difficult
times. Karla had been pretty much Izzie’s fill-in mom during her
growing up years. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for
whatever had happened to her.
    She was a prime candidate for a
visitation. I could almost feel the roots come swirling around her
soul. I watched her for the change. When her eyes stopped twitching
and her body went limp, I took her hand and sighed.
    “ Say hi for me.”
    I propped my forehead against the
window and watched the world go by. On the outskirts of Edinburgh,
I could have sworn I saw one of those automated changeable
billboards display a giant “Zhang?” in big red letters over a field
of chartreuse before the rollers engaged and transformed back into
a Guinness ad. Had I really seen what I thought I saw, or was my
mind playing tricks?
    Karla remained unconscious for a good
hour and a half. The shadows were growing long in the heath before
she began to stir. I was the one this time leaning in close,
watching her eyes.
    “ So … did you cross? Did
you … visit Root … just now?”
    “ No,” she said, in a small
voice on the verge of a whisper. “I was only … sleeping.
“
    Somehow, I felt gratified. This was
Karla, who bragged about her ability to surf her moods. If she was
unable to make the transition into the Liminality even when she was
already feeling down, maybe I had something to do with it. Maybe,
she was happy with me, or, if not happy, happy enough to stay out
of Root.
    Too bad she was sobbing.
    ***
    When we finally reached