Free Angel of the Battlefield by Ann Hood Page A

important thing in the world to her. Ever since her parents had sat them down at that diner back in New York and told them they were getting divorced, nothing seemed to matter to Maisie. Even standing here right now, she could still remember how the French fry in her mouth grew cold and how her stomach jumped at the news.
I think I’m going to throw up
, she had said, pushing her way out of the booth where she sat knee to knee with Felix. She hadn’t made it to the bathroom, throwing up instead right in the middle of the restaurant.
    Soon afterward, the diner closed down, her father moved to Qatar, and she and Felix were in a U-Haul heading north with their mother. Until they stood together in The Treasure Chest with the smell of sulfur and all the noisy banging and popping, getting literally swept off their feet, Maisie had wondered if she would ever care about anything again. Now she did. The Treasure Chest, she believed, would change everything.
    The dumbwaiter made its noisy landing below her, and Maisie called it back up. When it arrived, she closed the door fast, managing to press the button again to send herself downward just in time. As she inched down, she closed her eyes and whispered, “Please work this time, please work this time, please work this time,” until she, too, landed in the dark, cavernous kitchen.
    Once again Maisie emerged, and Felix pretended to be startled. True, she had thought his insistence on exactly reenacting what they’d done that first time was a bit extreme. In fact, Felix’s imagination always seemed a bit extreme to Maisie. But maybe this time he was right. It was worth trying it his way. She had to. She was desperate.

    Maisie did everything perfectly. As she waited for Felix to catch up to her in The Treasure Chest, she unrolled the scroll and glanced at all those names. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened to all of the men. The paragraph on the top left corner looked like a letter of some kind. But before she could read it, Felix arrived. Maisie’s stomach rolled nervously.
    â€œWhat is that?” he asked.
    â€œA list of some kind,” Maisie said.
    â€œLike a shopping list?”
    He grabbed it, tugging it from her hands.
    And then, it started.
    â€œMaisie?” she heard Felix say, but his voice sounded small and funny.
    That smell of gunpowder filled the room, and then they felt themselves being lifted. But this time, nothing stopped them from rising higher and higher and actually being carried away, almost the way it feels in the brief moment before a roller coaster drops you from its highest hill. A warm wind whipped around them. It smelled of everything good: cinnamon and Christmas trees and salty ocean air; fresh lemons and hot chocolate and a flower garden. It smelled like home.
    They held their breaths.
    Maisie cracked her eyes open enough to see the startled look on her brother’s face. He had his eyes opened wide, and his mouth was formed into an O. His hair stood straight up in the wind, and his arms waved about, trying to find balance.
    She somersaulted, the taste of mac and cheese rising in her throat. Then they dropped. For a nanosecond there was nothing. No smells. No sounds. No motion.
    Then they landed. Hard.
    Maisie blinked and looked around. She was in the middle of a barn. It was daylight. She smelled animals and hay and earth. A cow mooed.
    â€œFelix?”
    â€œI think I broke my arm,” Felix said. He was lying across the barn floor from her.
    Outside, she saw green pastures, leafy trees, and off in the distance, rooftops. She walked to her brother, the paper still in her hand.
    A shadow fell across them. A girl wearing a bonnet, a long, brown dress, and a white apron stood frowning at them.
    â€œPardon me?” she said softly.
    Felix and Maisie glanced at each other, then up at the girl. She looked to be about their age, small and serious.
    She cleared her throat and stepped closer to