Now You See Me ... (2 page)

Exhilarated, the girls emerged from the dim shop into the early autumn sun. Lena's dad was leaning against the hood of the family station wagon, waiting patiently. When he saw the big bags of stuff they were carrying, he shook his head and scuffed through the thin layer of fallen leaves to open the car door.

“Your parents are never going to let me take you with me again,” he told Abby, laughing as he bent over to make room in the backseat.

“Breathe easy, Mr. G.,” Abby replied, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “My parents are familiar with my thrifting, er, problem — they won't blame you.”

Lena hoped not. It would be a total bummer if
Abby couldn't come treasure hunting every end of summer. Their weekend farm-town visits during peach, berry, and apple season were September highlights. And Phelps, the town they were in now, was Lena's personal favorite. The funky farm village just outside the larger city of Narrowsburg, where they all lived, was known for its antiques and luscious fruit.

Lena felt a chill as she climbed into the car, which surprised her. She'd been sweltering all day. But now, standing in the shade, she was practically shivering. She wished she'd brought a sweater.

Abby folded herself into the car behind Lena, her face aglow. Lena tried to ignore the shivers so she could bask in the celebratory mood that emanated from her friend. Even though Abby hadn't been able to talk the store owner into throwing in the ties for free, Lena could tell that she was feeling victorious. Considering that half the backseat was covered in new treasures and she was only out eighteen bucks, she should.

Abby was a professional thrifter. Both girls had been honing their skills for three years, and now, at age twelve, they were experts at finding bargains and negotiating deals. But Abby took it to the next
level. She could sniff out a good find like a hound dog, and was a fierce negotiator when it came to price.

How funny that it all started by accident,
Lena mused as she sat back and tried to absorb the warmth of the sunshine streaming through the window. They'd been having one of many playdates at Lena's house when Mr. Giff announced that the strawberries were ripe and he had to go to Phelps for a couple of flats. (Mr. Giff was a jam-making nut who would drive through four states for a good berry or the last peaches of the season.) Back then the girls were too young to stay home alone, so they had no choice but to go along. They'd complained loudly, but the trip turned out to be a total blast. They loaded up on berries, then hit Mr. Giff's favorite thrift store, where they found a whole collection of old Barbie dolls for practically nothing. That was all it took to get them hooked on bargain hunting.

Now the trio picked the country towns clean at the end of each summer. And this year — including today's trip — was no exception.

“I've got all my flats tucked in safe and sound,” Mr. Giff announced from the front seat. “You girls get everything loaded up?”

“Sure did, Mr. G.,” Abby replied as she closed the door. “We're ready to roll.”

As the car pulled out of the little parking lot, Lena stared out the window, her hands folded on top of the camera. She was still thrilled to have it, but could not deny the cold whisper of worry that had descended upon her. The old lady's reaction to selling the camera had definitely been severe. Lena wondered again what had prompted her to get so … angry. And what had made her sell the camera after all? Did she need the money? Business must be slow in sleepy Phelps. But then why would she sell the camera for so little?

Never mind,
Lena told herself.
The important thing is that the camera is mine!
She forcefully steered her thoughts out of the shadows toward happier things — like all the fabulous stuff she was going to photograph with her new camera — and watched the familiar trees and fields flash past outside her window.

Beside her, Abby inspected her loot. “Check this out,” she said, pointing to the tag on the square-dancing skirt. “Josie-Do's, get it? Like do-si-do?” The skirt had so many layers, Abby was
practically hidden behind it. She had to smash it down to look at the rest of her bargains.

“So, what do you think I should put in my lunch box?” she asked, running her slender fingers over Justin Timberlake's face. “My nail polish collection?”

“You could use it for, you know … lunch,” Lena suggested.

“Brilliant!” Abby sang. “See? That is precisely why you are my best friend — nonstop great ideas.”

Lena smiled distractedly and turned back toward the window just in time to see a large U-Pick strawberry patch that was closed for the season. Long, mounded rows ran from the side of the road toward the horizon, surrounded on three sides by huge wild rose hedges. It looked just like a dozen other berry fields Lena had seen in the area — nothing special.

But before she even knew what was happening, Lena had raised her new camera to her eye.

What am I doing?
Lena wondered. Aside from the long shadows cast by the hedges, the field was fairly flat and featureless. Kind of lonely looking, really, filled with withered berry plants and a boarded-up
stand. There was no stark contrast to capture, no strong figure, no story in the frame. And yet she couldn't seem to stop herself. She felt like the camera was tugging at her finger, pulling it until …

She pushed the button. And to her total surprise, the Impulse whirred and a piece of film emerged from the slot in the front.

“Hey, I thought there wasn't anything in there!” Abby said, looking up and leaning over to peer at the vintage contraption.

“There wasn't!” Lena exclaimed. She pulled the undeveloped picture out of the slot and turned the camera around. Sliding the button to release the little door, she looked inside. Sure enough, the battery/film compartment was still empty — no used cartridge, nothing. “This is so weird. It doesn't have film!” She shook her head, baffled, and handed the camera to Abby for additional inspection, leaning sideways so she wouldn't have to take off the strap.

“Maybe there was one last exposure jammed in the works,” her dad suggested, glancing at the girls in the rearview mirror.

“Maybe …” Lena mumbled. She squinted at the shot. “But I doubt it'll turn out. I mean, the film has to be expired. And it wasn't even in a cartridge.” Not
to mention the fact that she took the picture out the window of a moving car. Blur city.

Still, Lena studied the grayish square to see if anything would show up.

Abby bent closer so she could watch, too. Neither of them breathed as out of the black, shades of blue, and then green began to emerge. Lena watched as forest-colored leaves appeared, then roses, and … something else.

Lena blinked, trying to figure out what it was. “Did you guys notice a water tower in that field?” she asked.

“Sorry, sweetie, I wasn't really paying attention,” her dad apologized.

“Missed it,” Abby shrugged.

Lena stared at the water tower growing clearer in the photo. It was one of the old-fashioned kinds, all metal, with four long, sturdy legs that looked like triangular ladders and a round tank for the water on top. The name of the town,
PHELPS
, was painted in giant red letters across the front of the tank. In the picture it stood in the center of the field. But in real life …

“I swear that wasn't there when we went by,” Lena said, baffled. “It was just rows of plants, the
hedge, and a boarded-up shack where the berries were sold.” She could hear her voice rising along with the goose bumps popping up on her arms. Now she was
really
chilled.

Abby looked at Lena with concern. “I believe you; I just wasn't looking,” she said.

Lena's dad was busy tuning into something on the car radio and tuning out what was going on in the backseat.

“Dad, go back,” Lena pleaded, leaning toward the front seat. “Please? I have to see if that tower was there.”

“Wish I could, but we're already late,” her dad replied. “I told your mom we'd be back by five thirty for dinner. Maybe you just didn't see it.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it's some sort of double exposure.”

Lena flopped back against the backseat and looked again at the tower standing in the center of her instant picture. It hadn't been there. She was sure of it.

“Okay, okay, now give me glam.” Lena directed Abby the way she imagined a real fashion photographer might. “I want attitude,” she said. She was trying to sound serious, but the harder she tried to keep a straight face, the more she smirked. Before long the two of them were cracking up.

Their Polaroid photo session, being conducted on the sidewalks of Narrowsburg, was hardly a glamorous fashion shoot in Milan. Getting the giggles was definitely allowed. And in spite of the silliness, Lena thought Abby looked pretty cool posing in front of the retro-looking brick building on Second Street. The late morning light was perfect, the sky was full of puffy white clouds, and the cool breeze
that came and went ruffled Abby's skirt like a wind machine, fluffing it perfectly.

Abby's vintage ensemble, courtesy of yesterday's thrift and freshened by last night's wash, was even managing to resemble cutting-edge fashion.

If a Boy Scout uniform and a pound of puffy skirts can be considered cutting edge
, Lena thought, stifling another laugh.

“Looks fab,” she called, pulling it together and peering into her new camera. She said a silent thanks to her cousin Jake for sending her on the Impulse quest. He was the one who started it all when he sent her a giant box of film cartridges in the mail last spring. Jake was fourteen and seriously into Polaroids. He had five of the vintage cameras, including a couple that were older than her parents and one that came in its own tiny suitcase and had to be opened like an accordion. Jake had taught her all kinds of stuff about the art of instant cameras. He spent several days during their annual family gathering showing her tricks for making nifty prints, how to use flashbulbs, and even how to do transfers. Lena was surprised how tricky the old “easy” cameras were. Getting a good shot was certainly harder
than it seemed. Luckily, Jake knew all the secrets and had all the right accessories. And he was a great teacher.

What Jake
didn't
have was an Impulse. So when Fuji shipped him a bunch of the wrong film and then told him not to bother to send it back, he mailed the whole kit and caboodle to Lena. She had seen the offering as a challenge and had been looking for the camera to use it with since.

Until yesterday.

A fresh gust of wind came up and blew Abby's skirts dramatically, snapping Lena to attention. “Work it,” she called authoritatively.

Abby posed. Lena pushed the button and her new-old camera whirred, capturing the moment. Lena listened to the cranking sound and watched as the camera spit out another flat, gray square.

“I know you don't have to shake it,” Abby said, rushing up and grabbing the rectangular piece of film. “But it's more fun this way.” She flapped around, goofing, and Lena glanced up and down the sidewalk. Luckily, there was no one else around to see how ridiculously they were behaving. The street was empty except for a striped cat scampering toward
the bushes, and a few fallen leaves that seemed to glow in the autumn light. Half the town appeared to be away for the last weekend of summer.

“Where is everyone?” Lena wondered aloud. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs. Fall was her favorite season and she usually looked forward to it — to the changing weather, the smell of damp and rotting leaves, the start of school. But today she was feeling something else, too…. She just wasn't sure what to call it. She felt antsy, trapped between the two seasons and not able to enjoy either one.

I guess I'm not ready for the end of summer,
she told herself. Abby had stopped her goofy flapping and was holding the film in midair. The girls watched the image slowly appear, right before their eyes. There was Abby in her wacky ensemble in front of the window at Bix, throwing a shoulder toward the camera and looking fabulous.

Except that wasn't what Lena was staring at.

There was something else going on in the photo. The window behind Abby showed Lena's reflection, aiming and squinting behind the camera. And behind her was another, fuzzier image. It looked like … a boy … watching them.

“What is
that
?” Lena asked, pulling the photo from Abby's grasp and pointing at the shape.

“It looks like a kid, but …” Somehow Lena couldn't quite bring herself to say, “Nobody was there.” Even though it was true.

Snatching the picture back, Abby held it close to her face and studied it. “Could be a shadow,” she said unconvincingly.

The reflected image was soft around the edges (typical Polaroid) — even Lena and the tree behind her (which
was
there for
sure)
looked blurred. The figure behind her could have been a shadow … if the real shadows in the picture weren't leaning the other way. And if the dark shape didn't have a face.

“No. Look!” Abby held the picture out a little so they could both see it. Lena could easily make out a torso, limbs, and a scowling visage. “Since when do shadows have eyes?” Abby asked quietly.

“Good point,” Lena mumbled. She shivered in spite of the warming sun, and both girls looked up and down the empty street.

“I swear there was nobody there when you took the picture,” Abby said. Her normally mocha-colored face looked a bit pale. “I mean, I wouldn't have been
goofing like that if I thought someone was watching, you know?”

Lena knew. She would have noticed the boy, too. Just like she would have noticed the tower the day before.

“I guess we were just having too much fun to see,” Abby said with a nervous smile.

“Right.” Lena nodded. But she didn't believe it for a second.