The Cabinet of Earths by Anne Nesbet

Author:Anne Nesbet
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2012-08-25T02:16:58+00:00

Chapter 11

What Cabinet-Keepers Keep

The shimmer wore off, but the worry remained. Glass bottles and salamanders and phoenixes began appearing in the margins of Maya’s math homework when she hadn’t even known she was doodling. But almost as soon as the pictures had taken shape in her notebooks, she would be required, by whatever force it was that made her think of these things but forbade speaking of them aloud, to hunt through her pencil case for the big eraser, and remove all traces of bird, beast, or bottle. Clearly, the little cabinet was losing its patience.

But finally there came a Wednesday when Cousin Louise felt it made more sense to stay home and nurse her cold than come over to drill Maya on her French grammar.

“Well,” said Maya’s mother as she hung up the phone. “That’s too bad.”

Then she had to pause and cough for a moment: The cold was going around.

But Maya had already slipped into her room and was packing the little cabinet into a shoe box.

“Maya?”

Thwap! Down went the cover onto the shoe box, snug and tight, and secured for extra measure by a couple of pieces of tape.

“Maya?”

Her mother’s head poked into the room.

“What are you up to? Did you hear? That was Cousin Louise. She can’t come—”

“Okay. I’ll be back pretty soon,” said Maya, heading down the hall. “Got some errands. Sorry, Mom, I’m kind of in a rush.”

She really was. She felt as though she must hurry, hurry, hurry, now that the chance was here. She ran all the way to the métro station, and tapped her fingers against the side of the shoe box while waiting for the train, and ran again from the Odéon station to the round green door on the rue du Four, and pushed the buzzer like someone crossing the finish line at the end of a very long race.

“Oui? said that quavery voice, and then when Maya went into her explanation, her words tripping over each other as if they, too, were in some terrible hurry, the voice broke into the audible form of a smile.

“But of course!” it said. “The little cousin from California! Please, come in!”

He was already standing in the open doorway when she came jogging into the second courtyard. The old Fourcroy was even smaller and older than she remembered; as she hurried forward to his doorway, she saw him run one trembling hand through his thin gray hair. The Old Man, that’s what Eugène had called him. She could see why, and it made her feel a little protective of him, even now as she rushed forward those last few paces to where he stood waiting.

“The little cousin!” he said again, when she finally reached him and stood there, gasping for breath as she held her shoe box close to her chest. “Maya is the name, am I right? Come in, come in, my girl. I did hope you might come back.”

“I wanted to show you something,” said Maya, still fairly breathless after all that hurry.

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