Then a single, real snowflake landed on the back of Adam’s hand.
CHAPTER FOURAN UNEXPECTED HOLIDAY
Adam now stood in the middle of a busy, snow-covered sidewalk. Around him, snowflakes fell steadily between enormous flashing neon signs and glittering buildings that towered over both sides of the packed street.
He recognized this place. It was Times Square, the center of New York City. Somewhere beyond the crowds of people bundled in winter jackets and scarves, bells jingled in the freezing night air. The gigantic billboards above featured red-white-and-green advertisements.
Adam clutched the snow globe in his hands, wondering how he’d managed to get himself here, in the middle of December. He was still only wearing his long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, an impractical combination for the new weather situation. The icy wind bit into his exposed skin like a set of sharp teeth. He stumbled backward and accidentally jostled several people carrying shopping bags. One of them dropped a candy cane in the shuffle.
“Watch it!” another person snapped.
Adam stammered an apology. He turned in all directions, unsure what to do next. The snow and crowds, not to mention the sudden shock, were disorienting.
“Hey kid!” shouted a voice behind him.
He spun to face a dark-skinned girl in a gray cloak. She was a head taller than Adam but looked no older than nine or ten, and she carried an armful of long, white-and-green-striped candles. With her free hand, she pushed back her thick curly hair and spoke again.
“Are you nuts?” she asked. “Where’s your jacket?”
“Don’t h-have one.” Adam’s teeth chattered, and his mouth hurt to move.
“Where’s your ma and pa?”
Adam shook his head. “Gone,” he said shortly.
The girl’s eyes softened. “Come with me.”
Adam hesitated. Although he normally wouldn’t follow a stranger, he was in no position to refuse right now. He could barely feel his fingers, and it wouldn’t be long before he became like one of the immobile paper snowmen plastered on the store windows nearby. The girl seemed confident enough, so he trailed after her.
She led him down the snowy streets, weaving expertly left and right through the crowds. After they’d gone a couple of blocks, Adam realized they were heading east. His senses returning, he began to take in more details of his surroundings.
That was when Adam noticed there was something not quite right about the city.
The street signs were humped and shaped like little blue bowler hats instead of normal green rectangles. The cars that passed were nothing like the sort he was used to; they looked more like boxy wagon carts, reminiscent of those seen in black-and-white movies. As a clanging streetcar made its way uneasily among them, he realized the advertisements on the billboards and windows seemed off, too, their art style reminding him of cartoons he saw once from Uncle Henry’s collection of vintage newspapers.
But everything else seemed normal enough. They passed large shop windows lit with colorful, flickering lights, and tall office buildings more than twenty floors high. Laughing families bustled out of stores with armfuls of glossy, gift-wrapped boxes.
The two passed the giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Adam and his uncle had visited the tree in previous winters. Every December, the city lit up the enormous evergreen for the holiday season, and it attracted millions of visitors. The tree stood tall and wide, about ten stories high, and it glowed with enough shimmering lights to brighten a dozen ballrooms.
The girl in the cloak kept going. The quick pace warmed Adam up somewhat, though his shoes were wet and squishy from the slush, and his arms had goose bumps that felt as large as pumpkin seeds. His hair was also damp from the snow. To forget how cold he was, he concentrated on the puffs of fog his breath made in the air.
The girl walked briskly along until they arrived at a quiet alleyway away from the main streets. The narrow space was shielded from most of the snow. A worn canvas bag lay on the ground next to a makeshift shelter that contained a bed of thick blankets and pillows. Behind the bed was a mountain of candles.
The girl stooped down and rummaged through the bag. She pulled out a wooly brown blanket and tossed it to Adam.
The blanket was scratchy, but it instantly protected Adam from the cold. His lips were numb, but he managed a shaky “Th-thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” said the girl. “My name’s Francine. What’s yours?”
“I’m Adam.”
“Say that again?”
“Adam,” he mumbled louder.
“Okay, Adam. You’re lost, aren’t you? I can take you to the cops, but I can’t go inside the station with you.”
“No, I know where my home is…” The last thing Adam wanted was to explain to the police how he’d magically transported across the city—and apparently across an entire season.
“Are you from the orphanage?” asked Francine.
“No, I live with my uncle.”
“Where?”
“The Lower East Side,” Adam answered. Then, because he was curious, “Do you—do you live here?”
“Don’t be silly. This is just a temporary spot to store my inventory, before the snow gets bad. Times Square is full of customers around the holidays, see?”
Francine turned to the pile of candles and began to brush away the snow at the edge of the heap. The care with which she did it reminded Adam of how he handled Speedy.
Adam’s curiosity must have been apparent, because Francine explained, “They’re from a factory in a nearby town. My friend got them for me. They make a good buck in the winter.” Francine held a candle out for Adam to see.
The candle was half the size of Adam’s arm, and the color of vanilla with green stripes. He carefully touched the smooth, waxy surface of the candle, and could tell the quality was superb. It smelled like flowers.
“Want one?” asked Francine. “Only costs ten cents
