My head broke the surface. Not far away, flames floated on the water. People screamed. Dare hauled me up onto solid ground, pulled the clothes off me. Hassid was there. He washed me off and I let him. They put lotion on me.
Dare held me. She was crying. Nice was gone. They couldn’t find his body. Only when I sat up did I see the gash on Dare’s leg and knew what she risked to save me. She didn’t make a sound when Hassid cleaned and bandaged her wound.
As if he was far away, I heard Caravaggio crying, “When I first came to the city, it was half wrecked but vibrant in its death dance.” I caught images in his brain of destroyed streets with kids in costumes dancing through them. A flickering figure flew into the air, caught a coin in his mouth, bounced off the water. Then there was nothing and I knew Caravaggio was dead.
We went to Tagalong, who stood in tears as Caravaggio got lifted onto the truck. Dare and Not and Hassid were with me. Through Tagalong’s eyes, I saw how sad and ragged we were. Then I showed him what had happened to us and to Regalia, and asked if we could stay at the studio. Scared but impressed, he nodded.
6.
“He loved the chimeras,” Tagalong said a little later when we brought Caravaggio’s body home. More of them than I thought were still alive waited outside the studio. Ursus was there and the bird woman who was in charge of the door, a pony and the cat and the man who was part fox, a cat man and cat woman, Silky the seal, big dogs, a goat, and the owl. I didn’t even know what some of the others were. They howled and moaned when they saw the corpse.
They laid Caravaggio out in the big front room and dressed him like a king in silks and furs. Flowers appeared and candles lighted the place. A hundred and more people came from the neighborhood; a few even came from farther away, risking the streets to see him one last time.
Some brought food. The people in the kitchen cooked more.
Tagalong gave the four of us a large enough room with futons on the floor. We piled them together, lay on them, held each other and cried. Dare made plans to go next day and find Nice’s body. I didn’t want to think.
The chimeras were chanting when I heard engines outside. Tagalong appeared and told me Depose was there with cars full of her people and wanted to come in. I understood that he wanted me to do something and this was why I was here.
So I stood at a peephole beside the door, watched Depose without her seeing me. “We need to confirm that Caravaggio is dead,” she told the doorkeeper bird, who looked scared. “Various of his associates and backers need to know. And we need to find that film he was making. I don’t want to use force.”
I didn’t need to go inside her to know that she was going to use force, and when she got in here, this place would be looted. I looked back at Caravaggio laid out and the candles and the chimeras.
At the same time I found Depose and showed her what I was seeing. For a second she didn’t understand what had happened. Then Depose realized who was doing this and remembered what she heard that morning about me and Regalia.
Still she hesitated, so I showed her a moment of Regalia and the wall. Depose headed for her car fast, and I let her know that if she wanted the film, she’d need to come alone and bring a lot of gold.
I felt shaky when it was over but I waited for the engine sounds to fade. As I went back to our room, everyone in the studio stood and applauded, and I figured we’d won our place here.
We sat on a mattress and leaned against pillows. “Maybe you should have done her like Regalia,” Dare whispered.
“Maybe,” I told her. “But I didn’t have all the anger and fear like I did with Regalia. And I can’t kill everyone, and Depose can be bought.”
Dare understood and put one arm around me. She cuddled Not, and I held Hussein.
That’s how we were when Tagalong came in with a camera and two women who did stuff with lights. He said he wanted to film me talking about what happened. “We need a hero,” he said. “We’ll call this
Dare told him, “Her name’s Reality Girl.”
“Great!” Tagalong said, and with the camera running he asked, “Reality Girl, can you tell us how you came to be here?”
What I remembered first was me and the crew walking down to the waterline a week or maybe ten days ago.
HOW TH’IRTH WINT RONG BY HAPLESS JOEY @ HOMESKOOL.GUV
by Richard Bowes
OK OK.
I am riting on this paper the old-timey way with a pen. This is my 5st copy and the last copy. Its no good I dont care. Kick me outa homeskool, what happens, Im alreddy home. Ha ha.
The Big Ant says OK OK git to work buster. Very funnish start but wut about yor topic title? How th’Irth Wint Rong. Tell me wut you has to tell, says the Big Ant. Hoo wins th’essay contist gits a hole ham for the wintir. Go for it, Hapless Joey. Yu needs it, yor wasting away, I kin see yor ribs thru yor parka. I kin see yor thinkings thru yor hairliss skalp. Yu gits ideers fast enuff. Put yor mind on the paje.
OK OK.
Big Ant sits an luks at papers from othr kids. Looks at papers.
Im not riting this over. She sits hirself up by th’stove nere the best hot part. She says she kint unnerstand a singul wird of wut she is luking at. I got to git myself unnerstud.
Topic title: How th’Irth Wint Rong by Hapless Joey @ homeskool. guv
(Big Ant says, that last bit. Homeskool dot guv. Thats fake. Britetime writing. From back in the days of internet and puters. Take it out she says. I dont. I think it looks cool. Maybe puters will be invented again. Sum day. Besides, shes not suppoz to tell me stuff. Thay want to see how I kin think for my self.)
I am Hapless Joey. I am not a liddle kid. I am not a groanup. I am tall as th’pegs for cotes in th’hallway. I waz liddle wonce now I’m not so mutch.
I liv in a shack. Hoo dont, yu say but lots dont. My dore gots a lock an my winders gots glass. I im here with my grandid Ole Joey an sometimes Big Ant come over. She suppoz to be fare but this hous is not so windy and cold as some so I gits mor uv hir time. That’s wy I cin rite so gud. Good. Big Ant is good teecher but she eets a lot. She’s Big Ant. She gots to close hir coat with a rope. Lurning me to rite makes hir hungerful I gess. Me to.
Note to Commity: This is Big Ant and I have no intrist in a ham or in getting out of the stupid bone-chilling cold. Hapless Joey has some wits about him so pay attention to what he says. Im not allowed to correct his work but I cant stand by and let him slag me off without pitching a comment about it. His house aint all that warm neither.
Also I aint that big, just got a big heart as any Sinner will tell you and a big heart needs a big rib cage to hold it and stout legs to stand it up and walk it about. I only use a rope around my coat becawse a dog cawt my belt onct when I was walking home with a chicken curry courtesy of Sector Admin. who admire my work with kids by the way.
I waz born a short time befor the Cold Time startd. My grandid tells me all the time abowt the wirld then. Its hard to beleve wut he says. I cint member I wuz a baby. But them pickchrs in buks books bux whatever, thay dont lie. I seen cars withowt rust an I seen green yards like blankets put down. The grass green awl so smooth. I seen a sky with no clowds, awl sweet an blu lik the cleanest sheet yu ever seen. In pickchrs I seen it, torn from books an
