Pandora Park, Page 2

Mark stared. Had the scooter somehow been made light too? No, because it hadn’t floated; it had been hurled. Yet he had barely touched it. Had he somehow become strong?

  He caught the floating rock, which was now close to the ground. He squeezed it.

  The stone cracked and broke apart. The two parts drifted apart, and some gravel made a small cloud.

  Super strength? He wasn’t ready to believe it. So he picked up a stout stick of wood and tried to break it in half.

  The stick broke with a sharp crack.

  Then it came to him: Kelsie’s kiss had made him float. Her hug had made him strong. She had more than one kind of magic.

  But this time he didn’t run after her. They had agreed to meet next week; he would tell her then.

  Mark glanced at his watch. It was past the marked hour; he was late himself.

  He picked up the scooter, which was undamaged, set it in place, and gave a powerful push. He zoomed forward at a frightening pace. His super strength had done it.

  He steered to stay on the path, feeling the wind almost whistling past his ears. In a very short time he was back at his entrance by the chocolate ball tree.

  He parked the scooter and consciously slowed himself so that he would not attract attention by almost flying. But he needn’t have worried; both his lightness and his strength faded as he left the park. The magic worked only inside it.

  He was fifteen minutes late. Mom would be furious. But she wasn’t there. Had she gotten fed up and gone home without him? No, she wouldn’t do that. She’d just get madder and madder while she searched for him.

  So why wasn’t she here? Fifteen minutes wasn’t that late. Something was wrong.

  Then his eye caught the big mall clock near the park. He blinked. It was wrong. It was an hour and a quarter slow.

  Or was it? The sun did not seem to have moved from where it had been when he entered the park. He saw the same children playing on the slides and swings. Was time different here?

  He sat on a bench and thought about it. No, time was not different here. Time was different inside Pandora Park. The hour and a quarter he had spent there didn’t count. He must have left it the same time as he entered it. How could that be?

  Well, it was magic. That explained everything, maybe.

  He continued to ponder. Promptly by outside time, Mom appeared with her arms full of packages. He jumped up to take some of them.

  “Thank you, Mark,” she said. “Did you find something to do?”

  “I sure did, Mom. I found a new section of the park. It was fun.” But could he explain the manner of it? He doubted it. “I met a girl.”

  “You’re too young to date,” she said immediately.

  “I know, Mom. It’s not like that. She was lost, and I helped her find her way out. We talked. She’s Chinese. Maybe we’ll meet again next week.”

  “That’s good,” she agreed as they reached the car. She really wasn’t paying attention. He was glad of that.

  Chapter 2:

  Flood

  The storm came suddenly, raining so hard that Kelsie was soaked before she could get under cover. All she could do was forge on toward the park, hoping to get dry before leaving it.

  The storm seemed determined to stop her. Water poured down before her like a liquid wall, splashing and flowing across the pavement. She had to shut her eyes to protect them, take several steps, then peek briefly again for the next few steps.

  By the time she reached the park, the water was ankle deep. The park was slightly higher than the surrounding ground, so was like an island surrounded by turbulent waves. This was awful!

  She reached the statue of Pandora, with its legend about the foolish girl. The park had been made and named by one of the western companies that had set up a branch in Beijing, maybe to give its employees a sample of western culture, or to make foreigners feel at home. Both her parents worked for one of those companies, because the pay was very good. So she didn’t mind Pandora Park, even if it wasn’t exactly Chinese.

  In fact she had seen a picture of one of the western mythical creatures, a unicorn, and fallen in love. It was just like a beautiful horse with a fierce horn on its forehead. How she wished she could ride a creature like that! But of course that was foolish, and she had never been a foolish girl. Impulsive, expressive, yes, but not foolish.

  Except when she had discovered the magic path and heedlessly followed it into the magic land. And promptly gotten lost in it. By the time the American boy, Mark, found her and helped her find her way back, she had been hopelessly late.

  Then the weirdest thing happened: she wasn’t late at all. It was hard to believe at first, but it seemed that no time at all had passed outside the park while she was inside it. She had come out the same time she had entered. So she wasn’t in trouble—but now faced a mystery that perhaps was worse. Had she suffered a delusion, a mental lapse that put her sanity into question—or had she really had the adventure she remembered? She hadn’t dared tell her family about it. At best they would not have believed her.

  She was just getting wetter, if that were possible, standing here before the statue. What was she to do? Trudge home, which was within walking distance because of the company-provided housing, or risk entering the park again? She had agreed to meet Mark, and this was the day, but she hadn’t counted on the weather. She didn’t want to meet him soaking wet. He would ask her to take off her clothing to get it dry, and she was just old enough to know she couldn’t let herself be unclothed before a boy. Especially a foreign boy. Most especially a pushy American boy. They did not understand about the need to save face, to avoid humiliation. So probably she should go home. Maybe Mark would understand when she didn’t show up.

  Yet perhaps her major vice was her curiosity. She wanted to know everything about everything, ridiculous as that was. This seemingly magic park—she was desperate to learn more about it. Even if she was all wet. Even at the risk of losing face.

  She looked around. The streets were definitely flooding, making a lake of this section of the city. Men were sloshing about in hip-high wading boots, maybe seeing to flooded electrical conduits. If she went out there they would quickly intercept her and insist on taking her home. Or somewhere. She didn’t trust that at all. She couldn’t go home until the water receded, and that might be a while.

  That made her decision for her. She touched Pandora’s Box, and saw the magic path appear, as it had before. It glistened, strangely dry. She followed it into the magic park. Pandora Park, where perhaps there was hope. Hope that she could get her clothing dry before going to meet Mark.

  Mark was already there, by her entrance. “Kelsie! You’re wet!”

  So much for hope. “It’s raining,” she said shortly. “It’s flooding.”

  “So did you swim here?”

  “No!” she snapped. Then she realized that he was teasing her, and didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. “Do you want to see?”

  “Okay.”

  They went back out. The path remained dry, and no rain fell on them. It was almost as though it were protected by a glass shield. But beyond it the storm continued to dump buckets of water down.

  Mark said something, but she couldn’t understand a word. “You’re speaking American,” she reminded him.

  “Oops!” That much she understood.

  They retreated to the edge of the forest.

  “Wow!” Mark said, repeating his words. “This is like an island for a lighthouse during a hurricane.”

  “We don’t get typhoons in Beijing.” But it was a nice image.

  “Come on. You’ve got to get dry before you freeze.”

  “No.” But now that he mentioned it, she was shivering. She did have to change.

  “Oh, come on, Kelsie. You said you’d trust me next time. I’m not trying to embarrass you. You just have to get out of those soaking wet clothes before you catch cold.”

  “The temperature has nothing to do with that illness.”

  “You know what I mean
. Come on, you’re shivering.” He took hold of her plastered sleeve.

  She slapped him. “Hands off!”

  “Okay, I didn’t mean—” He broke off.

  He had reason. His own clothes had fallen off, leaving him bare except for his purple trunks, which he had grabbed.

  Kelsie stared in amazement. Her slap must have done it. A magic slap.

  He stooped to grab the bundle of fallen clothing, holding it protectively before him. “Oh my gosh!”

  She had to smile. “You look funny!”

  He was blushing. “You have more magic! You know I didn’t try to flash you.”

  She had to relent. “I know. And you’re right: I must change. But I won’t take your clothes. Find me a dress. And don’t look back.”

  He nodded, and walked away. It had definitely been magical, as the clothing had simply dropped in front of him without ever being removed. Except for the trunks.

  The moment he was gone, she got out of her own clothing. His T-shirt lay on the path where it had fallen; in his distraction he had not thought to check to be sure he had all his things. She had a use for it: she put on the T-shirt, which fit her reasonably well and extended down to her legs like a skirt. At least it was dry. Now she would not be naked when he returned. Even this undershirt was a considerable embarrassment, but she didn’t have much choice. She had to get dry and warm quickly.

  Soon he was back with a garment. “I found this,” he said. “It’s a fancy dress.”

  She took it and held it out before her. “That’s a strapless evening gown!”

  He looked a bit awkward. “I never seem to find exactly what I’m looking for. Just something close.”

  “You clown! I can’t wear this.” Not for five or six years.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try again.” He headed off. He was dressed now, though surely without his undershirt. He seemed not to have noticed what she was wearing. That could be inattention, or courtesy. He was a very understanding boy.

  She thought about what he had said about not finding quite the right thing. Like a scooter instead of a bicycle, or ice skates instead of roller skates. His magic was not completely convenient. It was similar to hers, in that respect.

  Mark returned, this time carrying a clown suit. Oh, no! She shouldn’t have called him a clown; that must have affected his talent.

  She decided to make the best of it. “I’ll wear it. Thank you.” She climbed into the suit, which was baggy enough to fit anyone. Would the evening gown have fit similarly, despite her youth? The magic of the park was odd, and did not seem to be entirely random.

  “Maybe I can find something to dry your clothing,” he said. He set off again—and returned with a twisted mass of pipe resembling a caterpillar, with several sections supported by little feet. “I don’t know what this is, but it’s warm.”

  “It’s a radiator,” she said. “I read about it in school. Steam or hot water passes through it to make it hot, and it heats the room.”

  He set it carefully on the path. “I don’t see any connections, but it seems to work. It’s getting hot.”

  He was right. She set her wet clothing on it. The heat should dry it soon enough. “It’s magic,” she said. That was the universal explanation for the mysteries of this park. She hovered near it, absorbing its wonderful warmth. That soaking had really chilled her.

  He nodded, agreeing. “Magic is wonderful.”

  Now at last they could talk while they waited. They sat down beneath the candy tree and plucked and ate candies, which were very sweet and good. She remained near the radiator, getting more comfortable. It might be an outdated device, but right now it was exactly what she needed.

  “Did you know that there is no time outside the park?” he asked.

  “I discovered that. I don’t understand it.”

  “My watch kept time, but it didn’t match outside time. I had to set it back an hour and a quarter.”

  Kelsie didn’t have a watch. She suppressed a tinge of envy. “Yes. I thought I was late, but I was early.”

  “Odd how we came back here at exactly the same time. I came in the morning.”

  “I came in the afternoon. I couldn’t get away before then. Not without arousing suspicion.”

  “So we weren’t together, outside, in place or time. But we were together inside. I wondered.”

  “It seems that time doesn’t change inside, when we’re outside,” she agreed.

  “It’s as if the park doesn’t exist for anyone else. We’re the only two to find it.”

  “True,” she said, surprised. “But who would make a magic park just for us?”

  He nodded seriously. “I don’t want to be paranormal, but—”

  “Paranoid,” she said.

  “You’re as bad as my mother,” he said, annoyed.

  “I apologize. I happen to know the term.”

  Then they both paused. “How can you correct my word, when we don’t speak the same language?” he asked. “This is really weird.”

  “We do speak the same language,” she said. “Just not our own. This must be a dialect that includes all the words we need. So when you use the wrong word, it still comes out wrong, because the language doesn’t know what you mean, and I can correct it. But I don’t mean to be unkind; if it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

  “No, I foul up words sometimes. Girls are better at words than boys are.”

  “And boys at math.” It was true, in her experience. But she did have a large vocabulary for her age; others had remarked on it, not always favorably.

  “Oh, there’s something else. I was going to tell you, but the rain—the clothes—”

  She smiled briefly. “I remember.”

  “Yes. You hugged me, and it made me strong.”

  She considered that. “You are serious.”

  “Yes. I crushed a stone. In fact, there it is.” He pointed to a small pile of rubble.

  “Another magic talent? This is—”

  “Weird.”

  “I don’t mean to question your word. But if you don’t mind, I would like to see it.”

  Mark stood up. “Hug me.”

  She approached him somewhat cautiously, though by now she knew she could trust him. She put her arms around him and hugged. Then she stepped back, feeling a flush beginning.

  He picked up another stone. He squeezed it in one hand. It cracked into several fragments.

  Kelsie was impressed, but it might have been a weak stone. “Could you, well, pick me up?”

  “Sure. But I don’t want to hurt you. I could crush a bone without meaning to.”

  “Put out your hands, flat.”

  He did so. She faced away from him, put her hands on his arms and boosted herself up to sit on his hands.

  “You feel light as a feather.”

  “Lift me up.”

  Slowly he raised his hands until he was holding her at head height. He was not straining. He really was strong. He wasn’t even off-balance, as he should have been, considering her weight. That seemed to be more magic.

  She jumped down to the ground. “Thank you for telling me. I did not know of this. But how is it that I have three talents, while you have only one? You must have others you have not yet discovered.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed. “Or maybe it’s just that I find different kinds of things, like objects, or entrances, or maybe when I found you, that was my talent. So each type of thing counts as a talent.”

  “That might be,” she agreed. “Your talent is perceptive, while mine is affective.”

  “Is what?”

  She had done it again, using adult words. “I’m sorry. I mean that my talent affects what I touch. Yours locates things like skates. You find things; I change them. I did not mean to be obnoxious.”

  Mark laughed. “That’s your curse, isn’t it! You use rare words, and that annoys people.”

  Kelsie nodded. “I’m trying to stop it, but every so often an atypical term comes out.”

  He laughed
again, and this time she laughed with him. “And you can’t stop it! You’re just a brainy girl.”

  “My parents are scientists,” she said. “I learn from them. And I lose friends.”

  “Well, you haven’t lost me. I like you.” Then he looked embarrassed. “That is—I mean—”

  She caught on. “If your friends heard that, they would tease you cruelly. You can’t be friends with a girl. Unless she’s a girlfriend.”

  “That’s it. And I’m too young to date. So I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s the same with me. We are of a type.”

  “A type?”

  “We don’t get along well with others, so we find ourselves alone without meaning to be.”

  “That’s it! I’m bored with regular things. I like to find new things, like paths. Others don’t understand.”

  “I understand,” she said. “Do you like puzzles?”

  “Sure. But most are too easy.”

  “You’re intelligent too. It gets in your way.”

  “No! I’m just a regular guy.” He paused. “No, you’re right. I’m not smart, exactly, but there’s something.”

  “Tell me. I am interested.”

  He smiled. “I like that you’re interested. It’s like this: Another boy was reading this comic, where a spaceman blasted this BEM, and—”

  “This what?”

  “BEM. Bug-Eyed Monster. A scary alien creature with insect orbs.”

  “Thank you. I will remember. I apologize for interrupting.”

  “You’re too polite. But I like it. Anyway, I said what about the monster? Didn’t it have feelings too? Why just shoot it on sight? Maybe if you just talked with it a while, it would be okay.”

  “Yes!”

  He was startled. “You understand?”

  “Yes. You had empathy.” Then, before he could ask, she clarified it. “You felt for the monster. You understood that it had its own viewpoint. That maybe the spaceman was a dangerous freak to it, and sure enough, the spaceman killed it. So the chance for an acquaintance was lost.”

  “That’s it!”

  “But you lost your friend. He thought you were—”

  “Weird,” he agreed.

  “I don’t. I don’t like to hurt anything, not even a real bug. I cried when they poisoned the termites in our house.”