“Do I have to?” Gerard asks, stopping just short of whining. He’s eleven years old—well, almost—well, he’s closer to eleven than ten anyway—and he’s too old to whine. Whining is for small children, and Gerard is not a small child.
“Now, Gerard,” his mother reproves him. “You’re the oldest, and I think you’re old enough to be responsible. Besides, they’ve only just begun to study the ways of the world. They need your wisdom and guidance.”
Gerard puffs up a little with pride. His mother never praises him like that, let alone tells him he’s wise, and he’ll put up with a lot for that kind of praise.
Including babysitting.
It’s not that he doesn’t like them. He does, or at least he likes Martin, who follows him around like a duckling and looks up at him with something akin to hero-worship, which Gerard is not immune to. He’s seen less of Melanie since his mother dropped out of that support group, but she and Martin are apparently quite chummy and he talks about her in glowing terms that would make Gerard jealous if she wasn’t a girl, so he more tolerates her than anything. No, the problem is that Gerard likes to explore the nooks and crannies of the charity shops and antique malls and bazaars his mother scours for Leitners, rooting out hidden treasures and unexpected delights. And this shop is exactly his favorite kind—three rooms absolutely crammed with donated flotsam and jetsam. He’s got a bit of pocket money, not much, but it’s usually enough for a bauble or a trinket.
But instead of being able to devote his time to looking, he’s going to have to spend the whole trip walking behind a pair of eight-year-olds to make sure they don’t break anything.
This isn’t the first time Martin’s mother—who gave Gerard permission (or instruction) to call her Aunt Lily instead of Mrs. Blackwood just before Christmas—has accompanied Gerard’s mother in her searches, or at least the local ones. Gerard knows his mother is hoping she’ll eventually be able to look on her own, but she’s still learning what to look for. They usually do it while Martin’s at school, and Melanie has never joined them. They’re on break between terms at the moment, however, and Aunt Lily is keeping an eye on Melanie while Mr. King works, so they both have to come along. Gerard supposes he’s just lucky he hasn’t been asked to stay back at the shop, or at Aunt Lily’s flat, and watch them there.
There’s no real rhyme or reason to the shop, which Gerard knows is upsetting his mother, but he’s secretly thrilled by it. In the first place, it means that finding anything is going to be a challenge, and the sort of challenge Gerard likes; he hates the challenge of his mother’s lessons, laboriously copying out ancient languages or memorizing facts and dates. He enjoys the search—he’s very careful not to call it a hunt, he’s picked up that much at least—and even though he never finds anything his mother thinks is worth the time and effort, there’s a slowly growing collection of things on his dresser that he’s gathered at places like this.
In the second place, this is the kind of place that defies his mother’s usual method of finding the books she wants, which is to ask leading questions of the proprietor until he—it’s almost always a he—unwittingly leads her to a book, or at least to a location where she can find one herself. Once she has her hands on a book, Gerard knows he has about ten minutes or so left to browse while she tries to haggle with the owner. Aunt Lily may not be good at finding those books, but she’s far better than his mother at the haggling. Charity shops don’t usually negotiate prices, but she’s adept at figuring out what discounts they offer and getting them applied to the total. It cuts into his looking time, unfortunately, but he’s quick.
Usually.
Today, though, that’s not going to be an issue…if he can get Melanie and Martin to cooperate with him. Martin probably will, but Melanie is a whole lot of spite and sass wrapped up in a deceptively tiny package and she’s almost certain to argue with him just for the sheer joy of arguing. He’s going to try, though. His mother and Aunt Lily will be preoccupied with trying to figure out where the Leitners might be, and he’ll have time to really, thoroughly look for something good.
Gerard’s got a good feeling about today. Today, he’s going to leave this shop with something special, something important. Something he’ll treasure for the rest of his life.
Melanie’s been tense and a little scowly for most of the way here, and Gerard notices she’s holding Martin’s hand tightly. Good, maybe she’ll stay out of trouble. Once they’re properly inside, though, her shoulders relax. “Oh. It’s a charity shop. I thought it was an antique store.”
Martin shakes his head. “Mum wouldn’t have brought m—us if it was antiques. She can’t afford to buy something if I break it.”
At that, Melanie’s scowl returns. Gerard can almost see her intention written on her face and says sternly, “Don’t break something here, either. It might not cost that much money, but it’s still not good.”
“He wouldn’t.” Melanie directs her scowl at Gerard.
“I was talking to you.”
“Why?” Martin sounds sincerely puzzled. “If Melanie wouldn’t be likely to break something at an antique store where everything is narrow and fragile, why would it be a problem here?” He turns into the shop and adds, “Even if it is a bit cluttered.”
Gerard and Melanie exchange looks and come to what Gerard hopes is a mutual understanding. Without answering Martin’s question, he says, “Right, let’s pick a place to start.”
Since Gerard’s mother is leading Aunt Lily, not very hopefully, in the direction of an elderly man half-hidden behind a newspaper, they elect to head the other way. Gerard peers at the shelves, but they’re completely devoid of books, which is unusual. Instead they’re crammed near to bursting with teddy bears, candle sconces, and knickknacks he can’t even begin to guess the purpose of. Martin and Melanie are surprisingly well-behaved, keeping hold of one another’s hands and staying close to Gerard, as they begin browsing the shelves. There’s a lot of junk in here, but there’s also a few unexpectedly nice pieces. A brass lighter catches his eye, tarnished and etched with a design that looks like a spider’s web, but although he picks it up and holds it in his hand, regretfully, he sets it back down. He’s apparently not old enough to buy a lighter, not in London anyway, and he wouldn’t want to get the proprietor in trouble. Besides, it just doesn’t feel right. It’s not what he’s here for.
About halfway through the second room, which has a lot of toys that Gerard is surprised his charges aren’t more interested in, there’s an entire shelf of nothing but chessmen of all types and sizes, and Gerard slows briefly, wondering if what he’s looking for is there. Martin stands on his tiptoes to try and see one, but Melanie tugs on his arm and points. “Martin, look, they’ve got books!”
Martin’s face lights up. Gerard turns to see where Melanie is pointing and spies a room off in the back. Just visible through the doorway is, indeed, a pile of books heaped on what is probably a table.
Likely it won’t have what his mother is looking for—or him, for that matter—but it’s a start. Gerard gently steers both of them towards it, not that they need much encouragement. Melanie is half-dragging Martin into the room, chattering excitedly about names and titles that are honestly going in one ear and out the other for Gerard but that Martin seems to understand. He does manage to gather, though, that both of them also have a little bit of money and are planning to spend it on books.
Good. Maybe this will keep them occupied enough that Gerard can find what he wants without having to devote all his attention to making sure they don’t cause trouble, or get eaten by monsters.
The “table” turns out to be a box, with a sign stuck in one corner that declares all the books in this bin are three for a pound. Melanie lets go of Martin’s hand for the first time and plunges both hands into the heap, pulling out books and setting them aside as they prove to not fit whatever nebulous criteria she’s looking for. Martin, on the other hand, circles the bin slowly, eying the pile up and down like he’s assessing its weak points and figuring out which books he can pull easily and which will need to be more carefully extracted.
Gerard watches them for a second, then decides they’ll be fine and turns his attention to the shelves around them. Surprisingly, there aren’t any books on the shelves—he guesses they’re all in the bin, unless the shop keeps the more valuable ones behind the counter. That seems likely, which means the old man is probably negotiating with Aunt Lily and he needs to hurry. He begins scouring the shelves, trying to find the thing he’s going to leave with.
“Gerard?”
Gerard turns to see Martin standing with an uncertain, hopeful look on his face and a book clutched in both hands. If it had a dust jacket, it’s long ago lost it, bound only in fraying and faded cloth, the front cover hanging on by a thread. It’s a mess, honestly. “Yeah, what?”
Martin holds the book out to him. “I think this is one of the books Aunt Mary and Mum are looking for.”
“What?” Gerard snatches the book from Martin, careful not to damage it further, and flips it open, heart hammering in his chest. It slows back to normal when he looks at the inside of the front cover and sees neither bookplate nor pale, faded square where one used to be, only a name and seasonal greeting in a spiky old-fashioned handwriting. He sighs and thrusts it back at Martin. “That’s not a Leitner. It’d have a label with his name on it if it were.”
“Oh.” Martin looks crestfallen as he stares down at the cover. “I didn’t know she only wanted the ones from his library.”
“You thought she’d just want any old book?” Gerard tries not to sound contemptuous, but really, Martin should know by now, even if he’s only over two afternoons a week.
“N-no, it’s just—it, it looks like the books Aunt Mary has, the ones we’re not s’posed to touch. I thought that was the kind of thing she wanted.” Martin bites his lip. “Sorry.”
Gerard takes the book back from Martin and opens it again, looking at it more closely. It’s called The Goddess and the Weaver—no author, but a translator—and he can’t read the string of Roman numerals at the bottom that constitutes the publication date. It feels old, but not ancient, definitely well-used or at least well-abused, which is when he notices that for as battered as the cover is, the pages are almost pristine.
Okay. Maybe Martin’s on to something.
He shouldn’t—he knows he shouldn’t—but Gerard flips through the pages randomly, because even if Martin’s right it can’t hurt him if he doesn’t read the whole thing, right? From what he gathers, it looks to be a version of the story of Arachne and Athena. Gerard isn’t super familiar with the story, Latin has never been his strong suit, but he’s at least vaguely aware of the myth—a weaver boasts that her work is better than the goddess Athena’s, wins a weaving contest, and ends up transformed into the first spider. This story, though, seems different, just from the few bits he sees. His eyes fall on a passage next to a surprisingly delicate pen-and-ink drawing depicting a young woman on her knees, clasping the hands of a regal woman before her, the both of them tangled in string and thread.
“I implore you,” Arachne begged, falling to her knees and stretching her hands to the goddess, “please, do not take what I have said as wickedness, but as proof that my love for you is as undying as the stars, and as unchanging as the seas; only stay a little longer, and I shall weave you a shawl so fine you can pull it through the gold hoop in your ear, a dress so light it shall bear you into the clouds, I shall weave you a blanket fit for a queen’s bed and lie upon it with you—”
“Gerard, what do you have there?”
Gerard almost jumps out of his skin and hastily snaps the book shut, blinking the fog (not cobwebs, he is not going to think of it as cobwebs) from his mind. He spins around to see his mother, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and Aunt Lily standing just behind her looking both exhausted and annoyed. He wonders how long they’ve been standing there, if they’ve called his name more than a few times. Guiltily, he knows he’s going to be held responsible if Aunt Lily can’t get out of bed tomorrow because she overtaxed herself today.
Still, they haven’t actually yelled at him, and his mother did ask him a question, so he swallows the apology on his tongue and meekly holds out the book.
He expects his mother to take it from him, take one look at the inside cover, and toss it back onto the book pile with scolding words about wasting his time reading frivolous nonsense. Instead, when she looks inside, her eyes light up and she makes a soft ah of satisfaction. She pages through it for a moment, then tilts it to show Aunt Lily. “Look—there it is, the stamp of the Web. It’s one of them, all right.” She goes back to the front cover. “But it wasn’t one of his. Well done, Gerard.”
For just a moment, Gerard basks in his mother’s praise, rarer than hen’s teeth and more precious than silver. He’s slow at his lessons, slower than she’d like, and he still doesn’t quite understand why they’re so important to her, so for her to actually tell him he’s done well is about as unexpected as snow in August. She looks happy, and that look’s directed at him for once.
Then he glances over at Melanie and Martin, kind of involuntarily. Melanie is watching him with slightly narrowed eyes over a stack of books, but she’s holding her tongue. Martin, by contrast, is studying a pale pink book with dogs etched on the cover, seemingly engrossed in whatever story it is, which presumably isn’t a Leitner. He looks up briefly and gives Gerard a warm, encouraging smile.
In that moment, Gerard knows that Martin will happily let him take the credit for finding the book, accept his mother’s praise, be the golden child she wants. He’ll back Gerard to the hilt on whatever story he tells. And Melanie will follow his lead, at least in front of the women, but she’ll probably hate Gerard forever and Martin will spend the next however long they all know each other playing peacemaker.
“I didn’t find it, Mum,” Gerard says. “Martin did.”
Martin freezes, eyes going wide as his hands tighten on the book. Melanie, too, jerks back, like she’s surprised he actually admitted it. His mother also looks startled. Aunt Lily looks like she’s about to faint. “Martin?” she says sharply. “Where did you find this?”
“R-right here, Mum.” Martin points shakily at the pile of books.
“How?” Gerard’s mother demands. She’s not exactly angry, but she’s not exactly pleased anymore either, and Gerard begins to regret giving Martin the credit, or blame as it may be.
He’s about to put himself in the younger boy’s way when Martin says, just like he said to Gerard a few moments ago, “It looks like the books you told us not to touch—i-it, it’s got the same glowy bits.”
“Glowy bits?” Gerard repeats, unable to stop himself.
Martin nods, eyes flickering back and forth between Gerard, his mother, and Martin’s own mother. “You know, the—the parts that glow in the dark, except even when there’s light?”
The two women look at each other, and something in Gerard relaxes when they both smile, then turn those smiles on Martin. They’re real, actual proud smiles.
“Well done, Martin,” Gerard’s mother says, and her voice is actually warm—Gerard would be jealous, except it’s Martin, so it’s kind of okay. “You’ve got a real gift.”
“I do?” Martin looks so hopeful.
“Yes, you do. I believe you’ll be wonderful at this work.” Gerard’s mother turns to Aunt Lily. “Don’t you agree, Liliana?”
“Oh, yes,” Aunt Lily says. She stoops down and kisses Martin on the forehead. “I’m so proud of you, Martin.”
Gerard might not be able to see the books glowing like Martin can, but there’s no mistaking the glow on Martin’s face.
Gerard’s mother insists on buying the stack of books Martin and Melanie have collected for them along with the book she wants, so Gerard hangs back with them as she and Aunt Lily go off to pay. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Martin says softly, “She’s never said that to me before.”
“That she’s proud of you?” Melanie frowns. “She should. You should hear it every day.”
“Yeah,” Gerard agrees. “And if she’s not proud of you, I am.”
Martin looks up at him in surprise, his olive green eyes almost filling his glasses. “You are?”
“’Course I am,” Gerard says, wrapping an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “But not ‘cause you found a book of power. I’m proud of you just for being you.”
Melanie actually gives him a grin, exposing a missing canine. Martin’s chest puffs up, and his smile could light up the whole city. “Thanks, Gerard.”
Gerard hesitates, then says, “Gerry.”
Martin’s smile slips slightly. “What?”
“I always—” Gerard clears his throat and has to try again before he can spit it out. “I always hoped my friends would call me Gerry.”
“Are we—are we friends, then?” Martin asks.
“We are,” Gerard confirms. He turns to Melanie. “You, too, Mel. You call me Gerry too.”
Melanie purses her lips for a moment, studying him with a calculating look. At last, she says, “Fine. But don’t call me Mel. Only Mama calls me Mel.”
“Sure thing, Neenie,” Gerard says easily, surprised at the automatic way that flows off his tongue. Like it’s natural to immediately respond to being told not to call her by the first part of her name by shortening her name to the last syllable. He wants to tease her, and where did that come from?
Melanie punches him in the arm, but even he can tell it’s not really angry or meant to hurt—it’s as playful and joking as him calling her Neenie—especially since she laughs when she does it. Gerard laughs, too, and Martin starts to giggle. Gerard holds his free arm to Melanie, who, for a wonder, accepts it, wrapping her own arm around his waist. Martin does the same from the other side, and the three of them follow Gerard’s mother and Aunt Lily out into the bright winter sunlight.
Gerard hasn’t spent a penny of his pocket money, but as he steps outside, he realizes he was right. He has got something he’ll treasure forever. He’s got friends.