Circus Read online

  My eyes are so wide open they hurt. I can’t believe this is happening.

  Knowing the Hatter must be watching me somehow, I dart into the open kitchen and pick up the housemaid’s dress. I wrap it around my waist then check the watch. It’s exactly 11:06 a.m. I’ve done it.

  My phone beeps instantly. Another message: Well done. Starting from 12:00 p.m., I will give you 24 more hours to catch the rabbit. That’s if your sister doesn’t kill you first.

  I look around for some sort of camera or something. How does the Hatter see all of this?

  But I have no time.

  Lorina is already in my face. She kick-boxes me so hard my back hits the refrigerator. My head buzzes like a tuning fork. I feel like I want to just faint away from all this madness, sliding against the refrigerator door, down to the floor, deep into an ocean of numbness.

  “Lorina one, Alice none!” My None Fu sister sets the score.

  Chapter 21

  Stop!

  Freeze this scene. I need to catch my breath while I am sprawled on the kitchen floor.

  In a sane world, I’d just let go and call it a day. Seriously, everything so far has been on the tutti frutti side of the world. Why I am fighting my sister right now isn’t exactly clear to me. Neither do I know what they meant by “what happened to me.” A sane girl would just go away, date a nerdy boy, live in a cute little house, get pregnant, and raise kids later in life.

  But a sane girl wouldn’t be locked in an asylum. A sane girl wouldn’t have a companion called Carter Pillar.

  I’m not sane.

  Even if I am, I don’t think I am—paradox this!

  It’s hard to explain.

  I’m Alice on the dark side of insanity.

  And while the conformity of being stranded in an asylum might be a better option, even that isn’t working out for me. How many more times can I tolerate shock therapy? How many times can I tolerate waking up finding myself crippled?

  Whatever this is I am facing, I have no other choice. My insanity is my sanity. I am both, but I am one. If any of this makes sense.

  Okay now, roll on again. Unfreeze that scene.

  Lorina sneers at me while I am picking myself up. I have no idea how she is such a good None Fu fighter. Where did she learn it?

  I arch my body, stretching my hands and legs into another position I have been training for in my cell. It looks silly, like in a badly dubbed seventies Asian movie. But it should work out. I stare Lorina in the eyes.

  Ding. Round two!

  “Do you even know what this position is called?” Lorina makes fun of my average None Fu skills.

  “Zashchishchaiushchikhsya!” I reply. It’s one of the hardest positions—and words—in the book. The term was coined by Lewis Carroll himself when he visited Russia. It turns out Lewis left England but once. Only to go to Russia. He wrote a whole book about his journey and how he fell in love with this particular word, which meant “to be defended” in Russian.

  “Can you say Zashchishchaiushchikhsya ten times in a row?” Lorina snickers then raises the back of her hand to hit me.

  She moves too fast. I lose balance, feeling my cheek go numb from the power of her swing. I plow against the fruit basket on the kitchen table this time. A banana gets stuck in my open mouth, and strawberries shower me as I fall again. White cream trickling on my cheeks. I am a happy cake.

  “Lorina two, Alice none!” Lorina rubs something off her dress. It’s ridiculous how much she is enjoying this.

  “Look.” I stand up again. “I don’t need this. I came here to get something. I think I should leave now.”

  I’m Alice’s cowardly conscience and subconscious, trying to save the world.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” she exclaims. “Before I put you back in the asylum, where you belong.”

  “I’m you sister, Lorina,” I say. “Why would you want to do this to me? Please.”

  “You shouldn’t have left the asylum.” She lashes out her other hand at me.

  This time, I’ve had it.

  I don’t duck, but face her instead. I crisscross my hand with hers as if they are swords, and then pull the pan from the table and swoosh it across her pretty face.

  “If you don’t shut up, I will omelet your pretty Barbie face.” I don’t even know where these words come from.

  Lorina glares in disbelief. I have the feeling she needs to check her face in the mirror, but I don’t wait that long before I swoosh her face with the pan in the other direction.

  “The hell with None Fu,” I shout. “Let’s do this the stay-at-home mums style.” Then I kick her in the knees.

  Lorina slumps to the floor, as I feel the anger surface in me. I swing the pan one last time, but my hands freeze midway.

  It’s not the terrified look on Lorina’s face that stops me. It’s the fact that she is my sister. Whatever I do to play bad or evil, I seem to soften to the thought of family. The idea of someone being there for me. That I am not alone in this world. I don’t want to lose my family, even if I hardly feel for them. Even if they want to get rid of me.

  “You’re lucky I’m still hoping we can work this out as two sisters.” I pant when I say the words. My right hand argues that I should just hit her face and get done with it. I hate my right hand, and oppose it.

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Lorina nods. “We’re sisters. We should work this out. I actually like you more than Edith.”

  Lorina’s lie is so sweet I want to believe her. My hunger for belonging to a family urges me to put the pan aside, and I lend her a hand. “I’m glad you think that, too,” I say, as she takes it. “Whatever you and Edith have done to me before, don’t hesitate to tell me. I promise I will hold no grudges. Let’s start all over again. All I want is to know the truth. To know who I am.”

  Lorina nods, getting to her feet. “I’m so sorry.” She begins to trickle tears.

  “Don’t be.” I am about to cry as well, realizing I have no memories of crying on someone’s shoulder. “I really need this.” I find myself opening my arms wide, longing for Lorina’s hug.

  But then Lorina’s eyes gleam with someone’s reflection behind me. I look closer, and I glimpse a silhouette of what looks like Edith about to stab me with her knife again. When I raise my head to Lorina’s eyes, I understand how naive I am. She grins at me as Edith stabs me.

  I was a fool again.

  Chapter 22

  Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum

  Dr. Truckle stood looking at the miserable flamingo inside the cage, and he has no idea what its condition was in scientific terms.

  What was the diagnosis of an independent mind? Was it madness to be different, to want to live, and disobey?

  “You’re in a lot of trouble. You know that, right?” Dr. Truckle said to the flamingo.

  The flamingo said nothing, and hardly acknowledged the doctor’s presence, its long neck swirling over its body.

  “What’s wrong with getting your head bumped into a ball?” Dr. Truckle asked him. “Wouldn’t you do that in the name of Britain?”

  The flamingo’s head dipped lower. It looked ashamed to the doctor.

  “Should I assume you’re an immigrant?” Dr. Truckle rubbed his chin. “Do you even have papers?”

  Surprisingly, the flamingo shook its head.

  “So you understand me?” Dr. Truckle approached the cage. “Look, we’re both in the mud here, fella,” he whispered. “You don’t let the Queen bang your small, beautiful head into a ball, I get fired. But if you do, I keep my job. You see, in both cases, no one really cares about you.”

  The flamingo padded away from the doctor, who suddenly realized the absurdity of the situation—let alone talking to an animal. “So what am I going to do now?”

  Tom stared at the invitation in his hand, and wondered what was going on. A thought occurred to him: what if he managed to use the invitation to sneak into the Event?

  He was really curious about it.

  H
e flipped the invitation, only to realize a list of the rest of guests had been written on the back.

  Now Tom was really going to lose it.

  What?

  The names on the list were as shocking as the name in front. Tom was truly losing it, oblivious to what was going on. He glanced at the flamingo again. “Do you know what this Event is about?”

  The flamingo nodded.

  Chapter 23

  Downstairs, Alice Wonder's house, 7 Folly Bridge, Oxford, 11:05 a.m.

  Edith doesn't stab me. She screams. She sounds as if she’s choking all of a sudden, while Lorina looks appalled again.

  I turn around. It’s the Pillar, choking Edith with his hookah.

  “Such a fantabulous family you have, Alice,” he says, pulling the hose tighter around Edith. He doesn’t wait for my reaction, as he pulls Edith’s knife and hurls it over my shoulder toward Lorina. “No more games, Barbie doll, or I choke your sis to death.”

  I turn and see Lorina has ducked the knife. She straightens up again. “You?” She frowns.

  At first I think she is talking to me. Then I think there is a third party in the room—my mother, maybe? But then I realize it’s the Pillar Lorina is talking to.

  “You know each other?” I ask, not knowing what to make of it.

  But then the Hatter’s phone buzzes in my pocket. Another message: Tick tock. Tick tock. Is it already twelve o’clock? Wait for me to send you the next clue.

  I wait for the rest of message, but nothing comes.

  “Let’s go, Alice.” The Pillar drops the unconscious Edith, holding his phone up. “I’ll try to call Inspector Dormouse to arrest your sisters.”

  “You didn’t answer me,” I say. “How do you know my sisters?”

  But none of them answer me. I see the Pillar staring right into Lorina’s eyes. It’s that piercing look he is capable of. Lorina stares back in silence. Somewhere between those two lies another greater secret I don’t know of.

  “I saw them visiting you week after week,” the Pillar replies.

  I am not convinced. But Lorina doesn’t object or comment. She looks scared of the Pillar.

  “Let’s get out of this circus.” The Pillar picks up my umbrella from the floor.

  Dazzled, I comply and walk out with him. If I don’t, Lorina might try to kill me again—whatever the reason is. I will deal with my sisters later.

  “Alice!” Lorina says from behind. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” Her voice is concerned, but not about me. Something else bothers her. “This man you’re walking with is using you. Stay away from him.”

  “Coming from my sister who just tried to kill me?” I say, fighting the tears, and not looking back.

  Lorina doesn’t comment. And I can’t wait to walk out of the house where I was supposedly raised. All I know is that nothing has really changed since the last time I was outside my cell. The world is still mad. Nothing makes sense. And the only thing that keeps me going again is wanting to stop this bomb at all costs.

  Chapter 24

  George and Danver Ice Cream Cafe, 94 St. Aldates, Oxford, near Alice’s Shop and Oxford University

  Half an hour later, the Pillar arrives at our table with a tray of food and tea. We’re sitting at George and Danver Ice Cream Cafe on the same street that leads to Oxford University, a small walk from the famous Alice’s Shop. The sun in the sky is feebly battling through the foggy day. I wish it would make it through, as I am unable to take the dimness of this mind-boggling and emotional day anymore.

  “Best carrot ice cream cake in Oxfordshire,” the Pillar says, pushing the tray my way. “And also the best tea in England.” He sits in his chair and winks at me. I watch him sip with ecstasy from his cup. “Almost as good as the Hatter’s tea in Wonderland.” He knows that the mention of the Hatter gets on my nerves.

  I fiddle with the fork, trying to persuade myself I have an appetite for the deliciously orange cake on the tray. The truth is I hadn’t felt like eating or drinking anything since I met my sisters today. They tried to kill me? Seriously? Why was it so important to them I return to the asylum?

  The Pillar slides the Hatter’s phone back to me. Earlier, I asked him to try and trace the Hatter’s number.

  “I couldn’t locate him,” the Pillar explains. “The number is untraceable. Well, not quite untraceable, because it seems like it belongs to a chain of secret phone numbers.”

  “Secret numbers?”

  “The kind only given to people who work closely with the Queen of England in Buckingham Palace.”

  “So the Queen is playing these games with us?”

  “Whoever is playing games is playing with you,” he says. “But to answer your question: not a chance.” He cuts a huge part of his cake, looking at it the way a five-year-old would. “The Queen doesn't know how to play these kinds of games. Her greatest hobby is to chop off heads. Play croquet, cards, and chess—and win—when she is bored.” He swallows the cake, staining his lips with syrup. I watch him closing his eyes and moaning to the brilliance of its taste. When he opens his eyes, he says, “And don’t ask me about who the Queen of England really is. We’ve got a bomb to stop first.”

  “I won’t. But doesn’t this mean the Hatter is working for the Queen?” I feel tempted to taste the cake but still can’t bring myself to. My mouth is bitter from the taste of my little bloody meeting with my family.

  “Not sure, Alice. I’m still working on it. As long as I don’t understand the Hatter’s motives, there is very little help I can offer.”

  “Which isn’t like you.” I eye him closely. Should I bring up the subject of why everyone keeps warning me of him? Or have I become so attached to my little adventures in the world outside the asylum that I won’t even risk the fact that the Pillar isn’t totally on my side? “I mean, how do you really know my sister?”

  “I told you. I saw them visiting you.”

  “Then why did she warn me of you?” I lean forward. Daring him.

  “Everyone’s been warning you of me, including Fabiola.” The Pillar licks the cake’s syrup from his fingers. “And she’s supposed to be the word of God or something.”

  In truth, I can’t argue with that. If anyone’s the closest to sanity, it’s Fabiola. But she hasn’t been as helpful as the Pillar so far. Lewis also warned me not to give the golden key to anyone, and the Pillar seems interested in it. It’s all confusing and messed up. From another angle, the Pillar saved my life before Edith killed me. He’s done that several times before. I decide I’ll drop this subject for now.

  “So tell me about the Hatter.” I need to focus on my job and catch the rabbit.

  The Pillar stops in the middle of gorging on the rest of the cake. “This might not be the Hatter, Alice,” he says. “I told you that. The Hatter is such a grand, larger-than-life character. I don’t understand why he would play a game with a rabbit and a bomb.”

  “So we actually don’t know who we’re dealing with?”

  The Pillar swallows the rest of his cake, moaning again, unable to answer me. A few children in the area giggle at his behavior. “We don’t.” He wipes his lips with a napkin, and then pretends to eat it. The children laugh harder, holding on to their parents’ hands. “But we’re dealing with a crazed maniac, mad enough to kill children with a bomb inside a rabbit. That’s wack à la wack on my menu of insanity. We can’t anger or provoke him. We need to follow his clues and see why he is giving them to you until we find his weak spot.”

  I let out a sigh, lost in my haze of thoughts.

  “Look, Alice. What happened in your house today wasn’t your fault.”

  “Are we talking about my sisters trying to kill me, or me hesitating to kill Lorina?” I am so not happy with myself for being fooled by her.

  “Well, Lorina’s act was superb. I’m still shocked at how you believed her.” He chuckles.

  “She is my sister.” I stress each syllable, wishing he would understand. “My family. I ran into her arms for the f
irst glimpse of bonding and peace. Don’t you have a family, Pillar?”

  My question is rhetorical in nature, but it seems to strike a chord in the Pillar. His face freezes. His eyes stare into a distant memory. I wish I knew how to hypnotize him and know all about him.

  “I do.” He nods. And just before he looks like he’ll open up to me, he sticks his fork into my cake and stuffs it into his mouth, silencing his conscience. “You will get better with these emotional hazards once you get your training.”

  “Training?”

  “They say every day in your life is nothing but training for a bigger cause. Like today. You learned a Life’s Horrible Truth Number 55.”

  “Which is?” I grimace.

  “Thou shalt not trust anyone,” he says. “It’s a harsh truth, unbelievable, but with all the madness surrounding us, it’s crucial. You shouldn’t have fallen for you sister’s play.” He smiles, as if I should accept this as a fully fleshed reply.

  We stare at each other. It’s a long moment. I don’t grasp the meaning of it. All I am grasping moment after moment is that I am getting lonelier among the crowd. Was that why Alice met so many animals in her book? Because she couldn’t trust grownups? Because she was lonely?

  “How long before the Hatter sends you the next clue?” The Pillar breaks the tension, finishing my cake and drinking my tea.

  “About ten minutes,” I say. “He said the countdown will start ticking again at twelve o’clock. Ends twenty-four hours later.”

  “Huh. I’m really curious what he has in mind for you.” He tongues his cheeks. “On the outside, this all seems like a time-ticking hunt to stop a bomb. But with all those clues he gave you, there’s so much more about this case.”

  I stare at the housemaid dress, the gloves, and the fan I collected, contemplating the Pillar’s words. “It’s almost as if I’m in a computer game collecting items for some great reveal.”