“Is something funny?” Meg asked. I glanced at her. Her face was serious but her voice sounded dry, like she knew exactly why I was laughing.
“Um,” I said. “I’ve finished typing the list.”
“Good,” Meg said. “Print them out, one label to each page. Then take them to that row of boxes and replace the old labels with the new ones.”
And so I did.
I took the old labels off.
I taped the new labels on.
I laughed to myself when I got to CODPIECES.
And then it was time to go.
13.
“So you didn’t get to ask Meg about the tunnels,” Leo said after work. We walked through the Portrait Hall on our way out and stopped in front of a painting of an old man with wiry white hair and a dull gold crown. The man held up his hands in front of him, making a dramatic gesture, and his blue veins seemed to course with blood. RICHARD SNOW AS KING LEAR, the plaque under the painting said.
Whoever had painted this portrait had done a good job. I looked at the signature. Arlene Stecki. The same person who did Lisette Chamberlain’s portrait.
“No,” I said. “Not really. I didn’t talk to anyone, actually.”
“Was it boring?”
“It was fine,” I said. “It’s sort of interesting to see all the costumes and all the work that goes into them.”
“Can you come over to my house sometime?” Leo asked. “I have a show I want you to see. Something with real acting in it. Not that crap you and Miles have been watching.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll ask my mom.”
“We could watch it on Friday,” he said. “That’s my mom’s day off so she’ll be home. If that makes your mom feel better.”
“It will. But I still don’t know if she’ll let me come.”
“Tell her it’s The Tempest starring Lisette Chamberlain as Miranda,” he said. “I got it from the festival archives.”
“It sounds boring.”
“It’s not. I promise.”
14.
“Leo invited me over to watch a movie,” I said Friday after work. I shoved my sandals into the basket my mom kept by the front door for shoes and pulled on my flip-flops. They felt great. I felt sorry for all the people who had lived in England.
“A movie,” Mom said.
“Yes,” I said.
“That sounds like a date.”
My mother had a very firm NO DATES rule. Not until we were much, much older than twelve. Which was why I’d waited until the last possible minute to ask her. I was sure she’d say no.
“It’s not a date,” I said. “His mom will be home. And it’s with Leo.”
“What movie are you watching?”
“An old production of The Tempest,” I said. “Leo rented it from the Summerlost Festival library archives. It’s a classic.”
“You can go if Miles goes with you,” Mom said.
“Mom,” I said. “He’s going to be so bored.”
“I’m going to be so bored,” Miles confirmed from the couch. He didn’t look up from his library book.
“Leo’s mom will be home,” I said again. “It’s during the day. He’s a friend. Please.”
My mom relented. “All right.”
I couldn’t believe it. Maybe staying up late working on the deck was making her too tired to argue.
When I got to Leo’s house, his mom answered the door. She had short black hair. Her eyes were like Leo’s, crinkly with laughter. She was beautiful. “Hello!” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you, Cedar.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
“I need to come by and say hello to your mother again,” Mrs. Bishop said. “I always think summer won’t be as busy as the school year, and then of course it always is.”
“We still have your pan, I think,” I said.
“Oh, that’s all right.” She waved her hand. “You should keep it. You probably didn’t want to bring all your own cooking things down for the summer.”
She was right. We hadn’t. We’d brought three pots, six plates, six bowls, six cups, six sets of cutlery. A couple of knives for chopping. A can opener. A cookie sheet. One pitcher. That was it. Everything else, my mom said, was too much hassle. We didn’t even use the dishwasher very much. We mostly washed things right after we used them and put them back in the cupboard. Even Miles.
“Leo’s downstairs,” Mrs. Bishop said, “getting everything all set up. Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“You can head on down, ” she said. “But I’ll peek in on you now and then to make sure you don’t need anything.”
When I got downstairs, Leo showed me the T-shirts he’d had made for us for the tour. They were black and had Lisette’s face on them in white, kind of pop-arty, like that picture of Marilyn Monroe you see on towels and cheap blankets and T-shirts.
“Don’t let anyone in my family see it,” he said, and I nodded. None of his family or mine knew about the tour.