The caterpillar swayed back and forth, back and forth. Nine’s head followed the movements as if she’d been hypnotized.
And then the door to the Guildman’s box opened, and the whole car went silent except for the sound of the wheels on the tracks, and the thud of boots on tile. The Guildman appeared in front of Tess, a boxy man with tan skin and sharp brown eyes. Tess gripped the strap tighter, her heart beating in her palms.
The Guildman frowned at the swaying, clicking caterpillar and frowned even harder at the hipster.
“Dude,” said the hipster, “it’s not looking at me; it’s looking at her.”
The Guildman looked from the hipster to Tess, Tess back to the hipster.
“I didn’t do anything to your pet bug, okay? Chill,” the hipster said.
The Guildman tried to grab the hipster, but the guy whipped his arm away, smacking Tess in the process.
“Ow!” she said, hot pain exploding in her cheek.
The Guildman clenched his teeth and pried the hipster’s hand from the pole.
The hipster wailed, “Dude! I didn’t mean to hit her. And this isn’t my stop! I’m going to be late for an audition! Seriously, dude, this is going to really mess me up!”
The train screeched to a halt. The doors opened. The Guildman shoved the hipster onto the platform. He said one word:
“Bus!”
Then the doors closed and the train started again. The Guildman scooped up the caterpillar, holding it like a baby, which was more than weird, because the caterpillar was still clicking its mandibles, as if it were talking to someone, as if it were talking to the Guildman. For one long, torturous moment, the Guildman studied Tess before moving back to his glass box, carrying the caterpillar with him.
Everyone on the train exhaled. Nine licked Tess’s hand, and Tess practiced her deep breathing, in and out, in and out, but her head kept saying what was that, what was that? And she didn’t know what was that, except for completely bugburgers.
“What happened?” said Jaime when they got off the train. “We couldn’t see anything. There were too many people.”
She described the caterpillar swaying like a snake, clicking as if it had something to say.
“Creepy,” Jaime said.
“But probably just a malfunction,” said Theo.
“Since when do the Morningstarr Machines malfunction?”
Theo pulled at his lip. “Good point.”
By the time they reached their building, it was close to dinnertime, and Tess was totally worn out, bruised cheek aching. Even the elevator seemed worn out, and it carried them directly to their floor without any of its usual whimsical side trips. The doors opened.
Stoop and Pinscher were standing by the tiled wall with a chisel and a hammer. Pinscher held the chisel, and Stoop tapped it until a tile popped off.
“What are you doing?” said Jaime, leaping out of the elevator.
Pinscher caught the loose tile, slipped it into a plastic bag.
“We’re taking samples of some of the more distinctive features of the building, of course,” Mr. Stoop said calmly.
“Samples?”
“Yes, samples. Of the tiles, of some of the plasterwork, crystal doorknobs, that sort of thing. We’ll preserve these artifacts. Perhaps display them somewhere in the new building after it’s built. This is a Morningstarr building, after all. Didn’t you know?”
Jaime looked mad enough to spit. “Do you know how hard my grandmother works to keep all those tiles on the wall? To keep everything clean and repaired? To keep this building running?”
“Well, she won’t have to work that much longer,” Stoop said. He smiled his bland, bland smile, and then he and Pinscher strolled to the elevator. Just before the doors closed, he said, “We’re going to have to take this elevator apart, too, you know. I’m sure all the gears and buttons and things will look nice . . . in a collage.”
Jaime took one step forward, one hand curled around his pencil, as if he were looking for the nearest femoral artery. Pinscher gave one of his little waves. The doors closed.
“I hate those guys,” Jaime muttered.
“We all hate those guys,” Theo said.
Tess said, “Next time, I’m going to let Nine eat them.”
“Mrrrow,” said Nine.
They agreed to meet the next morning. Jaime walked to the end of the hall, and Tess and Theo let themselves into their apartment. Inside, their father was putting books in boxes and their mother was on the phone, pacing.
“Yeah, I heard you. But we’ve got some things going on here. Can anyone else take this? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Yes. I know. I’ll be there in an hour.” She clicked off, laid the phone on the counter, took one look at Tess, said, “What happened to your face?”
Tess rubbed her cheek. “Nothing happened to my face.”
“Which is why you have a big red mark on it. Because nothing happened.”
“I banged it on the pole in the Underway,” said Tess.
“Did you have a spell? Theo, did she have a spell?”
Theo said, “She didn’t have a spell.”
Mrs. Biedermann swept both their faces with her mom-cop laser gaze. Then she said, “I’ll get you some ice.”
“It’s fine,” said Tess.
“It’s swelling,” said her mother. She dug around in the freezer and pulled out a bag of peas. She tossed them to Tess.
“Is this dinner?” said Tess.
“Yes. Put it on your face.”
Tess pressed the bag of peas to her cheek and kicked at the empty boxes on the floor. “What are these?”
Her father heaved a heavy, forlorn sigh. Her mother said, “Those would be boxes.”
“Why do we have boxes?”
“Boxes are usually used to pack things.”
“But we just heard yesterday!” said Tess. “We have a whole month!”
Her mother’s eyes went soft. “We’re getting a head start, honey. We have a lot of stuff, including the stuff in your grandpa’s apartment, which we should have packed months ago but I couldn’t manage because . . . Look. I just don’t want to leave everything for the last minute.”
Her father sighed again. He appeared to be packing one book at a time, placing it in the box only after he’d read the cover, the flap copy, and the acknowledgments. Nine crawled out from under the coffee table holding a sock, which she then draped across Mr. Biedermann’s knee. He patted her head, and she gave a mournful chirp.
Tess edged closer to her mother. “Dad doesn’t seem too happy.”