The Complete Where Dreams - Volume 2 of 2

Chapter 3-4

Tammy didn’t look up from the drawings spread across the table. She didn’t like them, and they probably were this lady’s work or her dad wouldn’t be acting so weird around her.

Last night before they left, he’d been all fussy, making sure he left a big note with his cell number in case she called. Even tucking in her blanket as if it was normal for people to sleep on his office couch. Even at home he’d been saying, “Ms. Williams this” and “Ms. Williams that.”

So, Tammy delivered her verdict, which actually wasn’t that biased.

“Major yawn.”

“Jerimy!” Perrin cried out, startling all of them, causing Tammy to take a quick step back in case she’d upset her. The woman was waving her arm like a pirate captain from the quarterdeck. “The young lady has spoken! This calls for the rubbish bin!”

Jerimy swung one out from under the bench.

“Do it, girl!” Ms. Williams cried loudly enough for her voice to echo about the large space and draw everyone’s attention from the other parts of the Costume Shop.

Tammy picked up the plainest drawing. She glanced up at the woman, but still couldn’t detect one way or the other what she thought. When Tammy looked at her dad, he shrugged.

Tammy dropped the drawing carefully into the trash can and looked again for everyone’s reaction. She’d been around the opera enough to know the value of an artist’s work as well as their temperament about it. The time when Jasp was four and had drawn green flowers around someone’s set drawing had almost gotten him murdered.

Dad opened his mouth. She could see he was about to tell her it was okay, when the lady poked her hard enough on the shoulder to make her turn away from him. The woman put her fists on her hips, glared down at Tammy, and blew out a huff of air that would have stirred her bangs if she’d had any. Instead she had that black hair with the blond stripe that was even prettier now that she was awake.

Here it comes. Figures. Another crazy adult saying it was okay one minute and gearing up to chew you out the nex—

“Where did you learn how to do that?” The lady didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she pointed at Jasp without even turning. “You! Boy! What’s your name?”

“Jaspar,” he didn’t quite stammer in his surprise at suddenly being the center of attention.

“Jaspar, show this girl how you throw out an ugly drawing.”

With only a brief backward glance at Dad for reassurance, he took up a drawing, crumpled it a little. Then he glanced at Tammy. She grinned back at him, he was gonna show Ms. Williams but good.

Jasp made a whole spectacle of crushing it into the smallest, wrinkliest ball he could, then ran back a couple paces and shot it into the trash like a basketball.

Tammy could see her dad. Jasp might not get it, but she knew. Each of those paintings represented untold hours of painstaking coaxing and wheedling to get “Carlotta Nightmare,” as Jasp had dubbed her, to produce them. They were also the only designs they had, and there were less than six weeks to production.

Last night Dad had been groaning, in between worrying about Ms. Williams, about how the publicity shots were supposed to be this week and there were no costumes yet and—

“Better,” the lady told Jasp.

He checked in with Tammy, but she could only twitch a shoulder in a shrug. She didn’t know how to read Ms. Williams yet.

“Better, but still lame. Now, watch carefully.”

Tammy had to figure out what was going on. Even without the fancy dress, she was very tall and very pretty.

Tammy liked the black hair that matched the opera t-shirt. And she wouldn’t mind trying to have a blond swirl in her hair. It pointed like an arrow to the bright yellow ECO logo over her breast. The t-shirt clung to her frame. Tammy glanced at Dad through the fall of her own long hair so that he wouldn’t notice her attention. He was staring hard at the woman, which Tammy didn’t like much.

The lady handed her and Jasp another drawing and took one herself. So slowly that it was almost painful, she tore it in half: the paper making a long, drawn-out cry of protest. The half-dozen costumers doing touch-up work on the clothes for the present opera rushed over to see what was happening. They stopped and stared, with their jaws down.

She glanced to Dad for permission, but Ms. Williams called them back to attention like they were both still in third grade.

“You have to just do it!”

Jasp raised one eyebrow in question then waited to see what she’d do. Tammy set her jaw and tore it with the same agonizing slowness, Jasp joining her part way through.

Then Ms. Williams overlapped her two pieces and tore them the other way, a little faster.

Tammy and Jasp did the same. Then faster and faster they all tore their paintings and tore them and tore them until they were little more than large confetti.

With a fistful of torn paper, she sent Jasp the tiniest head nod toward Dad. He was sharp and chucked his into the air right over Dad’s head. Dad ducked and cringed beneath the shower of bits of paper. At the last second, Tammy changed her target and launched her own fistful of paper over the woman’s head who burst out with a wild laugh and threw hers right back, saving a few to sprinkle over Jasp.

* * * *

Bill watched in amazement as three of Carlotta Nightmare’s drawings fluttered about them in tiny pieces. He tried to think of something to say, but couldn’t as Jaspar scraped up a fistful that had fallen on the table and launched them right at Bill’s face where they burst apart into a colorful flurry just inches away.

Perrin dove for another watercolor and began tearing madly. The kids joined in. In the midst of the mayhem that ensued, Perrin very solemnly handed one painting to him.

It was harder than he expected, making that first tear. It was the Overlord, at least he thought it was, it was hard to tell on Carlotta’s work and she’d certainly been above explaining her “Art” to anyone who couldn’t simply “intuit” it themselves. The second tear was easier, then the third.

In moments, he too was showering bits of paper over his kids’ heads.

After the last drawing was destroyed, and Jerimy had the honor of stuffing the last fistful down the back of Jaspar’s shirt, they all set in to clean up. Bill saw Perrin take Tammy a little to one side. He moved as unobtrusively as he could to collect some confetti that was closer to them, so that he could overhear.

“That,” Perrin pointed at the floor. “So not me.” Then she turned Tammy to face the Empress’ dress.

“That,” Perrin nodded as if reassuring herself. Though he could hear the doubt in her voice as if she didn’t believe in her own power.

“That is me.”

It was absolutely her. So powerful that she actually unnerved him a bit. And now she’d made friends with his children.

That he was far less sure about.