“I hate this ride,” he said. “I went on it once and I felt sick the rest of the day.”
“I thought we ended up together on this because we could both take it.”
“Who said I couldn’t take it?”
“I thought you just did.”
“Did not. I said it made me feel funky, not that I couldn’t take it. But you’re the one does all the flips and gymnastic stuff, not me.”
“That’s the point. I love this ride,” she said. “It goes so fast it peels your face back.”
“Yeah. Terrific,” he said.
“If you want to be lookout, I can do this alone,” she said. “It’s not like anyone has to know.”
“Are you calling me chicken, girl?”
“That would be no,” she said. “It was only an offer.”
“Well, keep it—” Maybeck cut himself off, reaching for his pocket where his phone was vibrating. He checked the caller ID and answered. “Not the best timing,” he whispered into the phone. He plugged his open ear with a finger. “Say again?…You’re serious?…” He gave Charlene a weird look. “Can she describe it?…No…not now. Three minutes. Call me back in three minutes.” He ended the call and returned the phone to his pants pocket.
“Madame Houdini has been having visions about this ride.”
“FYI,” Charlene said. “Houdini was an escape artist, not a clairvoyant.”
“Yeah? Well Ms. Claire Voyant’s been zooming on Mission: Space, according to the Willow Tree. Something to do with buttons and TV screens.”
“And?”
“And she’s going to describe it to us once we’re inside one of those pods.”
“So we should get going,” Charlene said.
“Yeah. We should get going.”
“So why are we standing here with your arm blocking me?” she asked.
He lowered his arm. “Because it looks too easy,” Maybeck said, still speaking very softly. “How can it be this easy? It’s almost like they’re inviting us to get into one of those pods.”
“That may be right. But there’s only one way to find out.”
“I told you that I hate this ride. Yeah?”
“You might have mentioned it,” she said. “But you’re tougher than the other guys, right?”
“You’re going to head-trip me?”
“I’m building your confidence.”
“My phone’s going to ring. We gotta get in there.”
“I’ll go first,” she said.
“The heck you will.” He crossed the curved crack in the floor—it had appeared when the ride began allowing the floor-size turntable to spin—and approached the nearest pod. To the left of the closed door was a pale blue panel containing four green buttons. The bottom left button was marked DOOR OPEN, written vertically. The two on top were marked DOOR CLOSED and SEAT RESTRAINT. The bottom button wasn’t labeled.
“Give me your phone,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Don’t you get it? One of us has to be out here to push the door-closed and seat-restraint buttons for the other person.”
Maybeck studied the panel for a second time. “You think?”
“I know. That’s the only way it’s going to start.”
“Maybe it doesn’t need to start. Maybe we just go in the pod and look around?”
“And there are how many pods? And a whole ’nother room of pods next door. You think we picked the right one?”
“How should I know?”
“Give me your phone,” she repeated. “I trust Jess. This has something to do with Jess and her dreams. I accept that, even if you can’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You called her Houdini.”
He looked guilty as charged.
She held her hand out.
Maybeck passed her his phone.
* * *
On-screen, the hang glider flight dove over Yankee Stadium on its way back toward Manhattan. A crowd of fifty thousand cheered for a Derek Jeter home run as the smell of popcorn filled the air. Jess and Willa used the cacophony as cover, fleeing up the staircase toward the exit sign. Willa made the mistake of looking back at the screen and lost her balance as the route dipped left and low over the East River. Jess reached out and caught her just as Willa was about to fall down the stairs.
“Don’t look,” Jess whispered.
Both girls averted their eyes, looking up the stairs instead of down—toward the back of the theater, instead of the screen.
Jess caught sight of something Willa did not. As they approached the exit door, Jess nudged her and pointed.
“‘Projection Room,’” she said, quoting the title on the door.