The Diviners

“Mabel?” Jericho’s eyes had the faraway look of a man trying to place something.

“Mabel Rose! Lives downstairs in the Bennington?” Evie prompted. Jericho still looked lost. “Often comes to visit and speaks aloud in whole sentences. You’ve heard her voice. Try to remember.”

“Oh, that Mabel.”

“Right. Now that we’ve sorted out our Mabels, what do you think of her? I think she’s a swell girl. And so bright! Did you know that she can read Latin? She can conjugate while she cogitates!” Evie laughed.

“Who?” Jericho said, turning a page.

“Mabel!” Evie said with irritation. “And she has an adorable figure. Granted, it’s hidden beneath the most tragic dresses, but that figure is there, I tell you.”

“Do you mean Mabel from sixteen-E?”

“Yes, I do!”

Jericho shrugged. “She seems a nice enough sort of girl.”

Evie brightened. “Yes, she does, doesn’t she? Very, very nice. Why don’t the three of us have dinner together some evening?”

“Fine,” Jericho said absently.

Evie smiled. At least Operation Jericho was off to a rousing start. She’d figure out a plan for the museum later.

“What you gonna do, writer man?”

Gabe stood between Memphis and the net, arms spread, fingers ready for the steal. Their shoes squeaked on the wooden floors of the church’s gymnasium. Overhead, ceiling fans whirred, but they couldn’t keep up with the boys’ sweat. Memphis wiped a forearm across his eyes, planning his move.

“Gonna stay there all day?” Gabe taunted.

Memphis faked to his left. Gabe took the bait and lunged, allowing Memphis to surge past him on the right. Fast and sweet, he moved down the court and sank the ball with ease.

Gabe fell to the floor. “I surrender.”

Memphis helped him up. “Good game.”

Gabe laughed as they walked off the court. “ ’Course it was a good game for you. You won.”

They dressed and headed to the drugstore for a snack.

Gabe cleared his throat. “I hear Jo’s ankle is only sprained.”

“That’s good,” Memphis said. He didn’t want to get into it.

“Still, she’s out of work for another two weeks.”

“That’s a shame.”

“That all you got to say?”

“What else should I say?”

“You ever just try—”

Memphis stopped cold. “I told you. I can’t do it anymore. Not since my mother.”

Gabe put up his hands. “Okay, okay. Don’t get hot. If you can’t, you can’t.”

They walked a block in silence. Memphis saw a crow flitting from post to post, keeping pace. “I swear that bird is following me,” he said.

Gabe laughed and twirled his lucky rabbit’s foot, which hung by its chain from his finger. He swore it was his good-luck charm, and he never played a gig without it. “I told you, Casanova, you’ve got to stop giving those birds candy and flowers. Then they never leave you alone.”

“I’m not kidding. I’ve seen it every day for the past two weeks.”

Gabe raised his eyebrows and his lips pulled into a smile. “And you know it’s the same crow? She got a name? Alice, maybe. Or Berenice! Yes, sir, looks like a Berenice to me.”

Memphis could see that this would be a joke for Gabe for weeks to come.

“Memphis—it’s just a bird. Birds fly around, brother. It’s what they do. It’s not following you, and it’s not a sign. Unless you really did give it candy and flowers, in which case you are one strange brother.”

Memphis laughed, shrugging off the bad feeling like an unneeded coat. Gabe was right—he was letting himself get spooked for nothing. It was that crazy dream that wouldn’t let him alone. No wonder he saw omens around every corner.

They settled into a booth at Mr. Reggie’s and ordered sandwiches and coffee.

“I wrote a new poem last night,” Memphis said.

“When’re you gonna show those poems to somebody other than the dead folks up in the graveyard?”

“They’re not good enough yet.”

Gabe reached across the table and took the pickle from Memphis’s plate. “How do you know, if nobody’s read ’em? One of these days, you just need to walk yourself right up to Miss A’Lelia Walker’s town house and say, ‘How do you do, ma’am? I’m Memphis Campbell, and I’d be much obliged if you’d read my work.’ ” Gabe finished the pickle and wiped his hands on Memphis’s napkin. “Life don’t come to you, Memphis. You gotta take it. We have to take it. Because ain’t nobody handing it to us. You understand? Now”—Gabe leaned back against the back of the small booth and spread his arms—“ask me why I’m grinning,”