Chapter 21: Party Guests
The limousine wasn't just long, it was so long that it was honestly comical.
one of those stretches so big it seemed designed for the sole purpose of making people stare and wonder why anyone would ever buy something like that, and the reason was simple, because rich people bought stupid things because they could, not should, just because they could.
And most would think this car was for taking a few celebrities to a fancy party, not just taking a handful of kids and adults to the zoo. Penelope, of course, beamed as she directed everyone where to sit. She'd already claimed the best window, her hair in perfect waves, a headband with a discreet silver bow gleaming in the sunlight. Addison and Alaric took their seats next, Addison immediately scoping up the snack basket like a true Goblin, and Alaric taking stock of the exits and the seatbelts with the seriousness of a kid who'd read the "in case of emergency" placard twice and for fun before sitting down next to his sister.
Rebecca slid into the car just in front of Kairo, her thickish earmuffs perched over her wild auburn hair, her eyes bright green and almost feverish with the kind of energy that never quite settled. Kairo hesitated, then dropped onto the seat beside her, still clutching his gift bag like it was an anchor, and it might have been, after playing so crazy board games with these rich kids. He caught his own reflection in the tinted window, his silver-grey hair sticking up in places, the scarf Beryl had given him askew, his eyes wide and a bit overwhelmed. He didn't look bad, just… out of place. But so did everyone else, in their own way, not that any of them seemed to care.
The adults filled the front of the limo, of course, with Beryl included, squeezed between Priscilla Penderghast and Mrs. Cobblepot, listening to the low hum of strategic small talk while trying to keep an eye on the back through the rearview mirror. Penelope started talking the moment the doors clicked shut, her words tumbling over each other with the unfakeable confidence of a kid who knew she was the center of the universe, at least for today.
"My mom booked the whole garden section at the zoo just for us," she announced, with a look that dared anyone to be unimpressed. "We'll have lunch there, and there's a show with real animals, not just pictures. They're bringing in a sloth this year, and a bird that can open doors, and a snake that's safe if you don't annoy it, so don't annoy it, Addison."
Addison rolled her eyes. "I'm not the one who tried to put a hat on the flamingo last year."
Penelope sniffed, "It was a tiara, and it would have looked amazing if someone hadn't ruined it."
Alaric, quietly, "The flamingo ate it, choked, and then died. That's not on Addison or that poor, helpless flamingo."
Penelope ignored him, plowing ahead. "And after lunch, we get a tour of the reptile house. Special. Not for the regular guests. Mom says the director owes her a favor."
Rebecca's hands were folded in her lap, the backs of her fingers tapping against one another, her eyes darting from Penelope's face to the window and back. As for our boy, Kairo tried to listen, but the world beyond the glass kept dragging his focus away. The car left the meticulous order of Cranston Estates, its lawns clipped within an inch of their lives, mansions flexing their expensive muscles, fountains shimmering in the sun, and it all slipped through and away past the high iron gates. The further they got from the mountain suburb, the more the world seemed to exhale. The trees grew wilder, the forest dense and tangled, sunlight falling in mottled patterns across the road. Kairo pressed his forehead to the window and watched the landscape tumble by, green giving way to grey as the limo swept down from the mountain into the hills.
Gotham City revealed itself slowly, like a magician showing off a trick. At first, it was all promise: the skyline glinting in the distance, skyscrapers catching the sun, the river like a ribbon of silver. Then came the neighborhoods with their thick brick apartment blocks with clotheslines strung between them, corner shops with faded awnings, people everywhere, moving in the quick, jittery rhythm of city life. The cars thickened, horns blaring in the distance, and the smell shifted, green and mountain air replaced by exhaust and the faint, metallic tang of rain on concrete.
Kairo realized he was staring, mouth slightly open. He'd never seen so many people, so much noise, all packed into one place. He watched a man in a bright red suit juggling on a street corner while a woman in business clothes barked into her phone, a trio of kids zipped by on skateboards, and somewhere a dog leapt into a fountain, chased by a laughing child. The city was alive in a way Cranston Estates never was or could ever be with this new type of energy. Kairo had never seen a messy, loud, unpredictable energy.
He glanced back inside at Penelope, still orchestrating the day's events with military precision, then at Addison, who was quietly pilfering gummy bears from a paper cup, and at Alaric, who looked out the window with a kind of resigned awe. Rebecca, though, was the odd one out. She seemed calm at first, sure her shoulders were relaxed, and her hands were still . . . but her eyes never stopped moving. Every person they passed on the sidewalk, every cyclist, every flash of a face in a car window, drew her attention. Every time someone shouted or music blared, she flinched just a little, eyes darting, then settling again.
Kairo watched her, curious, and wondered if her super-hearing was picking up all of it: the arguments, the laughter, the city's secret heartbeat. He wanted to ask, but when her gaze finally landed on him, he just offered his hand, palm open in silent invitation. Rebecca hesitated, then took it, her grip firmer than he expected. For a breath, her shoulders eased, and she let out a long, quiet sigh, like she'd been holding her breath for the whole ride. Kairo smiled, small and genuine, feeling the connection settle between them just as Penelope clapped her hands, snapping their attention forward.
"Are you two even listening?" Penelope demanded, exasperated but smiling. "We're almost here, and you're staring out the window like you've never seen a zoo before."
"Well, to be honest, I've actually never seen a Zoo before, never mind a city with so many people in it," Then he smiled, "Or maybe, I was making sure the flamingos haven't escaped," Kairo said, his face so how going deadpan.
Rebecca added, "I was listening. Kairo isn't. He's new."
Kairo gave Rebecca a look of betrayal. "Okay, trader and/or snitch, i'll make sure to remember that for next time . . . . ." he said to himself.
Penelope huffed, satisfied, then turned to peer out her own window. Outside, the limo rolled up to the Gotham Zoo; it was an old iron gate flanked by stone lions, their manes worn smooth by decades of Gotham's slightly acidic rain. The arch above was painted in cheerful colors: GOTHAM CITY ZOO, the letters a little chipped but still proud, like a banner that refused to admit the city ever had a bad day. Banners in bright greens and oranges fluttered from lamp posts, announcing "Penelope's Private Party!" in looping script. The gates themselves were tall, black iron twisted in the shape of climbing vines and swinging monkeys, the kind of detail that made Kairo want to run his fingers over the cool metal just to see if it was really real.
Penelope, not one for ceremony, was already unbuckling her seatbelt before the limo came to a stop. She popped the door with a flourish and tumbled out, her pale-blue princess dress swirling around her knees. Alaric, quiet as ever, followed without a word, hands in his pockets, gaze flickering from the lions to the ticket counter to the crowd of keepers waiting with clipboards and polite, professional smiles. Addison hung back a half-second, giving the door a wary look, her eyes looking at Kairo and Rebecca, not sure of how she felt, but she knew she didn't like it, then slid after her brother, her cheeks puffed out in a pout that said she wasn't sure if she liked any of this but was determined not to be left behind.
Rebecca squeezed Kairo's hand one more time, then let go. He watched her eyes bright, alert, but less frantic now, the noise of the city replaced by the anticipation of the day ahead. He gave her a quick thumbs-up. She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth as she ducked out into the sunlight.
Before the limo hissed to a gentle stop in front of the Gotham Zoo, and even before the doors opened, Beryl could feel the collective gaze of the Saturday crowd. It was almost a physical weight, the curious, half-incredulous stares from families clutching discount tickets, teenagers in patched jackets, and little kids with sticky hands and plastic zoo hats. Some people actually paused on the sidewalk to gawk, and a few even pulled out their phones.
Mrs. Penderghast was the first adult out, sweeping onto the pavement with practiced grace, smoothing her cream coat with one hand and adjusting her sunglasses with the other. She didn't look at the gawkers directly, but her smile grew a little sharper, like she could feel the eyes on her and rather enjoyed it.
"Oh, look at them," murmured Mrs. Cobblepot, stepping out next and glancing from under her wide-brimmed hat. "You'd think they'd never seen a proper car before. Or proper shoes, for that matter." She glanced down at the crowd and gave a delicate sniff, the kind that was somehow both judgmental and amused.
The Langstroms hired Guradain for Rebecca, who was more reserved, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "It is a bit much, all this spectacle," she said, adjusting her bag. "But I suppose people need something to talk about. We're their entertainment for the day."
Priscilla Penderghast gave a little wave to the onlookers, just enough to acknowledge their existence without actually greeting anyone. "I always say, if people are going to stare, you might as well give them a show. Besides, this city loves to remind us how rare real elegance is."
Beryl, standing awkwardly with her hands in her pockets, did her best to fade into the background. She watched as a mother with a stroller elbowed her friend and pointed, whispering "That's the Penderghast woman. The mansion crowd." Beryl caught herself rolling her eyes, then schooled her expression back to neutral.
Mrs. Cobblepot's voice floated over again, "I swear, half of Gotham thinks we're all on reality television. The way they gawk. I suppose they're hoping for a scandal or a wardrobe malfunction."
Beryl smiled politely, biting back the urge to say something about the difference between curiosity and envy. Instead, she offered, "Well, at least nobody's asking for autographs. Yet."
Priscilla laughed, her party laugh, bright and practiced. "Give it time, dear. The day is young."
Mrs. Cobblepot looked at Beryl, a touch of sympathy in her eyes. "You get used to it. I grew up in the city, and even I forget how much attention the Estates attract." Her gaze softened. "You must find it odd, coming from England."
Beryl shrugged, keeping her tone light. "We have rich people and long cars too, but usually they're hiding from the press, not looking for it." She stuffed her hands deeper in her jacket pockets, glancing around. "Though I suppose every city's got its own rules."
A few more parents joined in, fussing over their children's jackets or adjusting their own sunglasses. Someone made a comment about the weather . . . "At least it's not raining for once!" . . . and another about the zoo's "charming" attempts at crowd control. The conversation turned to parking, then to the price of zoo memberships, and how "these days, you really need to reserve months in advance for anything decent."
Mrs. Penderghast, never one to leave a topic unfinished, remarked, "Well, at least we're inside the gates soon. Out here, you never know who's watching." She gave Beryl a little wink, as if they were both in on a joke.
Beryl just nodded, smiling in that vague, agreeable way she'd perfected since living among the rich and restless. Inside, she couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to just blend in to be one of the crowd, unnoticed and unremarkable.
But then Penelope's voice rang out from the back of the limo, demanding her mother's attention, and all the adults snapped back into their roles of hosts, guardians, gatekeepers to a world most people only glimpsed through glass.
Beryl fell in behind the group as they moved toward the zoo entrance, the eyes of Gotham still following, still curious, and she reminded herself, not for the first time, that in this city, being invisible was often the closest thing to freedom.
Kairo was the last out, pausing on the running board to take it all in: the zoo, the banners, the press of people outside the gates looking in to see what was going on, Penelope's mother already deep in conversation with a cluster of staff who nodded and scribbled notes as she waved her hand in a way that made it clear she was used to being obeyed. The gates swung open for them, and Kairo felt a little thrill zip up his spine, both a nervous, excited twist, not sure what was waiting inside, but glad to have a hand to hold if he needed one, he thought as his eyes searched for Beryl.
He joined the others, falling into step just as Rebecca, without a word, slipped her hand back into his. He looked at her, a question in his eyes. She shrugged, unbothered, and together they followed the party into the zoo, the noise and sunlight and possibility opening up before them, every step a little more real than the last.
The zoo was everything a kid could hope for and everything a set of normal parents might dread: a real and wild riot of color and sound, the air thick with the calls of strange birds and the sugary bite of kettle corn and many other very unhealthy but very delicious foods.
Penelope led the way as if she'd personally commissioned the entire place, waving her hand like a royal at each new enclosure, her blue dress swirling behind her as she marched ahead.
Kairo trailed, eyes wide, drinking it all in. He'd never seen so many animals or so many people, not in person at least, and the city's wild energy seemed to follow them right through the gates. Peacocks strutted on the lawns, tails half-fanned in the weak Gotham sunlight. Kids (yes, other kids, The Penderghast family might have been very rich but not so cruel to keep out all of the kids who wanted to visit the zoo that day) with painted faces darted between benches, clutching balloons and souvenir plushies. Past the elephants, their skin grey and wrinkled as ancient maps, and the meerkats, who popped up like living whack-a-mole, the path narrowed slightly before it opened up into the garden section, a sprawl of green dotted with hundreds of tables. Most were empty, but a handful were already set for Penelope's "private party," centerpieces of pastel flowers and napkins folded like zoo animals.
Penelope claimed the center table, naturally, and everyone else followed her orbit. She (again) decided who sat where with the practiced authority of a birthday queen: Alaric to her right ("So he can help with the games"), Addison to her left ("So she can't cheat off anyone else's plate"), Rebecca and Kairo together across from her ("So the new kids have company"). The food arrived in waves: sandwiches shaped like animals, tiny cakes with glossy frosting, fruit skewers bright as stained glass. Kairo couldn't decide if it was lunch or an art installation, so he mostly watched Addison try to sneak extra cookies under the table.
Kairo could only nod as he watched Addison. She was a true Food Golbin, a real chubby kid with her priorities straight, and he could only respect it.
The adults had their own corner, three tables away, clustered over sparkling water and conversations that sounded, from here, like polite negotiations for world peace. Beryl caught Kairo's eye just once and gave him a little thumbs-up, which he returned with a nervous smile.
Halfway through his second tiny sandwich, Kairo noticed a staff member approach Penelope's mother, whispering something into her ear. Priscilla's lips tightened in a frown, but the staffer kept talking, and in seconds, her frown smoothed into a smile, one that kind meant for guests and not for family. Penelope, ever the information hawk, turned to Rebecca, who had just finished licking frosting off her fingers.
"What did the staff guy say to my mom?" Penelope asked, her tone all business.
Rebecca didn't even look up, just flicked her eyes in Priscilla's direction. "The magician canceled. He went missing. They found a replacement, though. Fast."
Penelope just shrugged, as if "missing magicians" were as common as rain in Gotham. "Oh well. As long as we get a show."
Kairo frowned. "Wait, missing? Like, actually missing? Shouldn't people be…worried?"
Addison, cake in both cheeks, snorted. "You're new. People go missing in Gotham all the time. It's not news unless a Bat shows up."
Kairo tried to keep his face neutral, but it didn't sit right. "Still weird, a missing person should be something someone gets concerned about," he muttered.
Addison just grinned and shrugged, chocolate crumbs dusting her shirt.
He was about to push it . . .ask if anyone else cared about a disappearing magician . . .when the stage lights blinked on, sharp and sudden, cutting through the garden's late afternoon haze. An announcer's voice, smooth and a little too cheerful, echoed over the speakers, calling for attention.
All eyes turned to the stage as a man in a white bunny mask and a battered top hat rose up from beneath the boards, accompanied by a girl who looked like she'd stepped out of a deck of cards. Her hair was short, black, and perfectly cut, framing a pale face with eyes so wide and dark it seemed they might swallow the room. A tiny black club-shaped clip held back one side of her hair. Her suit was a perfect split: one half jet black, the other snow white, stitched together like a magician's little secret card, if that could make sense. On her chest, the club symbol gleamed bold against the fabric. She stood tall, posture ramrod-straight, every inch of her radiating stillness, no fidgeting, no nerves, just focus. Her shoes matched the suit: simple, black, and practical.
But Kairo was again drawn to her eyes.
Back to her eyes, deep but somehow blank, steady with a gentle, contemplative gaze that carries a hint of sadness. They possess a quiet resilience, reflecting a depth of emotion that suggests she is lost in thought or perhaps weighed down by past experiences. Despite this, there remains a subtle, hopeful, and hopeless flicker within them, as if she is searching for meaning or a glimpse of light in the shadows of her own life, but Kairo shakes his head, wondering why those thoughts made their way inside his mind.
The man took a bow so deep his ears flopped forward, then sprang up with a flourish. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the extraordinary! I am Mr. White Rabbit, and this," said gesturing at the young teen girl next to him, "Is my sweet Ace, naturally one of the most gifted assistants in Gotham!"
Ace smiled shyly, her lips barely curving, and gave a little wave. There was something in her eyes, steady, a little sad, maybe, but sharp as a knife's edge. The kids (and some adults) clapped politely; Addison managed to drop her fork in the process.
Mr. White Rabbit launched into a trick, pulling out all kinds of things, cards flying, coins vanishing, scarves multiplying in his hands. When he pulled a bouquet from his hat, it bloomed into a swirl of colored smoke, then resolved itself back into a deck of cards, which Ace caught without blinking. The audience gasped, even the adults pausing their conversations. The whole thing was slick, too slick, maybe, but nobody cared. Not today.
Then, as the music shifted, Mr. White Rabbit clapped his hands. "But every great show needs a brave volunteer! Who among you is feeling lucky?"
Penelope's hand shot up before the question finished, her whole body bouncing with excitement. "Me! Me! Pick me!" she called, voice ringing out over the crowd.
As all eyes swung toward the stage, Kairo felt Rebecca's hand snake into his again, her grip tighter than before, her palm clammy. He glanced sideways at her, Rebecca was sweating, her eyes locked not on Mr. White Rabbit, but on Ace. The girl in black and white was staring straight back, her expression flickering from confusion to something almost like recognition, then back to blank focus.
Kairo squeezed Rebecca's hand, leaning in. "You okay?"
She didn't answer. Just shook her head, eyes still glued to Ace.
Penelope, oblivious to the drama in the seats near her, was still very much bouncing in her chair, waving both arms now. Addison gave Kairo a sidelong look, half-mocking, half-concerned, and Alaric's eyes flickered between the stage and the table, as if trying to clock the exits again, while traveling back to the stage.
The music swelled, the lights burned brighter, and the chapter ended with all of them . . . . Penelope shouting, Rebecca shaking, Ace staring into the crowd, and Kairo caught in the current, knowing something strange was about to break through the surface of the party, and for the first time all day, wondering if maybe Addison was right: in Gotham, weird is just another word for normal.