Chapter 34 2006
Had I known things would turn out the way they did, I never would have let go of Profe’s hand. I never would have walked through the airport terminal doors with Meryl. And I never would have gotten on the plane. Had I known letting go of his hand meant letting go of him, I would have held on tight.
Meryl and I reached Prague on a stunning spring day, brisk and bright, and I will never forget the wonder of seeing the city for the first time. At nine, except for the brief visit I took with Mother and the minister to Chicago to see the doctor about my nevus, I’d never left Minnesota.
I knew mostly flat landscape, gridded streets, and modern, boxy buildings.
Prague was none of those things. It was meandering and colorful, and my brain couldn’t keep up with everything I was seeing.
The city looked like a fairy tale come to life with its cobblestone streets, its ornate palaces, the enormous Prague Castle, and the wide, lazy Vltava river running through its center.
We had three days before we needed to be at the skating institute, and Meryl and I spent them in the city.
Meryl loved the theater, and she loved to shop.
We did both—a play each night and designer boutiques each day.
She was recognized and pampered everywhere we went.
She introduced me as her “protégé,” which was a wonderful word, and when I learned its meaning, I felt a great responsibility to live up to it and not let her down.
On our final day in the city, we were waiting for a hostess to seat us at a pub known for its bramboráky, potato pancakes.
A boy, around my age, stood beside us, staring at my face.
Meryl turned her cat gaze on him and said something in Czech, and I watched as his face realigned into a look of doubt as if unsure whether to believe her.
The hostess led us to our table.
“What did you say to him?” I asked.
“I said he should be careful. The larger the mark of a Black Hollow witch, the greater her power.”
She winked, and I reflected her sly smile back, then scanned the restaurant for the boy.
When our eyes connected, I gave him my coolest, witchiest glare.
For a moment he tried to hold it, but half a second later, his eyes dropped to look at his plate.
Meryl nudged my leg under the table, and I worked hard not to giggle.
The potato pancakes were the best I’d ever had.