Mally the Maker and the Queen in the Quilt

by Leah Day

  “But how do we cut the thread? Menda stole your pretty scissors.”

  “Let me see…” Mally opened her bookbag and sorted through her school books and papers. She dug deeper and found her pencil case and pulled it out. She sorted through all the various pencils and erasers, looking for anything that could possibly be sharp enough to cut the thread. She had almost given up when a flash of silver caught her eye.

  “What’s this?” she said, pulling out a strange silver blade. It was about an inch long and half an inch wide with a little silver screw running through the middle.

  “That looks like something broke in your case.”

  “I can’t think what could break into a piece like this.” She felt the edge of the little blade and nearly cut her fingertip it was so sharp. Mally shook her head. It wasn’t important where the blade came from. She was just happy to have it.

  She set to work pulling out the blue thread and cutting short pieces with the little blade. Ms. Bunny threaded the needles, which was quite tricky because the ends of the threads tended to split and twist.

  Mally looked at the pile of fabric and tried to figure out how to make it into wings. She looked down at her arms. She knew she wanted the wings to cover her back and stretch out to reach her wrists.

  “Come help me mark a design, Ms. Bunny,” she said, laying down on the floor and stretching her arms out.

  Ms. Bunny found a pencil and made a mark at her wrist, elbow, neck and back. The pencil mark showed up better than she expected on the purple fabric floor. Mally sat up and began connecting the lines together.

  She’d seen Grandma do this before when she’d made her a green jacket in second grade. She had laid down on a huge piece of brown paper and Grandma had drawn the outline of her body, then cut it out. Mally figured marking directly on the floor wasn’t too different and now she had a wing shape she was happy with.

  She remembered a hang glider she’d seen on a trip to the beach last year. They’d been on the top of a sand dune in Kitty Hawk and the glider had taken off, spun in a slow circle, then glided back to land on a lower dune.

  Mally adjusted the pattern to make the wings wider through the middle to be more like her memory of the glider. Hopefully that will be enough to catch the wind and get us safely to the ground, she thought.

  They arranged the pieces of fabric on top of the wing pattern. Mally started with the largest pieces from the door and spread them out flat to form most of the wing shape. She liked the four patch blocks best so she set each one in the middle, then added scraps all around to fill in the shape and form the tips of the wings.

  “There we go. What do you think?” Mally asked, frowning at the makeshift arrangement. Many of the scraps had irregular edges, but Mally didn’t want to risk cutting the fabric and calling Menda back to the room. This definitely wasn’t like making a quilt with Grandma. She used a special tool that looked like a pizza cutter and could slice through multiple layers of fabric at a time.

  “As long as it holds together and we don’t crash to the ground, I don’t think it matters what it looks like. Purpose instead of perfection, dear.”

  “Grandma used to say that,” Mally said softly.

  What would Grandma say when she found her? She couldn’t imagine what she could have been doing for the past six months in Quilst, but was sure if they found her there would be a good explanation. What if they found her on the way back to the door? Mally felt buoyed up by the thought.

  Unfortunately, her happy mood didn’t last long. Stitching the scraps together was a lot harder than she expected. She seemed to have gotten worse since stitching with Audrey on the playground. She kept looping her thread back on itself, causing it to knot up and pull the end of her piece towards the middle. She had to constantly stop and untangle the string when it snagged on the frayed fabrics.

  When she managed to complete a stitch, inevitably she would stitch over the edge of the fabrics instead of through the layers properly which made an equally ugly mess. She tried again, pressing hard against the needle to force it through a thick spot and then: “OUCH!”

  She stuck her thumb in her mouth to stop it from bleeding on the patchwork. She’d pressed so hard the eye of the needle had pierced her skin.

  She watched Ms. Bunny smoothly slide her needle through two fabrics and pull the thread through easily. She didn’t seem to be having any issues holding the fabric or stabbing herself with the needle.

  “You haven’t been able to do this before now, have you?”

  “No, dear, I’ve never been able to do anything before we came here, you know that.”

  “Then how can you stitch so good?” Mally asked, suddenly jealous and even more frustrated.

  “I have no idea. I guess the same way I can talk to you. I’ve been listening and watching and now I’m putting all my observations to good use.”

  “Humph,” Mally muttered to herself. “She didn’t have to take a thousand stitches.” She pressed the sides of her thumb to make sure it wasn’t bleeding anymore.

  “I’m sorry, what did you say, Mally?”

  “Patch said I need to make one thousand stitches for it to feel comfortable. But you’ve never stitched before so he can’t be right. You must just be naturally talented at this and I’m not.”

  “I’m surprised. I actually agree with his advice,” Ms. Bunny said, flipping her ears over her shoulders. “I might not have taken a thousand stitches yet, dear, but I’m probably made with double that number so maybe that counts? As for your ability, this is a skill, not a natural talent. The more you practice, the better you will get.”

  “Well, I’m getting more than enough practice on this project.” Mally pawed through the sewing box and found the little leather thimble. She’d never used it before, but it had to be better than stabbing the sore spot on her thumb with every stitch. “Is it really practice if you’re making something to use for real?”

  “Every time you make something, you’re practicing,” Ms. Bunny said. “Whether it’s just for fun or it’s to make wings that will hopefully let us fly home safely, it’s all good practice.”

  Mally watched Ms. Bunny’s small paws moving her needle and tried to copy her. It felt awkward trying to hold the needle with the thimble on her thumb. Her next stitches looked more like Audrey’s – so big she could stick her fingers through the holes they made. But at least she didn’t make a mess of the thread or stab herself again and that made her feel a tiny bit better.

  They sat and stitched for what felt like hours. Mally’s hand ached, but when she spread out her half of the wing, she felt a surge of delight seeing all the scraps pieced together.

  There wasn’t any sort of pattern to the patchwork except the four patch block placed in the center. Blue fabric from the door made up the bulk of the wings, and Mally’s bright fabric scraps ran this way and that, fitting together as best they could. Some pieces dangled off the edges. She didn’t want to risk cutting any fabric in case it called Menda back to the room.

  Ms. Bunny’s wing looked much better with an even row of strips circling around the little four patch block Audrey had made. Mally noticed a neat row of stitches running across the top to reinforce the seams. She touched the patchwork, marveling at how the pieces fit together so nicely.

  “Time to put it together,” Ms. Bunny said. They lined up the edges of the wings and began stitching in the middle of the seam. Mally worked to the right because she was left handed. Ms. Bunny didn’t seem to have a dominant paw, so she didn’t mind stitching to the left. Working side by side, the center seam was finished in a flash.

  “It’s done,” Ms. Bunny said with a tired smile. “Time to see if we can fly.”

  Mally flipped the wings over and laid down on top of them, stretching her arms up to test the fit. “It’s smaller than I expected,” she said, disappointed.

  “Seam allowance. We must ha
ve forgotten to calculate the extra fabric needed to stitch everything together. I think it will fit, but it may be a bit tight across the arms.”

  “Well, let’s stitch on some straps and see if it will work.”

  Ms. Bunny picked up the few remaining strips and began stitching them to the back of the wings to wrap around Mally’s shoulders, stomach, and wrists. Mally tried to stitch carefully, but she could barely concentrate. Her heart pounded at the prospect of getting out of this room and away from Menda.

  To distract herself, she thought about making costumes for the Renaissance Festival with Audrey. How much time had passed? Would they still be able to go? Sewing costumes was probably out, but it would be so much fun to attend and enjoy the delicious food and sweets.

  “You know something funny. I haven’t felt hungry since we got here.”

  “Hmmm. Maybe that’s just not something you need in this world. I suspect you’re tired, though,” Ms. Bunny said, not looking up from her stitching.

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind taking a nap once we get out of here,” Mally said, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t feel very sleepy, but the idea of a nap sounded wonderful. It would be a relief to just sit still for awhile and give her fingers a rest.

  “Just a bit more stitching to go. Help me finish this,” Ms. Bunny said, nudging her hand gently.

  She tried her best to copy Ms. Bunny and slip the needle through the fabrics in short little dips to pick up small stitches, but her fingers and thumb just didn’t want to cooperate. At least this time she didn’t tangle the threads or loop over the edge of the fabrics. Her stitches formed a jagged line and the size varied from so tiny she could barely see it to wider than her pinky finger.

  Then came the sound she’d hoped to never hear again.

  Snip. Snip. Snip.

  It was coming from the other side of the door. Menda was coming. Mally froze, the needle falling from her suddenly limp fingers. She couldn’t complete the last line of stitching to hold her strap in place. She sat, staring at the door, unable to move a muscle.

  Luckily Ms. Bunny had the opposite reaction. She sprang to her feet, scooping the tools and remaining fabrics back into the sewing box. Then she turned her attention on Mally. The doll quickly knotted the end of her thread. That strap wasn’t as securely stitched as the other side, but it would have to do.

  She pushed Mally to stand and helped her into the wings. After a moment of fiddling, Ms. Bunny decided the wings would fit better if the bookbag was on Mally’s front. She lost precious seconds helping Mally shift the bag, and rushed to slide the wings back over her shoulders. She was just securing the straps to her wrists when they heard it again.

  Snip. Snip. Snip.

  Mally watched the edges of the door quiver. Seeing the blue fabric moving and knowing the monster was on the other side spurred her into action. She walked to the windowsill and gripped the opening tightly.

  Her mind had gone completely numb with fear. There was a crazy stuffed doll on the other side of the door who wanted to throw Grandma in a dark hole. She had tormented her with her worst memories and tortured her with monster thread spiders.

  Looking out the window, however, Mally wasn’t sure which was the scarier option. What if they fell straight down? Would the soft ground of Quilst cushion her fall, or would she smash into the fabric and break all the bones in her body? The fear of the potential pain was the worst.

  “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay,” Ms. Bunny jumped to the windowsill, clanging the metal sewing box against the wall.

  The sound jerked Mally back to reality. She scooped the box and the rabbit into the bookbag, then pulled the zipper closed.

  Ms. Bunny’s muffled voice shouted from inside. “Mally, all you have to do is climb out of the window. Just climb up on the sill now.”

  Mally moved slowly, her heart pounding in her throat. She felt like she was moving underwater as she carefully lifted one leg, then the other to the window until she was sitting on the edge. A strong wind whipped her hair in her face and she scrambled to pick it out of her eyes.

  Snip. Snip. Snip. Menda was almost in the room.

  “What if this doesn’t work?” Mally panicked. “What if the wings were a bad idea?”

  “It’s a bit late to change the plan, Mally,”

  “I’m scared! I’m afraid we’re going to fall straight down!”

  “I know, I know. You’re just going to have to trust it.”

  “But I trusted Patch and he–”

  “Trust YOURSELF!” Ms. Bunny shouted over the wind. “You can do this, Mally. Now JUMP!”

  Mally closed her eyes, stretched her arms wide, and leapt off the window into the sky. Distantly she heard a terrible shriek, but at the same moment the wind caught her wings and WHOOSH! They were off.

  Mally opened her eyes to find the landscape of Quilst stretched out below and she let out a cry of her own. She was flying! They were free!

  The rushing wind stung her eyes, but she couldn’t stand to close them now. It was so beautiful. Seeing the gorgeous landscape of Quilst from above was almost worth the terrible ordeal they’d just been through.

  She held her arms as rigid as she could, the way she remembered the hang glider sticking his arms and legs out at the beach. But he’d been wearing a harness with metal bars to reinforce the glider.

  Mally felt the wings pulling her wrists backwards and wished she’d made a parachute instead. It was becoming painful, but she gritted her teeth and stiffened her limbs as the earth sped closer and closer.

  Ms. Bunny called from the bag, “Mally? You okay?”

  “Fine!” Mally yelled.

  It was hard to breathe against the wind and they seemed to be speeding up rather than slowing down. Or maybe that was just because the ground was rushing closer and closer by the second. The air roared in her ears and she struggled to see through her watering eyes.

  Blinking rapidly, Mally saw they were flying over a swath of dark trees. She could see some of the branches distinctly below. In between patches of green, she caught a flash of orange, but was distracted by a loud popping sound coming from behind.

  She craned her neck around and caught sight of her left wing disintegrating before her eyes. The threads had stretched during their descent, the fabrics bunching together. The stress and strain had held as long as it could, but now the threads were popping one by one, opening a wide gash through the middle of the patchwork.

  Off balance, the wind pushed hard against the remaining wing. Mally shrieked as her right arm was wrenched violently backward. She forced her hands together to maintain flight and for a second it seemed to work.

  RRRRIIIIIPPPPP!!!!

  Without warning, the right wing whipped around and slapped her in the face. She fought against the fabric, but the patchwork had twisted around her head and shoulders tightly.

  At the same moment her gut registered the sickening pitch that could only mean one thing: they were no longer flying.

  They were falling.

  Chapter 5 - Where Did Her Buttons Go?

  POOMPH!

  The impact came, but not from the direction she was expecting. Something crashed into Mally’s left side and wrapped around her tightly. It felt like she’d been wrapped in a very thick quilt. Reflexively she tucked her head down and squeezed her eyes shut.

  SMASH!

  Branches smacked against her back, but the impact was strangely blunted. It was like the time Rose wrapped her in a box with two quilts and rolled her down the steps at home. It still hurt, but the quilts had cushioned the fall. She’d come to a stop at the bottom of the steps, bruised but laughing, begging for another turn.

  Down, down they fell, banging against multiple tree limbs until they finally slammed to a stop. Mally’s back hit the ground so hard she lost all the breath in her lungs. The sound of fabric ripping filled the air and w
hatever held her released its grip with a loud groan.

  Mally gasped for air, fighting to pull the wings off her face. She finally managed to extricate herself from the fabric and fell back, willing her lungs to fill. A vast expanse of blue sky and curving brown branches filled her vision. She heard a second groan, this time from below. The backpack strapped to her front unzipped and Ms. Bunny poked her head out.

  “Are you okay?” The little rabbit looked very shaken, but no worse for the wear. She smoothed Mally’s hair out of her face with a soft paw.

  Mally managed to suck in a tiny breath and relief flooded her body. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. She sat up and wrapped her arms around the little doll in a fierce hug.

  “I’m okay. We’re okay,” she said, as much to reassure herself as Ms. Bunny. She squeezed her best friend one more time and whispered, “Thank you.” They had made it through together and words couldn’t really describe how it felt to be free of the mountain.

  There was another loud groan and Mally looked around. They were nestled in the middle of a vast orange quilt. How odd. She stretched out her arms and legs. She felt a bit bruised, but nothing felt broken.

  Ms. Bunny crawled out of the bookbag and stood, smoothing her ears down her back. She padded down the lumpy patchwork, tilting her head to the side to stare curiously at something Mally couldn’t see.

  Mally tensed. What now? What was coming next?

  She heard another sound, closer to a whimper this time and Ms. Bunny said, “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

  Mally sat up quickly and realized she wasn’t laying on an orange quilt… it was Patch!

  He was no longer the small tabby cat from the first day in Quilst. He had somehow grown to be bigger than Dad’s pickup truck with massive paws and a body big enough to wrap around her completely.

  But now he looked in no state to wrap around anything. He lay, flat on his back, his huge body wedged between a curve in the hill and several large appliqued trees.

  Mally rolled to the edge of his belly and slipped down to the ground. The tattered wings whipped against her legs, but she ignored the flapping fabrics as she ran between the trees to kneel next to his gigantic head.