by J C Gilbert
“Yup. I found the table where they sit, and I found one of the mushroom houses. I wanted to take one home so that they could live in my room, but Dad said they are poisonous.”
“Probably best that they live in their own forest anyway,” I said.
“Yeah, probably.”
“You would have enjoyed it,” said Mom in a steady and calculated tone.
“Next time I’ll be there for sure,” I said to Jonny, trying to avoid Mom’s gaze.
“You missed out!” shouted Dad from his position in front of the TV, “we went to the Buffet House for lunch.”
“Oh,” I said. My heart sank. We never went out anywhere for food. Did they go without me to deliberately make me feel left out? It stung.
“Look at this mess,” said Mom to Jonny. Jonny grinned back, proud of his work. “Why don't you go upstairs and clean yourself up?”
“OK,” said Jonny. He jumped up and bolted away, stomping his feet with every step with pure, unmediated enthusiasm.
I braced myself.
“You really need to let us know when you are going to Lilly’s,” said Mom sternly.
“I know, I’m sorry. My phone died.”
Mom was looking at me with the same look Mrs. Taylor gave me when I didn't have my speech prepared. I just wanted to shrink into nothingness.
“You could have let me know before, or borrowed a phone. We were waiting for you. You know that right?”
“I know.”
“So you can't do that, Alex. It’s no way to treat people. You are almost an adult, and if you continue down this selfish path, then you are not going to have anyone in your life who will stick by you.”
“Mom,” I stammered. My heart was pounding now, and I felt sick. My lip quivered.
“I don't want to see the tears, Alex. Poor Jonny was so disappointed. He just wanted to spend time with his big sister.”
“I wanted to go,” I said desperately.
“Not badly enough, obviously! And have you given your uncle a call?”
I tried to will the tears away but to no avail.
“I went through a lot of trouble setting that up. All you needed to do was call him. He will be very disappointed that he hasn't heard from you. Opportunities like that don't come along all the time, especially in today’s job market.”
I couldn't stand there anymore. I just couldn't. I turned my back and started walking up the stairs.
“You can't run away from everything,” she called after me.
I slammed the door as hard as I could. It bounced off of a sweater on the floor. I moved it aside and slammed the door again and this time with a satisfying crash.
How could she think so poorly of me? I did my best! I didn't ask for detention, and I didn't ask her to find me a job. It was all so stupid.
I plunged my face into my sheets and let the tears flow.
After a while, my phone buzzed. I ignored it for a moment, preferring to pretend I was a pillow. It was probably Lilly. I unlocked the phone with a swift swipe.
Meet at mine before the movie? Starts at 2:45. Mine at 2?
There was no way I could face this today.
I can't come.
I turned off my phone’s screen and grabbed for Alice. At least I had one place where I could be alone.
Alice was beginning to get very tired…
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I landed on a damp forest floor. The weave of the trees overhead was dense and very little light penetrated to the stunted canopy below. Looking about I could see that I was halfway up a hill. A lively waterfall fed a small pool at the foot of a steep bank.
A figure was bent over in the shallows. They appeared to be washing something in the water, occasionally pausing to check their progress before continuing to scrub.
They turned suddenly, locking eyes with me.
“Oh, it's you,” they said. It was Elaine.
I approached. As I did she squeezed the water out of the garment she was cleaning. Black as it was, it stained the shallow water pink.
“What's wrong?” she asked when I reached her.
“I guess my face looks puffier than I thought.”
“Looks like you have had a run in with a poisoned vine.” She cocked her head and examined me closely.
“Nah, just drama. Never mind. What's happening with you?”
She gestured to a crude bandage around her left arm.
“Oh, no. What happened?”
“Goblins. They attacked a village to the south of here. I tried to fend them off, but they sacked it.”
“That's awful.”
Elaine Shrugged. “Only if you happened to live there.”
“We don't have goblins where I’m from.”
“Lucky for you then.”
“I guess.”
There was a brief silence as I thought about what it must have been like for the poor people in the village. Elaine was unconcerned.
“Wanna do something cool?” asked Elaine.
She led me down the valley and through the dense forest. I had never seen a place as wild anywhere before. The forest was alive with sounds. Mostly it was bird-life, singing their strange melodies, but there were also numerous insect sounds too, punctuated by an occasional frog.
Now and then a butterfly flew over our path, delicate and beautiful, with surreal colorings of blue and purple. Elaine didn't seem to notice them.
I could have wandered there for hours.
After a time the trees thinned, and sunlight started to shine onto the undergrowth.
The more we walked, the more tall grasses and rough shrubs dominated. The ground slowly became damp and turned to mud.
There was a vague path through the bog, but it was frequently flooded giving us no choice but to wade through the muck.
Elaine didn't say much as we walked but every now and then she sung a line or two of a song. It was both strange and familiar.
At last, we came to a stop. We were right on the edge of the forest now.
“Are you ready to see something extraordinary?”
“This whole place is amazing.”
“Well, this is even better.”
Another few steps and we were through the trees. The world opened up into a vast field. Though the view was breathtaking, my attention was drawn toward the giant duck immediately in front of us.
“His name is Pickles,” said Elaine, proud.
Pickles quacked in recognition, loud and deep. Attached to his beak was a harness. A saddle was fixed to his back.
“What is that?” I asked in disbelief. It seemed so real.
It was real.
“He’s a duck. You don't have ducks where you are from?”
“We do, but they are not usually so large.”
“This guy is a bit unique. Come on, let's go for a ride.”
“Wait, what? On a duck?”
“Sure, why not?” She pulled herself up onto the saddle and patted the space behind her. Pickles swayed a little under her weight. He shook his tail feathers and quacked again.
Hank cleared his throat and listed all the reasons why it was a bad idea to ride a duck. I was torn between fear of riding him and fear of looking like a dork in front of Elaine. I climbed up, and Elaine took my hand, pulling me onto the saddle.
Pickles started to waddle. I felt the him sway beneath me. Every step seemed like it would be the one to send us plummeting to the grassy ground below. I gripped Elaine's clothes tightly to keep from falling off.
“Pretty fun, huh?” Elaine said over her shoulder.
“Just focus on where you are going,” I said urgently.
“Don't worry,” said Elaine, “it's not as though we have even taken off yet.”
“Taken off?!”
I hardly had time to freak out before Pickles extended his wings and started beating them hard. It seemed ridiculous that something this large could fly, but all the same, my heart was hammering double-time.
“Hold on!” Elaine called out
. Pickles was running now, faster, and faster. His wings were flapping harder, and harder. Then suddenly, impossibly, Pickles took flight.
My stomach tuned as we lurched upward.
Everything was chaos. Feathers and wings thudded all around me. I squeezed my eyes shut and blocked out the world.
Pickles seemed to steady. The flapping fit was replaced with gentle gliding and the occasional purposeful beat of impossible wings. I squinted open my eyes, focusing on the horizon.
“Is this safe?” I yelled over the wind.
“I hope not!” called back Elaine. She laughed. The sound was caught by the wind and carried away.
I tried to focus on something in the distance. A mountain range caught my eye. It rose in a tremendous snow-capped arch out of the ground. It was magnificent.
I breathed deeply and started to feel steady.
“I’m taking him down to swoop,” called Elaine.
My eyes widened involuntarily. Panic shot through my nervous system as Hank clawed at every switch and lever he could reach.
I closed my eyes and held my breath. Pickles dived toward the ground. The force against me was strong now. I was convinced I was going to fall off. My mind spun.
I thought of the book in my side bag and wondered if I could open it at the right page in time before hitting the ground. I pictured Alice spinning out of my hands as a fell to my death.
The ground rushed up fast.
Goodbye, world.
Elaine pulled hard on the duck's reins. Pickles honked and thudded his wings desperately. We were ascending into the sky again.
“Whoa!” she screamed.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn't move. I think Elaine must have noticed because soon Pickles was steady again and we were slowly descending towards an open patch of dirt by the bank of a winding river.
With a few pounding flaps, Pickles landed us gently on the solid ground.
I tried to climb down, but my body was too shaky with adrenaline. I fell onto the dirt. Pain shot up through my left wrist. I rolled over and cradled it with a beating heart.
Elaine elegantly dismounted. She looked briefly at the way I was holding my hand and then turned away as if this was an inconvenience she was choosing not to acknowledge.
“I think it grows somewhere by this river bend,” she said, leading the duck.
“What does?”
“You will see.”
I closed my eyes and tried to process what had just happened.
“You coming?” called Elaine from some distance.
I was shaking as I stood up. One step at a time, I followed her toward the river. I watched as Elaine bent down and pulled up a plant. It was a wildflower with tiny deep crimson petals. She seemed satisfied with what she had and stuffed it into her bag.
“See if you can find more like this,” she said, holding up one of the flowers for me to see.
I nodded and crouched down to begin the search. The activity seemed strangely docile after our aerial expedition. I stuffed several of the plants into my bag and then rested against a boulder. The river tumbled along.
By now it was late afternoon, and I was exhausted. For a brief moment, I remembered the date I was supposed to be on with Lilly. The pang stung straight to my heart. I inhaled sharply, pushing that thought away.
When Elaine was done picking the flowers, she joined me.
“I’m guessing that you have had enough duck for one day?”
“It was kind of terrifying.”
“You did well though, for your first time.”
My heart swelled with gratitude at the compliment, but I said nothing.
Elaine led Pickles along the river for a while. The landscape turned from field to marsh and pretty soon we were once more dodging the mud.
“Where are we going?” I asked. My feet were getting tired, but I didn’t want to go back to my world, not yet.
“We are going here,” said Elaine, “look.”
She pointed to a reed which was growing by the side of the river. At the top of the stalk, there was a fluffy white mass. “It couldn't be,” I said, smiling.
“A marshmallow,” said Elaine, “I take it you have those where you are from?”
“Yeah, except they make them out of boiled bones and sugar.”
“Bones? That sounds way more interesting.”
“These look much better.”
We gathered up the marshmallows as the afternoon crept on. When we were done Elaine tied the duck’s harness to a tree some distance inland and started a small campfire by the river. The sun was beginning to set now, casting a reddish glow over the horizon. It all felt pretty special.
I had not had roasted marshmallows since I was little. The sticky sweet mass filled my experience. Even though they came from a random plant by the river, they still tasted exactly as I remembered.
Elaine produced a small cauldron from her backpack, filled it with water from the river, and settled it among the hot embers of the fire. Gradually whisps of steam started dancing over the water’s surface. These gave way to bubbles as the water boiled. Once the water was steaming, Elaine carefully removed the cauldron from the fire and began dropping in a few of the petals and leaves from her stash of flowers.
“What are you making?” I asked.
“Tea,” she said.
After a few minutes, she served the tea into two clay mugs and handed one to me.
“Thanks,” I said, gazing into the warm liquid.
“Why don't you take a sip?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
It just looked like herbal tea, like chamomile maybe. It smelled vaguely of cherries and licorice. I felt uneasy but didn't want to be the awkward one.
I took a sip.
Elaine was watching me closely, nodding and smiling as I drank. For a moment I thought that maybe she was poisoning me and I was allowing her to do so because I wanted to be polite.
To my relief, Elaine blew on her tea and began to drink too.
In the shadows, a curious fox crept up to share the warmth of the fire.
“Watch this,” she said, turning to face the fire. She started to wave her hands slowly, moving them as if she were molding the air.
At first, it appeared that she was just messing around, but then the flames began to change.
A trick of the eye? No, the changes were unmistakable. A flower was blooming among the flames, delicate and shimmering.
“How did you do that?” I asked, astonished.
“It’s the tea,” said Elaine, smiling.
“How?”
“It allows me to tap into a fire realm slightly beyond this reality. It's like it helps to tilt your mind to a certain angle for a little while. Why don't you give it a try?”
Hesitating, I raised my hands. It all felt very silly.
I pictured what I wanted to form in the flames. I imagined one of the lilac butterflies I had seen in the forest earlier. I pictured it as I would have if I were drawing on my tablet.
And then, as we watched, the flames morphed and changed. From somewhere deep within the embers a butterfly, my butterfly, unfolded its wings and fluttered up to Elaine’s flower, landing gently on a petal.
Elaine’s jaw dropped. “I’m impressed!” she said.
“I do a lot of drawing,” I said, apologetically.
“I don't know what that means, but you seem to have a talent. I’ve never seen anyone create anything on the first go.”
“Thanks.”
“You sure you haven’t done this before?”
I nodded.
Elaine then started to form another shape. The flower changed. Each of its petals elongated and then bent into eight spindly legs. The spider pounced at my butterfly. It dodged, and then flew away, disappearing into the night.
I thought of the fox at the edge of the fire and started to shape its likeness. First, its curious black eyes formed in the flames, followed by its face and its twitching ears. Soon its whole body sat squatting in the campfire. I
ts face was full of expression.
I found that I could make him move. He chased his tail and tried to howl, but all that could be heard was the crackle of the fire.
“Oh yeah?” said Elaine, “take this.” From within the flames an indistinct shape emerged, it might have been a tiger or a leopard, but its form was uneven, like a child had drawn it - a child with nightmares. It shimmered and shook in the heat. With a swift gesture from Elaine, it pounced on my fox, crushing it, sending sparks and ash flying. The creature opened its mouth to roar and revealed impossible rows of triangular teeth.
Elaine looked over to the real fox on the edge of the firelight. A sly smile crept over her face. With a swift flick of her hand, the half form beast bounded at the fox.
“Elaine, no!” I cried, but it was too late. The flames were upon the fox. It yelped in pain and then bounded into the night.
Elaine fell over backward, laughing.
“Why on earth did you do that?”
“Same reason I do anything, Captain Serious. For fun. Why? What does it matter?”
“The poor guy is hurt,” I said. I imagined what it must be for the fox, alone, confused, and in pain.
“It’s just a dumb animal,” said Elaine, defensively.
“It can still feel pain.”
“Jeeze, way to be a killjoy, Alex.”
I didn't say anything to that.
We sat in silence for a while. Elaine roasted up another marshmallow and then picked at it. At length, she looked up at me.
“So when are you going to leave anyway?” she asked.
“Dunno,” I said honestly. I didn’t much want to hang out with Elaine at this point, but going home didn’t seem like the best idea either.
“I’m sorry about the fox,” she said, “I didn’t know you would be bothered by it. People around here don’t think much of foxes. They mostly see them as chicken thieves.”
“Forget about it,” I said, more because that’s the sort of thing you are supposed to say in these situations than because I meant it.
Part of me wanted to just gloss over the situation because I didn't want to make this place just another place I avoided. I mean, Elaine was looking for her lost sister, and that was pretty important. And the book had called me, at least I think it had called me, and that was pretty important too.