by Tey, Rachel;
Most of the tables were already occupied by well-established cliques or study groups deep in discussions in between mouthfuls of lunch. Julien scanned the cafeteria for any solitary diners whom he could only hope would share a table with him. There were several tables he spotted – at one was seated a rather overweight boy who almost took up the entire bench, and at another rested a tired, bespectacled girl so deep in slumber it would have been cruel to awaken her with the sounds of his chewing.
Finally, Julien’s eyes rested on a sullen-looking redhead, a girl he recognized as his classmate. He struggled to recall her name – was it Bella? Hopefully, she wouldn’t refuse him a seat. “Umm … hi, we’re in the same class … I was wondering …”
The girl looked up, still stirring her mug of hot cocoa with a silver teaspoon. The corners of her mouth turned upward to form a faint smile and he noticed that she had very pretty green eyes. “Julien Edgehawk, isn’t it? I’m Belle Marie. Sit down if you like.”
“Oh. Thanks,” he mumbled, caught offguard by her affability. While he hadn’t expected her to wave him away dismissively, neither had he foreseen such a show of courtesy, especially from such a striking girl. His mother had always said to watch out for the most beautiful ones – they had the worst manners – and examples at his previous school only proved as much. He felt a distinct uneasiness.
Belle Marie was not eating. Her chicken casserole was untouched and she was instead pushing the green beans around her plate with her fork, mopping up all traces of gravy in the process. Her pudding looked likely to join the rest of her uneaten lunch.
“Aren’t you going to have something?” he finally asked. He was by now getting to the end of his meal but she had only taken two sips of her hot chocolate. For her earlier show of friendliness that stood in stark contrast to the rest of his name-calling classmates, he felt obliged to make some outward display of concern. “Don’t you think you might get hungry later?”
“I might,” she said, taking a small bite of her casserole. “It’s just that I usually eat with Tess and I’m worried about her.”
Tess. That name sounded familiar. Julien now called to mind another classmate: a raven-haired girl who always wore a blue headband. Seeing them practically joined at the hip in class and on the school bus, he should have deduced that they were close. It then occurred to him that he himself hadn’t seen Tess at class for almost a week.
“Is she ill?” he asked, thinking it might explain Belle’s present glum disposition. He moved on quickly to his dessert. English class was due to start in about ten minutes and he loathed being late.
“She isn’t,” she replied, after a short pause. “Just missing.”
Missing? Now that sounded serious. Back in Suffingshire where he came from, Julien had heard his share of horror stories about children who’d disappeared without a trace, never to be found. In addition, there was talk of kidnappers prowling the streets for easy victims – unsuspecting schoolchildren. Mr and Mrs Edgehawk were naturally very protective over their four sons. Julien (the youngest) and his brothers were taught never to wander off on their own or speak to strangers. He supposed the same dangers lurked in Michelmont.
“The thing is,” Belle went on, “she’s not really missing. I mean she is, but not here.”
The obvious irony of what he just heard puzzled him. “Do you mean to say she’s lost, but you have some idea where she might be?”
Belle nodded. Then, unexpectedly, she reached across the table to grab his hand. Julien froze. Apart from his mother, no other girl had ever touched him.
“What are you doing next Wednesday after school?” Her soft, raspy voice brought him back to the present moment. “Also, can you keep a secret?” she asked, her gaze fixed intently on him.
“Sure, but what –”
“Promise first not to tell.”
Her palms were oh so cold. “OK … I won’t tell,” he conceded.
“It’s a hideaway of sorts. Only Tess and I know how to get there.”
“Then what’s stopping you from going there and bringing her back?” he asked.
“It isn’t so simple. I don’t know her exact location but I’m going to find out where she is. I just thought I could benefit from a little assistance.”
At this juncture, Julien realized this was a direct appeal to his sense of chivalry and valor. How would he respond to the first friend he ever made at Lutetia Elementary, even if it was only because she needed his help?
The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Now was not the time to tarry, nor for indecision. Belle was still looking at him, her emerald green eyes wide with hope. Already he knew he didn’t have the heart to disappoint her.
“Alright, tell me how I can get there too.”
Flights of Fancy
Belle couldn’t exactly remember when and how she discovered Tea in Pajamas. Growing up, she was no stranger to imaginative play. At the age of three, she often found herself in her father’s study, pouring over piles of books pulled off their shelves. Despite not yet recognizing words, and no matter their content, these volumes and their pages were the perfect stage props in her little narrations of enchanted tales of magical faraway lands and mystical creatures. When family and friends came over, she enjoyed giving colorful storytelling performances, and they indulged her flights of literary fancy.
On her fifth birthday, she was gifted with a brand new piano and ensuing piano lessons, and she took to music like a fish to water, mastering the instrument effortlessly. But to the chagrin of her teacher and parents, Belle eschewed convention, often improvising on her pieces and scales. At one point, she was only willing to play major keys on some days of the week and minor keys on others, convinced that every day had its particular “sound.” This quirkiness did not sit well with her teachers (a total of five in succession), and she never made it past the Grade 3 examinations. The piano now sat quietly in the corner of her music room by a large window overlooking the garden.
However, a year later, things took a more encouraging turn when Belle was introduced to art. Aided by painting lessons from Miss Brady, a family friend, Belle’s vivid imagination was transferred onto canvas in the manner of still life, followed by landscapes, then portraits, and back to landscapes again. With techniques mastered from formal instruction, she became particularly fond of painting nature in rich, earthy colors. Encouraged by her precocious talent, Miss Brady entered her in a string of competitions, and Belle went on to bag numerous awards and accolades.
Now, Belle’s interest in painting had waned somewhat – she no longer took lessons from Miss Brady, nor did she take part in contests to add to her trophy cabinet. In fact, since Tea in Pajamas, many things in her life had taken secondary importance, the hours and days simply a build-up to Wednesday afternoons in Belzerac.
Just a week before Tess’s disappearance, she had chanced upon some of her old artwork in the attic while rummaging for a coat. Not having seen her paintings in a while, Belle had been struck by how much they resembled scenes from Belzerac, down to its river banks, mountains, and deciduous trees.
How could I have had any impression of the place back then? she had wondered. After all, these were painted long before she came to discover Tea in Pajamas, and all that lay beyond.
Magic
“Do you believe in magic, Julien?” Belle was lying prone on the grass, propped up by her elbows. They had decided to skip the school bus and go for a walk after the day’s lessons. Armed with chicken sandwiches and bottled juice saved from lunch, they stopped to rest their weary feet in a small open meadow behind the train station.
“Why do you ask?”
It was hard to see her expression from where he sat (adjacent and not facing) but she soon turned to lie on her back, looking straight up at the clouds. Who could guess the thoughts running through the mind of this intriguing girl he was just getting to know? With a head of tousled red tendrils that framed her delicate heart-shaped face, she reminded him of a fairy character from a
children’s book. And those emerald eyes, like rare green jewels, transfixed and confounded him at the same time. She seemed so preoccupied with the idea of secrets and magic, so convinced of their place in her life, yet Julien was the sort to be unnerved about suspending rational belief, even if in the name of friendship.
As if clued in to his curiosity, Belle reached into her canvas knapsack and pulled out a ratty notepad. It was ragged around the edges and heavily annotated.
“Is that your journal?” he asked, as she rummaged for a pen.
“It’s not dreamy prose and insightful musings if that’s what you’re asking,” she said matter-of-factly. “More like a log book of what I did and what transpired each time Tess and I went to Belzerac.”
“I’ve never heard of Belzerac.”
“Of course you haven’t – you don’t believe in magic.”
Was it that obvious? He thought hard for a response, but Belle was indifferent.
“Here, take this.” She tore out a page from her notepad and handed it to him. It read:
Wednesday afternoon,
3 o’clock, your home.
Sit down to have tea in
your pajamas. No shoes.
“Just follow the instructions on the note,” she said plainly. “It gets you to Belzerac, where we’ll meet and go find Tess.”
It was already Tuesday. “That’s tomorrow,” he muttered, staring at the slip of paper.
“Uh huh, but it wouldn’t work unless you really believe it, so please try to.” She got to her feet, dusting stray grass and wildflowers off her school uniform. “And since we only have about a day until then, you have to start believing right now.”
Julien tried to visualize the bizarre picture of his barefoot, pajama-clad self sitting down to have tea at home. He would never hear the end of it from his brothers. He didn’t even have a teatime habit.
“Come on, we’d better get ourselves home,” she said, pulling him to his feet. “Long day tomorrow.”
Into the Woods
MISSION: RESCUE TESS
We’re all sitting around Cheesy’s dining table in his very charming cottage as he packs a large picnic basket for our trip into the Sapphire Forest. Who knows how long the whole journey there and back will take, but he isn’t leaving anything to chance. I doubt there’s any room left for that roast chicken he’s yet to remove from the oven. Julien is still wearing that expression of complete disbelief on his face, and unable to utter anything beyond “yes” and “no.” I hope I don’t regret asking him along, and he doesn’t turn out to be more of a hindrance than help. Anyway, we’re now quite ready to set off any minute! Roll call: Julien, me, Cheesy Bear, Monsieur and Madame DuPorc. Everybody’s here. Off we go!
We’re in the Sapphire Forest, can hardly believe it. Having a brief respite. We’re all pretty tired from the journey. The glittering blue leaves are so beautiful, but after trudging along for what’s felt like forever, the forest has mostly lost its charm. Everything’s just bathed in BLUE, and I can’t tell what’s grass or dirt. We’re all hungry. The food we packed is almost all gone, and the DuPorcs think it best that we turn back at the first hint of sunset. That shouldn’t be long from now, but Cheesy is confident the day will hold out until we find Monsieur L’Arbre. For my part, I’m pretty excited about meeting him/it, supposing he/it is even real. Must remain open-minded and hopeful.
Cheesy’s just given the signal. Time to get moving. Wait, what is Julien doing? Is he SLEEPING? Well, he IS wearing his pajamas ...
Cheesy Bear and the DuPorcs have made the call to turn back, much to my dismay. I’m scribbling this while Julien is assuring everybody that with his photographic memory he’ll definitely remember the way in and out. The blue light of the forest is now darkening into a deep violet. I don’t quite know how to describe it, but the atmosphere feels ominous and rather foreboding. At least this forest has decent taste in music. It sounds like Mélodie by C.W. Gluck, inspired by the tragic Greek tale of Orpheus and Eurydice. I love this piece of classical music. But why does it feel like I’m hearing it for the first time? Hold on ... why is music playing in the forest?
What in the world?
Follow the Music
They had stepped into a pastoral paradise. Everywhere Belle looked, she saw a vast expanse of grass and trees. The wind felt like a giant hand combing its fingers tenderly through her scarlet curls and the air was heavily perfumed by the scent of lilacs. Gazing ahead, she could see nothing beyond rolling meadows that stretched into an infinity of green and sky. Gluck’s Mélodie was still playing, but more softly, as if from a distance.
“Do you hear it too?” Julien asked.
So she wasn’t alone or dreaming. Suddenly aware of the exuberance of her surroundings, she realized they were no longer in the Sapphire Forest. Far away from it, even.
“Yes, I do,” she replied. “What time is it?”
He looked down at a spot on his wrist where his watch would have sat. “I … I didn’t wear a watch today.”
“Why not?”
“Who wears one with their pajamas? Why didn’t you wear yours?”
There was no point in arguing. In all fairness, Belle herself never felt the need to keep track of time in Belzerac, owing to the predictability that came with each sojourn, her departure so typically marked by the setting of the sun. She struggled to piece together her last memory – the descent of imminent nightfall in the Sapphire Forest. Yet in this beautiful landscape where they both now stood, there was nary the slightest hint of dusk. Could a day have already passed? How was it they both weren’t back in Michelmont?
“Looks like it’s just the two of us. No sign of the others,” Julien said, glancing around. “I really don’t understand any of this. It feels like a dream, and not a good one.”
“Except dreams are rarely accompanied by music,” she said, her thoughts drifting back to Mélodie once more. “This music is based on the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Do you know the story?”
He shook his head.
It was one of Belle’s favorite Greek myths. “Orpheus and Eurydice are lovers. On the night of their wedding, Eurydice gets bitten by a snake and dies. Beside himself with grief, Orpheus travels to the Underworld to bring her back to the land of the living.
“He convinces Hades and Persephone – the King and Queen of the Underworld – to release her, and they agree on one condition: on their way back to the Upper World, Eurydice must walk behind Orpheus and he is forbidden from looking at her.”
“Sounds easy enough,” shrugged Julien.
“You would think,” Belle sighed, her eyes wistful. “Unfortunately, he is so overcome with passion that just as they reach the exit, he looks back.”
“No kidding. What happens next?”
“Eurydice is immediately banished to the Underworld – this time for good. Devastated, Orpheus then spends the rest of his life roaming around Greece playing sad songs until he gets mauled to death by a group of drunken mad women.”
“That sounds horrible. If only he hadn’t looked back.”
“But he had to. He couldn’t help himself.”
“Yes, he could. A little self-control never hurt anybody.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a story if he’d resisted the temptation and they made it back safely.”
“That I concede.”
Belle and Julien sat in silence. “We might as well look for the source of the music,” she decided, after a long pause. “It doesn’t sound far off from where we are.”
Hand in hand, they ambled downhill until they arrived at the snaking banks of a glittering stream. In a shady glade sat an empty boat. Julien climbed in and grabbed hold of one of its oars.
“Come on,” he said, “I think we need to get to the opposite side, where the music’s coming from.”
Is he serious? she wondered, hesitating. Meeting his gaze, she could have sworn she saw specks of gold in those stormy gray eyes.
Belle climbed in gingerly. It was her first ti
me in a boat – the rickety wooden vessel tilted dramatically to the right, almost tipping over, and she hurriedly sat down, clutching the sides of the boat until it stabilized.
“Here,” said Julien, passing her one of the two oars. “I’ll paddle on the right and you do the left.”
Traveling across when the current was flowing lengthways proved a little tricky but they soon got the hang of it and developed a working rhythm to their paddling strokes. The waters, a deep cerulean, glinted under the sun, and the flowery fragrance of lilacs which flanked both sides of the riverbanks grew heavier and more intoxicating. All this time, Mélodie continued to play.
Belle wasn’t sure how long it took for them to reach the opposite bank, but when they finally did, her arms ached from all that rowing.
Leaves crunched underfoot as they disembarked and looked around. By now, the hems of her pajama pants were stained with blue mud from the earlier trek in the Sapphire Forest. Moreover, she was wet from all that sloshing about in the boat, though strangely, it didn’t feel cold or chilly. Looking over, she saw that Julien’s pajamas were soaked and clung heavily to him. He tried to shake off a few twigs that were snagged in his pants, but lost his footing and landed in a heap.
Belle giggled as she helped him to his feet. For that split second, thoughts of home were very far from both their minds. They had come this far and there was no turning back.
Continuing to follow the inviting trail of music, they soon arrived at a large cottage. It was constructed of stone ochres and had tall windows with bright blue shutters. Belle thought she might have painted a house like that once.
Moving closer, she and Julien saw that the door was left slightly ajar, as if visitors were expected. She looked at him nervously and he nodded. Julien gave it a gentle push and they stepped inside furtively.