The Key to Extraordinary

by Natalie Lloyd

  The Conductor’s treasure isn’t in the cemetery … it’s in the woods.

  Topher swirled out of the kitchen, carrying a basket. “Who ordered more muffins?” he asked.

  The next thing I heard was the sound of Waverly’s coffee mug shattering against the floor.

  Topher stilled. His eyes were wide and his face was set. You’d think somebody waved a magic wand and turned my brother into a love-struck statue.

  “You,” Waverly said through clenched teeth. An angry zigzag of pink hair fell down over her forehead. Like a lightning bolt.

  I saw my brother’s throat ripple with a nervous swallow. “Waverly?” he said softly. “How are you … here?”

  She didn’t reply. She just stared deep into my brother’s eyes. And I’m here to tell you, whatever invisible thing connected those two was thick enough to feel, even if you weren’t directly in their line of fire. Waverly rose slowly from the table. I wondered if she might run at my brother, like a scene in a movie. Maybe throw her arms around his neck and kiss him, and effectively make it one of the most awkward days of my short life. But that is not what she did.

  “Waverly?” Topher said again, taking a step toward her.

  Waverly’s lips pressed into a firm line. She picked up the muffin from the table and flung it at my brother with the calculated fury of a top-notch softball pitcher. Topher ducked as the muffin sailed over his head and bounced off the wall. He overturned the basket of muffins in the process; they tumbled with a plop-plop-plop across the floor.

  I saw a tear roll down Waverly’s face before she spun around in a swirl of silver and ran out the cafe door.

  “Love always seems to come from the places we least expect.” Granny Blue patted Topher’s shoulder. “It would appear love came to Waverly from the general direction of the kitchen.”

  “How do you know Waverly?” I asked Topher.

  He began to answer, but couldn’t find the words. He started toward the kitchen and turned around again. Finally, he set his face in determination and ran out the front door after her.

  Periwinkle chuckled and unfolded his newspaper again. “There’s something that draws people here. If you end up in Blackbird Hollow, there’s a reason. You might ought to find out what it is.”

  “I think we should definitely follow them and eavesdrop,” Cody Belle said.

  “Concentrate, Cody Belle!” I said as I gave her shoulders a shake. “We’ve got to go find the treasure first. Then we’ll fix my brother’s love life. Go get Earl and meet me outside.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the shed. I need to assemble a treasure-hunting kit!”

  When I ran out on the front porch, the skies were growing darker over the Wailing Woods. I’d always known those woods held secrets.

  I was about to find the best secret of all.

  The sky above the Wailing Woods rolled smoky gray. Our shoes squished in the mud. Bright green leaves rustled overhead, tossing a rain-echo back and forth among the trees. The rain had cooled things off considerably in town, but the woods are always cooler, rain or not.

  Cody Belle had snorkel-goggles pushed over her eyes and she carried a compass in her hand.

  “What are these for again?” she asked, tapping the goggles.

  I shrugged. “I saw them in the shed and thought we might need them. It never hurts to be prepared. As for this”—I lifted the metal detector I carried over my shoulder like a fishing pole—“I thought it might expedite the process. Uncle Peri used to rent it to tourists looking for Civil War relics.”

  Between Cody Belle and me, I wasn’t sure if we looked more like bona fide explorers or the grand marshals of the dork parade. I’d taken charge of the map for a bit, mostly just to look official. I’ve never been good at reading them, though. Maps look like tangled Christmas lights to me. Earl Chance, on the other hand, was a natural. He’d been back in town less than a week, but seemed to orient himself quick and easy. He’d lean down to study our location, then pull his goggles back over his eyes and lead the way.

  The kid was a natural explorer.

  Cody Belle stopped and propped her hand on her hip. “Which way now, Marco Polo?”

  Earl consulted the map and pointed straight ahead, through a thicket of tall maple trees.

  “Map readers are magical people,” said Cody Belle. She let Earl get a few strides ahead of us before she lowered her voice and asked, “Do you think he’ll ever talk again?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  CAW CAW!

  “Penny Lane!” I spun around and looked up toward the shadowy bird swooping through the treetops. “I love the sound of her squawking.”

  “You love the sound a crow makes?” Cody Belle asked.

  “I do if the crow’s Penny Lane. These are my most favorite sounds, though: old hymns carried on fragile voices, rain on the roof, Bear’s paws tap-tap-tapping across the floor, shooting stars—”

  “Those don’t make a sound,” Cody Belle said.

  “That’s what I like about them. I like thinking that something as mighty as a star can move across the universe that way. Without a sound or a scream or anything. It just dances. Just burns a quiet path across the night.”

  CAW CAW!

  “Penny Lane agrees,” I said. “That’s the farthest she’s been from home in ever!”

  “I can’t believe Penny Lane’s still following you around,” Cody Belle said. “That crow’s as faithful as an old dog. I—WHOA!”

  Cody Belle slipped on the edge of a ravine. I lunged for her, and grabbed her arm. But the mud was too slippery … so I slid down next. Earl Chance grabbed on to me, but we all lost our balance and slid down the hillside. We landed with a

  WHOP

  WHOP

  WHOP

  in the muddy hollow down below.

  “Ugh.” Cody Belle’s hands made a suction sound as she pulled them loose from the thick mud. “Thank goodness for these.” She peeled her muddy goggles away from her face and perched them in her hair. “Penny Lane, you were a distraction!”

  “Maybe Penny Lane knows we’re going the wrong way,” I said as I pulled my hands free of the sticky mud.

  Earl reached out and touched my arm. When I looked at him, a big smile broke across his face. For a heartbeat-second, I couldn’t look away. Something about Earl’s smile connected directly with my heart. His smile was so big and genuine. So … happy.

  He pointed straight ahead. And then he looked directly at me and caught me looking directly at him. My face felt warm, like the start of a sunburn, but there was no sun right then. Just Earl.

  “That’s it!” Cody Belle screeched.

  Nestled in the woods up ahead of us was a tall, old stone chimney. It looked exactly the way Waverly had described it, too. There was no house attached to the chimney anymore—not a floorboard, a door, or even a brick to be seen. Moss grew thick around the chimney’s base, and creeping ivy wrapped all the way to the tallest rock on the chimney. It was made of long, flat stones piled wide to make a small fireplace, then narrowing toward the tip-top. Penny Lane perched proudly on the chimney’s corner.

  Earl stood and reached to help me and Cody up off the ground. We were stuck so deep in the mud that he nearly fell over again as he pulled us upright.

  I realized ivy wasn’t the only plant covering the chimney. All three of us saw the Telling Vine at the same time.

  “Hold it where we can all hear it,” I said to Cody Belle, my voice full of awestruck wonder. Cody Belle tugged gently at the vine, pulling one of the white-bell flowers around. We all leaned in so close to hear it that my forehead was nearly touching Earl’s.

  Seeing the flower in Cody Belle’s hand reminded me of catching fireflies in our hands when we were kids. I remembered how we cupped our hands and whispered wishes before we let the fireflies go. And then we watched those wishes float away into the woods, burning bright little holes into the darkness. We’d always known, deep down, that something about
the Hollow was special, full of things that bloom and glow and fly. The Telling Vine was a true, blooming miracle.

  A gentle wind blew, and we all heard the message inside immediately. But this message was nothing new. All we heard was “Darlin’ Daisy,” sung in the slow, soft voice of a little girl:

  “Catch a little star,

  Put it in your pocket,

  But don’t forget to wait for me.”

  “That’s not much help.” Cody Belle reached out to touch the stone underneath with her muddy fingertips.

  “Somebody probably sang it when they lived here. This seems like a sad place, doesn’t it?” I said. “No, not sad. Sacred. I mean, this used to be a house. A whole family lived here. Years ago, people sat beside this fireplace and told stories and ate dinner. It’s like a gravestone, sort of. It marks a whole lifetime’s worth of memories.”

  Cody Belle released the Telling Vine. The words of the old folk song floated around us, a lonely echo.

  Earl stepped around me and crouched down in front of the fireplace. He reached toward a flat, long stone. There in the corner, underneath his fingertip, was the same star we’d found on Lily Kate Abernathy’s grave.

  With a shaking hand, I reached out to trace it. “ ‘Beneath the stars of Blackbird Hollow.’ ” I swallowed. “ ‘By the shadows of the ridge …’ ”

  “We’re near the ridge,” Cody Belle said, leaning down beside me. “We’re surrounded by tree shadows. But … ‘down a path no man can follow’?”

  “No man but Earl Chance.” I elbowed him playfully.

  “Maybe Lily Kate Abernathy hid the treasure under her house and marked it with this star,” Cody Belle said. “And somebody who loved her deeply put the mark on her grave after she was gone, as a tribute. It could be right here …”

  “It’s possible,” I whispered.

  Everything wonderful is possible. My mom used to say that. The memory of her voice blew across my heart like a soft breeze. And it was gone just as quickly.

  Earl reached for the metal detector and raised his eyebrow.

  “Does it still work?” I asked. “Or did we crush it when we fell?”

  Cody Belle turned on the metal detector, which made a faint buzzing sound as it whirred to life. Earl and I followed as she walked slowly around the chimney.

  “It looks like you’re vacuuming dirt,” I told her.

  “Shh,” she said. And suddenly, the detector made a ZRRP ZRRP ZRRP noise.

  “Right here!” she yelled. “Dig right here!”

  “Today’s the day we find untold riches!” I said as I fished through my bag and handed Earl and Cody Belle tiny gardening trowels. “We’ll save the cafe!”

  I could picture my name there, in the Book of Days. I could write my entry as soon as I got home.

  The Adventurer!

  I found the key that unlocked the great treasure of Blackbird Hollow! I saved my family’s home! I brought wealth and riches back to my town! My life changed here!

  I would be connected to my mom. Forever. Tonight.

  Cody Belle squinted her eyes at the trowels. “This is what we’re digging with?”

  “It’s all I could find in the shed,” I said, squatting down on the ground.

  “Hope this chimney doesn’t fall on us while we work,” Cody Belle said as we began scraping. And I do mean scraping; my trowels wouldn’t unearth more than a handful of dirt at a time.

  “Hope there aren’t any snakes,” Cody Belle mumbled.

  Clink.

  “I found something!” Cody Belle’s eyes were as wild as a mad scientist’s.

  “Push the dirt away carefully,” I told her, tossing my trowel to the side. “The treasure might be fragile! We don’t want it to shatter!”

  “I see it!” Cody Belle said, leaning down low.

  “Me, too.” My heart thumped so loud I couldn’t hear what I was saying.

  We unearthed a rusted metal box partially covered in rocks. The box was so small that I lifted it easily out of the ground, and pulled it into my lap.

  “This is so light,” I said nervously. “It should be heavy, right? A treasure this important should be heavy?”

  Cody Belle scooted close beside me. “Just open it, Emma.”

  I pried it open with the trowel.

  There was no gold inside.

  “It’s just flowers?” Cody Belle asked.

  “Keeping Susans,” I said, scooping out a handful of blooms. The weight of flower petals in my hand was heartbreaking at first. Because I’d hoped for something heavier: gold or riches—or my key, at least. The flowers were special, of course. But they wouldn’t save my home. They looked so flimsy, like pale yellow wings in my palm. I closed my eyes and tried to wish away the disappointment pressing down on me.

  Cody Belle nudged against me. “Hey, if they’re Keeping Susans, that means they’re keeping something preserved, right?”

  “Probably not a treasure, though,” I said, sifting through the flowers in the metal box as if they were packing peanuts. I still hoped my fingers would brush against the cold metal of a key …

  But all I found was an old hymnal. The cover was pale green, faded a bit despite the work of the Keeping Susans. It was softer than I thought it would be. Something about it reminded me of an old blanket, or an old teddy bear. When you love a thing, it looks worn out in a good way, a better way, the more you hold it. Life Songs, the title read in letters that were probably a brighter gold many years ago.

  The book crackled when I opened it; the sound reminded me of my book. The Book of Days.

  “Oh!” I said, leaning down to read the inscription inside. Someone had written the name of the cafe … before it was the cafe.

  Blackbird Hollow Community Church, 1850

  For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Matthew 6:21)

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “But it’s not a treasure,” Cody Belle said, leaning into me. “I’m sorry, Emma.” To my great surprise, Earl Chance leaned closer to me, too. They both looked at me the way you do when you really care about someone, when you wish you could split a person’s sorrows like a stale candy bar and share them.

  Somebody’d cared enough about that hymnal to surround it with Keeping Susans and bury it like a time capsule. So I saved it. I tucked it into my bag beside the Book of Days.

  The hymnal was a lovely find, but it wasn’t the treasure that would save the cafe.

  I looked up at the patches of sky visible above the woods and felt like everything was slipping away.

  “We’ll find it, Emma,” Cody Belle said quietly. Earl squeezed my arm. He barely knew me and he believed in me, too.

  “Yes,” I said, quietly but with revved-up hope in my heart. “We will find it.”

  Suddenly, the ground began to shake and roar with such force that I wondered if the earth might burp. Or swallow us. Or both.

  “Is that an earthquake?” Cody Belle asked, scrambling to her feet to look around.

  I launched off the ground and grabbed her and Earl and pulled them away from the old chimney. “If it is, we shouldn’t be near the chimney. It could crush us to bits.”

  “The trees will crush us before the chimney will,” she yelled.

  But the roar from the ground turned into the more distinct growl of a motor. Lots of motors.

  “Ugh,” Cody Belle groaned. “I know what that sound is. It’s worse than a natural disaster.”

  She held the metal detector in front of her like a sword.

  We watched as four four-wheelers raced up to the edge of the ravine, one by one.

  A fifth four-wheeler, bright pink with glitter-flames on the sides, spun up in the middle of the group. The driver revved her engine once, then pulled off her helmet.

  Beretta Simpson.

  I had a sudden urge to crawl in the old chimney and hide.

  “Don’t let her smell your fear,” Cody Belle whispered, pivoting to stand in front of me. Beretta cleared her throat and
studied us one by one. “It’s the ghost girl and her faithful sidekick, Trailer Trash. And you.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Earl. “I remember you. Why are you with them?”

  “Why are you here?” Cody Belle asked. “Now that you’ve said hi, you can carry on. We’re busy.”

  Cody Belle was no fun to mess with, and Beretta knew this. Beretta pressed her mouth into a flat line and stared at my face. My fingers twitched painfully; I wanted to cover my scar. I wanted to pull my T-shirt up over my nose, turtle-tuck half my face so she couldn’t see me.

  Cody Belle leaned into me, barely whispering. “Do not cover your mouth.”

  But that’s what Beretta stared at: my mouth. My scar. She looked me in the eye and said nothing, but her unspoken promise was loud and clear: The next school year would be no better than this past one. I couldn’t think of any other person who enjoyed being cruel the way she did. It would be one thing if I was a jerk to her, if I regularly dished out insults in an effort to make her days as crummy as she made mine. But I hadn’t. In all the years I’d known her, I’d never tried to get in her way. I had actively tried to stay away from her.

  Beretta looked at Earl next. “You can do way better. She’s not even pretty.”

  Earl ducked his head, and at first I thought he was embarrassed. Embarrassed to be seen with me. Embarrassed to be wearing goggles and carrying a metal detector and looking for stupid buried treasure like we were little kids.

  He didn’t speak. But he stepped up beside me, until his arm was touching mine. And he stared at Beretta Simpson as if she didn’t scare him at all.

  As if her words didn’t matter.

  “Oh … I forgot you weren’t talking now,” Beretta said, scrunching her face in mock sympathy. She looked at her minions. “One little boom of thunder and Earl peed his pants and forgot how to talk.” Her friends all giggled.

  “Grow up, Beretta,” I snapped.

  “Calm down, smiley,” Beretta said, cocking her head at me. “See you in sixth grade.” And she spun her tires to toss mud down into the ravine and drove away.