Her phone buzzed again and she looked down now, saw JEFF JACKSON splayed across it like an old-time chanteuse spread across a grand piano.
“Oh my god!” she shouted out loud, sitting up straight in her bed.
“Ava?” she heard, from outside the window. The voice seemed to be coming from outside, from the bushes.
And it was . . . not a girl’s voice.
Before she could stop herself, Ava screamed.
Was it possible for an almost-thirteen-year-old to have a heart attack, she wondered. Or just die from shock?
Quickly, she wiped her face, horrified by the thought of how awful she must look.
“Hello?” she said, her voice squeaking into the phone.
“Hey, Ava,” she heard, both from the phone and from the world outside her window. He was right outside.
She stretched up her neck and looked out, saw the top of Jeff’s head under the tree, lit up in the moonlight like a suspended halo.
“Are you there?” she heard again. “Ava?”
She ducked down and whispered into the phone. “Jeff, are you outside my window right now?”
“I’ve come to get you. Let’s have an adventure!”
“Right now?”
“Yes! You said you wanted to have adventures, right? Let’s have one now! The mayflies are out, the green drakes. We can go down to the creek and watch them.”
She held the phone away from her and looked at the time. It was 9:08 p.m.!
What a dork she must seem like, being in bed at 9:08 p.m.
“Umm, okay,” she said, her heart pounding in her chest. “Let me, ummm . . . ” She was about to say “get dressed” when she realized that he’d know then that she was in her pajamas. A pink nightshirt with three pigs across the front of it, to be exact. “Just give me a few minutes,” she started again. “I’ll meet you outside.”
She hung up the phone and was about to let out a groan when she remembered where he was.
Could she possibly be more of a dork?
But then there was a glimmer, through her pain and embarrassment, and it hit her: JEFF JACKSON WAS GOING TO TAKE HER ON AN ADVENTURE!!! Even if it apparently involved insects, it was still unbelievably romantic.
She jumped up and then slinked over to her closet, in the dark, to grab a sundress, going for the bright white one since it was the only one she could make out.
Scrunching down to make sure he couldn’t see—even though she knew it was too dark and he was too far down . . . and even if he weren’t, Jeff Jackson was totally a gentleman and would never spy on her as she changed her clothes. Would he?
She grabbed the dress and ran to the bathroom, where she clicked on the lights and faced herself in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and red and her face was all blotchy from crying. She pulled off the nightshirt and slipped into the white dress, which only made her face look more mottled. . . Ava sighed. At least her hair looked striking against the white fabric, and it was dark outside. And the longer Jeff Jackson stood on her lawn, the more possible it was her father would see him and ground her forever. He was a pretty cool guy, for a dad, but she was sneaking out of the house at night to be with a boy and no dad was a fan of that.
Ava crept out of the bathroom and into the dark house, stopping to listen for sounds. She heard some shuffling from downstairs, from her father’s workroom, where he was almost assuredly making more fishing rods for some unfathomable reason. Still, he was safely occupied. Making sure she had her key, she rushed out into the night, locking the front door behind her.
He was standing there on the lawn, smiling. Behind him the sky spread out like a liquid, a sea, and across it were a million stars. The houses hulked up in shadow, like silent monsters, and a breeze moved over the grass and ruffled her hair. It was perfect, the neighborhood at night, with Jeff Jackson standing on her lawn and his blond hair lit up like a halo.
“Hi,” she whispered, stepping toward him.
“Hi.”
He looked different from the way he did at school, standing there on the lawn, his face soft and even shy as he looked at her.
Suddenly she was shy, too, and for a long moment they just stood and looked at each other.
Jeff cleared his throat. “So . . . have you ever watched the mayflies before?”
“Umm, no,” she said. She paused awkwardly. “What is there to watch?”
“Oh!” he said. “It’s amazing! They come out just a few days a year, you know, to mate and then die. The males move up and down, spinning and dancing and swarming together, and the females fly through the swarms and they clasp together and then the males drop into the water and die, and the females lay their eggs on the water and they die, too.”
Ava just stared at Jeff, shocked. His face was shining as he spoke, his hands were in the air, and even though it was all totally disgusting it seemed totally romantic to her, too, the way he talked about it.
“And that’s all happening now?” she asked.
“Yes. Any time now.”
She remembered him mentioning something about this stuff at the lake the day before, she realized, but she had blocked it out.
“That sounds . . . nice,” she said, and his face lit up. His happiness made her blush, and she was grateful for the darkness. She thought she might be dreaming, it was all so strange. Could this shy, lovely boy really be Jeff Jackson?
He reached out and took her hand, and she just about fell over.
“Come on,” he said.
She nodded, unable to speak, and let him lead her to the sidewalk. He laced his fingers through hers and she was surprised by how natural it felt. Chills moved up and down her body.
“I know the best spot. I like to watch without crowds of fishermen around.”
“My dad’s a fly fisherman,” she said.
“Really? He must be into the green drakes.”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to remember her dad talking about this stuff. “He’s more into the moon, I think. He always fishes under the full moon.”
She couldn’t believe they were actually talking . . . while holding hands! She couldn’t believe she hadn’t just fainted dead away from shock. But it actually felt really nice, and even comfortable.
“That’s cool,” Jeff said. “I’m more into the bugs than the fish. People say the trout here are smart, but I think the bugs are way more interesting.”
“Yeah,” she said, trying to sound as if she semi-agreed, even though she didn’t agree even slightly.
They walked down the dark street, under the stars and streetlamps, passing out of her neighborhood and through the park where the school had its picnic every year, and past the old playground with the see-saw and the merry-go-round. Mostly they walked in silence, and it was a comfortable silence, like when she and her dad sat at the dinner table and she was happy just to be with him.
As beautiful as the night was, Ava could barely focus on anything other than his hand clasped in hers, the way their arms swung together as they moved. Now and then he turned to her and smiled, his eyes bright with excitement, and she thought that maybe this was the happiest she’d ever been.
Finally, Jeff turned down a narrow path that led back to the creek. The same creek that ran behind her house, in the woods, but farther upstream. She could hear the whooshing of the water rushing by.
“Look!” he said, as they approached the water. He pointed, and she saw white, winged bodies whirring through the air. ”They’re dancing!”
“Dancing?”
The insect bodies glowed in the pale moonlight, flickering up and down over the water.
“To attract their mates.”
Ava smiled, watching the mayflies, and Jeff’s face. She realized how special it was, that he’d wanted her to see this even if it was sort of gross and it seemed extremely likely that one of the giant flies would land in her hair.
“Thank you,” she said, and he turned to her, that grin on his face that he wore as he walked down the hall at school, l
ike he knew how much everyone admired him.
“I thought you’d like it,” he said. “It only happens once a year.” He shrugged. “I mean, I know not everyone would be into this, but you just have always seemed . . . different.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Different?”
“Yeah,” he said, watching her. “You’re different. Quiet, like you’re always thinking or dreaming about something, and I always wonder what it is.”
“Oh.”
His face was so soft as he looked at her. He squeezed her hand and she could barely breathe.
In front of them, the flies’ white bodies moved over the water.
“Are they really dancing?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “Watch them. Do you see how they’re moving?” He stepped closer to her, pointing with his free hand.
She focused in, and tried to see them as beautiful, through Jeff’s eyes, to think about this one moment they had, dancing over the water to attract their mates. They seemed to slow down as she watched, as if the air were thickening, and then she saw it. The way they drifted up and down. Enjoying this one moment when they were set loose and free in the air. She thought about the swan maidens standing in the moonlight holding their feathered robes, and suddenly the whole world seemed so full she thought she would explode.
“I see it,” she whispered.
“Ava,” he said then, his voice cracking.
She nodded, encouraging him. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. “Yes?”
“I really like you.”
She breathed in. “I like you, too.”
“I have for a long time, you know.”
“You have?”
“Yeah.” He smiled his adorable lopsided smile. “Even when you were a super dork, I thought you were really cute. I mean, you’re cute now, too. I like you however you are.”
Her eyes dropped to the ground, she was so embarrassed, knowing her cheeks were flaming red. At least it was dark.
“And I like how you blush,” he said.
“Hey!” she said, annoyed he could see her blushing in the moonlight. “You blush, too!”
“I know!” he said. “I’m not making fun of you. I just like you.”
“Well,” she said. “Being obsessed with bugs is pretty dorky, too.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, pretending to be shocked.
She laughed, and then when she saw how he was looking at her, she stopped. For a moment, she wondered if he’d kiss her, and she just wanted to slow this moment down, freeze it like a photograph, so she could really appreciate it. It was weird how you could wait and wait for something and then, when it happened, or was about to happen, it passed by in a flash.
But then a splishing sound came from the water, very faint.
Jeff stepped forward, releasing her hand. “Did you see that fish jumping?”
She let out a deep breath, equal parts relieved and disappointed.
“No,” she said.
“There’s another one! They see the mayflies. It’s the best time for fishing, this time of the year.”
“So you spend a lot of time here, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I love it here. Especially this part of the creek. All the fishermen hang out more upstream, at least most of them do. Though I bet you could catch a ton of fish here right now.”
“Yeah,” she said.
They were standing quietly, watching the activity over the water, when Ava noticed one, two swans in the air above them.
“Look,” she said, gesturing to the birds.
“That’s weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a swan over here.”
The swans swooped down by the side of the stream. Their eyes black and glittering.
“They’re watching us,” he said, surprised. “Do you see that?”
“Well, swans are very nosy, you know.”
She laughed and gave him a goofy look, as if she were joking. But she was well aware that one of the swans was very likely her mother, or at least a friend of her mother’s, which was surely a disadvantage to being the daughter of a swan maiden sneaking out of the house at night with a boy. She glared at them.
“I guess they like watching the mayflies dance, too,” he said.
“I guess.”
She forced herself to relax. It was all so beautiful: the half-moon, the shining water, the mayflies dancing as the swans glittered behind them, on the grass. Jeff Jackson reaching for her hand again. And even if her mother was a swan who possibly lacked any respect for her daughter’s privacy, it was pretty amazing to have a mom after all this time.
Jeff turned and smiled at her. “We better get home, huh?”
“Yeah,” she said.
They walked slowly back, through the park and onto her street, past all the sleeping houses, until they stood together on the lawn in front of her house, their hands laced together.
“Only two more weeks of school,” he said, after an awkward silence. “I can’t wait for summer. Will you be here?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be here. My dad’s not really the vacationing type, he’s too attached to this place.” She paused, nervous. “Will you be here?”
“Yeah. So I hope we can do some fun stuff together.”
She looked up at him. “I would like that,” she said.
“Good.”
They stood for another minute, the moments stretching out and seeming to last forever, until finally he said, “I’ll go, then.”
“Umm, okay,” she said.
And then he raised her hand to his mouth, and kissed it, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time.
Her stomach flip-flopped, as if there were a fish trapped inside. She couldn’t help breaking out into a huge grin, and had to stop herself from giggling like a dork. “Thank you for the adventure,” she said, “and the mayflies.”
“Any time,” he said. “So, see you at school?”
“Yeah.”
She waited until she was inside, and until she was sure that Jeff Jackson was no longer lurking outside her window. And then she threw herself onto her bed, buried her head in her pillow, and screamed with that crazy kind of happiness that feels exactly, perfectly right, like a brand-new dress made just for you.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Jeff Jackson waited for Ava on the school steps, and then he did it the next morning and the next. That weekend, he biked with her and Morgan to the lake, and it was just as natural as it’d been before, as if they’d all been friends for years. Jeff was sweet, funny, kind—so much so that Ava sometimes forgot how handsome he was. Well, until he looked at her with those blue eyes and made her knees go weak, just as Grandma Kay had told her a boy would do someday. And as the entire seventh grade class at Houghton Middle School readied themselves for their final tests, and for the long summer that would follow, it became common knowledge that Ava Lewis and Jeff Jackson were “going together.”
The only thing more exciting than that for Ava was her impending birthday. Every morning she slashed through another box on her calendar, counting down. Every day she and Morgan added another cool thing to the party planning, and Morgan even started carrying around a notepad and clipboard to organize the different aspects of the day: food, party favors, guests, music, activities. The coolest thing was Ava’s dad getting inspired one night to dust off his ancient banjo and recruit a few friends to provide music for the party. The guys came over twice to practice before the big day, and Ava hadn’t seen her dad laugh so much in . . . well, forever. One guy, another professor from the university, played the fiddle, and another, someone her dad knew from his music days, played the accordion. Sure, it was old-people music, but it was fun and sweet and Ava loved those rare occasions when her dad loosened up and got lost in his playing. Way back when, she knew, he’d played soft music as Ava’s mother rocked her to sleep, or so he told her. Plus Ava secretly thought the accordion was cool—covered in rhinestones and shiny mother-of-pearl, l
ike a big jewelry box.
Between Jeff and tests and her birthday, Ava was so busy, in fact, that she stayed in her human form until one night, unable to sleep, she decided that maybe, finally, she would try to fly.
It was about a three-quarter moon, but the night was clear and star-speckled as she lay on her back in her bed with her arms bent behind the pillow. In the moonlight, the tree branches silvered. The leaves were shaped like hearts, and she could just make out a bird’s nest in the shadows. The branches swayed back and forth in the faint breeze, but it was still hot, one of those hot summer nights when the fan wasn’t enough to keep cool and Monique stalked about the house swatting at things.
Ava wiggled closer to the window, leaning against the wall to stare up at the sky, breathing in the perfume from the flowers.
She wondered where the swan maidens were right now. Maybe they had nests, too? She imagined how big and elaborate a swan’s nest would have to be for one of them to sleep in it. If she had a nest, she thought, she would like a beautiful, fancy one, like an accordion, scattered with rhinestones and mother-of-pearl and maybe shells, too. She imagined the whole lot of them with such nests, adorned and glittering, all the swan maidens fast asleep at this very minute, maybe in some enchanted clearing somewhere or in the branches of some oversized, magical tree.
She shifted, moving her arms down, and folded her hands across her belly. Maybe, instead, they were all off flying somewhere right now, all the swans in a big group—a flock, like a flock of geese? a murder, like a murder of crows?—sailing through the clouds and stars. Were there other girls out there, riding on the backs of swans? Other daughters of swan maidens nearing their thirteenth birthdays?
She laughed. Really, anything was possible, wasn’t it?
And then Ava felt something she’d never felt before, not the way she did then: the desire to fly. A feeling that came up straight from her blood and bones, seizing her like hunger, like love. Her whole body bristled with it. She needed to fly!
She jumped out of bed then. Restless. Crazy. Moonstruck? She reached down to grab the feathered robe, and then hurried through the house with the robe in her arms, and out the sliding glass door, into the backyard. Within seconds she was stretching her wings on the grass.
The Next Full Moon Page 10