The Kaleidoscope Sisters

by Ronnie K. Stephens

  “There’s no such thing as a six-foot chicken. That’s ridiculous.”

  “I’d have said the same thing before I got here. Say, what’s your name?”

  “Quinn.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Quinn. So what brought you here?”

  “I already told you, I don’t know.”

  “No, not how you got here. We all have something that brings us here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, like me. The last thing I remember was praying I wouldn’t die when I hit those waves. Then here I was.”

  “So I’m dead?”

  Meelie laughed so hard the goggles fell down onto her face. She touched the hen’s wing and slid the goggles back up onto her forehead.

  “No, baby. You aren’t dead any more than I am. This place has a way of answering when you ask for things, is all.”

  “Like the genie in Big—Zoltar, I think?”

  “What’s a Zoltar?”

  “You know, the machine in the movie that grants wishes.”

  “Oh, I’ve never seen a moving picture.”

  “What? How long have you been here?”

  “That depends on how you figure time, I guess.”

  “How do you figure time?”

  “Well, what is the year back home?”

  “Two thousand fifteen.”

  Meelie let out a whistle.

  “I came here in the summer of 1937. What’s that, almost eighty years? Mercy, time flies.”

  “But you don’t look old.”

  “Funny thing: folks spend their whole lives trying to stay young when all you need is a change of scenery.”

  “So you haven’t been home in eighty years?”

  “Well, I’ve been home. I just can’t stay long, and nobody knows I’m there, or they don’t believe I am, anyway.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either, honey. Just the way things work around here. You learn to manage. So have you been asking for something? I don’t mean a present or anything. Something big. Bigger than most folks can imagine.”

  “Yeah, I guess I have.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “My sister. She’s got a bad heart.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Quinn.” Meelie lowered her goggles. “Well, come on, now. Hop on.”

  “Excuse me? I’m not getting on that thing. And not to be rude, but I don’t even know you. Here I am in this weird place with no sun, and giant farm animals, and a lady who flew into the ocean, and—”

  “Take a breath, kid. You’re right. I’m asking a difficult thing of you. I don’t mean to push. Just trying to get out of this desert before dark. Besides, ol’ Pidge is as gentle as they come.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get something to eat. You must be hungry. Bet you’re thirsty too, huh? The air sure isn’t easy on the throat.” Meelie laughed.

  “No, I guess not.” Quinn swallowed hard again, then took a small step toward Meelie and the giant hen. Pidge turned and looked down at her. Quinn jumped back.

  “Relax. She won’t hurt, kid.” Meelie held a hand out to Quinn and hoisted her up. “Now hold on. She may be gentle, but she’s awful quick-footed!”

  Quinn wrapped her arms around Meelie’s waist, closing her eyes against the wind as Pidge took off in a sprint.

  “We’ll have to get you a riding hat,” Meelie shouted.

  “Do we have to go so fast?” Quinn cried out, her voice rising and falling as she bounced on Pidge’s back.

  “The desert will be dark soon enough. We need to get to the caves before then, or we’ll be out here all night. Don’t you worry, peach. I’ll show you around.”

  Chapter Four

  The caves were much cooler and had a soft pink glow like the Himalayan rock salt Quinn’s mom used to put in Riley’s food, one of the myriad home remedies they’d tried to help Riley grow stronger. Quinn and Riley even had pink salt lamps on their nightstands back home that stayed on all night. The caves smelled like those salt lamps too.

  “My family must be so worried,” Quinn thought aloud.

  “I wouldn’t worry about them.”

  “What do you mean? I’ve been gone for so long. My mom has to be scared, and no one is there to walk with Riley and—”

  “You sure do get worked up in a hurry, honey.”

  “But—”

  “They don’t know you’re here,” Meelie interrupted. Her voice was hushed, and Quinn heard pain in the words. “They don’t know you’re here.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Meelie.” Quinn was close to tears.

  “Time is a funny thing. Back home, we talk like things move in a straight line, but maybe that’s just the direction we all have grown accustomed to. I couldn’t tell you the science. All I know is that the ones who come here on purpose say time moves more like a clock on the first visit—you know, around in a circle till you’re back where you started.”

  “What do you mean, the first visit?”

  “Well, some folks need something that you can’t fix in one go. They’ve got to keep coming back. Coming back, now that’s the hard part.”

  “Why?”

  “Quinn, when you go home, things will be . . . different.”

  “Different how?”

  “You ought to talk to Aimee.”

  “Who’s Aimee?”

  “She’s been here longer than anybody. Went sailing and didn’t make it back to land again or something like that. You wouldn’t know looking at her, but she’s been here more than three hundred years.”

  “How will we find her?”

  “There’s only one place she could be. Like I said, she never did make land.”

  “She’s been on a boat for hundreds of years?”

  “Yep.”

  “Meelie, that’s absurd.”

  “You know, I suppose she is a bit odd.”

  “But you think . . . you think she can help me get back to Riley and my mom?”

  “I sure do, kid. She’s as smart as they come. I’ll take you to see her in the morning. Right now, you ought to eat something.”

  Meelie handed Quinn something that looked like a big piece of fruit, about twice the size of Quinn’s hand, and with a waxy skin. The strange object could have been an enormous mango except that the skin was white and much thinner than the mangoes Quinn was used to.

  “Take a bite,” Meelie urged.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that before.”

  “We call them moonfruit on account of the skin.”

  Quinn was suspicious. “What do they taste like?”

  “They’re good, a little tart. Something like a cross between a grape and a persimmon.”

  “How do I eat them?”

  Meelie smirked and bit into her own moonfruit. “Skin and all, kid. Easy as pie.”

  Quinn took a small bite, and juice sprang from the skin and trickled down her chin. “Not bad.” She continued to nibble, but she didn’t have much of an appetite. She put the fruit down and sank onto a smooth rock, making herself as small as she could. The pink stones at her feet grew wet with tears. Quinn sat like that for a long time, her shoulders moving up and down to the rhythm of her sadness. She didn’t make a sound—just let the tears slip down and pool in front of her.

  “I’m sorry, Meelie.”

  “No sweat, bunny. Happens to all of us the first night.”

  “How—how many people live here?”

  “Hard to say. Everyone comes and goes. This cave is like a home to us, though. There’s always someone here when you need them,” Meelie smiled.

  Quinn hid her face, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. She felt like a child sitting on the ground, crying into the shoulder of a strange woman with a giant hen for a pet.

  “Hey, do you want to see something magnificent?”

  Quinn nodded again.

  Meelie grabbed her hand and led her toward the mouth of the cave. She was smi
ling. “Oh, you’re just going to love this.” Meelie led Quinn out of the cave and felt around for a rock.

  Quinn sat down beside her and stared into the blackest sky she could imagine.“I don’t understand. What am I looking at?”

  “Just wait, bunny. Just wait.”

  They sat and watched without talking. Quinn squinted against the dark. She thought she saw something far off, moving through the sky. Glowing pinpricks of indigo. All at once, the space in front of her was full of these pinpricks. Small, incandescent butterflies like the one she had followed lit up the plain until the horizon was humming with a deep purple haze. They moved toward Meelie and Quinn like a fantastic fog.

  “Riley would love this place,” Quinn whispered.

  “Maybe you can show her someday.” Meelie’s face was stunning in the light of the butterflies. Quinn noticed that Meelie’s hair was silver, the only thing that gave away her age. The haze turned the strands into a faint violet that shimmered when Meelie moved her head. The two peered out at the colorful migration for a long while. Meelie sat close to Quinn, who laid her head against Meelie’s shoulder and succumbed to sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Quinn woke to find herself on a makeshift pallet of blankets and bits of fabric deep inside the cave. Next to her, a brilliant red-bulb protruded from a waxy, green shoot. Quinn raised a finger to the bulb. The outer layer felt warm against her skin, and she could hear the softest beat coming from inside.

  She rose and looked around for Meelie, but Meelie and Pidge were gone. Quinn cupped the base of the bulb, which slipped off the shoot into her palms, then shifted her grip so that the glowing orb sat in her right hand. She felt a pulse each time she heard the sound coming from inside. A butterfly landed beside her. There, in the glow of the butterfly wings, she saw a message etched into the rock:

  You will find what you seek at the heart of the flower.

  This one bends best when held close to the chest.

  You will know when the time comes.

  “Bend?” Quinn asked the empty space. The words didn’t make any sense. She thought hard about the message, what she was holding in her hand, what would happen when the time came. Then she recalled something a teacher had said during science class: astronauts’ hearts change shape in space.

  “Hey, you’re up!” Meelie called from across the cavern.

  “Meelie, do you know what this is?” Quinn raised the bulb toward Meelie.

  “I can’t say that I do. I haven’t seen one of those here or anywhere.”

  “I found writing on the ground,” Quinn said, relaying the words that had appeared in the rock.

  Meelie furrowed her brow and stayed silent for a long time. “Strange, indeed. You ought to share this with Aimee later.”

  “So we are going to see her today?”

  “That’s the plan, bunny. But first, we need to get some breakfast. Lord knows how long we’ll be out there looking for her.”

  “I thought you said she stayed in the same place.”

  “Well sure, but the ocean is awfully big, and Aimee’s awfully small.”

  * * *

  Quinn sat beside the small fire Meelie had built, studying the note and the strange flower that pulsed in her hand. Meelie ground something brown into a fine powder with a makeshift mortar. Meelie sprinkled water into the bowl and squished the mixture with her hands until she had made a paste. She pulled the paste apart and rolled the pieces into balls, then she smashed them flat like pancakes. When she set the first one on a hot stone over the fire, the mixture cracked and smelled like marshmallows.

  “What is that, Meelie?”

  “We called them corn cakes back home. Just some smashed grain and water. They’re a little lighter and sweeter than you might expect, but they sure stick to the bones. We’ll have a few and take the rest with us to be safe.” Meelie handed one to Quinn, who studied the cake like a math formula.

  “What’s that smell?”

  “Just take a bite,” Meelie chided. “They’re good.”

  Quinn hesitated, then bit into the edge of the cake. Meelie was right. The cake was delicious. The outside was crispy with a hint of caramel, and the inside reminded her of short bread. “I could get used to these.”

  Quinn took another bite. Then, for the first time since she’d arrived, she smiled. Really smiled. Her stomach felt warm and her shoulders lifted. She took a deep breath. Then she thought of Riley. Riley hadn’t been able to take a deep breath in months. Her lungs were working fine, but her heart couldn’t keep up anymore. The stenosis was like a small leak in a bike tire. You could add air for a while, but eventually the tire just gave out, and you had to get a new one. Only no one had a heart for Riley.

  Quinn looked at Meelie. Her eyes burned, and she told herself the smoke was just aggravating them. “Do you think Aimee can help me get home?”

  “I’m positive, bunny.” Meelie put an arm around Quinn. “Let me wrap up these last few cakes and we’ll set out. Don’t you worry. Like I said, time doesn’t go in a straight line here. Aimee will explain things better, but I promise you, you’ll see Riley and your mother soon enough.”

  * * *

  They raced across the desert, bobbing in rhythm with the giant hen’s head. The animal was remarkably tame, shifting direction and speed with the slightest movement of the reins in Meelie’s hand. Quinn tried to study her surroundings, but the wind kicked sand into her eyes. She gave up and buried her face between Meelie’s shoulder blades. The bomber jacket was cool against Quinn’s cheek. She felt Meelie’s back tense and Pidge began to slow down. Quinn lifted her head and looked around.

  The desert had given way to a lush landscape filled with every shade of purple Quinn could imagine. Tall trees with peeling bark that smelled of lavender stretched on as far as Quinn could see. There were bushes with large leaves the color of ripe plums. Some of the flowers were bright and shimmered like glitter, while others were a rich purple that reminded her of eggplants. Beyond the plants, Quinn saw a fast pool that seemed to flow like the butterflies they’d watched the night before, only this time the motion was more fluid. Quinn could hear the tide rush in, then pull back. The rush of water sounded like a secret each time the tide pulled back. Shh, shh, shh. Quinn shielded her eyes and trained them on the horizon, but she saw no sign of Aimee. No boats at all.

  “How will we find her?”

  “We’ve just got to be patient. I figure if we walk the coast long enough, either Aimee will see us, or we’ll see her.”

  “Patience isn’t my strong suit,” Quinn sighed.

  “Well then, consider this a learning opportunity,” Meelie laughed, poking an elbow into Quinn’s ribs.

  Pidge walked along the beach, sinking her claws into the sand. Occasionally Pidge dipped her head and pecked at the ground. Quinn assumed she was checking for worms or other food, though Quinn saw neither.

  Meelie scanned the water. “The last boat I saw Aimee use was a white dinghy. Of course, I can’t be sure if Aimee has moved on to some other vessel, or if she’s finally come ashore.”

  Quinn tried to focus on the horizon, but something about the way the sky and water came together made her dizzy, so she studied the beach instead. The sand was white and sparkled like crushed pearls. Quinn remembered a picture in one of her mother’s photo albums. Her mother had visited a place in New Mexico where the sand looked just like snow. The most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen, Quinn remembered her mother saying. Her mother hated the cold, but she loved the electricity in the air that came with winter. She’d said that the desert in New Mexico had the same song in the silence before sunrise. Quinn had wanted to go there one summer, but Riley had a hard time being far from home. The strange plants and temperature changes made breathing even harder for Riley.

  “Do you see that?” Meelie shouted. Her voice made Quinn jump, and Quinn lost her balance and slipped from Pidge’s back. The sand may have looked like snow, but the white powder wasn’t nearly as soft. Quinn could already f
eel a bruise forming on her right hip.

  “See what, Meelie? I don’t see anything.” Quinn stared at the water, but the purple waves seemed to roll on forever.

  “Right there.” Meelie held her arm straight out.

  Quinn followed her hand and saw a tiny dot bobbing up and down. The speck could just as easily have been froth from the waves except that the object didn’t disappear into the water the way the other white caps did. Meelie dug her heel into Pidge’s side, and Pidge let out a loud squawk.

  “Do you think that’s Aimee?” Quinn was tense with excitement and fear.

  “I can’t be sure, but I figure we ought to check just in case.” Meelie dug her heels in again. This time the squawk was long and hung in the air.

  Quinn could see the small white spot stretch higher into the sky. As they moved closer, she could just make out two oars spinning around like the hands on a clock. Whoever was steering the boat had heard Pidge.

  “Meelie, you said Aimee doesn’t come to shore.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How am I supposed to get to her? You said yourself that this chicken doesn’t fly.”

  “There’s a sandbar not far from here. We can walk out on that until you’re close enough to swim to her.”

  “Swim?”

  Quinn hadn’t planned on getting wet. She was wearing the only clothes she had, and stripping down in front of two strangers wasn’t on the agenda.

  “You’ll be all right. We’ve got some old clothes back at the cave. We can dry yours out when we get back tonight.”

  The dinghy was nearer now, and Quinn could see a woman leaning against the back with one hand in the water. Meelie waved her arms above her head, then motioned to her right. The woman on the boat nodded. Both she and Meelie headed toward what Quinn assumed was the sandbar. Meelie guided Pidge to a path where the water was just a few inches deep, washing over Pidge’s claws as they walked. The boat stopped a few hundred yards from shore.

  “Glad I found you,” Meelie said as they neared the boat. “This is Quinn. She arrived yesterday, and she’s got some questions I can’t answer. I was hoping you could tell her a little more about this place. You know, how coming and going works and all that.”