The Challenge Box

by Isobel Bird

  She turned and moved into the crowd before Cooper could say anything. She was quickly swallowed up by the teeming people, and it immediately became clear to her that she had made a mistake. Standing on the float, she had been able to see where the girl was going. Now that she was on the ground, all she could see was face after face. The young woman was lost to her, and she didn’t know where to go.

  Still, she pressed ahead, slipping into whatever openings she could find in the crowd. “Excuse me,” she said over and over as she tried to get through the wall of flesh that stood between her and the young woman in white.

  Finally she came to the back of the crowd, where the people thinned out a little. She was standing on a corner. Behind her was the Mardi Gras parade, while ahead of her were even more people walking in the streets. Voices called out all around her as people tossed beads to people standing on balconies and people on balconies tossed beads back. Several different brass bands were playing all at the same time, and the effect was totally disorienting.

  Then she spied someone in white moving very quickly down the street. Annie sped after the figure, not knowing if it was the girl or not but determined to find out. Once again she found herself dodging people and beads. But she was almost there. She could see now that it was the young woman she’d met at Marie Laveau’s house.

  The girl turned a corner ahead of Annie. Annie reached the corner a few seconds later and turned as well. She found herself in an alley, and she stopped. The girl was nowhere to be seen. Besides, Annie had a strong suspicion that being in an alley wasn’t the best idea she could have. She decided she must have been mistaken, and that the girl had gone into one of the houses on the street instead. She’d been led on a wild-goose chase, and now she felt foolish. But she could still get back to the float and finish enjoying the parade. She started to turn around.

  Then she realized that something was different. Something about the alley was different. She paused. Then she realized what it was—the sounds of Mardi Gras had faded away. In their place was a different sound—the sound of gentle singing. It came from the other end of the alley.

  Annie peered down the narrow corridor. The moon overhead shone brightly, more brightly than Annie remembered. It illuminated the alley, turning it into a river of silver. Suddenly it didn’t seem dangerous at all to Annie, and she found herself walking down it as though she were walking through a stream.

  The singing grew louder as she walked. It was rhythmic, almost like chanting. It sounds like a circle, she thought. Then she reached the end of the alley and saw where the singing was coming from.

  The alley opened up into a square. On all four sides were houses, their windows filled with burning candles. In the center was a bonfire. It was crackling brightly, and all around it there were people dressed in white, men and women with bare feet singing and dancing. The women swished their skirts, while the men clapped and nodded their heads. And standing near them, looking on, was the young woman Annie had been following.

  The girl turned and looked at Annie. Seeing her there, the girl cocked her head and motioned for her to come over. Annie did, going to stand beside the girl.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “A celebration,” said the young woman.

  “For Mardi Gras?” asked Annie.

  The girl nodded. “Yes,” she said. “For Mardi Gras. But also for other things. The moon is almost full. They have come here to work magic.”

  Annie watched the dancers. They were circling the flames, putting their hands out over the fire and drawing them back again. She listened to them singing, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  “What are they saying?” she asked the young woman.

  “They are asking Marie Laveau for help,” she said. “They are speaking to her in Creole.”

  “What kind of help?” asked Annie, thinking about the request she herself had made.

  The girl smiled. “All kinds,” she said. “Some want babies. Some want wives or husbands. Some want to be made well. Some want money.” She turned and looked into Annie’s eyes. “You asked for help, too, yes? At the cemetery.”

  So she was there, Annie thought. I wasn’t just imagining things. “Yes,” she told the young woman. “I did.”

  “And have you received your wish?” she asked in return.

  Annie shook her head. “Not yet,” she said.

  The girl laughed. “I think there is yet still time,” she said.

  “Not much of it,” remarked Annie, sighing.

  The young woman pointed to the people gathered around the fire. They were approaching it, dropping things into it. Annie couldn’t see what the things were, but she saw their hands moving as they tossed items into the fire and then stood back, watching them burn.

  “They are bringing offerings,” said the young woman. “Little things, but important things. For some it is simply their wish written on a scrap of paper, for others it is money. Each of them gives what they have.”

  Annie was familiar with the ritual of giving offerings to the fire, burning something symbolic as a way of releasing energy or giving thanks. She, Cooper, and Kate had done it several times, and it had always made her feel good.

  “Will they get what they ask for?” Annie found herself wondering out loud.

  “Perhaps they will,” the girl said. “Perhaps they will not. Mam’zelle does not grant foolish requests. Nor will she help those who are not willing to give up something in exchange for what they seek.”

  Just like my challenge, Annie thought. They have to give up something, just like I’m supposed to. But she still didn’t know what that something was.

  “What do you love most in the world?” the young woman asked her, surprising her.

  “My family,” Annie answered instantly. “My friends.” It’s what she had been thinking about all night as she’d ridden on the float, how much she loved having the people in her life who meant something to her.

  That’s it, she thought. That’s my most precious possession—my family and my friends. The people I love. She was filled with excitement as she realized that she’d solved the mystery of her challenge. She knew what her most precious possession was.

  Almost as quickly she was overcome by sorrow. How was she supposed to give up her family and her friends? How could she give them up? That was impossible, in all kinds of ways and for all kinds of reasons.

  I must be wrong again, she told herself. There must be another answer. But she knew that she wasn’t wrong. She had figured out the challenge. Only now she was worse off than before, because she knew there was no way she could do what was being asked of her.

  Annie turned and looked into the young woman’s face. The girl’s expression was one of kindness mixed with expectation. “Has Marie answered your request?” she asked.

  Annie nodded. “Yes,” she said. “But now I wish she hadn’t.”

  “We do not always find what we are looking for,” the girl said gently. “But we do always find what we need. Return to your friends now. They will be looking for you.”

  “Who are you?” Annie asked her. “Why do I keep seeing you?”

  “As I said,” the young woman replied, “we always find what we need. I am a friend.” She leaned over and gave Annie a kiss on the cheek. “Now go.”

  Annie turned and walked back to the alley. Before entering it she turned once more to look at the dancers. They had resumed singing and were once more circling the fire. The girl was still watching them, nodding her head and smiling. She glanced over at Annie and nodded, as if bidding her farewell.

  Annie waved, then walked back down the alley. As she emerged onto the street she was immediately surrounded by the sounds of Mardi Gras. Voices and music filled her ears, louder than ever. It was as if she’d walked through a doorway into a room where the biggest party in the world was going on.

  I have to get to the end of the parade route, she thought. That’s where Cooper and Juliet will be waiting. She wanted to find her sister
and her friend. She needed to see them. But what would she do then? How was she ever going to meet her challenge now that she knew what she was supposed to give up? She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t.

  And that meant she was going to fail.

  CHAPTER 11

  I feel like I’m twelve again, Kate thought as she stood outside the door to Father Mahoney’s office. That’s the last time she’d stood there. She’d been taking CCD classes, and she’d gotten into trouble with Sister Agatha for telling Mary Frances Kennedy exactly what a virgin was. When Mary Frances had repeated Kate’s information during a discussion about the Holy Mother, Sister Agatha had sent Kate to have a little chat with the priest. Waiting for him to answer the door then, she’d been terrified that Father Mahoney was going to tell her that she had committed a mortal sin and was condemned to spend an eternity in hell, or at least in CCD class with Sister Agatha. But to her surprise, he had laughed when she’d told him what had happened. Maybe he’ll do the same thing now, she thought as she knocked on the door.

  It opened a moment later and Father Mahoney looked out. “Kate,” he said. “It’s nice to see you. Come in.”

  “Hi, Father,” Kate replied as she entered the office. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do, so she stood in front of his big wooden desk, her hands clasped in front of her the way they had told them to stand in Sunday school.

  “Please,” the priest said. “Sit down.”

  He indicated one of the two big chairs across from his desk. Kate sat down, again putting her hands in her lap. You have got to get over that, she told herself, and deliberately placed one hand on each of the chair arms. Part of her expected Sister Agatha to pop up from behind the chair and reprimand her, and she had to remind herself that she wasn’t a little girl anymore, even if she felt like one.

  Father Mahoney sat down and closed a book that had been open on his desk. Kate glanced around his office. It was exactly as she remembered it from her last visit. The tall bookcases were crammed with books. The priest’s collection even spilled onto the floor, where books were piled in precarious towers. She wondered if he’d actually read all of them.

  “So,” Father Mahoney said. “Your father wanted me to speak to you, but he didn’t tell me what it was about.”

  Kate brought her attention back to the priest. He was looking at her with an expectant expression. He even looks the same, Kate thought, taking in his silver hair and bright blue eyes. Father Mahoney looked exactly the way Kate thought a priest should look.He was wearing the traditional black suit with white collar, which just added to the overall impression he always gave of having been in the church his whole life. It’s like they grew him at the priest farm and just picked him this morning, she thought, suppressing a laugh.

  She wasn’t sure how to begin the conversation. It was going to be awkward no matter how she started it, but she didn’t want it to seem like a big deal. Even though it is, she reminded herself. You’re about to tell your priest that you want to become a witch.

  “Well,” she began tentatively. “You remember that my parents took me to see Dr. Hagen, right?”

  Father Mahoney nodded. Of course he remembers, Kate thought. He’s the one who recommended her. Dr. Hagen and Father Mahoney had been friends for many years, although Kate still thought it was a little odd that the priest was so close to someone like her therapist.

  “Sylvia and I had dinner just last week,” Father Mahoney said. “I take it things with her went well?”

  Kate nodded enthusiastically, wanting to make sure the priest knew that he’d made a good suggestion. “Great,” she said. “I had a really good time.” She paused. “Well, as good a time as you can have in therapy.” She blushed, feeling stupid.

  Father Mahoney laughed. “You’re allowed to have a good time,” he said. “Even in therapy. I’m glad you liked Dr. Hagen. She’s a great doctor, and a great person. And I know she really liked you.”

  Hearing that made Kate feel good. She’d shared a lot about herself with the therapist, and hearing that Dr. Hagen liked her made her feel like she’d done something right.

  “I don’t know if you remember why my parents wanted me to go to therapy,” Kate said, deciding it was time to get to the heart of the conversation. “It was because they were worried about my interest in Wicca.”

  She couldn’t imagine that the priest didn’t remember. After all, her parents had made her talk to him then, too, although then Kate had mostly sat and listened while her parents practically begged Father Mahoney to make her stop going to the weekly study class. All of them had been surprised when he’d suggested therapy.

  “I remember,” he said neutrally.

  Kate sighed. He wasn’t giving her any indications as to what he thought about the whole situation, although at their earlier meeting he had asked her all kinds of questions about exactly what she and her friends did when they performed rituals. She recalled, with some embarrassment, asking him in her most sarcastic tone if he was planning on writing a textbook on the subject or something. Goddess, were you hostile, she berated herself.

  Well, she wasn’t feeling hostile now. Just nervous. The priest was waiting patiently for her to continue. “I’m still going to class,” she said quickly, determined to get it out. “To the Wicca study class. Dr. Hagen thought it was a good idea,” she added, as if somehow this might make the priest think it was okay.

  Father Mahoney leaned back in his chair but didn’t say anything. Wow, he’s good, thought Kate. He should be one of those police interrogators or something.

  “Anyway, the class is almost over. The year and a day. That’s how long we promised to study Wicca for. It’s traditional.”

  She was babbling, but she couldn’t stop. It was as if her mouth had opened on its own and the words were pouring out.

  “So now it’s time to decide if we want to be initiated. Into Wicca. I guess it’s sort of like when you get confirmed, but different. I mean, you don’t have the whole Communion thing, right? Although we have cakes and wine. Oh, but it isn’t really wine,” she added hastily. “It’s usually fruit juice or cider. And I guess it is a lot like confirmation because you’re dedicating yourself to Wicca for more or less the rest of your life and it’s a big deal. And that’s what’s going on, and my dad said I had to talk to you before I make up my mind, only I haven’t even figured out my challenge yet so who knows if I’ll even be invited to be initiated. Does any of this make sense?”

  She looked at the priest, who had listened without speaking during her speech. Now he raised the side of his mouth in his familiar lopsided grin. “Oddly enough, I think I got it,” he said.

  “Oh, good,” said Kate. “Because I’m not sure I did. Could you explain it to me?”

  Father Mahoney clasped his hands together on top of his desk. He must have had Sister Agatha when he was in CCD classes, Kate thought in passing.

  “Well, I think what you just told me is that you’ve been attending the Wicca study group. Now it’s almost over and it’s time for you to decide if you want to become a witch. Is that it?”

  Kate blinked. “Basically,” she said. It sounded so easy when Father Mahoney put it like that. Why had she had such trouble getting it out?

  “And your father wants you to talk to me because he still isn’t thrilled about the idea of your doing this,” continued Father Mahoney.

  “Exactly,” said Kate.

  The priest leaned back again, tenting his fingers beneath his chin and looking up at the ceiling. Kate followed his gaze, but the only thing above them was a light. Kate waited for Father Mahoney to say something.

  “What your father wants, of course, is for me to convince you to not do this,” he said finally. He looked at Kate with his blue eyes. “What do you want?”

  Kate cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, I know you’re not going to tell me that you think I should do it. Are you?” she tried.

  Father Mahoney gave her an enigmatic smile. �
�Right,” said Kate. “In that case, I know I want to do it. I mean, there’s this whole challenge thing, but that has nothing to do with whether or not I want to be initiated. I want to be initiated. I guess I’m just curious what you think about that.”

  “I’m never happy when someone leaves the church,” Father Mahoney said. “That is what you’ll be doing—leaving the church.”

  He paused, letting Kate feel the weight of his words. She ran them over again in her head. Leaving the church. He makes it sound like I’m quitting the world’s most popular rock band or turning my back on a six-million-dollar basketball contract, she thought.

  “No priest would be happy to see someone leave,” Father Mahoney continued. “In the past we probably would have given you all kinds of warnings about how you were condemning your immortal soul.”

  “But you aren’t saying that?” Kate asked.

  The priest gave a gentle laugh. “Kate, faith isn’t about what’s right and wrong. I mean, it is about what’s right and wrong, but that’s just a by-product of the real stuff.”

  “And what’s the real stuff?”

  “Knowing what the big picture is,” Father Mahoney said. He gestured around the room. “Look at all these books,” he said. “Every one of them claims to contain truth. You can open any one of them and it will say this is how things are or that’s how things are. Some of them will agree with each other, while others couldn’t disagree more.”

  “Then how do you know which one is right?” Kate asked.

  “That’s the big question, isn’t it?” replied the priest. “How do you know what the truth is?”

  Kate waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said impatiently, “Well, how do you know?”

  “You don’t,” Father Mahoney said. “I mean, you can’t prove anything for certain, right? Not about religion and spirituality. I can’t prove to you that there’s a God out there in the same way that I can prove to you that the sun comes up every morning and goes down every night. I can’t prove to you that people have souls that go to heaven when they die the way I can prove to you that combining two molecules of hydrogen with one of oxygen will make water. But I believe those things. Why? Because my experience tells me that those things are true.”