The Circle

by Cindy Cipriano

  “Better?” asked Gus.

  “Yeah. Looking ahead worked.” The dizziness was mild this time and there was no nausea. Calum stared at the landscape, straining to recognize something, anything familiar. But no memories came to him.

  “You can’t force it,” said Kenzie. “Just relax and enjoy being here for now.”

  Disappointed but still hopeful, Calum walked with the others down a wide dusty path toward the center of the mound. A large banner hung across the street which read, “Welcome to Tusatha.” Something like glitter fell from the banner when they walked beneath it. It felt cool and pleasant on Calum’s face, and when he stuck out his tongue, it tasted like honey. He smiled, happy to be back in his element. He stood with his parents and surveyed Tusatha Mound. Colorful tents were clustered on smooth meadows, showcasing the traditions and specialty foods of different Sidhe clans.

  “Come on, Hagen,” said Tullia. “Let’s go find your grandparents.”

  “Okay if I stay with Calum?” asked Hagen. “Just for a while?”

  “It’s fine with me,” said Kenzie.

  “We’ll catch up later,” said Donnelly, ruffling Hagen’s hair. He led Tullia further into the crowd.

  Calum listened as Kenzie explained what each of the clans offered inside their tent. It took him only a moment to decide where he wanted to go first. The Foletti. The ancient artifacts of the Italian clan fascinated him. He poured over several scrolls of Italian writing, sipping on a cup of their wonderfully strong coffee. Kenzie had added nearly the same amount of cream before giving the cup to Calum, but he still thought it was the best drink he’d ever tasted. After Kenzie promised to take him to the Foletti Mound another day, Calum reluctantly agreed to leave their tent.

  Next, they stopped to sample smooth German chocolate at the Weisse Frau tent. They stayed for a few minutes, listening to a beautiful waltz, but Calum was ready to move on when his parents began twirling on the dance floor. The next tent belonged to the African, Abatta clan. Calum found their vibrant paintings and sculptures interesting, but their prophetic poetry was a bit over his head.

  When they entered the slick black tent of the Kischef clan, Calum felt a strange sense of déjà vu. A haze of heavy incense filled the air, triggering a memory inside him. “I know these things,” he said, sorting through a wooden bin of velvety gray crystals.

  “May I help you?” asked a tall blonde-haired woman behind the back counter. She was easily six feet tall and had a slight build. She crossed the space between them quickly, gracefully, in a fluid motion.

  “We’re friends with Rebeccah,” said Kenzie. “Is she here?”

  The woman cackled loudly, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. This startled Calum, but he couldn’t pull himself away from her mesmerizing gaze. She began to turn on the spot, spinning faster and faster until she was a blur. When she stopped spinning, she looked entirely different. The woman was now every bit of five feet tall. She had black wiry hair and her eyes were black as night. She approached them more slowly this time, walking with a slight limp.

  “Trick or treat,” said the woman. “It’s good to see you MecKenzie, and Gus too.” She hugged them both.

  “It’s good to see you again Rebeccah,” said Kenzie.

  “And this young man, he is my treat?” A white-faced Calum stared blankly, unable to speak. “This can’t be Calum,” said Rebeccah. “He was a baby last time I saw him. Let me have a look, mein freid.” Her boney hands rested on Calum’s shoulders as she looked him over.

  “Mein freid?” asked Calum. He couldn’t remember much about Rebeccah, but he knew she was someone he’d once liked very much. He immediately trusted this stranger, and was glad to see her again.

  “It’s Yiddish. It means my delight,” said Kenzie. “Rebeccah used to call me that.”

  “You are still my delight, MecKenzie,” said Rebeccah. “It’s so good to see all of you. How was your trip in?”

  “Calum had a little trouble,” said Kenzie.

  “It will pass, with practice.” Rebeccah smiled. “And here’s my other young friend. Hello Hagen.” She pulled him into a tight hug.

  “Hey Rebeccah,” said Hagen, squirming.

  “Such a handsome young man, just like his dad.”

  Hagen blushed and tried to pull away, but there was no use. Rebeccah was in charge of all of her hugs.

  “Is it okay if I take Calum to Public House now?” Hagen asked when Rebeccah finally let go of him.

  Kenzie looked nervously at Gus.

  “He’s perfectly safe here,” Gus said reassuringly.

  “He’s right,” said Rebeccah. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Kenzie smiled and gave Hagen a nod.

  “Come on. All the kids get to have Ghoul Gruel,” said Hagen. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. It tastes like chicken soup.”

  “You must come visit me when you come back for Sidhe school, yes?” Rebeccah called after them.

  Calum smiled. “Definitely.” He turned and followed Hagen out of the tent. They quickly walked to the northern most part of the mound. The street was lined with various small shops, each spilling party goers onto the sidewalk. The road came to an end at the front steps of the Tusatha Public House.

  The building had deep cherry-colored shake siding with intricate markings on its supports and around each window. The multi-angled roof had similarly colored wooden shingles. The house was decorated in autumn colors of brown, gold, and burnt orange. Fat batches of yellow mums lined the front porch.

  Calum followed Hagen up the front steps and inside the house. The front hall was lined with heavy oak panels, each covered with mysterious carvings—Gaelic writing—similar to the writing on the checkout desk at Siopa Leabhar.

  “What’s all this?” Calum fingered the neatly written text of one panel.

  “Our stories,” said Hagen. “Every Sidhe’s story is carved into the entrance hall of their Public House. See, mine’s down here.” He pointed to where his name was neatly carved on the base of one of the planks. “Good looking, intelligent, first born child of Tullia and Donnelly Dunbar.”

  “Right,” said Calum, easily reading what was written on the plank.

  “You have one, too,” said Hagen. “In the Aessea Public House.” They continued down the hall, Hagen pointing out the names of his relatives. “Here’s Tullia, and that’s Brytes over there.”

  “And here’s Finley’s,” said Calum, gently touching the carving. Finley’s story was short, even shorter than Brytes’.

  Hagen nudged him and they continued through the hall. Interconnected wooden circles gleamed in the floor at the end of the entrance hall, leading to a large room called “The Circle.” Mums and acorn centerpieces sat on tables that lined the edges of the massive room, where families enjoyed specialty foods from the tents. The open space on the floor was covered with large fluffy cushions. They walked to a table loaded with Sidhe treats and filled their plates with broken broomsticks, butterfly shadows, and willow whips. They picked up a glass of Swamp Swill and found an empty space where they could sit together on the floor.

  A rough-skinned hobgoblin sat on a three-legged stool. He held a cloud cake in one hand and tore crooked bites with his large gray teeth. The hobgoblin barely chewed the food before washing it down with gulps of a frothy drink. He belched with a rumbling roar.

  “Now as you already know, the duine daonna are not that great at trudgin’ through the woods,” said the hobgoblin.

  Hagen and a few other kids snickered.

  Calum was sure Hagen had heard the tales for years, and could probably recite them from memory. But Calum decided he wasn’t going to miss a thing. He settled on a soft cushion with his Swamp Swill and listened to the hobgoblin’s Tales from a Will o’ the Wisp, feeling he was home at last.

  Chapter Eight

  Tusatha

  October faded into November, and Thanksgiving break soon arrived. Calum and his parents spent most of the holiday discussing the upcoming Sidh
e school session in December.

  After much convincing and promises to stick with Hagen, Kenzie relented. Calum would be allowed to return to the Otherworld over the Christmas holiday. There was one small problem. Laurel. Calum hated lying, but he had no choice. He decided to tell her he was going to spend Christmas with his grandparents in South Carolina.

  Christmas break couldn’t come fast enough. After Neal’s taunting on Halloween, Hagen had become increasingly irritated with Laurel’s apparent affections. He reached his limit during the first week of December when Laurel was absent from school with the flu. Mrs. Werner asked Calum to bring Laurel’s assignments home. When Kenzie pulled into Laurel’s driveway, Hagen refused to get out of the car.

  “It’s okay if I don’t see her for one day,” said Hagen. “I think she’ll live.”

  Kenzie turned around in her seat, looking at Hagen with raised eyebrows. Calum left in a hurry before Hagen got the lecture that would surely follow.

  Calum knocked at the door and was greeted by Mrs. Werner and Whisper. The black-and-white cat followed Calum through the house, eyeing him suspiciously when he set Laurel’s binder on the kitchen table.

  “Thanks for bringing her work,” said Mrs. Werner. “Laurel’s not up to visitors, but she’d probably like it if you’d message her later.”

  “I will. I hope she feels better.”

  Calum returned to the car in time to hear his mom saying, “I’m sure Laurel just has a harmless crush on you. Try to be patient, Hagen. She’ll get over it. Until then, be nice to her. And no matter what, it’s never okay to talk to me in that tone.”

  “Sorry, Kenzie,” said Hagen, looking angrier than Calum had ever seen him.

  Calum thought something else might be bugging Hagen. Since Arlen was out of the picture, maybe Hagen wanted to drive Laurel away, too? Over the next couple of days, Hagen continued to be short with Laurel, which caused Calum to be short with Hagen. Calum took it upon himself one afternoon at Siopa Leabhar to clear the air with his cousin.

  “I think of you as the brother I never had,” said Calum. “You and I are way closer than two friends could ever be. Laurel will never take your place.”

  “Gee thanks, you big dork. I’m sure I feel flattered.” Hagen laughed. “I love you, too,” he said between snorts. “Look, everything will be all right if Laurel would just stop staring at me all the time. People are starting to say things and I don’t just mean Neal. Wait, he’s not a person. He’s more of a troll.”

  Unfortunately for Calum, things continued to be strained whenever the three friends were together. Both Hagen and Laurel now looked for excuses not to be around the other. The three still studied at Siopa Leabhar after school, but even that changed to accommodate their unpleasant moods. By an unspoken agreement, Hagen and Laurel took turns working with Calum in the loft. Whenever one was with Calum, the other worked on their assignments in the coffee bar below.

  The week before Christmas seemed to last an eternity. Everyone, students and teachers alike, needed a break from school, homework, and from each other. Parents, however, looked forward to going to Longwood for the first orchestra concert of the year. The concert was scheduled for the evening before Christmas break.

  Calum had become quite good with his violin, but he was still a bundle of nerves when he arrived with his parents for the concert. They made their way to the Commons, Calum taking each step like a condemned man.

  “Relax,” said Kenzie. “You’ve played lots of times at Siopa. You’ll be great.”

  “And I’ll be on the stage with you.” Gus clapped him on his back.

  “Why?” asked Calum.

  “The bass player is sick. Ms. Rathbone just asked me to sit in.”

  Great. Calum smiled weakly.

  “I see Tullia and Donnelly sitting with the Werners.” Kenzie casually waved at them.

  Why did Laurel have to come? Calum wondered. What if I mess up? He watched Hagen climb the steps to the stage. Halfway up, his viola slipped from hands and tumbled down the steps. It seemed Calum wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

  “Break a leg, you guys.” Kenzie gave Gus a quick peck on the cheek and joined Tullia in the audience.

  “I’ll break yours if you break mine,” Calum muttered to Gus, who shook his head. Calum half-wished he would break a leg to get out of performing. He joined the rest of his classmates on stage, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. I’ll never be able to hold onto my bow. But Calum felt a little better once they started playing and his confidence quickly grew.

  Ms. Rathbone addressed the audience after their third piece. “Parents, please raise your hand if you do not know how to play an instrument.” Several hands shot into the air. “My students are quite gifted. So talented they can teach anyone to play. May I please have a few volunteers?” A small group of parents ambled forward. Calum was mortified to see Kenzie among them.

  “A few of my maestros will take you backstage and teach you an easy little song while the rest of the orchestra plays our final piece.” Several seventh-grade students led the parents offstage. “We can’t wait to hear your performance.”

  “This should be good,” said Calum. “The only thing Kenzie can play is her iPod.”

  As the orchestra finished a slow sonata, the adult “students” joined them onstage. Ms. Rathbone conducted as the parents played a ridiculously funny version of Mary Had a Little Lamb. Calum felt ten times better once he heard how horrible they sounded. He didn’t mind at all when Ms. Rathbone again asked for volunteers to join the orchestra for a special encore. Calum smiled as he watched teachers, parents, and Kenzie dance while the orchestra played the cancan.

  After the concert, Laurel joined Calum and Hagen on stage. “That was great.” She looked at Hagen shyly while she dragged her pendant across its velvet cord. The cord snapped and the pendant fell to the floor.

  Hagen bent to retrieve it at the same time as Laurel, almost bumping heads. She snatched the pendant away before Hagen touched it. Maybe the stress of the evening had finally caught up with him, or maybe it was the anticipation of going to Tusatha. Whatever the reason, Hagen had reached his breaking point.

  “Sorry. I was just trying to pick it up for you,” he said gruffly. “By the way, do you have to stare at me all the time? It really was distracting during the concert.”

  Several students stopped packing their instruments, curious about Hagen’s comments.

  “Cool it,” whispered Calum.

  “Seriously Laurel,” Hagen continued, unaware of his audience. “What gives? Can you try staring at someone else for a change?”

  Laurel struggled to speak; a muffled cry escaped her lips before she ran off the stage and into the crowd. Her parents ran after her.

  “Not cool,” said Donnelly, climbing on to the stage. “I think you could have picked a better time and place.”

  “Or, maybe not said anything at all,” said Tullia, joining them.

  “Okay,” said Hagen. “I get it.”

  Tullia lifted one eyebrow and stared at him. “I’d think long and hard about what you say next.”

  “And, how you say it,” said Donnelly.

  When Kenzie ushered Calum off the stage to help Gus pack up the bass, he didn’t protest. Calum glanced back in time to see Hagen nodding to whatever Donnelly was telling him. He wondered if things would ever get back to normal for him, Hagen, and Laurel. He hoped the long Christmas break apart would do the trick.

  Wi

  Calum and his parents always spent Christmas Day together at home. When Calum and Wrecks trotted downstairs that morning, they found Kenzie and Gus waiting in the family room. The curtains had been pulled back, revealing the beautiful mountain side, which was covered in a thick blanket of fresh snow.

  “Merry Christmas,” Calum said excitedly.

  “Merry Christmas.” His parents echoed. They motioned him to join them on the couch where they all enjoyed their traditional Christmas breakfast of soft-boiled eggs on thick toast. Just w
hen Calum could wait no more, Gus said, “Go ahead, son.”

  Calum dove under the tree, and with Wrecks’ help, passed out all the Christmas presents. Calum was surprised to discover a silver watch on a leather strap among his gifts. Calum read the inscription, “My son, my spirit.”

  “Your granddad gave me that watch when I started middle school,” said Gus. “I had to replace the strap, but the watch still works.”

  “It’s cool. Thanks Dad.” Calum was thrilled to have something his father had when he was a kid. He sat beside Gus for several minutes, one hand on his dad’s shoulder and the other turning the watch over and over, looking at it from all angles.

  After tidying up the ripped wrapping paper and torn ribbons, Calum jogged up the stairs to pack for his trip to Tusatha. He overheard his parents’ conversation.

  “That was the best gift ever,” said Gus.

  “What?” asked Kenzie.

  “Just being here with Calum.”

  “Yeah, he won’t do that much longer. Before we know it, he’ll be spending more and more time with his friends,” said Kenzie.

  I’ll always want to spend time with you guys, thought Calum.

  Since Kenzie’s parents were visiting friends in Aessea and would not return to Tusatha until the end of the school session, Calum would be staying with Hagen’s grandparents, Connor and Aine Brady, the King and Queen of the Faerie Realm. This eased Kenzie’s worries enough to permit Calum to travel with Hagen without her. The boys passed through the thresholds with ease the day they returned to Tusatha.

  The Public House had been painstakingly decorated for the Christmas season. A large, live tree stood growing in the center of the room. It was adorned in different shades of cream. There were hundreds of delicate ivory-colored ornaments, which depicted various winter scenes. Small ceramic shapes in pale white shades were scattered about the tree. A large cream-colored bow was perched on the top, its ribbons gracefully trailing downward on two sides of the tree. Aside from the sheer size and the multitude of ornaments, this tree was special in another way. Every few minutes a gold shimmering began at the top of the tree and worked its way to the ground. As the shimmering passed through each branch, the decorations changed color. This time they changed to different shades of robin’s egg blue, but in another ten minutes they would all be shades of lilac.