A Game of Fox & Squirrels

by Jenn Reese

  A real silver ring with a blue stone.

  Blue was Sam’s favorite color. She slipped the ring on one finger, then another, then another until … there. Perfect fit! She held out her hand and splayed her fingers, like her mother always did when trying on rings. The silver sparkled. The blue stone had little flecks of white mixed in. It was so pretty, it had to be magic. Would it help light her way to the Golden Acorn?

  Out in the hallway, a door opened. Caitlin’s door. Sam’s heart barely had a chance to jump into rabbit mode before her own door swung open and Caitlin’s head appeared.

  “Hey, what kind of sandwich do you—whoa.” Caitlin gaped at the open bins arrayed around Sam like the debris from a bomb. “What are you doing? That’s not your stuff.”

  Sam scrambled to put the lids back on the bins. “It’s nothing. I’m not doing anything.”

  “Yeah, right,” Caitlin said. “Those are Aunt Vicky’s things.”

  “It was an accident,” Sam blurted. Which made no sense. But she always got like this when she got caught, always said the first thing that came into her head. Always messed up.

  “Clean this up right now,” Caitlin said. “Put everything back exactly the way it was. I’ll keep Aunt Vicky distracted.”

  “I’ll put everything back,” Sam mumbled, snapping the last lid into place.

  “Good,” Caitlin said. “I don’t know what you were thinking, Sam. Don’t ruin this for us.”

  The door slammed shut, and Sam sat there, hands shaking.

  She wasn’t trying to ruin anything. She was trying to fix it.

  If she could only tell Caitlin about Ashander. If she could only let her in on the plan, then Caitlin would understand. When Sam found the Golden Acorn, nothing that happened in Oregon would matter. They’d fly back to Los Angeles and live with their parents, and they’d never see Aunt Vicky or Hannah or Lucas again. This place was a dream—a nightmare—and Sam was the only one fighting to wake up.

  Sam folded her letter to BriAnn and shoved it deep into her notebook so no one would find it. The silver ring with its pretty blue stone glinted from her finger. No one had been missing it. Maybe it was okay if she wore it just a little longer. She could put it back in the bin later, before she went home.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SAM INTENDED TO stay in her room for the rest of the day, but as soon as she was done putting all the bins back in place, Birch appeared on the windowsill.

  “It’s far too nice a day to sit inside,” the squirrel said. “Come outside with me!”

  “But Lucas is out there,” Sam said with a scowl.

  “The forest is vast and he is only one person,” Birch countered. “Are you a hero or not?” She puffed out her furry white chest and raised her stick sword. “To the trees. Adventure awaits!”

  Then Birch leaped off the window and galloped on all fours across the yard. When the squirrel got to the first line of trees, she turned back and beckoned to Sam.

  Well, there was no getting out of it now!

  Sam slunk out of her room and past Aunt Vicky and Armen in the kitchen, mumbling something about getting fresh air as she stepped outside. Aunt Vicky’s voice followed her, but only to say, “Have fun!”

  Sam saw Lucas sitting by the chickens, seemingly absorbed in his knitting. She tiptoed in the other direction, doing her best ninja impersonation. Halfway across the yard, she felt a sneeze coming on. The mighty hero, betrayed by pollen! She pinched her upper lip with her fingers like BriAnn had showed her once, and managed to stuff down the sneeze. Lucas, who had surely been about to look up and discover her, remained oblivious.

  Disaster averted!

  “Over here,” Birch called, waving her sword from the shade of a massive tree.

  Sam made a shushing motion, then hurried the rest of the way until she reached the cover of the tree’s branches. Immediately, spots of sunlight danced all over her.

  “Nature’s disco ball!” Sam grinned. “I bet the fairies in the forest throw fantastic parties.”

  Birch huffed. “I wouldn’t know. They never invite me.”

  “You mean there are actually fairies? For real?” Sam wasn’t sure why she was surprised, considering she was talking to a squirrel in a suit of armor.

  “Of course they’re real! Follow me. I’ll prove it,” Birch said, and bounded deeper into the woods. Sam spared another glance at the house, then headed after Birch.

  Birch wove through the trees and eventually led Sam to a small grassy patch protected by three slender pines. Dozens of white-capped mushrooms arranged in a perfect circle sprouted from the lush green. No regular, non-fairy mushrooms would ever have grown like that.

  “A fairy circle,” Sam breathed. “What do they use it for?”

  “Oh, the usual,” Birch said casually, as if she got asked about fairies every day. “They cast spells and curses. Hold naming ceremonies. Throw parties that they don’t invite me to.” She swiped her sword at one of the mushrooms—just not close enough to actually hit it.

  Sam knelt for a closer look. Was it the sunlight, or were they sparkling just a little bit? “Where are the fairies now?”

  “In the trees and underground, mostly,” Birch said. “They’ve got warrens and nests just like the rest of us. Only, their magic hides the entrances from humans and other predators. From anyone they don’t want interrupting their business.”

  “I wish I had that magic,” Sam said wistfully. Then her bedroom could become a true haven, a place that no one could enter. That no one could even see.

  “Oh, who needs fairies? Dance with me!” Birch leaped into the fairy circle and held out her paws. “Come on, we’ll make our own party!”

  Sam shook her head without thinking.

  The fairies might get mad.

  “Please?” Birch said, wringing her paws together. “No one ever wants to dance with me.”

  Sam studied the sad little squirrel in front of her. Maybe it was worth taking a few risks if it would make Birch happy.

  “Ooh, do you hear that music?” Sam said. “It’s one of my favorite songs!”

  Birch cocked her head, twitched an ear.

  Sam stepped into the center of the fairy circle, careful not to crush a single mushroom. “Do you hear it?” She twisted her hips in time with the imaginary rhythm.

  “Oh, I get it. Yes, I hear it now!” Birch wiggled her tail to an entirely different rhythm. The disco-ball sun didn’t seem to care, showering them both with glittery light.

  Even as she danced, Sam peered into the forest, expecting Aunt Vicky or Caitlin or Lucas to appear. It was hard to do anything back home in Los Angeles without someone else seeing you. There were people everywhere, all the time. Even in their condo, no door was ever truly shut.

  She didn’t want anyone to see her and laugh at her for dancing. For believing in fairies. For befriending a squirrel.

  But no one came. No one saw.

  Sam breathed deep and twirled. There was only dappled sunlight and trees as far as her eye could see in every direction.

  Birch twirled as well and they both spun faster and faster until they lost their balance and collapsed in a heap of squirrel and girl. Sam laughed harder than she had in a long time.

  Maybe she didn’t need fairy magic here, if she could come outside and get away. If she could be herself, without anyone watching.

  * * *

  By the time Sam made it back to the house, Lucas and Armen were gone and Hannah’s car sat in the driveway. Hannah herself was inside the kitchen unloading groceries. Aunt Vicky chopped onions on a cutting board. Sam nodded at them and snuck back to her room, trailed by the smell of sizzling butter and herbs. Her stomach grumbled eagerly. Dancing was hard work, especially when you had to make up your own music.

  She changed into a fresh T-shirt. As she was redoing her ponytail, her door opened suddenly.

  “Looks good in here,” Caitlin said, assessing the room. She nodded to Sam’s suitcase. “Now you just need to unpack.”

&
nbsp; “No,” Sam said, irritated, even though she had just been thinking it might be time to hang up some of her clothes. “I’ll just have to pack it again.”

  “So then you’ll pack again,” Caitlin said, like it was no big deal. She took a step into the room. “It’s not bad in here. Nice view of the trees. Decent space once these bins are gone. Plenty of room for those nature posters you like.”

  “My posters are all back home, on the walls of my real room,” Sam shot back. She thought of the fairy circle and the trees and all that green, but shook the image from her head.

  Maybe it had been fairy magic, after all, trying to trick her into forgetting her quest.

  Caitlin sighed. “Suit yourself, nerd. Time for dinner.”

  Sam followed her. Aunt Vicky motioned to the table, and Sam sat down, glancing quickly at the computer mouse, practically hidden in the cords. She forced herself to look away and focus on Aunt Vicky pouring milk into a tall glass and orange juice into a small one. Sam would have preferred her beverages the other way around, but didn’t say so.

  “It smells amazing,” Caitlin said. “I’m so hungry!”

  Hannah grinned. “Good thing, because I’ve made enough for an army.”

  “Did you get all those eggs from the chickens in the yard?” Caitlin asked. She was good at asking the sort of questions that adults loved to answer.

  Aunt Vicky snorted. “They lay enough for two armies.”

  “Did you see any eggs when you went out with Lucas, Samantha?” Hannah asked.

  Sam had just taken a big gulp of milk and choked a little in her rush to answer.

  “She did,” Caitlin answered, clapping Sam’s back as she coughed. “She told me she saw three of them.”

  “They were really cool,” Sam sputtered. She took another long drink of milk so no one would ask her any follow-up questions.

  Something chirped. Aunt Vicky hopped up, pulled a phone out of her back pocket, and frowned when she saw the number.

  “Excuse me, girls.” She exchanged a quick look with Hannah, then strode out the front door to talk outside.

  “Do you girls like sausage?” Hannah asked briskly. “I have meat and nonmeat options.”

  “Meat for me, nonmeat for Sam,” Caitlin said. “That was so thoughtful to have both kinds.”

  “It was Vic’s idea,” Hannah said. “She’s always thinking. It’s one of the things I love about her.”

  She brought the pans over, one at a time, and scraped sausage and “sausage” onto their plates.

  Aunt Vicky came back inside, her phone clutched in her hand. “We’re going to have a visitor tomorrow. Mr. Sanchez from the state. He’s going to see how you girls are doing. He’ll ask a few questions, take a look around, maybe meet the chickens. Should be an easy visit.” She offered Sam and Caitlin a quick smile but glanced at Hannah with worried eyes.

  “Mr. Sanchez is very nice, girls. I’m sure you’ll like him. What time will he be here?” Hannah asked, her voice still calm. She tossed the scrambled eggs in a huge pan, and none of them spilled. “I’ve got some hours saved. I can take off work.”

  Aunt Vicky’s entire body seemed to relax. “Ten. That would be great. You don’t have to do it. But it would be great.”

  “Of course I do,” Hannah said, and squeezed Aunt Vicky’s arm.

  Aunt Vicky sat down again, but she was clearly distracted. She finished her orange juice in one gulp.

  Unease filled the kitchen like smoke. Caitlin could sense it, too.

  “How fun to have breakfast food for dinner,” Caitlin said. “Do you do this a lot?”

  Aunt Vicky’s eyes came back from the faraway place they had gone. “Um…”

  Hannah piped up. “We both love breakfast, and we both hate rules that don’t make sense. We prefer to make our own rules! I hope you girls are okay with that.” She placed the big pan of eggs in the center of the table and took her seat.

  “So we can have ice cream for dinner tomorrow?” Caitlin asked.

  Hannah laughed. “Nice try, but I said rules that don’t make sense. It makes sense to eat something healthy before filling up on sweets.”

  Aunt Vicky took a big spoon and started divvying up the eggs onto each plate. “There, um, may have been some mid-morning cake today.”

  “Oh, really!” Hannah said. “The truth comes out.” She winked at Sam.

  Caitlin dove into her eggs like a starving person. Sam blew on her eggs first, to make sure she didn’t burn her mouth, and then ate her first bite thoughtfully. The butter made them silky and smooth. Little bits of green onion and broccoli added pops of crunch and flavor. Without thinking, she said, “Do you have any ketchup?”

  Aunt Vicky jumped up from the table and grabbed it from the fridge. “Here you go! I used to eat my scrambled eggs with ketchup, too.”

  Sam looked at the bottle for a moment, still surprised that she’d asked and that it seemed to be no big deal. She took it gingerly, made a little pool of ketchup on the side of her plate, and handed the bottle back. Aunt Vicky added two dots and a curvy line of ketchup to her own eggs. A smiley face. Sam grinned. Maybe she’d do that next time.

  “How is your arm feeling?” Hannah asked Caitlin. “Is it itchy? The last time I had a cast, it itched constantly.”

  “It’s not so bad.” Caitlin touched her broken arm with her good hand. “But why did you have a cast?”

  “I used to kayak,” Hannah said. “Not the smart kind of kayaking, where you stick to lakes and slow-moving rivers. I would go to the coast and kayak in the ocean, sometimes in dangerous locations.” The words were cautionary but her tone was … proud? “I tried to get into a cave once. Was racing high tide to do it. I barely made it back out before the entrance was sealed, and then only after I’d smashed my leg on the rocks.”

  “Cool!” Caitlin said.

  Aunt Vicky shook her head. “Definitely not cool. It’s a wonder that you made it to thirty at all.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Hannah said, and held up her orange juice. “What, no one wants to drink with me?”

  Aunt Vicky laughed and started to pour more OJ into Sam’s glass when Caitlin dropped hers. The glass shattered, flinging juice and bright shards in every direction. Sam watched, horrified, as tendrils of sticky liquid invaded Aunt Vicky’s computer equipment and soaked into her keyboard.

  The smell of butter and eggs hung heavily in the air. Outside, the birds were still singing in the trees, the chickens still clucking and scrabbling around the yard. But here at the table, time stood still. Sam couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Caitlin had accidentally lobbed a grenade into their meal, and now they were holding their breath, waiting to see if it would explode.

  “It’s okay,” Aunt Vicky said. She put the jug of orange juice on the table very carefully, as if she were approaching a frightened animal. “It’s just a spill and some glass. An accident. No one is in trouble. It all cleans right up!” She paused, and her mouth seemed to fumble as she tried to find her next words. She spoke to them slowly. “Hannah and I are not angry.”

  “Of course we’re not angry,” Hannah said brightly. She moved freely, grabbing a sponge and dustpan, while the rest of them—Aunt Vicky, Caitlin, and Sam—were still immobilized.

  “I’m sorry!” Caitlin jumped up. “I can help clean up.”

  “Why don’t you gather the plates? There might be glass in some of them,” Hannah said. “I can whip up a new batch of eggs.”

  Sam helped Caitlin clear the dishes, her body moving robotically even though, inside, her heart was still rabbiting. It didn’t take long before every last sign of the broken glass was gone. Sam watched closely as Aunt Vicky wiped off the computer mouse and tucked it back into its nest of cords.

  “Dinner, round two!” Hannah said, plopping a steaming pan of fresh scrambled eggs in the middle of the newly cleaned table. Aunt Vicky gave her a small, shaky smile.

  Eventually, Sam’s rabbit heart started to calm, and they finished their meal. Hannah did
most of the talking, but Aunt Vicky and Caitlin jumped into the conversation, too. It was almost as if the whole glass-shattering incident had never even happened.

  Afterward, when Caitlin asked to return to her room, Sam followed, feigning a yawn. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Hannah and Aunt Vicky to do the same thing, retreating to their own room up the hall and closing the door behind them.

  Sam lay under the covers of her bed, still fully clothed, still wearing sneakers. She stared at the ceiling, listening to the sounds outside. She rarely heard crickets in LA, and they were practically an orchestra here, perpetually warming up their instruments in a cricket-y cacophony.

  When she couldn’t wait even another minute, she slid out of bed and out the door. The floor creaked as she tiptoed up the hall. The moon wasn’t full—not yet!—but its light streamed in through the front windows all the same, casting the kitchen in an eerie blue glow.

  Sam was a hunter with a single purpose. She headed straight for her prey on the kitchen table, to that morass of dark cords. The mouse really was hiding in the shadows! She plucked it from the tangle carefully and followed its tail to the back of the computer. With a wiggle and a tug, it was free.

  The mouse sat in her palm like a dead thing.

  No, like a thing that was never alive. There was a difference.

  She tried not to think about tomorrow, when Aunt Vicky would sit down to use the computer. Would she even be able to work? Would she miss her deadline?

  Sam tried to squash the feelings of guilt. She couldn’t let herself worry about that. Armen would have a mouse. He was her partner. They’d find a way. Sam needed it more.

  She shoved the mouse into her pocket and snuck outside, careful not to let the door slam behind her.

  The crickets played louder out here, and there were more of them. What sounded like an orchestra before was now a wild horde of barbarians. Even the forest seemed changed. Shadows had swarmed over it, had eaten it up. There were no individual trees, not anymore—just a great maw of darkness waiting to swallow her up, too.