by Jenn Reese
“This is an informal conversation, Samantha,” Mr. Sanchez said. “We know you’ve been through a lot of big changes lately, and we just want to see how you’re doing.” Sally nodded. And smiled. Mr. Sanchez adjusted his tiny glasses. “We’re counting on you to help us, Sam. All you have to do is tell us the truth. Can you do that?”
They always said it like that. Truth. As if it were both fragile and indestructible at the same time.
“Everything is fine,” Sam said. She wanted to cross her arms, but she knew how that would look, like she was being stubborn. Maybe even a little belligerent.
Which she definitely was.
Mr. Sanchez and Sally waited.
Sam unclenched her hands and snaked one into her pocket, where she’d hidden a playing card. The Page of Walnuts. The squirrel had been drawn with a determined expression that reminded her of Birch when she was wielding her twig sword.
The waiting continued. Sam hated the silence. She hated not knowing what they were thinking. Not knowing what they were going to do. After Caitlin’s accident—which was the word Sam’s mother used, but maybe not the right word—people asked Sam a lot of questions about what had happened. Sam had stayed quiet. Stayed loyal. Heroes never gave up their secrets under duress. Sam had sipped water out of a paper cup, then secretly ripped the cup to pieces under the table.
But in the end, she’d given in. She’d told them things. She’d talked. Mostly to ease the tension but also because, sometimes, it felt kind of good.
Sam didn’t want to tell Mr. Sanchez or Sally Overton-Black anything at all, but if she had to, she could tell them that she liked the chickens and didn’t mind eating eggs every day. That there were way too many bugs here. That she’d made several new friends, but they were the fuzzy, four-legged-animal kind, and they talked.
But maybe Mr. Sanchez would use something she said as an excuse to keep her parents away, like Mrs. Washington had done before.
Sam pressed her lips closed even tighter. She was not willing to take the risk.
Movement caught her eye outside the window, a splash of red-and-white fur in the trees. She bit her lip and stared into the shadows—even during bright sunlight, they were still there, places where the light didn’t reach. Sam didn’t know how, but she sensed Ashander was standing in one of them, hidden.
He was waiting to see what she would say. To see whether she’d stay loyal.
“Everything is fine,” Sam said again, determined to sound more convincing.
“It’s okay if you miss your parents, Sam,” Mr. Sanchez said. “Do you miss them?”
The question was so direct that it caught Sam off guard. She looked down so they wouldn’t see her surprise. Of course she missed her own parents! She missed her mom humming in the morning, when she was reading magazines at the kitchen table with her coffee but no one else had come out of their rooms yet. She missed her father pausing the nature documentaries on TV to explain something interesting about an animal, something that even the documentary people didn’t know. She missed going to Caitlin’s games as a family, on the days that Caitlin played well and won.
But also … there were things she didn’t miss.
Like Caitlin’s games where she made a mistake, or lost. Like being sick with worry when she got a bad grade at school, or got caught passing notes with BriAnn and had to take a letter home to be signed.
But she was absolutely not going to say any of those things.
“It’s also okay if you like it here,” Mr. Sanchez continued. Sally started to say something, but Mr. Sanchez put his hand on her wrist. Just a little, slight touch. Sally settled back into her chair. “Your aunt Vicky is very glad to have you here, Sam. She’s very glad that you’re safe. She might not have figured out how to tell you that yet. This is a lot of change for her, too. But everyone wants what’s best for you.”
We only want what’s best for you. Another line that all grown-ups liked to say. Did any of them actually mean it?
Sam stayed loyal. She stayed silent.
“Have you made any new friends?” Mr. Sanchez asked.
That question, at least, seemed safe to answer—and she was eager to change the subject. She nodded.
“Lucas,” she said. “His dad’s name is Armen.”
Sally scribbled in a notebook.
“Can you tell me anything about Lucas?” Mr. Sanchez asked. “What does he like to do?”
“He knits without knowing what he’s making,” Sam said, “which I still think is really strange.”
Mr. Sanchez and Sally both chuckled. Mr. Sanchez said, “That does sound strange.”
“But he’s also nice,” Sam added quickly. She thought about how he had run back to get a Band-Aid.
“That’s good. Have you been spending a lot of time with Lucas?”
“No, not since…” Sam trailed off. She hadn’t seen Lucas since she’d thrown his compass at him. The very compass he’d tried to give her as a present. “No, I’ve been busy.”
Mr. Sanchez and Sally asked her a few more questions about Lucas and his father. She answered blandly, trying not to give them too much information.
Back in Los Angeles, people always wanted to know about her father, about what he’d done. They’d asked her general questions at first and then very specific ones about that last night. She was on guard for those kinds of questions from Mr. Sanchez, but they never came. Before long, Mr. Sanchez nodded to Sally, and she closed her notebook.
He adjusted his glasses on his nose and peered closely at Sam. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us, or ask us?”
A million questions popped into her head: Where are my parents now? Are they okay? Do they miss me? Are they coming to visit? When can we go home? She knew she shouldn’t ask any of them, but—
“When can I see my parents?” Sam blurted.
Mr. Sanchez did not look surprised by her outburst, but he did take a moment to think before answering. “Your parents have a list of things they need to do before they have permission to see you, Sam. Whether they do those things or not is up to them. Our priority is to keep you and your sister safe. But no matter what, it will take some time. Okay?”
Sam nodded, even though she felt entirely numb. Even though her heart felt like it was filled with stones.
It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.
“Do you have any other questions?” Sally asked.
“No,” Sam said sharply.
Mr. Sanchez looked the tiniest bit sad. “Then thank you so much for your time, Samantha. Can you go outside and ask your sister to come in, please?”
Sam thought she’d misheard. Was she really done?
“It’s not always going to be so hard, Sam,” Mr. Sanchez said. “It’ll get easier. You’ll see.”
Sam had no intention of being here long enough for it to get easier. In fact, this was probably the last time she would ever see Mr. Sanchez or Sally Overton-Black, and she was perfectly okay with that.
She stood up, her chair scraping loudly across the floor, and started to head outside. As she reached for the doorknob, she glanced out the window and saw Aunt Vicky talking with Armen and Hannah by the chicken coop.
Everyone was out of the house except Sam. Everyone. This was her one chance to sneak into Aunt Vicky’s room unnoticed and figure out the answer to the second riddle.
If Sam could prove her loyalty to Ashander and get the Golden Acorn, then it wouldn’t matter if her parents followed any of Mr. Sanchez’s awful rules.
“Is it okay if I use the bathroom first?” Sam asked loudly.
Mr. Sanchez was busy scribbling notes on his pad. He hadn’t touched it once while they’d been talking, but now, apparently, he had a lot to say.
“Of course you can,” Sally said. She gave Sam a big smile, then started writing on her own pad in large, loopy script.
Good.
Sam headed down the hallway, but instead of going into the bathroom, she slipped inside her aunt’s room.
Aunt Vicky and Hannah had the biggest bedroom in the house, but it was still smaller than Sam’s room back home. One long dresser sat along the far wall, its surface covered in plants and stacks of folded clothes, with a big giraffe lamp standing guard from one end. The riddle had described the object she was supposed to steal as radiant gold. The giraffe was yellowish, so it went on Sam’s mental list.
Over the dresser hung a mosaic of mirrors in all shapes and sizes, mixed in with framed photos. Sam perused them for clues, but they were mostly of smiling people who Sam didn’t recognize.
A big queen bed sat in the middle of the room, under the window. Squat nightstands flanked it on both sides. One of the nightstands was covered in books, and if she’d had more time, Sam would have sat and read every last title. But none of them had gold covers or sparkled, and therefore none of them were the answer to the riddle.
Before she could assess the contents of the other nightstand, her eyes stopped on the pile of green and blue pillows at the head of the bed … and on the creature practically holding court from the middle of them.
A faded yellow rabbit sat atop the pillows, only this particular rabbit was holding a small stuffed scimitar and wearing an eyepatch … just like some of the animals in Aunt Vicky’s bins.
Except this rabbit wasn’t in a bin. It was clearly special. Maybe even precious, like in the riddle.
Sam tiptoed to the bed and stroked the bunny’s ear. It was still soft, despite looking like it had waged and won a hundred battles.
Did it fit the other qualities mentioned in the riddle? Was it the very stuff of dreams? It was stuffed, certainly, so that part fit. Not even Ashander could argue with her logic! But the dreams part was confusing.
Sam added the bunny to her list of things Aunt Vicky might love and checked her watch. The moon glared at her from the watch face. Only the tiniest silver lining was still missing. She had so little time! And she’d already been in the room several minutes. Mr. Sanchez or Sally might be getting suspicious.
But before she opened the door, she went back to the pictures on the wall and looked at them more carefully. There were a dozen at least, and lots of them seemed to be photos of Aunt Vicky and Hannah with Hannah’s family.
Nowhere, not in any picture, was Sam’s dad.
It was like he’d been completely erased from Aunt Vicky’s life.
Sam clenched her jaw. That’s what they wanted Sam to do, too. To erase her own father and mother. To forget them completely. To betray them.
Never, Sam vowed silently. She could prove her loyalty to Ashander and her parents at the same time. Once she had the Golden Acorn, it was Oregon that she’d forget.
FROM THE RULES FOR FOX & SQUIRRELS
EARN THE FOX’S FAVOR (CONT’D)
A happy Fox requires very little effort to please. Give the Fox a pair of matching cards, and he’ll stay happy. You can continue on with your day.
Earning the favor of a charming Fox is trickier. Sometimes three cards of the same number will appease him, and sometimes he wants three cards with their numbers all in a row. It’s all about what the Fox wants in that particular moment, and no one knows what that is except the Fox!
Try everything you can think of.
Be as clever as you dare.
Hope for the best.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NEITHER MR. SANCHEZ nor Sally Overton-Black questioned Sam as she left the house. She stepped outside and was welcomed by a wall of heat and sun. August in Oregon wasn’t as hot as August in Los Angeles, but today it was trying. And it was a sticky warmth here, the kind that instantly coated her skin with sweat and made her shirt stick to her back.
Sam surveyed the yard. Aunt Vicky and Hannah stood by the chicken coop talking to Armen, while Lucas and Caitlin stood in the shade of a nearby tree. There was no sign of Ashander, but that didn’t mean he was gone. He could still be out there, watching. It made Sam feel special to know that she mattered to him. And to know that even in a normal-looking yard, there was still magic at work.
But now she was supposed to send Caitlin inside, and that meant interacting with Lucas. Sam gnawed her lip. After their fight yesterday, that did not seem like an appealing prospect. She tried waving at Caitlin from a distance, but her sister didn’t notice. With a sigh and a gut full of lead, she walked over.
Aunt Vicky and Hannah watched as Sam crossed the yard. They didn’t just glance over and then turn back to their conversation—they watched the whole time and even smiled. It was … odd. Sam knew how to enter and leave a room in Caitlin’s shadow, how to hide in her room when she heard loud voices, how to eat a meal without ever once looking up into anyone’s eyes. But it was different here with Aunt Vicky and Hannah. They always found her. Sometimes it felt like having a spotlight pointed right at her face. She gave them a little nod, and it seemed to make them happy.
Lucas was in the middle of some story about a camping trip but fell silent as Sam approached. She was too embarrassed to look him in the eye and focused on her sister instead.
“How did it go?” Caitlin asked with her earbuds still in.
“Okay,” Sam said, and shrugged. “They want to talk to you now.”
Caitlin nodded, playing it cool. She turned and headed toward the house.
Sam wasn’t fooled. She could see the hardness at the edge of her sister’s mouth, and in her shoulders. The way she seemed to be putting on another piece of armor with every step.
Why hadn’t Sam said something encouraging? It wasn’t so bad. They seem nice for people keeping our family apart. Or even, They didn’t ask about that night. Anything to make Caitlin less nervous. Caitlin would have done that for her.
“Hey,” Lucas said, knitting furiously. Sam hadn’t even noticed him take the needles from his bag.
“Um, hey,” she said.
Sam watched him knit as the silence stretched between them, thin and brittle. It would take so little to shatter it, and yet Sam couldn’t figure out how. Luckily, Aunt Vicky joined them, though it probably meant being subjected to even more questions.
“Are you okay?” her aunt asked.
Surprised, Sam nodded.
Not What did you tell them? What did you say? Only … Are you okay?
“Do you have any advice?” Aunt Vicky wiped her palms on her shorts. “I haven’t done this before.”
Sam thought about it; she really was an expert at this point. “They want you to be honest,” she said finally. “They’re really big on that.”
“I can do that. Honesty is one of my best skills,” Aunt Vicky said, and she looked up at the trees instead of at Sam. Sam looked away from people, too, sometimes. When she was nervous.
“They also want you to talk a lot.” Then, to put Aunt Vicky more at ease, Sam added, “But I’m not great at that part.”
Aunt Vicky nodded. “Me, neither. I always think of what I want to say afterward, but never right when I’m supposed to be saying it.”
“Me, too!” Sam burst out, then shrank back again, suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. It was a test of loyalty, she reminded herself. It didn’t matter if Aunt Vicky was nice to her. She had to stop wobbling and stay focused on the quest. She had to actually be loyal.
Which meant she should use this moment to find out more about her aunt. To maybe find out what she loved.
“Is that your wedding ring?” Sam pointed to her aunt’s hand, ignoring the fresh pang of guilt as she did so.
Aunt Vicky held her hand out for Sam and Lucas. Sam peered closely, trying to hide her interest. The gold band was dinged and smudged, but it was kind of radiant, like in the riddle. Aunt Vicky said, “I wanted something simple. It has an inscription on the inside, the first thing Hannah said to me on the day we met. Hers has what I answered.”
“What does it say?” Sam asked. She realized she wasn’t asking just for the test, but because she actually wanted to know.
“Yeah, was it a knock-knock joke?” Lucas asked. “That would be funny.”
Aunt
Vicky laughed. “No. We were in college, and I was working on my laptop in a very busy coffee shop. Hannah asked if she could share my table. When I looked up and saw her, she was so pretty that I couldn’t think. My brain just … went away. I said, ‘Yes, I’d like another latte.’”
Sam laughed in spite of herself.
“I don’t get it,” Lucas said, but he was laughing, too.
“Neither did she,” Aunt Vicky said. “Lucky for me, she found—finds—my social ineptitude charming.”
Sam liked the story. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help it. It made her think of her mother sitting at the kitchen table in their condo, drinking her glass of red wine and twisting her own wedding and engagement rings around her finger. Around and around, as if she were trying to secure them in place or take them off.
Aunt Vicky glanced over toward the chicken coop and Hannah. The lines around her eyes softened and faded, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
She seemed to really love her wife. The riddle contained the word beloved, which was often used in weddings. Maybe getting married was the stuff of dreams for Aunt Vicky. But how could Ashander expect her to take her aunt’s wedding ring? What a horrible thing to do, especially now that Sam knew how much it meant to her … and probably to Hannah, too.
But that’s what loyalty meant, right? Staying true to someone no matter what happened. No matter what awful thing they told you to do.
Sam needed to keep looking. Maybe there was something else that Aunt Vicky loved even more. A gift more precious than it seems.
When Aunt Vicky looked back at Sam, her gaze caught on Sam’s hand. Sam realized she’d put on the ring with the blue stone—the ring from Aunt Vicky’s plastic bin—for her talk with Mr. Sanchez and never taken it off. Her mouth felt dry, and she couldn’t swallow. She covered the ring with her other hand, but she knew she was too late.
“Lucas, go talk to your father for a minute,” Aunt Vicky said. “I’d like to talk to Sam alone.”
“Sure!” Lucas said, stowing his knitting.
“He doesn’t have to go—” Sam said, frantic. Suddenly she wanted him here, wanted him close. Where was Caitlin?