by Abby Cooper
I rounded the corner and eyed the gravelly path to my right. The path led to the small woodsy area that surrounded Tiveda Pond. I’d only been there once, right after I started writing about Zoe. I thought it’d be a great setting for a story, and it was. Except when Mom found out I’d gone there, she said I shouldn’t go there again because nobody really took care of the pond or went there. It was too far off the beaten path, she’d always say.
So, yeah, technically I knew I wasn’t supposed to go to the pond. But there was literally nowhere else exciting to walk to in this town, and I had nothing fun to do. So I glanced down the gravel path again. I looked left and right, took a big breath, and walked toward it.
Just like I thought it would be, the area around the pond was empty. Mom was right—the pond looked like it could use a little love. I definitely didn’t remember its greenish glow and slimy-looking bubbles from the last time I went. A cloudy mist hovered directly above it. I considered keeping an eye out for a witch, because the water totally looked like some kind of potion.
A plopping sound echoed through the air, making me jump. I looked back toward the water and blinked a few thousand times to make sure I was seeing right. Clue was in the pond—just his feet and shins, but still, in it—wading around like he was in a sparkly blue swimming pool, not goop-infested water that was probably going to give him a disease or turn him into a sea creature.
My jaw dropped as I tried to figure out what to do. While I was thinking, Clue climbed out of the water. He held a long tube in one hand. It was filled to the top with gross green liquid. As I watched, he grabbed a backpack from the ground and pulled something out. My notebook! Was he going to…he wouldn’t…would he? I tried to charge out there, but my feet refused to move, so I held my breath and braced myself for the worst. Clue tipped the tube toward my notebook…and let one, two, three single drops fall onto the cover.
What was he doing?
Clue tucked my notebook back inside his bag as if nothing weird had happened. He pulled out another notebook—the green one I’d seen him writing in at school sometimes—and jotted something down. Even from a little distance away, I could see the look on his face. It was an oppservation face. Excited looking, but also sad enough to smash your heart to pieces.
My heart raced. If I was going to say something, I had to do it now. “Clue!” I called out.
When he saw me, his face turned to pure panic. He grabbed his bag and stumbled over grass and twigs as he ran away in the opposite direction.
Just like that, I was alone again at the pond.
I watched the water, which felt like the weirdest thing ever. At least I knew that Clue hadn’t ripped my notebook to shreds and thrown it in the pond. He still had it. It would be hard, but I could survive one more night and get it back tomorrow.
Slowly I turned toward the gravel path and made my way home. The pond seemed to bubble gently as I walked away.
8
A New Neighbor
I knew Mom told me not to be gone long. And even though it was probably getting close to long, I wandered back home slowly, stopping to watch cars drive back and forth, kick some loose pebbles, and think. What I had seen didn’t seem real, but it was. It happened so fast that maybe I imagined it or saw it wrong. But it kept replaying in my mind. It was more confusing than anything I could ever come up with, and I was a writer. It had happened.
I stopped when I came to my front yard. I hadn’t really noticed my yard lately, or thought about it, because who really thinks about their yard? From this spot, it was impossible not to notice. Even though Tiveda in general was kind of brown and dead, our yard was different. Well, not now. But in the past. Before Dad got sick, we had bright green grass, colorful flowers, even one of those little decorative gnome-y guys with the beard and the pointy red hat. Now the grass was brown, the flowers were dead, and the gnome’s chipping paint made it look like a zombie. Even on a sunny day, the outside of our house looked almost as gloomy as the inside felt.
I sighed and opened the door.
“Hello?”
No answer.
I wandered through the den where Dad was sleeping in his chair and made my way into the kitchen. There was a note on the fridge. Went to grab ice cream at the gas station. Back soon. Love, Mom and Bo. Next to the words, there was a picture of an ice cream cone poking Bo’s bad guy with a sprinkle.
I went back to the den, sat on the couch across from Dad, and stared blankly out the window. A few loud beeps jerked my attention to the house across the street. It looked like the bunnies were finally getting some company.
A big truck backed into the driveway, and once it came to a stop, a girl leapt out looking especially happy. It was like she hadn’t seen the sun in a thousand years. Her long dark hair flew behind her as she skipped in circles around the driveway before collapsing on the lawn. She didn’t seem to mind at all that the grass was as brown as ours.
I knew I should get up and go turn on the TV or something. It didn’t matter who this girl was. Even though she looked like she could maybe be my age or close to it, and even if it turned out she was in sixth grade and was fun to be around, it didn’t matter. She’d be gone soon enough, like most people in this town. Anyway, my notebook was the only real friend I needed. Once I got that back tomorrow, I’d be fine.
But still. This girl was kind of interesting. After she got up from the grass, she stood in front of the house and stared at it for what felt like hours. Then she turned around and smiled at our street like it was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen in her life. I ducked so she couldn’t see me watching her. But she wasn’t even looking my way. She was looking at the world like she was so incredibly happy to see it, even though it was home to brown grass and dead flowers and zombie gnomes.
I sat up a teeny bit straighter. Our street was pretty narrow, so the girl was actually not that far away from me. I could make out some of the details of her face: she had bright, sparkly green eyes and this funny-shaped blob on her face, right above her eyebrow, which was probably some sort of birthmark.
As I looked closer, I noticed that it was a birthmark—and it almost looked heart-shaped, like Zoe’s.
I frowned to myself. I was going so bonkers without my notebook that I was seeing Zoe’s features in this new neighbor girl. While I was at it, maybe later I’d see Zoe’s face reflected in the mirror or in a piece of fruit.
I kept watching. I kind of couldn’t look away.
And what I saw next was freakier than fruit with a face.
The girl ran to the mailbox at the edge of her driveway and pulled three big red stickers out of her jeans pocket. She stuck them on the mailbox and then stood back to admire her work.
I practically fell off the couch.
The stickers on the mailbox spelled Z-O-E.
At that moment Dad made a super loud snoring sound, which almost made me fall off the couch again. He opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and stretched.
I looked back out the window. The girl was gone. But the letters on the mailbox were still there, and the image of her face was front and center in my mind.
It probably wasn’t possible. No, forget the probably. It wasn’t possible. Maybe it was her last name. It’d be an unusual one, sure, but I wasn’t going to judge.
Dad rubbed his forehead. “I think I had a weird dream,” he told me.
I took a long breath in and out. I hadn’t been asleep, but still.
“I think I did too,” I said.
9
The New Girl’s First Day
When my alarm went off on Monday morning, I practically leapt out of bed. I had never been so excited to get out of bed on a Monday or maybe ever. Today was the day I would get my notebook back from Clue. Plus, maybe I would meet the girl from across the street.
I’d tossed and turned all night thinking about her and about what I’d seen at the pond. J
ust because she looked like Zoe and lived across the street like Zoe and, oh, yeah, might actually be named Zoe, didn’t necessarily mean anything. And as for Clue, maybe he was a budding marine biologist or something. Didn’t they like to study weird water? I just hoped he wasn’t planning to surprise me by writing over all my stories with bizarre pond-water observations.
I looked for the girl across the street and Clue all morning, but I didn’t see them until third-period science. I was gearing up to tell Clue that I was ready for my notebook back, but then there she was, standing in the corner at the front of the room. Usually people were noisy until class started, but it was weirdly quiet. Everybody’s eyes were on the new girl.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that Holland and Eva are no longer with us,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Their families have relocated. It’s disappointing, but I know they’ll stay in touch and come visit us soon.”
The teachers said that every time, but by now, we knew it wasn’t true.
“I do have some good news, though,” Mrs. Wilson continued, pointing at the new girl, who smiled. “We’ve got a new student joining us today. I’d like to introduce you all to Zoe.”
Zoe.
Her first name.
I could not believe it.
Mrs. Wilson turned to her. “I’m sure everyone will make you feel welcome. Go ahead and take whichever open seat you’d like.”
Everyone’s faces said, Pick me! Let me be your Tiveda best friend! I’m the one you want!
But Zoe wasn’t looking at any of them.
Because she was looking right at me.
And maybe I was imagining it, but she was almost looking at me like I was the only one in the room. The only one in the world, even. It was like she was telling me We Are Going to Be Best Friends Forever and Ever No Matter What.
I bit the inside of my lip and watched her right back. Everything that was happening was creepily similar to what had happened in my very first Zoe story. But before I could think about that any more, Zoe slid into the open seat on my left.
My jaw dropped. No. Way. I scanned the room. There was one open seat (Eva’s old spot) by the window. And there was Holland’s old spot—one of the only desks in the whole school that had that little bar underneath where you could put your feet. Those two seats were pretty much the best you could get.
But as luck would have it, Zoe hadn’t chosen either of the good seats. She’d chosen a regular old, nothing-special desk near the middle of the room. Right next to me.
Mrs. Wilson started talking about some science-y thing, but I couldn’t concentrate on a word she said. Because as I looked over at Zoe, she pulled out two pencils from her pocket and placed them on her desk.
And they weren’t any old pencils.
They were blue. And sparkly. Just like mine.
This was getting seriously weird. I was obviously losing my mind from not getting enough sleep this weekend. Right after class I’d go splash cold water in my face, and then I’d get down to business and force Clue to give me my notebook. I’d quit panicking, and I’d look at the new girl more closely and realize that she was a completely different Zoe than my Zoe. And then I’d go home and sleep forever. I wouldn’t even watch whatever random thing I found on TV or online. Only bed. Sleep, sleep, and more sleep.
It was an excellent plan, so why wouldn’t my heart stop pounding a gazillion miles a minute?
I turned to Zoe, who was looking at my pencils.
She giggled. And even though things were more freaky than funny right now, I couldn’t help myself—I did too. A lot.
We giggled so much that Mrs. Wilson stopped mid-sentence and said, “Jade, Zoe, would you please go out into the hall and calm yourselves down?”
I had never been in trouble before. But for some reason, it didn’t feel that bad.
Once we left the classroom, I took a big, deep, larger-than-life breath. This was my chance to figure out what was going on. All signs pointed to this Zoe being my Zoe, but things like that didn’t happen in real life. My Zoe was a made-up character. This Zoe was a human being. They were pretty different things.
Weren’t they?
“I’m Zoe, by the way.”
Her voice made me jump. It sounded as bright as her eyes. (Not that a voice could really be bright like an eye. But it was, somehow.) Everything about her screamed happy and fun and bold and strong.
She was a pop song.
And I was freaking. Out.
“I know,” I said. My voice shook a little, the same way it did when I’d read my first Zoe story to Dad. “The teacher just introduced you. I’m Jade.”
“I know,” she said.
“How?”
I knew how. What I didn’t know was why the word had popped out of my mouth automatically.
“Because you just told me,” Zoe answered. Then she started giggling again. And I didn’t know why, or how, or anything, pretty much—but I started up again too. And we didn’t stop for a long, long time. Even though I still didn’t get what was going on, the feeling that filled me up as I sat there with Zoe was the best one I’d had in a very long time.
* * *
I had no idea what we did during the rest of class, once Zoe and I finally went back in.
But what I did know was that the second the bell rang, I tapped Clue on the shoulder.
“I know you know that I saw you and my notebook at the pond yesterday,” I told him. “It seems like you’re done doing whatever you were doing, so maybe I can have it back now? I think I’ve been really patient.”
“Do you like your surprise?” he asked.
“Huh?”
He smiled as we edged toward the hallway. “I did it,” he said slowly, like he couldn’t really believe it himself. “I really did it.” I didn’t know exactly what an eye twinkle looked like, but I was pretty confident that I was seeing one on Clue’s face right now.
“She was right,” he said. “I can’t believe I waited this long to try.” Now it seemed like he was talking more to himself than to me. “She always had these big theories. Raindrops shaped like hearts know the future. If you make a wish from the top of a mountain, it’ll come true.” He laughed. “We’d go play by the pond, and she’d say that the water was made of magic. That maybe it held all the secrets of this town. That one day, maybe it would be able to make the secrets come to life. It always sounded so silly. But she was right, Jade. She was right.”
“She?” I could barely follow his rant.
“My sister, Harper.” He paused. “Never mind.”
“Your sister thinks the pond is magical? It knows secrets? Clue, what the heck are you talking about?”
The questions spilled out of my mouth like the little drops from our leaky kitchen sink Dad hadn’t gotten around to fixing. Nothing he was saying made sense.
“Zoe’s real,” he said. “Your secret is alive,” he said. “And soon, mine will be too.” He held out my notebook. “Thanks for letting me borrow it. And just so you know, I didn’t read a thing.”
The hairs on my arms stood up.
I forgot about all my questions for a second as I lunged for the notebook. I clutched it tightly in my arms. There it was, my yellow cover, filled pages and all. You couldn’t even tell it’d gotten wet.
I looked Clue in the eye and tried to wrap my mind around all the things he’d just said. Did he really bring Zoe to life? But that was impossible. There was no way. Except…Mrs. Yang says writers make impossible things real all the time. Maybe other people could too. With help from magical, secret-knowing ponds.
“You really did it?” I asked.
He nodded slowly. “I really did. Well, with some help.”
I still couldn’t quite believe it. But Mrs. Yang said that sometimes you didn’t need to write every detail about how every little thing worked, or even know those details as a reader.
You just needed to go with it. To sit back, relax, and enjoy the story.
I didn’t know if I’d be able to do much relaxing, but if Zoe had really come to life…well, that I could definitely enjoy.
“So…what now?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“Now, have fun. And maybe write some more,” he called as he walked away, “so we can see what happens next.”
I had to get to Mrs. Yang’s class, but my feet wouldn’t budge. Instead I just kind of stood there with my mouth hanging open as people swerved around me like I was one of the random poles in the hall. Everyone and everything looked blurry. I had so many questions. I tried to think, but my brain was too full and too empty at the same time.
It was real, though. It was really real. Clue did something with my notebook and the water from the pond, and somehow, Zoe had come to life.
A grin spread across my face. It was real.
A hand grabbed my shoulder and gently steered me to the side of the hall.
“Where are you going, Jade?” Mrs. Yang asked with a chuckle. “Our class is right here. You seem in better spirits than you were last Friday after lunch. Is everything okay now?”
“Oh, everything’s okay,” I told her. “Everything is more than okay.”
I thought about the notebook still safely in my hands, and Clue’s words. Write more. He made a good point. Zoe seemed to know my old stories already (the very first ones, at least) so maybe I should give her—give us—some new material. She did exactly what I’d written before, from moving into the house across the street to breaking out those two sparkly blue pencils. But if I wrote something new, would she do that too?
I smiled at Mrs. Yang. “I’m going to go sit down,” I told her. I grinned at my notebook. “I have to get writing.”
10
The Best Time Ever