Me, My Elf & I (20 page)

“I’m just a little under the weather,” she croaks, sounding like a bull-frog. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

We take turns kissing her warm soft cheek before Mom shoos us all out.

Even though we’re here for a really crappy reason, I have to admit it’s nice to be back in Alverland. I’d nearly forgotten how good fresh air, pine trees, and clean water smell. That alone was worth the eighteen-hour car ride. (If only elves had the ability to travel by magic! But no, we’re stuck in a smelly van just like everyone else.) I didn’t realize how much I’d missed everyone here until we stepped out of Grandma’s back door into a circle of hugs and kisses from all our family gathered there. The last person I see is Briar. We cling to each other.

“I missed you so much,” we keep repeating between hugs and laughter. When Briar and I finally let go of each other, I see Willow cuddled in Ash’s arms, her head on his shoulder, and, at last, a smile on her face.

Everyone huddles around Grandfather Buck beneath the hemlock trees. “Is she going to be okay?” Bramble asks.

Grandpa Buck leans against his gnarled walking stick and sighs. “All we can do is keep her in our hearts,” he says.

“Papa!” Aunt Flora smacks her hands against her thighs. “We have to do something else. Especially now that Aurora is here.”

Everyone looks to my mom, who leans against the porch rail with her arms crossed. Other than Grandma Fawna, my mom is the best healer in Alverland, but she shakes her head. “I don’t know what it is.”

“It must have been a mushroom,” says Flora.

My mom shakes her head. “She knows which mushrooms are poisonous.”

“Yes, but she’s been distracted,” Flora argues. “Not quite herself since . . . well, you know.”

“Since what?” my mother demands in a harsh voice. Everyone is silent for a moment. The little kids all look up from their games and the adults look down to avoid my mother’s eyes. Elves hate conflict more than anything.

Dad walks over behind Mom and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Since we left?” he asks gently.

Flora peers up and nods her head.

“Okay,” says Dad, simply. “It’s good that we know this. Now we can deal with it.”

When he says this, my stomach drops. As happy as I am to be back here, I’m afraid this means we’ll have to stay in Alverland.

Buck thumps his walking stick on the ground. “The children don’t need to be a part of this discussion. You all go on, get out of here, have some fun.” He shoos us away. “Not everyone needs to be miserable. That won’t help your grandmother.” No one moves. Grandpa Buck heaves a sigh and stands up. “Go on,” he says, and jabs the walking stick in the ground. We take tentative steps away from our parents. “Don’t come back until dinnertime.” He strides through the gathering like a goatherd trying to move a stubborn herd.

“You’re not going to be a part of this discussion either?” Flora asks our grandfather when he reaches the edge of the forest.

He turns and says, “Words are only words, my dear.” He smiles gently toward the house. “And Fawna wants some honeycomb.”

My mom reaches out and lays her hands on Flora’s shoulder, then looks at us. “Grandpa’s right. You kids don’t need to be here. Why don’t you go gathering? Bring something back for Grandma from the woods. Something she likes.”

We all look around cautiously, then slowly, in small groups, the kids drift away into the woods, leaving the adults to talk.

 

“What should we get for Grandma?” I ask Briar as we hike through the woods to our favorite pond. We’ve always been super close because we were born a few hours apart on the same day and our moms are sisters.

“She loves marsh mallow,” Briar says.

“Is that the pink flower behind the pond?” I ask.

“Have you forgotten already?”

“I never paid that much attention,” I admit.

“Yeah, you have to get the roots, then you whip them with eggs and it gets fluffy and gooey,” she reminds me.

“Is that the stuff you mix with nuts and honey?” I ask.

“That’s it.”

“Is it good when you’re sick?”

“Beats me!” Briar says, and despite all the unhappiness we both giggle.

“I’m so happy to see you!” I grab her hand. Blotches of sunlight shining through the green, yellow, and orange leaves make pretty patterns on the path at our feet. I notice Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants, their berries turning bright red as fall approaches, and the beautiful deep blue but poisonous lobelia plants scattered around the forest floor. We spent so much of our time when we were little playing games in these woods. One of our favorites was pretending to be erdlers, which mostly meant yelling at each other and acting mad. I never imagined that I’d really know erdlers someday. “When this is all over, I have so much to tell you!” I say.

Briar turns around to face me, walking backward on the path.

“And I want to hear all of it. Every detail. Tell me everything now!” When she says this, the floodgates open and I start talking. By the time we reach the pond, I’ve filled her in about everything that’s happened at BAPAHS and I’ve got myself into a tizzy, as my mother would say.

“So, you see? I’m absolutely useless!” I yell out over the pond, causing a few wood ducks to swim farther from us. “I should focus on Grandma, but all I can think about is what’s going on in Brooklyn. I’m dying to know what Bella and her horrible friends had to say on their stupid blog after Mercedes told everyone that Timber kissed me! And what about Timber? Oh my God, my stomach does flip-flops every time I think of him. Did Bella break up with him? Is he mad at me? Do Ari and Mercedes still hate me? Did Mercedes get kicked out of school? What’s going on with Ari’s band? Does Timber like me or are we really just friends? Does he miss me? Has anyone sent me an e-mail? Not to mention the audition, which I can’t even think about right now.” I pick up a handful of little pebbles and throw them, breaking the calm surface of the water. The ducks flap their wings and fly off into the reeds at the opposite edge of the pond. “This is the reason I’m no help. I can’t stop thinking about myself long enough to concentrate on poor Grandma! I’m such a bad elf.”

Briar’s eyes are wide. “Wow,” she says. “Wow, wow, wow! You’re so much like an erdler now!”

“No!” I gasp. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to be anymore.”

“I do,” she says dreamily. “It’s so exciting.” She picks up a flat stone and skips it across the water. “Better than here. It’s so boring with you gone and Grandma sick. Even the Acorn Festival got canceled.”

“That’s terrible,” I say. I try to imagine life in Alverland without the festivals, the singing, the celebration. Those are my favorite things. “What have you been doing?”

“Nothing,” says Briar. “I wish I could go to Brooklyn with you.”

“There’s always something to do there,” I admit. “But that won’t help Grandma get better.” I’m half joking, only Briar doesn’t laugh.

“I don’t understand how she can be so bad off,” I say. Briar shrugs and won’t look at me. “Is it me? I mean us? My family. Because we’re gone?” She shrugs again and digs her toe into the soft dirt along the shore. “My dad says that’s not why elves get sick,” I tell her.

Briar looks up at me. It’s almost strange to be looking into the face of someone so familiar, who looks so much like me. In Brooklyn I spend most of my day marveling at how different everyone looks from everyone else. “It’s good that your mom is back,” Briar says.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

Briar takes in a breath then she says, “Well, I’ve heard Mom and some others say Grandma is worried about your family and that might have worn her down. Made her kind of weak.”

“But we’re fine!” I protest.

“Maybe you are, but we don’t know that,” says Briar as I gaze out over the water, which has become still and mirrorlike again. “You know how it is,” Briar says. “Everyone gets so excited about any little thing that happens or changes around here. We talk about you guys all the time. What you’re doing. Are you okay. What could go wrong. The little kids even made up a game called Poppy in the City.”

I laugh. “What do they do?”

“One kid pretends to be Poppy and all the others hide behind the trees. They’re the erdlers. Poppy has to walk through the city and the erdlers try to get her.”

“It’s not like that at all,” I say.

“What is it like?” Briar asks. She lowers herself to a big rock and wraps her arms around her knees. “Tell me more.”

 

By the time I’m done telling her even more about Brooklyn (about the fairy girls, the computer lab, Kenji’s blue hair, blogs, BlackBerries, subways, and the strange things erdlers eat like hot dogs from a cart, pizza on a paper plate, and tiny bags of hard salty pretzels) both of our stomachs are growling.

“We didn’t get the marsh mallow,” I say.

Briar dusts off her butt and points to the far side of the pond. “Over there are a bunch.”

We cut through the marshy weeds, pushing low branches out of our way to get to a stand of tall pink and white flowers. Briar plunges her hand down and pulls up the flowers by the dirt-covered roots. After we’ve gathered two big loads and tied them together with braided maidenhair grass we head back along the path toward the houses. We are quiet but my mind is full of Timber.

What if he came here to find me? What if I was with him out in the woods? I would take him to all my favorite places: the caves where we go camping, Barnaby Bluff where we watch eagles learn to fly, the waterfall where we play on the hottest days, the fields where we gather wildflowers for special celebrations. I’d hold his hand, teach him the names of birds and flowers, and show him all the good things to eat like berries and mushrooms and wild onions. I’d be the smart one, then. The one who laughs at him for all the things he doesn’t know because he grew up in a city. Then I’d run through the woods silently like only elves can, hide behind a tree, make him look for me, then jump out and kiss him! I play this last part over and over again in my head until my heart is pumping and my cheeks are flushed. I know that I have to focus on helping my grandmother get better but I also need to find a way to contact Timber or I’ll go crazy here.

 

We find everyone at Flora’s. Our cousins have all returned and placed their offerings on the long oak table at the back of Flora’s kitchen. We add our bundles of marsh mallow roots to the pile of grapevine wreaths, daisy garlands, bouquets of cattail reeds and switch grass, sparkly purple geodes, a soft pillow filled with lavender, and a beautiful amulet with three hawk feathers.

I pick up the amulet and touch the soft speckled brown feathers. The hawk is Fawna’s animal idol. My mother’s is a deer. My father’s is a cougar. If my magic is ever strong enough, I’ll learn my animal idol someday. “Who made this one?” I ask.

“I did,” says Willow from Ash’s lap.

“Reminds me of that red-tail in Brooklyn,” I say.

Willow rolls her eyes and looks away but my mother says, “What red-tail?”

“The hawk I always see in the park or circling our house. I think it has a nest in our tree. It reminded me of Alverland.”

My mom knits her eyebrows together and bites the corner of her mouth.

“You okay?” I ask.

She takes the amulet from me. “Was it there that day . . .” She trails off, but I know she means the day she hexed us.

“Yes,” I say. “But no one knows about that,” I whisper.

Aunt Flora sticks her head out of the kitchen. “Anybody hungry?” she calls. Everyone hurries to grab a plate.

Elves usually eat together since we hunt for meat together, gather wild berries and nuts from the forest together, or work in our grandmother’s garden together. Since it’s early fall, there is plenty of delicious food. On the table are platters of grilled chanterelle mushrooms and trout, squash and green beans from the garden, fresh-baked brown bread surrounded by jars and jars of jam, and for dessert, my favorite wild blueberry tarts. I grab a plate and dig in.

Everyone’s more relaxed now. Even Flora and Mom seem less worried. I haven’t seen my own family looking this relaxed for weeks. Mom laughs at a story Uncle Cliff and Aunt Marigold are telling while Dad’s full attention is on hearing about all the good hunting he missed. Poppy and Bramble play marbles on the floor with ten of my younger cousins. Persimmon is curled up asleep on Aunt Fern’s lap. In the back of the room, Grove strums his guitar while some of my older cousins play fiddle, accordion, banjo, and flute. Across the table from me Willow leans against Ash’s shoulder. She looks beautiful and comfortable in a way I haven’t seen since we left Alverland and suddenly I’m jealous. I finally understand how she must have felt in Brooklyn, always thinking about what she was missing here, because even though I’m happy to be here, I can’t stop thinking about what I’m missing in Brooklyn. Most of all, I’m missing Timber and I wish I knew if he was missing me.

 

When I wake up the next morning I know what I need to do. First I find my mom whipping up pancake batter in the kitchen. She’s singing as she stirs, which is a good sign. “How’s Grandma?” I ask and swipe a handful of wild blueberries from the wooden bowl on the counter.

“Better.” Mom smiles. “She had some tea this morning. She seems stronger.”

“Good,” I say. “When can we see her?”

“Probably after lunch,” says Mom. She ladles batter into a smoking skillet on the wood-burning stove, then she turns to me. “Tell me more about that hawk.”

I pop the last few blueberries in my mouth. “What about it?”

“Did you see it a lot?”

“A few times when we first moved in. Then again the week I started school. And on that day we had the big fight—remember?”

Mom flips the pancakes. “Oh, I remember,” she says. “But I didn’t see the hawk.”

“It landed on the fence and screeched after you hexed us.”

Mom pauses with her spatula suspended over the skillet. Her face clouds over.