Me, My Elf & I (30 page)

“We rode an erdler bus!” Poppy yells.

“And there’s a toilet right there in the bus and I got to pee in it,” Bramble tells me.

“But not Willow,” Persimmon says.

“She didn’t come with us,” Poppy tells me gravely.

“She’s taking care of Grandma Fawna,” Bramble explains.

“See my boo-boo?” Persimmon holds up a finger with a tiny scrape. I kiss her finger then lie back and close my eyes.

“Zephyr, wake up!” Poppy hollers.

“Why are you sleeping?” Bramble pulls on my arms.

“Fephyr, Fephyr, Fephyr!” Persimmon rubs my cheeks with her tiny moist hands.

“I’m so tired,” I croak. “I think I’m sick.”

“Do you have what Grandma Fawna had?” Poppy asks and my eyes pop open.

Oh no, I think. She’s right. I really am sick and it’s probably because of the spell I cast on Bella. This realization makes me feel even worse and I moan.

Bramble stands up. “I’ll get Mom,” he says but I reach out and grab him by the ankle.

“No, don’t,” I say, and peel myself off the floor. Whatever I do, I
cannot
let my mom know that I’m sick. “I’m okay. Just sleepy. School makes me tired,” I tell them. “Help me up.” I hold out my arms and they pull me to a stand. “I’m going to take a little nap,” I tell them, trying to sound cheery, as if nothing is wrong. “And when I get up, I’ll play with you and you can tell me all about riding the bus.”

I haul my aching, weary body slowly up the stairs to my room, where I fall asleep before my body hits my bed. I don’t even take off my boots or hat or amulets. At some point someone pulls a blanket over me and tiptoes out the door. Once, I wake up sweating, so I kick the covers off. Later I wake up freezing and wrap myself in all the blankets. The room gets dark, gets light, gets dark again. Sometimes I hear the phone ring and my mom saying my name, but I can’t answer. I drift in and out of delirious dreams. Timber is a hawk. Mr. O’Donnell is my father’s manager. Persimmon auditions for Martin while he talks on his earpiece to Grace Lee, who is my mother. Ms. Sanchez and Mercedes have Xs on their faces and shake their heads at me. Bella stands onstage and tells everyone what I did, then all the girls rush up and knock me down. My mother sits on the edge of my bed. Wait, no. Am I awake?

“Mom?” I whisper, squinting against the sunlight streaming through my window.

She brushes my hair off my face and presses her cool, soft hand against my forehead, then cups my cheek. “You look better,” she says. “I think you’re past the worst of it. How do you feel?”

I try to sit up but every joint in my body is creaky and achy. “Terrible,” I say. Mom hands me a cup of lukewarm tea. I lift it to my lips and take a sip. The liquid soothes my parched mouth and eases the soreness in my throat.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asks quietly.

I slump back against the pillow because I’m not talking. If I tell her, she’ll freak out. Plus, no matter what I say, she’ll be disappointed in me, which is the worst thing I can think of.

“You know, Zephyr, there’s nothing you could do to make your dad or me stop loving you or not want to help you.”

“You say that only because you can’t imagine how dark my heart could be,” I whisper.

Mom actually laughs when I say this. I stare at her, infuriated. “Honey,” she says. “You’re not the first elf to ever cast a spell and get sick.” My mouth drops open, but I close it quickly. I’m not admitting to anything. But still, I’m surprised by how much she knows. “Look at your grandmother, for goodness’ sake,” she continues. “If anyone should have known better, it would be her. We all do it. I did it when I was young and stupid. Your dad . . .”

“This is different,” I tell her. “Grandma was trying to help us and you were in Alverland when you did it.”

“Is this about that boy Timber?” she asks, suddenly serious. I close my eyes and shake my head. “Because Dad said he met you at the TV studio and he’s been calling here.”

“He has?” I open one eye. “What’d you tell him?”

“I told him you were sick.”

I close my eye. He called! Like he said. And not just once either.

“Someone else called, too. Another boy.”

I open the other eye. “Ari?”

“No.” She thinks for a moment. “He had a lovely name. Very percussive. What was it, um, Kenji Nakamura, I think.”

Now both of my eyes pop open. “Kenji called me? What did you tell him?”

“That you were sick, of course.”

I close both eyes, but this time I’m smiling inside. Timber and Kenji called me? This is bizarre.

“And one other person,” Mom says.

I can’t help but look at her because I’m dying to know who it could be.

“Mercedes’s mother?” She says it like a question and I squeeze both eyes shut. “Is this about your friend Mercedes then?” I shake my head again. Mom sighs. “If I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t help you, Zephyr.” I say nothing. “Will you talk to your dad about it?” I don’t answer. Mom grumbles. “I don’t know what to do here! If you can’t talk to me or your father, then who can you talk to, Zephyr?”

My chin starts to quiver and tears squeeze through my eyes, shut tight. “That’s just it,” I whimper, feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. Mercedes and Ari are no longer my friends. Briar and Willow are far away. And it’s not as if I can tell Timber about any of this. “There’s nobody.” I roll away from her and tuck myself into a little ball, my heart as dark and cold as the far side of the moon.

I must have slept some more because the next time I open my eyes, it’s nighttime again and I hear whispering. I roll over and peer around my room but I can’t find what’s making the noise. “Who’s there?” I ask, my voice stronger now. I see three little heads pop out from inside my closet. “What are you guys doing?”

Poppy, Bramble, and Persimmon creep toward my bed. “Are you going to die?” Poppy asks.

“No,” I say, and sit up, definitely feeling stronger. “Of course not.”

“Are you going to leave us and become an erdler?” Bramble asks.

“Why would I do that?” I reach over and turn on my lamp.

Persimmon climbs on the bed with me. “Do you have a boo-boo?”

I pull her onto my lap. It feels good to hug someone. “Inside,” I tell her and she frowns at me. “I was naughty,” I explain. She opens her eyes wide.

Poppy scoots onto the edge of my bed and leans close, eager to hear about my catastrophe. “What did you do?” she whispers.

“You know how sometimes we get mad and hex each other, then we get the sniffles?” Poppy and Bramble nod. I take a deep breath. “Well, I did that, but I did it to an erdler.” It feels good to admit it. Like I’ve opened a window into my heart and let a little light back in.

“Did you get in trouble?” Poppy asks.

“I don’t think anybody knows,” I say, then I get wise. “And you can’t tell anybody. It’s a secret.”

“I won’t tell,” Poppy says, but I already know that I’ve made a huge mistake.

“Poppy, I’m serious. You’ve never kept a secret in your life. But this time you have to.”

“I know a secret,” Persimmon says with a mischievous grin as she wiggles off my lap.

“Persimmon!” I sit up. “Don’t tell secrets. That’s naughty.” She’s already out the door.

“I know a secret! I know a secret!” she sings as she heads for the stairs.

I try to scramble free from my covers, but they’re twisted around my legs, plus I’m weak from not eating in two days. “Poppy, Bramble,” I command. “Go get Persimmon. Bring her back in here.”

They aren’t listening to me. They’ve joined hands and are skipping around in a circle, shouting an old elf nursery rhyme, “Shame, shame, you were bad. Mommy cries, go tell your dad. Weepy, weepy whip-poor-will, you were naughty, fall down ill!” And they collapse to the floor, giggling. They do it over and over again, louder and louder.

I finally get loose from the covers and fall out of bed. Persimmon has started down the steps, one at a time, holding on to the rail, singing at the top of her voice. “I know a secret, secret, secret. I know a secret, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Persimmon,” I insist. “Stop. You come back here. I’ll give you some candy.”

This stops her. She turns around and starts to take a step toward me, but not before my mom comes out of the kitchen. “What’s your secret, Persimmon?” Mom asks, and I know that this time, I’m truly busted.

 

The next day is Friday, but I’m still too weak to go to school. Timber called again yesterday, but I was asleep and he didn’t leave his number so I can’t call him back. Plus, I probably shouldn’t be gabbing on the phone anyway. Persimmon told Mom and Dad my secret. And although my parents are truly furious with me for casting a spell on Bella, bigger problems have come up.

One of my uncles was in Ironweed the other day to pick up supplies when he overheard that more people have come snooping around, asking about Drake Addler’s cult in the woods. My dad is upset but Martin says any press is good press. On top of that, Aunt Flora has called a few times because Briar has been giving her a lot of trouble. She’s been disappearing and refuses to say where she goes. I know she’s with her new friend Jenny on a computer at the library in Ironweed because we’ve been e-mailing back and forth whenever I’ve been able to get Dad’s Treo. I tell Mom that, hoping it will ease everyone’s worries about Briar, but it only seems to make it worse. Briar says that everyone in Alverland is angry with my family, saying that we’ve brought all this attention and darkness to our clans by entering the erdler world.

Just to complicate matters, Mercedes’s parents keep calling our house, asking to come over for Mercedes to apologize. My mom has assured them this isn’t necessary, but they won’t let it go. My parents finally gave in and invited them over this afternoon. So, lucky for me, the fact that I hexed Bella is low on the list of horrible things to deal with at the moment.

“Do erdlers eat dried apples?” Mom asks as she moves the armchairs for the fiftieth time.

“I hate to tell you this,” I say. “But no matter how you rearrange the furniture or what snacks you serve, we’re not going to seem normal.”

“But why?” she asks, dragging a ficus tree from one corner of the living room to the other.

“Because,” I tell her, sinking down onto the sofa so she can’t move that. “We’re not like them.”

The doorbell rings. We both freeze and stare at each other. “Oh stars!” she says, pressing her hand against her forehead. “Why did we ever agree to this?”

“Go get Dad,” I tell her. “I’ll answer the door.” I take a deep breath.

Mercedes stands between her parents on our front step. I smile despite myself because I’m happy to see her. I wish I could throw my arms around her shoulders and hug her, but I know I can’t. Instead, I open the door wide and invite them in.

Mercedes is like a little clone of her mother, who bustles into our house and fills it with incredible energy. Her father is more upright, severe, and quiet. When my parents come into the living room, he holds out his hand and says, “I am Victor Sanchez. Thank you for having us over.”

My mom forgets herself and steps forward as if to hug him. I shoot her a sharp look. She stops, blushes deeply, and says, “Welcome,” with outstretched arms. “To our home.”

“Please sit down,” Dad booms, motioning to where the chairs used to be, as if he’s inviting them to sit on a lamp and a table.

Yeah, I think to myself. Real normal.

“What a beautiful place you have!” Mercedes’s mom, Maria, exclaims. “All these plants remind me of my grandmother’s house in San Juan.”

“Oh!” my mom says, clearly pleased. “That’s so kind of you.” I can tell that she’s fighting the urge to hug Maria.

As soon as we all settle ourselves Mr. Sanchez clears his throat and places his hand on Mercedes’s knee. “I think you have something you’d like to say.”

“Yes,
Papi
,” Mercedes says in a small, meek voice that I’ve never heard before. I blink, wondering where the feisty, eye-rolling, joke-cracking girl I know has gone. She takes a deep breath and rubs her hands against her thighs. “I would like to apologize to Zephyr for spreading a rumor about her through e-mail.”

“And . . . ,” her father says.

“And sorry to Mr. and Mrs. Addler for causing your family any, you know, distress.”

“Because . . . ,” her father says, staring hard at her.

“Because it’s wrong to gossip about people.” She glances at her father, who stares harder. “Because it’s hurtful,” she says. He still stares. “And, and, and . . .” He looks harder at her.
“Papi!”
she pleads. “What? I’m sorry. I was wrong. I know it. I apologized. Jeez. I already got suspended from school and missed the audition and you took my computer privileges away for a whole month. Come on!”

I burst out laughing. Mercedes glances at me and grins, but her father isn’t pleased. That’s when I know that we’ll be okay. I pop up from my chair. “I’m the one who should apologize, Mr. Sanchez,” I say quickly before he can make Mercedes say anything else. “You were right, Mercedes,” I tell her. “I should’ve never trusted Bella. I didn’t know how mean she was. I told her so much about you because I was excited to be your friend. I told her all the things I like so much about you and about Ari. The things I think are great. And she twisted it all around. Made it sound awful, like I was gossiping, but that’s not what I meant to do.”

In an instant, I go from laughing and talking to crying and talking. “And what’s so horrible is, you and Ari were my friends. My first real friends here and because of her, I lost your friendship and that’s worse than anything.” I bury my face in my hands. “I miss you guys!”

“Aw, Boo!” Mercedes says. She comes over and reaches up to put her hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m not mad anymore. I miss you, too.”

I turn to her and wipe my eyes. “Really?” I ask.

“Really,” she says. “And my
papi
didn’t even make me say that part,” she adds with an eye roll. I throw my arms around her and hug her tight. She hugs me back. I can see Mrs. Sanchez beaming from the couch, nodding to my mother, who looks relieved.