Me, My Elf & I Page 19

  “That’s the dilemma, I’m afraid,” says Grandma. The sun winks in and out of the canopy overhead as I listen. “If you want to have big experiences, some of them are bound to be unpleasant. But the good ones can be great if you’re willing to take the chance.”

  “That’s exactly it!” I tell her. “Like there’s an audition at school that my friends want me to do. At first I was scared and I didn’t want to try because I was afraid I’d look like an idiot. But now that I’m probably going to miss it, I wish I were there so I could do it.”

  “But won’t there be other auditions?”

  “This one is kind of important to me.”

  “Because . . . ?”

  “It’s kind of embarrassing.” Grandma looks at me kindly and waits. “The whole thing is not very nice,” I admit, but she only blinks. I take a deep breath. “There’s a girl named Bella and she always wins every audition. She acts like she’s nice, like she’s your friend, but really she’s very mean. She said some awful things about me and about my friends, who are mad at me now because of what I told her, but it’s so unfair because she tricked me and twisted my words. I don’t have any way of getting back at her except to beat her at this audition.”

  “When is the audition?” Grandma asks.

  “In a few days, so you know . . .” I trail off.

  “You’d like to be there, wouldn’t you?” Grandma asks.

  I nod and feel tears pressing in the corners of my eyes. A whip-poor-will sings its sad song as if commiserating with how I feel. I quickly dry my eyes. “Sorry,” I say. “How silly to cry about an audition.”

  “Obviously you feel strongly about it.”

  “I do, because it’s not just about beating Bella. I feel like this is my chance, you know? To do the thing I left Alverland to do. To perform. To spread my wings.”

  “Did you tell your mother all of this?” Grandma asks.

  I shake my head no. “She wouldn’t understand. Plus she’s already got a lot to worry about. And I don’t want to tell her everything, anyway.”

  Grandma nods slowly. She looks out into the woods and is quiet. The whip-poor-will laments and cicadas grind away in the tops of the trees. Finally she turns back to me, “And is there a boy involved?”

  I sit up straight. “How did you know that?”

  “Usually in a case like this, there’s a boy,” she says.

  “What do you mean, in a case like this? Elves aren’t like this.”

  “Elves and erdlers aren’t all that different.”

  “There’s never been an elf like Bella,” I tell her.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised,” she says.

  “Name one.”

  Grandma looks at me. “Those elves don’t stay here, my dear.”

  I blink in disbelief. “Where do they go?”

  “Away.”

  “Away where?”

  She sighs. “I guess you’re getting old enough to ask these questions now, aren’t you?”

  “Please tell me. I’m tired of not knowing things. I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m fifteen!”

  I see a smile crinkle at the edges of Grandma’s eyes, but she nods and says, “There are elves who are not nice. I know it’s hard to believe, but sometimes, the temptation to use magic for ill will is just too great for some.”

  “But, if you use your magic for the wrong reasons, you’ll get sick and lose it,” I say.

  “That’s right,” she says. “But only temporarily. It’ll come back. It’ll always come back because your magic is a part of you. It comes from your heart. From your intentions. And if your intentions are good, your magic is good, but if your intentions are bad, then your magic will be evil. And if you keep casting spells from those bad intentions for too long, soon your heart will turn dark.”

  “Dark Elves?” I whisper. She nods. “I always thought the grown-ups made that up to scare us.”

  She shakes her head. “No, it’s real, but rare. There have been occasions when elves have had to leave Alverland and never come back.”

  “Never come back? That’s terrible! I mean, sometimes I don’t want to be here, but I always want to come back.”

  “Oh, it’s heartbreaking for everyone. Losing a member of a clan is the saddest thing that ever happens.”

  “Did you know someone who . . . ?” I start to ask, but Grandma interrupts me.

  “So about this boy, Timber,” she says.

  “Grandma!” I yelp. “I never told you his name. How did you know that? Did Poppy tell you? I’m going to hex her.”

  “No, no, don’t get upset with your sister,” Grandma says quickly.

  “My mom?” I ask, trying to puzzle through. “But she doesn’t know. No one knew except Ari and Mercedes. Until Mercedes e-mailed everyone of course. And then they started talking about it on Bella’s blog and the BellaHater blog.” I snap my head around to Grandma. “Don’t tell me that you read Bella’s blog, too!”

  “Who’s in a bog?” she asks.

  “Never mind.” I shake my head and laugh at my extreme paranoia. “I’m starting to lose my mind a little bit.”

  “Well, I’m feeling very tired,” Grandma says. “I should really go back and rest now.” She tries to push herself onto her feet.

  I put my hand on her thigh. “Wait a minute. Stop.” We look at each other. “You never answered my question. How do you know about Timber?”

  Grandma sighs deeply. “Oh dear,” she mutters. “I really must be weak.” Then she laughs a little. “I’m getting too old to be sly. I think I’ve been caught.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I might as well admit it. Get it over with. Stop driving your poor mother and aunts crazy by speculating on what made me sick.”

  I sit back, holding my breath, waiting as she stares out into the trees again until she’s ready to explain.

  “I was just so worried about you all. I had to know if you were okay. So I shifted.”

  “Shape-shifting?” I gasp.

  She nods.

  “I didn’t know anyone could really do it,” I say. Then I ask, “Into what?”

  She raises her eyebrows and waits. “I think you know.”

  “How would I know?”

  My grandmother twirls the new amulet from Willow around her neck.

  I gasp again. I’m starting to sound like a fish flopping around on the shore. “The red-tailed hawk?” She nods. “So that was you! On the branch above Mercedes and Ari when Timber kissed me?”

  “And above your house, circling, and on the fence when you threw rocks, and in the park watching. Always watching. I only meant to do it once. But the first time I came, it seemed that things weren’t going well. I made it back here, but then I worried and a few days later I had to go back and check on everyone again. I didn’t realize how much energy it took to shift and fly all that way, until I got depleted. Then sick.”

  “Oh Grandma!” I say and throw my arms around her. I hug her tight. “You didn’t have to be worried. We were doing okay.”

  “That’s what your mother would tell me,” she says with a little shrug. “But you know how it is, a daughter doesn’t like her mother to know everything. She wouldn’t want me to worry.” We both laugh. “So I had to see for myself.” We’re quiet for a few minutes as I continue to hug my grandma, but then she pats my arm and looks at me seriously. “So what are you going to do about this audition?”

  I shrug. “Nothing, I guess. We’ll be here and like you said, there’ll be other chances.”

  Grandma gathers herself up. “Zephyr, I’m going to tell you something important. Revenge is never worth it. I want you to remember that. But, if something’s important to you for the right reasons, you should always pursue it.”

  I nod, but I’m not sure what she means. “I don’t know what the right reason would be,” I admit.

  “You have to figure that out for yourself, I’m afraid.”

  I think hard for a few seconds. “I want to do it for Ari and Mercedes,
my friends.”

  “But do you want to do it for you?”

  I think again. “Yes,” I say. “I do. Now it’s become a challenge. And that’s the reason I left Alverland.”

  “There are no challenges here?” Grandma asks.

  I don’t want to hurt her feelings but I can’t lie. “Learning magic is a challenge, but it’s not what I’m most interested in.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Performing,” I tell her. “But all the performances we do here are the same every year. I want something new.”

  Grandma laughs at me. “Well honey, you know that someone had to make up all those songs and plays and dances.”

  “I know they did, a long time ago, and I like them but they get boring after a while.”

  “So why don’t you make up new ones?” she asks.

  I think about this for a moment. “Am I allowed to do that?”

  “Who’s stopping you?” she asks, but I don’t have an answer. After a moment she says, “So what about this boy in Brooklyn?” Grandma has a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

  “Grandma!” I whine but I’m grinning.

  “Oh well, young love,” she says with a sigh. “And now, deary . . .” She holds her hand out to me. “If you’ll help me up, I think I really do need to rest.”

  I stand and pull her to her feet. I loop my arm through hers and we walk slowly toward the house. “Thanks for talking, Grandma,” I say, laying my head against her shoulder. “I’ve missed you. Sometimes I wish you could come to Brooklyn with us.” I look up at her. “I mean you-you, not the hawk-you.”

  She laughs and pats my arm. “Oh, honey. Thank you for talking to me.” We’ve made it back to her house now. “If you’ll just help me into this nice rocking chair here on the porch and then do me one more favor.”

  “Of course, anything,” I tell her as I steady her arm while she arranges herself into the chair.

  “Run and get your mother. It’s time I had a talk with her.”

  I run, just like Grandma said, but not because I’m in a hurry. I run because I feel like I’m going to explode if I stay still. I know what’s going to happen now. It’s been coming for so long. Grandma is going to tell Mom about shifting, Mom is going to freak out, and she’ll never want to leave Alverland again, which means we’ll all be stuck here. Part of me wants to keep running, straight out of the woods, to the highway, on and on until I hit Brooklyn, but my conflicted heart stops me. I know that I have to do the right thing so I go home and tell Mom that Grandma wants to see her. Then I take off for the woods, where I keep to myself for the rest of the day, dreading what I’ve already imagined.

  By the time the sun touches the tops of the trees, I’m too hungry to stay in the woods any longer. I know I might as well get on with my life. There’s nothing I can do now except make the best of being stuck here, the way a good elf would. But the thing is, I don’t feel so much like a good elf anymore. I’m not effortlessly happy like I used to be. I wonder if this is what happens to the ones who become Dark Elves. Does it start with a tiny slip from perfectly perky to definitely disappointed? The thought scares me. I don’t want to leave Alverland forever, but I would like to come and go as I please. I guess it doesn’t work that way though.

  When I get back to our house, Mom and Dad are on the front porch swing, holding hands. I climb up the creaky steps and sit on the porch rail. “When did you get back?” I ask Dad.

  “A little while ago,” he says.

  “How’d it go?” I pluck mottled green leaves from the ivy vines twisting around the porch columns.

  “Fine,” he says with a smile.

  “Good,” I say, because I’m trying here. Trying to be a good elf who doesn’t focus on only herself and how sad she is.

  “Where were you?” Mom asks.

  I shrug. “In the woods.”

  “I was looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  “I talked to Grandma,” she says.

  “Did she tell you?” I ask.

  Mom nods. “I think I already knew, though. You tipped me off.”

  “I did?”

  “The hawk you kept seeing,” she says.

  “Oh, right.”

  “She kept herself hidden from me, though.”

  “She was afraid you weren’t telling her everything,” I say as I drop heart-shaped leaves to the ground.

  My mom stares at me until I squirm. “I could say the same of you.”

  I look out at the fading orange day. The porch swing squeaks behind me. I turn to see my dad standing.

  “Come on,” he says.

  “Where?” I ask.

  “Grandma wants to talk to us,” says Mom.

  I bow my head because I don’t want my parents to see the disappointment and dread on my face. I’m not sure why they’re making Grandma tell me that we’re staying here. Maybe they think if it comes from her I’ll be less likely to protest. The three of us walk down the path. I’m in between my parents with my dad’s arm draped across my shoulders and my mom’s arm slung around my waist. Are they trying to comfort me before the bad news, or keep me from running away? I’m too tired and hungry to take off. All I want to do is eat dinner, then go to bed and start again tomorrow.

  Thunder, lightning, and hailstones, was I wrong! Turns out shape-shifting isn’t the only trick Grandma has up her tunic sleeve. I didn’t think anyone could convince my mom to let me go back to Brooklyn for the audition, but Grandma and Dad are on my side.

  “For the record,” Mom says from a chair in my grandma’s living room, “I don’t entirely agree with your grandmother and your father. I honestly don’t see how this one audition could be more important than—”

  “But,” interrupts my dad, giving my mom a long, hard look from where he stands in the doorway, “your mother is trying her best to be understanding and supportive of you.”

  “And . . .” Grandma faces me on the couch. “Sometimes we have to trust our children even if we don’t agree with what’s important to them.”

  “You know the others won’t be happy,” Mom says with a sigh.

  “I don’t see why it matters to anyone else,” I say as I squirm, trying not to jump up and swing on the rafters because I’m so excited.

  “You have to understand, Zephyr,” my grandmother says. “The only ones who’ve left before are the ones who didn’t come back.”

  “The Dark Elves?” I ask. Mom and Dad look at each other to avoid looking at me, but my grandma nods.

  “Yes, dear, the Dark Elves. So, you see, to the others, the idea of you and your father and Grove leaving is quite frightening.”

  “But we’ll come back,” I say. “Won’t we?”

  “Yes!” says Mom. “Of course you’ll come back. We all will. You’re just going down with Dad and Grove so they can do the TV show and you can do the audition. Then, when Grandma’s better, Willow and I will bring the little ones down and we’ll stay in Brooklyn until your winter break, when we’ll all come back to Alverland again. You’ll have to get used to going back and forth.”

  “But you see,” Grandma explains. “It’s not the coming and going that’s disconcerting to the others. It’s what you might take away or bring back with you.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, imagining my pockets full of flowers and berries from Alverland or soda cans and plastic food wrappers from Brooklyn.

  Grandma studies me for a moment, then she says, “Change, Zephyr. That’s what I’m talking about and that’s what scares others the most.”

  “I’m still me,” I insist, but then I stop. “Oh!” I say, blinking as a realization dawns on me. I think back to yelling at the erdlers in Ironweed and hexing them. And how I kissed Timber, then celebrated when I found out Bella broke up with him. “I have changed, haven’t I? You know what’s weird?” My parents and my grandmother all look at me with their eyebrows up. “I couldn’t tell that I’d changed while I was in Brooklyn. I always felt like me, just a lost and slightly dum
b version of myself. Until we came back. And now . . .” I think about this for a moment. I remember myself in Alverland before we left for Brooklyn. I think about all the things Briar and I thought would happen. Then I think about all the things that did happen—good and bad. And now, no matter how messed up things are, I still want to go back. “I can’t exactly put my finger on how I’m different,” I tell them. “But I think I understand myself better now. I mean, who I am and what’s important to me. It’s like you have to go away from everything you know and then when you come back, you see yourself more clearly.”

  “You’re right,” says Dad. “Leaving and coming back is like holding up a mirror. If you never stop to reflect, you don’t see how you change.”

  “But that’s exciting,” I say. “Not scary.”

  “Depends on who you ask,” Grandma tells me. “For some, there’s nothing more frightening than change.”

  “Like Willow?” I ask.

  “Don’t be hard on your sister,” my mom snaps at me.

  “I’m not trying to criticize her,” I say.

  Mom pushes her hair away from her face and says quietly, “Your sister is a lot like me. Change is hard for us. But you, my dear . . .” —she reaches out and gently lays her hand on my cheek—“are just like your dad. And you know, I love you both dearly.”

  I lean into my mother’s touch. For once, I feel like she totally gets me. “Thank you, Mom,” I say.

  She kisses the top of my head. “You’re welcome.”

  “Just remember.” My grandmother reaches out and lays her soft, wrinkled hand on top of mine. “Everyone here loves you for who you are, so it’s okay to be yourself. You don’t have to be one person in Brooklyn and another person in Alverland. Just be you.”

  “You don’t know Brooklyn,” I say.

  “True, but I do know Alverland,” she tells me. “And no matter how your choices may fluster some of the others, in their hearts they care about you and will always love you.”

  “We have only two more days here,” says Dad.