Me, My Elf & I Read online

  “What do you want to do before you leave?” Mom asks.

  At first, when she asks me this, I shrug, but then I glance over at Grandma, and an idea hits me like a june bug between the eyes. “I know exactly what I want to do.” I jump up and run to the door. “And I have to get started right away.”

  Briar, Grove, and I stay up most of the night planning. It wasn’t hard to convince them to help me. And when we drag ourselves up after a few hours of sleep, we have no trouble getting our brothers and sisters and cousins involved in our plan. We tell the adults that we’ll be gone most of the day, but everyone should meet at the clearing behind Grandma and Grandpa’s house this evening. Then we lead our troupe up to the bluffs and rehearse all day long.

  When we come back down, we find everyone assembled. Grandma Fawna is dressed in a regular tunic but my dad has brought her rocking chair outside and my mom covers her lap with a blanket. Grandpa Buck sits beside her on a stump and grins at us as we take our places in front of our audience of aunts and uncles, moms and dads.

  We didn’t have time to make up all new songs, so we took the best ones from our favorite festivals and we sing an Elves Greatest Hits medley. The little kids are adorable, belting out the songs and forgetting the steps, but no one cares. We’re having too much fun. We also do a few classic skits, “How the Moon Became Round,” “How the Spider Learned to Weave,” and “Why the Loon Laughs.” We’ve done these many times but it’s fun to act out new parts, on a different day, for a good reason. Everything we’ve chosen for this performance is Grandma Fawna’s favorite and this performance is our best gift to her.

  For the finale, Grove, Briar, and I play a song I wrote last night. The rest of the kids sit in front of us with drums, shakers, and bells; they join in on the chorus. We stand, Grove with his guitar, Briar with her fiddle, and me with my lute. We fill the woods with our music—a new song for everyone.

  Before a bird takes flight

  it’s safe inside its nest

  snuggled with the other birds,

  trying to get some rest.

  But birds grow fast,

  the nest gets small

  and pretty soon

  it can’t contain them all.

  Some birds need to soar

  Some birds need to fly

  Step up to the edge of the nest

  And take off for the sky.

  If a bird jumps too soon

  the world will spin around,

  the baby bird will fall fast

  and plummet to the ground.

  So wait little bird

  before you leave the nest,

  wait until you’re ready

  to go upon your quest.

  Some birds need to soar

  Some birds need to fly

  Step up to the edge of the nest

  And take off for the sky.

  You’ll learn to fly soon enough

  from the ones who love you best,

  they’ll let you know the perfect time

  to leave your cozy nest.

  Your family is your wings

  so spread your wings to fly

  they’ll hold you up, won’t let you fall

  so you can reach the sky.

  And when you finally take that leap

  around the nest you’ll glide,

  just follow the sound of beating wings

  your family is your guide.

  Fly higher, bird, to reach the sun

  but when you’re weary rest,

  there’s always a cozy place for you

  back inside your nest.

  Some birds need to soar

  Some birds need to fly

  I’m stepping up to the edge of my nest

  And now I’m going to fly.

  Everyone erupts into applause when we’re done. Our mothers and fathers come to the stage to hug and kiss us.

  “What a wonderful job!”

  “You kids worked so hard!”

  “I haven’t had this much fun in weeks,” they say. As I look at everyone together, I see the elves I know best—happy, smiling, together. For a minute I feel uncertain about tomorrow. About leaving again and going back to Brooklyn, because no matter how many friends I have or what parts I audition for, there will never be this many people in one place who love me.

  Flora finds me in the crowd. She puts her arm around me and hugs me close to her shoulder. “Thank you, Zephyr,” she says. “I haven’t seen Grandma Fawna that happy in a long time. Or Briar. You’re so much like your dad. Your music brings joy to people.”

  I’m so overwhelmed by her compliment that I stand there stunned and quiet, but very happy. Flora lets go of me and whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Hey everybody,” she yells. “Let’s eat!”

  Arm in arm families head up to Grandma’s porch, where tables full of food wait. My dad comes to me.

  “Great job,” he says. “I didn’t know you were writing songs.”

  “I never tried before,” I tell him.

  “Then you should keep doing it, because you’re really good.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “Yes. But that doesn’t surprise me,” he says.

  I roll my eyes and laugh. “I know, because I’m a lot like you.”

  “That’s right.” He turns and points toward the porch. “Now, we better get some of this wonderful elfin food because starting tomorrow we’ll be back in the land of prepackaged deli meat and bread from a bag.”

  I hesitate. Bite my lip and frown. Dad watches me. “You nervous to go back?” he asks. I nod. “You don’t have to go.”

  As I watch my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents filling their plates, talking, laughing, there’s a part of me that wants to stay. But my heart is conflicted and there’s also a part of me that wants to leave this cozy nest. “No,” I say to Dad. “I’m ready.”

  Early the next morning I hug and kiss Willow, Poppy, Bramble, and Persimmon good-bye. Briar has come to see us off, too, but no one else. I imagine our decision to leave isn’t popular and I realize for the first time that what I want doesn’t affect only me. But like my grandmother said, if my reasons are good, then I’m doing the right thing. I hold on to to Briar for an extra moment.

  “I want to come with you,” she whispers in my ear.

  “I know,” I say. “But I’ll be back. And you know you can see the erdler world anytime you want.” She looks at me, confused. “Don’t let that librarian intimidate you. You know how to use a computer now.”

  She lets go of me. “Right,” she says. “I’ll do that.”

  I hug my mother tightly. “I’ll be okay,” I assure her, but she can only nod. Then Dad and Grove and I hike into the early morning shafts of sun shimmering through the trees, as we leave Alverland for the second time.

  chapter 13

  “DAD,” I ASK when I wake up near Cleveland. We’ve been gone for only eight hours but ever since I signed off the instant messenger by saying “moose crap” to Timber, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to let him know I’m coming back. “Can I invite a friend to hang out with me backstage at the TV studio?”

  “Sure,” Dad says. “How about that nice young man Ari who’s so interested in music?”

  “You mean in your music?” I ask. Grove and I exchange looks. “I’m pretty sure he’s busy with his own band.”

  “Then your other friend. Mercedes?” Dad asks.

  I don’t have the heart to tell him that Ari and Mercedes aren’t exactly my friends at the moment so I say, “Her parents probably wouldn’t let her and anyway, she probably has a lot of homework or has to babysit for her sisters.”

  “Is there someone else you had in mind?” he asks.

  I try to act as casual as possible and to keep all excitement out of my voice. “I don’t know. Maybe that guy Timber who sang with us in the park.” Dad glances at me over the back of the seat. I quickly look out the window as if the whole conversation is sort of boring. I cat
ch him looking at Grove, who shrugs. “You know he used to have a band with a record deal,” I say. “And he really likes your music, too.”

  “Well then,” says my dad. “I don’t see why not.”

  “Great. Thanks, Dad,” I say, then I wait for a while. “Oh, by the way, could I use your Treo so I can send him an e-mail to invite him?”

  “Ah ha!” yells my dad. “That’s what this is all about. You want my Treo!” He laughs triumphantly.

  “Whatever,” I say. “I’ll just go by myself and be really bored. I don’t even care.”

  “Oh now, don’t get upset,” Dad says. He reaches across Grove and opens the glove compartment. “You can use it.” He holds it up, out of my reach. “But only for five minutes.”

  “Five minutes!”

  He looks at me in the rearview mirror. “You want it or not?”

  “Yes!” I hold out my hand.

  “Five minutes,” he says, and hands it to me.

  I try to IM Timber, but since it’s during the school day, he’s not around. I leave him an e-mail, though, asking if he wants to come with us to the taping tonight. At some point, while I’m napping in Ohio, he must e-mail back because after I beg to have the Treo for another five measly minutes, I find his answer.

  stone cold, Z! I’m soooo there. Can’t w8 2 c u.

  Even though I’m not entirely sure what that means, I think it’s good, and excitement ripples through my body at the thought of seeing him. There’s one other e-mail waiting for me too. It’s from [email protected]. I open it with a huge grin on my face.

  Hi Zeph!

  I took your advice and went back to the library. A nice erdler girl named Jenny showed me how to get an e-mail account. Do you know about MySpace.com? Jenny is going to help me set up a page so I can make lots of friends.

  Miss u already! xo Briar

  I hug the Treo next to my heart. It’s nice to have Briar near. Before I can reply to her Dad puts one hand over the back of the seat and says, “Hand it over, Zeph.”

  “Dad!” I whine. “Come on. There’s nothing else to do.”

  “We have an agreement,” he insists.

  “You have an agreement,” I say. Grove snickers.

  “Shush,” I say to Grove. “Before I zap you.”

  “Ooooh, I’m so scared.” Grove laughs.

  “Quit stalling,” my dad says. “If you want to use it again later, you’ll hand it over now. Your five minutes are up.”

  I give him the Treo. “Five minutes,” I mutter. “That’s ridiculous. Preposterous. You can’t do anything online in five minutes.”

  “That’s all I need.” He stows the Treo in the glove compartment. “In fact, that’s all I can stand. How can you look at that tiny little screen for more than five minutes? I swear my eyes will never be the same. I probably couldn’t see a twelve-point buck if it was standing on my foot.”

  The remark about the buck sends Dad and Grove into a nine-million-hour discussion about hunting. Even though I’ve been tracking animals since I was a little kid, I have no interest in reliving every moment I’ve had a four-legged creature in my sights. In fact, the only stalking I want to think about is the kind that involves my finding Timber. So I tune out Dad and Grove and stare out the window at the passing trees, hills, occasional farms, and rest stops, until I fall asleep happily dreaming of returning to NYC.

  We don’t have time to go home before we head to the VH1 studio in Manhattan. Which is just dandy. Because after eighteen hours in a stinky van that smells like feet, I certainly want to see the guy who broke up with his gorgeous amazing girlfriend. (Hey, look how good I am at sarcasm now!) I’m sure I look like a troll and smell like a goat. But what can I do? About the only option is to grab a clean tunic out of my knapsack and hope there’s a place to change inside.

  Backstage, in the green room (which isn’t really green but is the place where we wait), everyone rushes around getting Dad and Grove ready. They change their clothes, wash and blow-dry their hair, even put some makeup on them. I’ve never worn makeup. It’s just not something elfin women do, so it cracks me up to see all that gunk on my brother and my dad but it also gives me an idea. Timber isn’t showing up for another half an hour, so while the band goes out to do a sound check onstage, I change into my clean tunic then find the makeup person.

  She’s reading a magazine in front of a big mirror surrounded by lights. “You must be Drake’s daughter,” she looks up and says when I stand beside her chair. “You look just like him.”

  “My name is Zephyr.”

  “Gorgeous name!” she says. “I’m Lucy. What’s going on?”

  I’m not sure how to ask her for what I want so I poke around her brushes and tubes of color on the counter in front of the chair. “What are all these things?” I ask shyly.

  She presses her lips together and squints at me. “Seriously?” she asks. “You don’t know?” I shake my head, embarrassed. “Let me guess, you’re not allowed to wear makeup?”

  “I don’t know if I am or not.” I pick up some kind of pencil-looking thing. “We just don’t have any where we’re from.”

  She holds up a soft wispy brush and cleans it with a tissue. “Do you think your dad would get mad if you had some on?”

  I shake my head. “Oh no. I don’t think he’d care at all. I mean, come on, what could he say? He’s wearing it, too!”

  Lucy laughs. She cups my chin in her hand and tilts my face to the left, then to the right. “It’s not like you need it.”

  “Oh but—” I say, then stop.

  “I mean you’re gorgeous without it. So are your dad and your brother. It’s rare to see people with such amazing skin. It almost glows. And this hair.” She runs her fingers through my tangled mess.

  “It’s just that . . .” I glance at the clock. Twenty-five minutes and Timber will be here.

  Her eyes follow mine, then she looks at me. “Are you meeting someone?”

  A grin spreads across my face and my whole body goes warm as I think about seeing Timber soon. Will he grab me, kiss me, tell me how much he missed me? Will we hold hands all night?

  “Ah ha!” Lucy says. “Someone special?”

  I nod and smile even bigger. I’m so excited that I might fly up into the Manhattan sky.

  “Hop on up here, honey!” Lucy pats the chair and switches on all the lights around the mirror. “And let me work my magic!”

  When Lucy’s done, I can’t stop staring at myself. My hair is silkier and straighter than usual after she washed it and blew it dry. Plus, it smells so much like berries and honey that I want to hold it under my nose and sniff it for an hour. Then she made four thin braids from the front sections that she gathered in the back of my head with a long red ribbon to match the flowers embroidered on my pale yellow tunic. I watched carefully as she brushed color over my cheekbones and eyelids and then took a tiny black wand and filled in my eyelashes so my face is rosy and my eyes look as big and green as lily pads with eyelashes as long as a doe’s. The last thing she did was run a tube of something glossy over my mouth to make my lips look moist, as if I’m ready for a kiss, which, let’s be honest, I am. I glance at the clock again. Timber should be here any minute.

  “So, what do you think?” Lucy asks as we both look at me in the mirror.

  I don’t know what to say so I turn around and give her a huge hug. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I gush.

  “My pleasure,” she says. “And here,” she hands me a little bag. “I put together a few things for you to take home. Just some samples to get you started.” I hug her again. “Good luck.” She winks and points to the mirror, where I see the reflection of Timber coming through the door behind me.

  Every bone, muscle, and internal organ inside my body dissolves when I catch sight of him. If it weren’t for my tingling skin holding me together, I’d be a big sloppy puddle of elf soup on the floor. I turn in the chair and try to push myself up, but my legs are trembling and I can’t quite feel my feet. I’m a
fraid I’ll fall on my butt if I try to take a step. Lucy grabs my arm and hoists me to a stand. I can hear her laughing in my ear, but I don’t look at her because I can’t stop staring at Timber.

  He’s even more gorgeous than I remember. I gape at him. I can’t blink or talk. Which is mortifying, because for him, all of this seems easy and natural. He smiles that wolf grin as he walks toward me. “Hey, Zephyr.”

  What should I do with my body? Hold out my arms? Pucker my lips? Tilt my head to the side and close my eyes? I’m freaking out. I can’t move. I just stand here, rigid, with my hands frozen by my sides and my eyes open wide.

  He gets right up close to me and he stops. “You look different,” he says. “Are you wearing makeup?”

  That breaks the corpse spell that had me stuck. “Sort of, I guess.”

  “Looks good,” he says with a nod.

  “Thanks.” I begin to lean in for our glorious reunion smooch, but he presses his hand on the small of my back and gives me a quick little peck on the cheek. Then he pulls back and I blink. What the heck was that? Where were the dancing unicorns and chorus of trumpeter swans to herald our romantic reunion? I press my hand against the burning spot on my cheek where he kissed me. Was that it? What happened to the part where he takes me in his arms and tells me he’s so glad that I’m back before we kiss passionately for five minutes?

  “So how was your trip?” he asks.

  “Boring,” I manage to say, covering my disappointment.

  “Yeah, being on the road sucks,” he says, but then he spies a large flat-screen TV across the room by two blue couches and some chairs. The sound is off but we can see my dad, Grove, and the rest of the band onstage tuning their instruments and testing the mics.

  Timber smiles but shakes his head as he moves toward the screen. “But, man, I miss that. Sound checking, getting ready, being on. It’s the biggest rush.”