She wasn’t the only one who’d done it, though.
Two of my extraordinary ancestors from the 1800s had also ripped their pages loose, just beneath their names:
Lily Kate Abernathy
Amelia Abernathy
Had they thought the Destiny Dream was silly, the way Blue did? Or had they failed to accomplish their destiny? The thought made my belly ache. I pushed the book away and sighed.
“I need to pound out my thoughts,” I told Bear.
And I snatched the drumsticks off my bookshelf.
I sat down in front of my windowsill, but before my performance started, I saluted my poster of Meg White, my most favorite drummer of all time.
When Cody Belle and I were kids, she liked to dress up like a princess and wear a tiara. I wore cherry ChapStick, made drums out of cardboard, and painted them with peppermint stripes, just like Meg. Cody thought I was dressed up like a fairy at first, because my drumsticks were glittery back then. “Are those magic wands?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I told her. It’s the truth, too. They feel magic to me.
I turned my attention back to the twinkling stars over the graveyard. And I pounded a steady rhythm on the windowsill, which was chipped all over from hundreds of nights of drumming. That night I thought about how it might feel to play on a stage. I’d let my braid down and shake my hair in rhythm to whatever wild beat I drummed up. I would feel the vibrations of the music up and down my arms, and sing along when I felt like it. I wouldn’t care what anybody said about my smile or my scars because I would be doing what I loved. I imagined my family all in the front row—Blue and Club Pancake and Topher and Bear. And Mama. I like knowing she’s always there, hidden away in my imagination. Kind of like a treasure.
I stopped drumming and stilled the sticks in my lap.
Uncle Peri’s voice echoed in my memory:
Beneath the stars of Blackbird Hollow
By the shadow of the ridge
Down a path no man can follow
Lies a treasure someone hid …
There was a treasure in my town.
Why hadn’t I thought about it earlier? If I found the treasure … the Boneyard would be safe from Warren Steele. Safe forever. I scrambled across the floor to my bag, and pulled out the notebook where I’d written Peri’s song lyrics.
“What was that rhyme he said first, though?” I asked my dog. “It was something kind of corny …”
I pushed my squeaky window open and looked out at the graves. I felt like I was putting on a concert for the dearly departed. Which kind of made me feel like a weirdo. Before I lost my nerve, I tried to sing out Uncle Peri’s rhyme:
“I’m pure of heart,
Not filled with hate,
I’ll …”
I looked back at my dog again. “Something about loot?” I asked. Bear scrunched her nose.
“Ah!” I turned back to the window. “I’ll use the loot for something great?”
I almost giggled as I imagined a ghost sounding a buzzer like the kind on a game show. I cleared my throat:
“Oh Conductor,
At your … pleasure,
Take me to your wondrous treasure …”
CAW CAW!
I startled so hard my drumsticks clattered to the floor.
“You scared me, Penny Lane,” I said to the crow nestled in the branches of the tree. Blue’d saved the injured bird from the woods back in the spring, and mended her wing so she could fly again. But Penny Lane likes us so much that she mostly hangs out in the tree. She never strays too far from home.
I waited. And waited. At first, all I heard was the sound of my own breath, the tap of my own brave heart. I looked back from the window at Bear and sighed. “Maybe this is too preposterous?”
Bear blinked like she was contemplating my question. But then the air shifted in the room, and a breeze blew through the window, ruffling the pages of the Book of Days. Bear whimpered and crawled under a pillow.
I stood and peered into the cemetery again, clutching the windowsill. Darkness had covered the graveyard … hiding anybody who might be walking there. And then the song found me.
I felt the song before I heard it, creeping against the back of my neck. And then the air in my bedroom grew thick with music. Someone was singing—a child, maybe. The voice was young and wistful, but strong, too. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl or my own imagination making things up.
“Look close, my dear,
And look again,
There’s more to this life
Than beginnings and ends …”
I stood tall, despite my trembling legs, and swallowed the lump of fear in my throat.
“H … Hello?” I whispered out the window.
The graveyard remained dark and still. A sliver of moonlight peeked out from behind the cloud—a bright smile in the sky. The child’s voice sang again, barely more than a whisper in the wind:
“Beneath the stars of Blackbird Hollow
By the shadows of the ridge
Down a path no man can follow
Lies a treasure someone hid …”
It was the Conductor’s song … just as Uncle Peri had described it. But it didn’t sound like the voice of an old soldier to me. What I heard definitely sounded like a kid.
I flopped down on the floor and pulled my mud boots over my pj pants. “Stay, Bear,” I ordered. My dog whimpered again as I shut the door softly behind me, snuck down the stairs … and stepped out into Blackbird Hollow Graveyard at night. All alone.
Or maybe … not alone at all.
“Um … hello? Is somebody there?” My voice wavered as I stepped outside. My hands trembled so hard that my light was shaky. Flashlight-disco across the graves.
I closed my eyes, took a steadying breath, and whispered my mama’s words: “Fear is just a flashlight that helps you find your courage.” I wondered what she might say if she was there with me. She would see it all as a mighty adventure.
She would remind me that I am born to be a Wildflower.
I will save the cafe … no matter what it takes.
So I stood up tall … well, as tall as a tiny person can stand, and cleared my throat and sang:
“I’m pure of heart,
Not filled with hate,
I’ll use the loot
For something great!
Oh Conductor,
At your pleasure,
Take me to your wondrous tr—!”
I cut myself off with a gasp as a bony silhouette shot up from behind one of the graves and ran toward the gates. I squealed, flopping down backward against a grave. “Excuse me,” I said breathlessly to the stone as I used it to pull myself back up. I directed my flashlight beam straight ahead.
At first, the sight of a real ghost launching out of a grave nearly did me in. I tried to scream … but only a squeak came out. My desire to save my home was stronger than my fear, though. And so I launched up off the ground and ran through the cemetery, hot on the heels of my ghostly assailant.
“Pardon me, Adeline Carpetta,” I yelled as I jumped over her headstone. I jabbed the flashlight in front of me like a lance, illuminating the path of the running spirit.
“Conductor! Wait! Please don’t lead me to certain death!”
The ghost slipped easily through the gate, which makes sense—ghosts being spirit matter and all. But its jacket snagged on one of the spires.
Its … jacket? I reached the gate breathless and shined my flashlight into the ghost’s face.
A very handsome face belonging to a guy around my age.
I couldn’t tell much about him in the darkness, but up close, it was obvious that his face did not look ghostly at all.
“You’re … real,” I said.
He didn’t speak. Just blinked at me as though he was terrified. This was possibly due to the fact that I’d just chased him through a graveyard, screaming my guts out.
“What are you doing in my graveyard?” I asked.
He still didn’t answer with his mouth. But his eyes answered, in a way. I couldn’t tell what color they were, but I could see the sadness hidden there. Even at night. Even with only a flashlight between us.
Finally, he blinked, reached his skinny fingers through the gate, and ripped his hoodie free from the spire. He ran down the road, his sneakers making the faintest swish, swish sound. He was a fast, elegant runner, like Cody Belle.
“I give tours!” I yelled after him. “You should come see it in the daylight, because this place is haunted at night. And I mean haunted with a capital H!”
Before I took the time to wonder who I’d just seen … and why he was in my graveyard at night … the song found me again. It definitely wasn’t coming from the kid running ahead of me … the song came from behind me. My neck prickled as I turned, slowly, and held the flashlight out over the graves. Nobody was there.
… Down a path no man can follow
Lies a treasure someone hid …
The song was moving, somehow—toward the woods on the edge of the cemetery. I still didn’t see anybody. But it was like the song was calling to me, and I had no choice but to follow.
The music stopped at the edge of the Thicket.
Down the hill slope, nestled in a foggy hollow against the woods, there’s a hidden section of the cemetery that’s not part of our tour. We call it the Thicket, and it’s off-limits for everyone because it’s so overgrown with scraggly trees and ivy. Blue doesn’t want me to clean it out, because she doesn’t want me to get snake bit or skunk sprayed or covered in poison ivy, all of which she believes are abundant there.
But I was certain Blue would understand that this time was different. I had to walk into the Thicket. I had to follow the ghost and find the treasure. It was the only way I could keep Blue from selling our home and all the memories I kept there. I imagined the look on her face when I carried a muddy chest full of gold into her office. And I surged on.
I hummed Uncle Peri’s song as I made my way down the hill. Fireflies floated in the high grass around me. They looked like little lanterns, guiding me onward. I heard the sound of leaves flutter over me in the wind. The rush of the pine trees shaking and shivering. I pushed through an opening in the ivy-covered gate surrounding the Thicket, and rested my back against a gnarled old tree.
The cafe is only a quick run away, I reminded myself. I can see the lights from Blue’s study.
I am brave. I have a destiny. I will not doubt my—
Snap.
POP.
The sound was unmistakable: footsteps.
Steady footsteps walking through the Thicket.
I slunk down close to the ground.
I turned off the flashlight.
My breath rattled the dead leaves on the ground beneath me.
The moon shimmered through the trees, scattering patches of bone-white light all around me. No person moved among the tree shadows. No person I could see, at least.
But I heard someone coming closer.
Somebody was walking through the Thicket, right toward the tree where I was hiding.
What if the intruder had a friend still hiding out here?
What if I really had upset the ghosts?
The footsteps neared.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
“I will not doubt my starry aim,” I barely whispered. “I will. Not. Doubt.”
I swallowed hard, and peeked around the tree …
But nobody was there.
The sound of footsteps stopped.
The moonlight patches seemed to move together then, until the light was shining in one long, silver path to a tall grave covered in ivy. As I watched, the moonlight caught the flicker of something else. Something … like stars. Tiny blue stars all over the grave.
I stood up and took a step toward the starry grave. Then another.
And then I felt a cold hand grab the neck of my hoodie and yank me backward. I screamed, and dropped the flashlight.
Granny Blue held tight to my hoodie, looking down at me with one eyebrow raised. Waiting for me to explain.
“I wanted to take a walk.” I shrugged. “Clear my head.”
“At midnight?” Blue groaned as she reached to pick up the flashlight. “In the Thicket? How many times have I told you this part of the graveyard is off-limits?”
“People back here want to be remembered, too,” I said, leading the way out of the woods. Admittedly, it felt nice to step over the muddy threshold back into the cemetery I already knew and loved.
“Bed,” Blue said, pointing to my upstairs room.
I shrugged at Bear when I walked in the door. “I tried,” I said.
I looked around my room and thought about how strange it was to go back to normal life after such a night. I’d heard a ghost. I’d seen an intruder … which I decided to keep secret for the time being. Blue would never let me near the Thicket again if I told her I’d seen somebody sneaking around out there. I looked at my drumsticks and books and posters and mud boots. I loved my room. I liked all my stuff. But I wanted to get back out there. Not just out there in the graveyard near the treasure. But I wanted to run through the unknown again. There was a feeling I had out there, where my fear melted into something better. Something like courage. I wanted to feel that forever.
Maybe all Wildflowers feel that way. I knew I had it in me then; I could be—I would be—extraordinary.
I slid the Book of Days under my pillow and closed my eyes.
“I won’t let her sell it,” I whispered, as if Mama were in the room with me. As if she really could lean down and kiss the top of my head like she used to. Like I wanted her to.
Bear cuddled against my chest. It never goes away, but at least the Big Empty feels warm when my dog is around. “Mama told me that I have a marvelous destiny,” I said as I snuggled my dog close and drifted off into dreamworld.
And my mama was right.
That night I, Emma Pearl Casey, had the blue flower dream of my ancestors.
And it was totally, completely bonkers.
The ????
I, Emma Pearl Casey, just had the great Destiny Dream of my beloved ancestors. And I’m writing all of this in pencil, because it makes no sense at all.
Like, NONE.
So. I was standing in my field of blue flowers. And I walked around looking for something obvious and awesome. As I’m looking, I tripped over something on the ground. I look down and see a little burst of different-colored flowers: daisies, violets, and red roses. And in that little burst of flowers … I see an old key.
That’s it.
An old key.
What?!?!?!
I always thought the morning after my Destiny Dream would be the best morning of my life.
Like Christmas morning times one thousand.
Like the feeling I have when I wake up on the last day of school times infinity.
But all I felt was confused and nauseous, because my Destiny Dream made no sense.
I couldn’t talk to Blue about it. First, Blue thought the Destiny Dream was silly anyway. Second, she was still mad at me for going into the Thicket. I couldn’t tell Topher because the boy was still in a baking frenzy. And Cody Belle still hadn’t come to the cafe.
That whole morning, I was even more skittish than Bearclaw in a storm.
When the toaster popped and launched burnt bread onto Topher’s waiting plate, I jumped. When the oven door squeaked, I squealed. When Topher called my name, I nearly screamed.
“You sure you’re okay?” my brother asked.
I gave him a thumbs-up and said, “Peachy.”
I’d never said “peachy” before. Is it possible to be so nervous your brain coughs up words you didn’t even know it’d stored?
While I waited to pull the muffins out of the oven, I called Cody Belle’s house from the cafe phone. No answer.
Blue and Topher kept me busy in the kitchen all morning. It was jamboree day, so the crowd only got thicker as the day wore on. The place was packed. Th
e rocking chairs on the front porch were full. The oven door was in a constant state of squeak as pans of muffins, trays of cookies, and fresh-baked scones were pulled out.
I took a break to referee a checkers tournament, and that’s when I finally saw my best friend parking her bicycle against a tree outside.
I grabbed Cody Belle’s arm as soon as she walked through the door, and tugged her to the window booth in the far corner. And I told her about my dream.
“You had your Destiny Dream!” She threw herself across the table to hug me.
“Shh,” I cautioned. But I nodded and smiled. “Yes, I had it. But it doesn’t … make any sense! A daisy. A rose. A violet. And a key?!”
Cody Belle scrunched her eyebrows together. “Like … a car key?”
“More like an old key,” I said. “A skeleton key. Give me your notebook.”
I snatched the paper from Cody Belle and drew a picture. “It looked better than that, obviously. I’m not much of an artist. But it was a key. And the key was on a bundle of flowers—roses, violets, daisies.” I turned to the window. Blue’d stuck a handful of daisies in a Mason jar and put it on the sill. The daisies were thump-thumping their white crowns against the window, probably because the air vent was blowing on them. But it looked like they wanted to be outside, caught up in the whirling wind.
“Aunt Greta says daisies are a symbol of friendship,” I said, more to myself than Cody Belle. I plucked a daisy from the vase and stuck it behind my ear. It’s the flower I wear most, because it was my mama’s favorite.
Cody Belle shrugged. “Maybe you’re supposed to become a florist, like your aunt Greta? Or a locksmith-florist?”
“I don’t think so,” I sighed. “It’ll become clear in time, I guess. It did for the other Wildflowers.”
We both stared out the window, toward the Wailing Woods. The rain clouds hadn’t burst just yet, but they stretched like a silver warning overhead. It was a spooky, lovely day. Slick green leaves tumbled through the cemetery.
I thought again about my crazy night. I wanted to tell Cody Belle but there wasn’t time just then, because it was late afternoon. And that meant it was time for the Boneyard jamboree.
The Key to Extraordinary Page 4
