The Key to Extraordinary

by Natalie Lloyd

  I shivered, too. I couldn’t help it. But then I shook off the shiver and clicked my own helmet into place. “This time will be different. I can’t explain it … but I feel like the Conductor trusts me. Trusts us.”

  The evergreen trees in the Wailing Woods are giants; they’ve been growing for centuries. They look big enough to scrape the stars. So big that if you walk under them at night, you’ll swear the Milky Way looks like a gauzy cobweb spread over the tops. And those trees are always swaying, just slightly. Even when there’s no wind that you can feel, you can still see the branches shaking and shivering. The trees in the Wailing Woods are never silent; they always sound like they’re whispering secrets to one another.

  As we traveled deeper into the shadows, I wondered about those secrets.

  I wanted to know what was hidden in those woods.

  “I’ve got you, Emma,” Cody Belle said as she boosted me up over the high fence surrounding the Thicket. Cody’s legs are so long that she’s a natural at fence climbing. She always has to give me a boost. But once I get started, I can spider-scramble across anything.

  I swung my leg over the top of the fence, and then jumped down to the other side. My sneakers made a wet thumping FWOP sound as they hit the muddy ground.

  Cody Belle jumped down next, graceful and catlike.

  The birdsong in the trees faded when Cody hit the ground, as if every animal in the woods became alerted to our presence. We were officially within the boundaries of the Thicket now—almost in exactly the same spot where Blue had snatched me by the collar a couple of nights ago and marched me back inside.

  “Mama used to say this was a sacred place,” I whispered, surprised by how loud my voice sounded in the quiet woods. My voice is never much louder than a ripple, but even small voices sound loud when you talk about things that matter. And I guess that’s the most important thing I’ve learned from giving cemetery tours: Every word you say in a graveyard seems to matter so much. I think about how nobody knows how long they have in the world. And how we only get a certain number of words to say and share. I’d hate for the last words that come out of my mouth to be mean ones. I don’t want my words wasted.

  “Sacred because it’s a final resting-place?” Cody whispered with the slightest tremble in her voice.

  “Kind of,” I said. “Mama said there are true sacred places in the world. Most of them don’t have walls or ceilings, she told me. Sometimes, when you least expect it, you just happen upon a place that feels … special. You feel like it was created just for you, to settle your soul. The kind of place you feel as much as you hear or see. She said there are thin places in the world—where you get this feeling like, if you could reach out your hand, you’d touch a whisper-thin veil separating this world from another one. A world you can’t even see.”

  “Like heaven?” Cody whispered.

  I fell silent for a moment. “Maybe,” I finally answered.

  We stood still for a time, long enough for the birds to rest their voices and tune the whistlers in their beaks. Once they started singing again, Cody Belle relaxed beside me and looped her arm through mine.

  We ambled through the Thicket. The tree limbs above us looked like skinny arms stretched across the sky—reaching desperately for one another, but never touching. Cody Belle turned on her flashlight and pointed it straight ahead. She kept her shoulders pulled back and her eyes focused on the path in front of us. “Why isn’t this place part of the tour?”

  “The graves back here are too old. They’re fragile. We don’t want people accidentally pushing them over or stepping on them. Plus, Blue thinks it’s full of snakes and skunks and stuff. She had the gate put up years ago to keep people out.”

  Cody Belle stiffened.

  “We’re okay,” I assured her. “I’ll rescue you from any wild animals.”

  “I didn’t realize the graveyard went this far back.”

  “Most people don’t.”

  “Do you remember where you were the other night? When you heard … him?”

  “That’s another thing. I’m not sure it was a ‘him.’ ” It was hard to remember what the Conductor sounded like that night. “The voice I heard was softer. More of a whisper. I guess the Conductor’s a man, but it was hard to tell.”

  “Well, where were you standing when you heard … it?” Cody asked.

  “I can’t remember exactly. It was dark. Plus, before last night, I hadn’t been back here since I was little.”

  Cody Belle nudged me with her elbow. “You’re still little.”

  “Even littler, I mean. WHOA! Careful!”

  I tugged Cody Belle’s arm so she didn’t trip over a short, flat rock jutting up out of the mossy ground. “Watch out for the graves,” I whispered.

  “There’s no way that’s a grave!” She leaned down close and looked. “It doesn’t even say anything. How do you know it’s not just a rock?”

  I leaned down beside her and pushed away the cluster of ivy draped across the flat part of the stone. “You can feel a few letters if you trace your finger across the surface. And a little bird design, right up at the top. See? Somebody carved it all in by hand, but it didn’t go deep enough to last.”

  I took up a cluster of dying leaves and dandelions, the best I could do for a bouquet. I twisted a sprig of ivy around the leaves, and settled my bouquet at the base of the little stone. “Blue said some of the first pioneers are buried here, people who came from faraway shores and made their home in Blackbird Hollow.”

  Cody tucked her arm through mine again. “So. Which way’s the starry grave?”

  “I don’t remember exactly,” I said, pausing on the rise of a forested hill. Cody Belle gasped at the sheer number of stones stretched out ahead of us.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” I said. “We’ll take two different rows, but let’s not get too far apart.”

  We walked around the forest, pausing to look at the old stones.

  BEGONIA MCINTYRE

  1800–1887

  SO FAIR AND BRIGHT THROUGHOUT THIS LIFE,

  SO FEARLESS AT THE END.

  SHE WAS A WIFE. A MOTHER. A SISTER.

  A TRUE AND FAITHFUL FRIEND.

  HYACINTH MCINTYRE

  1806–1850

  SO FADES THE GLORY OF THE WORLD.

  “So fades the glory of the world,” I whispered.

  Just as my words dissolved into silence, Cody let out a scream so loud and shrill I jumped and fell backward into the mud.

  “Cody Belle!” I lunged off the ground and ran toward where she was standing, flapping her arms like a frantic pigeon. When I nearly got there, I tripped over a tree root and slammed into her. We both tumbled to the muddy ground.

  “What’s wrong?” I said, locking my arms underneath her and pulling back toward the tall tree. “Did you see a ghost?”

  “Worse.” Cody Belle ruffled her fingers through her hair and shivered. “I walked into a spiderweb.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you scared away any spider within screaming distance.”

  The Touch came suddenly, a cold pressure on the back of my neck.

  “Emma,” Cody Belle whispered. She touched the back of her neck.

  “You feel it, too?”

  She nodded quickly. Then she pointed a shaky finger over my shoulder.

  “Look behind you …”

  Tiny violets bloomed out of the muddy ground, one by one, forming a perfect path to a tall, ivy-covered stone.

  Cody Belle sprang up off the ground as if she’d been catapulted. I latched on to her ankle before she ran off. “You said you’d stay with me!”

  “Did you see what just happened?”

  “Come on. We can do this. We’re so close!” Holding on to Cody Belle, I pulled myself up off the ground. We held hands all the way down the violet path.

  “This is definitely it!” I whispered as I came down on my knees in front of it. Tiny blue flowers bloomed through the ivy, but they didn’t glitter the same way as they had last night. �
�The moon must have shimmered over the petals a certain way,” I told Cody.

  “They do look like tiny stars,” she said. “I’ve never seen them before …”

  Three flowers bloomed among the ivy ropes:

  Violets,

  White daisies,

  And on a short bush, a single red rose.

  Just like the flowers in my dreams.

  “That’s mega-creepy,” Cody Belle whispered.

  “Help me figure out what the stone says.” I pulled the thick tangles of ivy away from the stone facing.

  “You still think it’s just a fake grave?” Cody Belle asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s possible!”

  Cody Belle and I yanked and pulled at the stubborn ivy. “Emma!” she gasped. Then she reached out to trace a mark on the part of the stone she’d uncovered—a starry mark. “It’s not like a Christmas tree star,” she said. “It’s more like the kind you see on a map.”

  “A compass rose?” I asked excitedly. I pulled my notebook from my messenger bag and gave it to her. “Until Blue and your mom get us Tracking Devices with a camera, we’ll have to make do with your artistic talent. Draw it so we don’t forget what it looks like.”

  While Cody Belle sketched the star, I resumed ivy-tugging duties.

  Finally, I found a name. That probably meant it wasn’t a fake stone, so I declared the truth of the situation. “Someone loved you … Lily Kate—”

  A sudden shiver twizzled down my backbone, so cold I jumped off the ground and gasped. But this kind of cold chill wasn’t a bad thing. It felt more like plunging in a swimming pool on a hot day, when you first hit the water and it’s so cold it takes your breath away. And then it just takes you in, makes you feel free and happy.

  That’s how I felt, like I’d discovered something amazing.

  “What’s wrong?” Cody Belle asked, coming to stand beside me.

  “The grave’s definitely not fake,” I whispered. “I know this name.”

  I kneeled again, pulling the rest of the ivy away, and thumbed the dirt out of the shape of the name.

  Cody Belle read the stone aloud:

  LILY KATE ABERNATHY

  1845–1860

  SHE CARRIED THE LIGHT OF A BRIGHTER WORLD.

  “Do you think she was connected to the Conductor?”

  “I don’t know.” I swallowed. “But she does have something to do with me.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Lily Kate Abernathy was a Wildflower. She’s in the Book of Days,” I whispered. “Her name is in the Book of Days, at least. But there’s no entry. She’s there, but her destiny is not.”

  “We’re both still shaking,” Cody Belle said as we stumbled onto the porch of the Boneyard Cafe.

  “We’re probably in shock,” I reasoned. “Shock manifests in different ways. I’ve read about the phenomenon, how shock and adrenaline make some people do crazy things. Like, you get your leg bit off by a shark, but suddenly, you’re so full of energy and the will to survive that you swim to the shore before you even notice you’re bleeding. Maybe we’re in survival mode right now. Boneyard Brew will help.”

  Cody Belle’s breathing was quick and choppy, as if she’d just finished a soccer game. Her hands shook as she fished through her rain jacket for a watermelon candy to soothe her nerves. “Let’s tell Blue that the Conductor showed you the way to your ancestor’s grave. Emma, you need to talk to Blue right now before this gets too weird!”

  “It’s already weird! I’m not bothering Blue with any of this,” I said. “She’s already too worried as it is. She’s worried about me. She’s worried about the cafe. I can solve this problem without her help. It’s my destiny.”

  “She can find professional treasure hunters to take over from here. Let them deal with the ghost.” Cody Belle’s fingers trembled so badly she couldn’t peel the wrapper off her candy. I had to help her.

  “Calm down,” I said as I pulled Cody Belle into the cafe and hauled her toward the counter. “We need to think. Two mugs of Boneyard Brew!” I called out to Topher. “Quick! We’re distressed.”

  “Distressed over what?” Topher asked as he slid our mugs in front of us. Heart-shaped marshmallows floated on top.

  “The mysteries of life,” Cody Belle said. Her mug trembled as she raised it high, sloshing brew onto the counter. “Cheers.”

  Within a sip or two, some of the color returned to her face. “Well, as my dad says, ‘Every situation has a sunny side.’ At least now we know that the Conductor didn’t bury treasure under that star. Your long-lost ancestor is buried there!”

  “But there is a star on her grave. And starry flowers. And why’s her page just”—I gulped—“gone? I know I heard the Conductor. It led me to Lily Kate Abernathy’s grave. And then I dreamed about an old key, which is obviously for opening a treasure chest. Lily Kate has something to do with it. We just have to figure out what.”

  “You don’t know anything about her?”

  I shrugged. “Only that she had the Destiny Dream. The rest of her entry was gone.” I pulled the Book of Days from my bag and showed Cody Belle.

  Cody Belle narrowed her eyes as she studied the entry, tracing the jagged rip of Lily Kate’s page. “Do you think it fell out?”

  “It looks like she—or somebody—ripped it out.”

  Cody Belle cocked her head. “Why would she do that?”

  “Well, Blue removed hers because she thought the Book of Days and Destiny Dreams were just ‘made-up silliness.’ She still won’t tell me what she dreamed about.” I shrugged. “Maybe Lily Kate was that way. Or maybe she didn’t fulfill her extraordinary destiny. Maybe she was like me—a klutztastical mess.”

  Cody Belle scowled. “You are not—”

  “Maybe,” I kept going, “Lily Kate wrote down the blue flower dream as soon as she had it. Maybe she figured she’d fill in the specifics later. But then maybe it didn’t work out and she was embarrassed. So then in a mad rage she ripped the entry from the Book of Days and flung it into the fire!”

  Cody Belle’s lifted mug stilled in midair. “Now who’s being dramatic?”

  I took a long sip of my brew and shook my head. “At least I’m not my family’s first failure.”

  “You are not a failure!” Cody Belle yelled.

  “Shh.” Asking Cody Belle to keep her voice down is like asking the Gypsy Roses not to blow. Her voice has one volume, and that is loud, and that’s just the way it is. “Once we find the treasure, everything will make sense. I know it.”

  Topher turned around from the mixer to check on us. I waved.

  “What kind of treasure were y’all talking about?” he asked.

  He slid a plate of fresh peach-lavender muffins in front of us.

  “Uncle Peri mentioned the Conductor’s treasure the other day,” I told him, peeling off my muffin paper. “We were just discussing it.”

  “How about you discuss the treasure while you deliver these muffins to table four?” he said with a grin, pushing another basket toward us.

  “Somebody ordered a whole basket of your muffins? Snazzy.”

  Topher beamed. “I’d take them myself but I’m swamped back here.”

  “Be right back,” I told my BFF.

  I heard the ting of Cody Belle’s watermelon candy when she spit it out on the plate. She tore into her muffin. “Take your time. I’m in muffin heaven.”

  Blue was leaning over the jukebox, staring intensely at the records inside. The glow from the jukebox shone over Blue’s face, stitching deep shadow-lines around her eyes. She sighed and pushed a quarter into the slot. Her favorite song, “Ring of Fire,” came crackling through the speakers.

  “Ring of Fire” was Blue’s fight song back when she was a famous boxer. I could picture her bouncing back and forth in the ring, spry and feisty, hair piled high on her head, as she stared down her opponent … while Johnny Cash crooned her fight song over the speakers. I think everybody has a song like that, a tune that gets them so
revved up you think it’s magic. Blue hadn’t put on her boxing gloves in years, but “Ring of Fire” still called to the fighter deep within. If the notes had ventured into the air, she might have snatched them, just so she could clutch them tight in her fist.

  She was stirred up over something.

  She needed to fight now, too, just not with boxing gloves.

  I leaned against the jukebox beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Warren Steele’s people are coming.” Blue shook her head but didn’t look at me. “They need to survey the land.”

  “What?” I shouted. “How long have you known?”

  “Emma.” Blue looked down at me with sadness in her eyes. “We talked about this.”

  “Not this, exactly. You didn’t tell me he was coming to look at the land today.”

  “He’s probably not coming. His people are, just to get an estimate. I wasn’t sure when he’d be here.”

  Now it was my turn to stare into the glowing jukebox so Blue wouldn’t see the frustration—or the determination—on my face. I knew what I was meant to do: I had to figure out what my dearly departed ancestor Lily Kate Abernathy had to do with the Conductor so I could find the treasure and save the cafe. But there was no way I could do all that before Warren Steele’s minions showed up. And I didn’t like the thought of letting them march around in my graveyard without giving them a piece of my mind.

  What would the other Wildflowers have done in a situation like this?

  I pondered as Johnny Cash sang to me, then a name came to mind.

  “Daphne Prescott,” I murmured.

  “What?” Blue propped her hand on her hip.

  “She was a Wildflower.” I’d spent so much time going through the Book of Days lately, I could practically see Daphne’s page in my head.

  “I know who she was.” Blue scrunched her eyebrows at me. “Don’t get any crazy ideas, Emma.”

  “Sometimes crazy ideas are the best ideas, Blue. They’re glorious.”

  Blue patted her hands on my shoulders and turned me toward the dining room. “Deliver those glorious muffins to the young lady reading at the corner table before they get cold.”