Enchanted Ivy

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Lily gaped at him as she tried to wrap her mind around what he'd just said and everything that it implied. "This was intentional?" she said. She thought of Mr. Mayfair's and Grandpa's reactions, more concerned about her guard than the creature that attacked her. She thought of how Tye had said that the Feeder had wanted Lily, not him. What the hell kind of test was this? Ordinary admissions tests didn't include mutant monkeys. The SATs didn't bite. "I could have been seriously hurt," she said. If Tye hadn't been there ...

  "I'll make sure no other Feeder bothers you," Jake promised.

  "There are more of those things out there?" She thought

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  of how Grandpa had left to check on Mom. Maybe he hadn't been worried about Mom's usual flightiness. Maybe he'd been worried about Mom's encountering a Feeder. Lily pulled out her cell phone and dialed Mom's number. No answer. She tried Grandpa's. No answer either. "I have to check on my mother," she said.

  "Hey," Jake said as she hurried out of the courtyard. She heard him jogging to catch up to her. "What about your test?"

  Screw the test, she thought. If Mom was in any danger because of Lily's test ... If creatures like that were loose on the campus because of her test ... If Vineyard Club was responsible for allowing vicious, unnatural creatures to roam around in highly populated areas because of her test ... She hadn't agreed to that. "Admissions tests shouldn't involve blood," she said. She'd fill out an application form and submit her essays just like everyone else. She had a decent shot at getting in on her own merit, right?

  "You're safe now," he said, "and so's your mom. Your grandfather is with her--he was heading for the dorm, wasn't he? You don't have to worry."

  Lily snorted. That was like saying, Hey, you don't have to breathe today. "She doesn't travel much," she said, a massive understatement. They should never have brought Mom here. "She's used to her and me being together." Mom rarely left the triple-decker that was their home. She worked on the first floor in the flower shop, Grandpa lived on the

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  second floor in his antique-laden apartment, and Mom and Lily lived on the third floor (the attic, really). They'd made it into their sanctuary and filled it with items that made Mom feel safe. The apartment was littered with art: leftovers from Mom's pottery phase (they had a shelf full of lopsided vases), her mosaic phase (she'd retiled the bathroom to resemble a Turkish bath), and her mobile phase (they'd hung a dozen spiraling mobiles of birds and sailboats and kites). Skylights flooded the apartment with sunlight, and every shelf, table, and windowsill held plants. Morning glories crawled over their kitchen window, and a miniature rose garden covered the entire dining room table. Without all of that, Lily knew that Mom wouldn't feel safe here, but she'd never thought that Mom actually wouldn't be safe here. Lily walked faster. "My mom takes care of me. Like any other mom. But I also take care of her. That's how it works. I have to check on her." And if her Legacy Test had endangered Mom, then she'd quit.

  Maybe she should quit anyway. The Old Boys were clearly deranged, and Lily hadn't signed up to play head games. She wondered if they'd planted Dad's book to mess with her, too. Maybe he hadn't written it. She wondered if Mom would know.

  "No one can fault you for caring about your mother," Jake said. "I'm sure the officers won't penalize you for deviating from the test." He didn't sound confident, and for an instant, Lily wondered if she was being overly anxious. Mom was

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  most likely fine. Grandpa was with her, as Jake had pointed out. Lily tried to imagine how she'd explain to Grandpa that she wanted to quit. It would kill her to disappoint him.

  Entering the 50th Reunion tent again, Lily slowed at the registration desk, but Jake flashed the couple a brilliant smile and ushered Lily past. "You know which room?" she asked him as they crossed the tent.

  "Everyone was briefed on where you'd be," Jake said.

  "Oh," she said. She bet "everyone" would be briefed again if she quit the test, mortifying Grandpa.

  As she followed Jake into a dorm and up a cement stairwell, she heard a familiar voice belting out show tunes. Mom, she thought. She's okay. Off-pitch, but okay. Grandpa must have already come and gone; Mom wouldn't be singing like that if Grandpa was there. Lily felt the muscles in her back slowly unclench. She hadn't realized how worried she'd been.

  "You don't have to come with me," Lily said to Jake. Introducing Mr. Mayfair's gloriously gorgeous grandson to Mom was not high on her list of things to do.

  "I can't guard you if I'm not with you," Jake objected.

  "Can't you--I don't know--scan the hall for green monkeys and then wait?" she asked. "Mom won't tell me how she's really doing if you're there." With other people, Mom was all sunshine and cream. If Mom had seen a Feeder, she wouldn't admit it in front of Jake. And she'd never agree to talk about Dad. "Please," Lily said. "I'll be fine. Does that

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  sound dangerous?" She pointed toward the room where the singing was the loudest. "I mean, other than to one's eardrums?"

  Jake laughed. "Yell if you need me," he said. "I'll be right here." He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms so that his muscles bulged. Oddly, the obvious I-am-buff move did make her feel safer.

  "Thanks," she said, and meant it.

  Lily knocked on the dorm room door, but the singing didn't falter. She tried the knob, and it turned easily. She sighed as she opened the door. Honestly, couldn't Mom at least remember to lock the door? "Mom ...," she began. She stopped and stared.

  Oh, this was not good.

  Mom had dragged one of the spartan metal dorm beds to the center of the room and was standing on the mattress. She had markers and pens and pencils strewn all around her bare feet, and she was drawing on the ceiling as she sang "Everything's Coming Up Roses."

  Lily shot a look back at Jake. She didn't think he could see into the room from where he stood. She smiled brightly at him. "Everything's normal," she said to him. "Just a sec!" She scooted inside and shut the door quickly behind her. "Mom!" Mom held a Sharpie. Permanent marker. "We don't live here! What are you doing?"

  Holding up one blue-stained finger for silence, Mom added another leaf and then smiled up at her handiwork.

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  Mom had drawn an intricate mural of intertwining black leaves on the ceiling. Flecks of blue danced between the leaves like glimpses of sky.

  "Come down from there." Lily pointed to the floor for emphasis. "Where's Grandpa? Did he see this?"

  Mom frowned down at her. "Lily! Is that blood on your shirt?" She climbed off the bed and cooed at Lily's shoulder. "Sweetie, are you okay? What happened?"

  Lily plucked a fresh shirt out of their suitcase. "I'm fine," she said automatically. She changed shirts and then waved at the ceiling. "What are you doing?"

  "Since we're here for a few days, I thought I'd make it feel more ..." Mom trailed off, finally noticing the expression on Lily's face. "Oh. I didn't think." Mom looked down at the Sharpie in her hand. Blue and black ink covered her fingers. "I'm so sorry, Lily. I know how important this weekend is to you. I didn't mean to add to your stress."

  Of course she didn't. She never meant to. Sighing, Lily looked up at the ceiling with its thousands of tiny leaves. Buds poked between the branches. She thought she saw creatures, too: squirrels and birds, tiny winged men and wide-eyed elf girls. "It's beautiful," she said.

  Mom sank down on the mattress and stared up at her leaf mural. "I just had to ... you know. It wasn't ... quite ... home."

  Sitting down next to her, Lily rubbed her neck, feeling at least seventy years old. "We'll buy some white paint before

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  we leave. It's fine. Really, it could be worse." At least Mom hadn't gotten herself mauled by a monkey-thing and herded by unruly bookcases. Lily was in no position to judge. "We shouldn't have left you alone here until you settled in."

  Mom patted her knee. "Don't be silly. You have your test."

  Lily hesitated, unsure how to tell Mom that the test was insane. She was so
used to shielding Mom from bad news. Lily flopped back onto the mattress. Springs poked into her back. "Ow."

  "Seriously ow," Mom said, poking at the bed. "When you come here, you can bring your futon and a lot of pillows. We can make it look more like home, once it's your own room." She waved her hand at the ceiling.

  "I still don't think they let you draw on the walls."

  Mom winced. "I let you down."

  "It's okay. Really." Funny thing was, staring up at the ceiling of swirling leaves did make Lily feel better. She felt calmer. "It's been a strange day. After you left Vineyard Club, I met this boy with orange and black tiger-striped hair...."

  "Hmm."

  "Not as nice as green hair," Lily said quickly. "Don't get any ideas."

  "Nothing is as nice as green hair," Mom said solemnly. She leaned back on the mattress beside Lily. Their hair overlapped. "Is he cute?"

  Lily sat up. "Mom!"

  Mom laughed. "You're such an easy target. How can I resist?"

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  "Ha. Very funny." Lily lay back down slowly this time so that the springs didn't stab her spine again. "Yes, actually, he's very cute. He's also a liar."

  "I'm intrigued. Tell me more."

  Lily launched into a description of the day, but she stopped when she reached the part about finding her father's book. She rarely mentioned Dad to Mom. There was usually no need--he wasn't part of their lives, and with Mom's memory ... it was best not to mention him.

  Mom touched her shoulder, near the bite marks. "Did someone hurt you in the library?" she asked gently. "You can tell me, Lily. I'm your mother. You don't need to protect me."

  Yes, I do, she thought, but she didn't say it out loud. She never said anything like that out loud. "I saw a book ...," Lily began.

  Mom patted her reassuringly. "And it had no pictures?" Her voice dripped with false sympathy.

  Lily laughed. Mom would get along well with Tye, she thought. Sobering, she said, "It did have pictures, as a matter of fact. Of trees. And kind of magicky tree spirits."

  "And puppies and rainbows?" Mom asked. "Are you certain you were in a college library?"

  "Dad wrote it," Lily said quietly.

  Mom fell silent.

  Lily told her about all the fake dissertations. "Dad's wasn't the only one. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds. Why would anyone take the time to write a several-hundred-page

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  joke? It doesn't make any sense." She propped herself up on one elbow so she could see Mom's face. Expressionless, her mom stared at the ceiling. "Mom? What is it?"

  Mom picked up a marker, crossed the room, and began to draw vines on the white plaster around the window. Uh-oh, Lily thought. Clusters of grapes and leaves blossomed over the vines. The marker tip bent as she bore down on the wall.

  Lily jumped off the bed. "It's okay, Mom. You don't need to remember. I didn't expect you to. Please, stop." Dammit, she thought. She shouldn't have said anything.

  A doglike face emerged between the vines and grapes. "You should know more about your father," Mom said. She drew faster. "I should be able to tell you what his smile looked like, what his voice sounded like, what he liked for breakfast, what made him laugh...." In slashing strokes, she drew a curved, snakelike neck. "But. I. Don't. Remember."

  Lily wrapped her arm around Mom's shoulder. "It's all right. Really, it doesn't matter. Forget I said anything. Let me tell you about some of the Reunions jackets I saw. Much worse than psychedelic zebra."

  Shrugging her off, Mom continued to draw. She added bat wings to the snakelike body. "All I remember from the day he died is the ambulance. I don't remember our car or the accident. I don't even remember where we were." She added clawed talons. "I don't remember the day we met. I don't remember the day he proposed. I don't remember the day we married." She drew scales shaped like tears. "I

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  know we once walked through a garden of red and yellow tulips with a fountain in the center." She switched pens and sketched linked ovals around the animal's neck--a chain that was held in one talon. "And I remember how he made me feel. Safe. Like he'd be my knight in shining armor. Like he'd fight dragons for me."

  Mom finished the final link of the chain, and then she sank down on the floor and hugged her knees. Lily dropped down beside her, wrapped her arms around her mother, and stared at the drawing of the Chained Dragon gargoyle that she'd seen on the arch of the University Chapel.

  "Wow," Lily breathed, and then fell silent.

  For a long while, they simply sat like that, without looking at each other, eyes fixed on the dragon. Questions swirled in Lily's head, but she didn't dare ask a single one.

  A half laugh, half chirp burst out of Mom's lips. "It's very ..." She waved her hand as if the gesture would finish the sentence. Lily watched Mom attempt to dredge up a smile, but the fake smile faded after only a few seconds. "Oh, Lily, sometimes I think the only reason I hold on at all is you and your future. You're going to pass this test. I know it. And then you'll have everything I can't give you." Turning to her, Mom gripped Lily's wrists. "You can't know how much that means to me. I need to look forward. I can't look back." Mom was crying now. Silent tears. "I'm getting worse, Lily. I can feel it. Every day, I slip further away. But when I think about you ... your future ..."

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  "I'll pass! I promise!" Lily hugged her. "I have the next clue already: the Literate Ape. I can win this. It's only a weird treasure hunt. Piece of cake." The Feeder hadn't really hurt her much, and the bookshelves had only scared her. She could do this. "Please, don't cry!"

  Mom turned her head aside, as if she thought that if Lily couldn't see her cry, then it didn't count as crying. Stroking Mom's leaf green hair, Lily looked up at the drawing of the Chained Dragon and wondered what the Old Boys had in store for her next.

  Shutting the door, Lily leaned against it. She wanted to bang her head repeatedly, but she bet that would alarm Jake. She smiled wanly at him. "She'll be fine," Lily said. Mom had sworn up and down that Grandpa would be checking on her soon.

  "Of course," Jake said. As Mom began to sing again, Lily saw pity in his very blue eyes and felt as if he'd seen her underwear drawer, complete with the pairs reserved only for laundry emergencies. She guessed he must come from one of those oh-so-perfect families without any hint of ... without anyone like Mom.

  "I need to find the Literate Ape," she said. And the shreds of my dignity and self-respect, she added silently. At least she hadn't told him that she'd considered quitting. She ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes anymore. Her face felt hot. Passing him, she headed downstairs. He fell into step

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  behind her. She felt his sympathy-filled eyes soaking into her back, labeling her pitiable. She didn't look back at him as she pushed open the door to the dorm and walked into the sunlight.

  Outside again, she lifted her chin up to feel the warmth on her face. As always, the touch of the sun soothed her. She braved a look back at Jake. "Which way to Dillon Gym?" she asked.

  Jake hesitated. "Grandfather instructed me not to aid you. Campus directions aren't classified, but I don't think I'm supposed to give you any information...." He dithered adorably for a moment longer until she let him off the hook by tapping the shoulder of a nearby alum.

  "Excuse me, could you please tell me where I can find Dillon Gym?" Lily asked the alum.

  The orange-clad grandfatherly man pointed at the Reunions gate. "Straight out to the campus road and then downhill." His hat, she noticed, had beer cans strapped to either side and a straw that bent down to his mouth.

  She thanked him and turned back to Jake. His ears were pink as he blushed. "Guess I could have told you that," Jake said. "It's my first guard assignment. I don't want to make a mistake."

  Lily couldn't blame him. She felt the same way about nearly everything she did. Jake trotted alongside her as they left the dorms area. "Are you in Vineyard Club?" she asked. She quickly added, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."<
br />
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  "I'm more ... in training to be a member," he said. "You join eating clubs at the end of sophomore year. I just finished my freshman year." He puffed out his chest like a rooster, proud of his member-in-training status. She stifled a smile.

  "Is Tye in Vineyard Club?" she asked. She skirted around patches of ivy, keeping to the far side of the sidewalk. The ivy vines lay still and quiet.

  Jake snorted. "Absolutely not."

  "You do know him."

  "I know of him," Jake said. "Never met."

  "Who is he?" Lily asked. "Why did he say he was my guard? What did he want?"

  "I ... um ... ah ..." His face reddened. Lily remembered he wasn't supposed to give her any information. She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could, he pointed straight ahead. "That's Dillon Gym," he said.

  Following his finger, she saw a building that looked like a medieval fort. If it wasn't for the DILLON GYMNASIUM sign by the road (which, admittedly, was a big tip-off), she never would have guessed it was a gym. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't tell anyone you told me."

  "I think it's all right, but thank you," he said gravely.

  "You really care about this, don't you?" she said.

  "As much as you do," he said.

  She didn't have a reply to that. She wondered what he'd say if he knew that her mom's sanity was tied to Lily's admission into Princeton.

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  Lily faced Dillon Gym. Four gargoyles jutted out over the entry arches: a football player, a dour-faced man in medieval garb, a tiger with a shield, and an ape in graduation robes and spectacles. Like the Unseeing Reader, the ape held an open book.

  She halted underneath the ape gargoyle. Looking up at his stone chin, she waited for him to produce a clue like the Unseeing Reader had.