“Will you come with me?” Ms. Taft said.
“No. I’m going home.”
“Raven . . . honey, you can’t—”
The front door was closest. She ran, flung it open, and hurried down the steps. She was halfway to the fence when Reece called out, “Hey! Cinderella! You forgot your boots!”
She ducked through the fence boards and kept running.
6
The next day, Raven went to the Wolfsbane and waited for Jackie for a long time. She wanted to cry when he didn’t come. She had ruined everything. She remembered the looks on Ms. Taft’s and the boys’ faces just before she flew away. As if they were looking at an animal very different from them.
Baby stayed with her more than usual. She seemed to know Raven needed comfort.
Raven should have kept to her kin, the earth and the birds, rather than starting to want people. She felt like a bird around them. Always confused by what they did, always watching their every move, always ready to fly. Even Mama made her feel that way when she was in her moods.
She looked at the Wolfsbane, thinking of Jackie. He was the only person who didn’t make her feel like she might need to fly away. She supposed it was the part of her that was a human being that made her like him.
But she wished she didn’t. It hurt too much.
“Let’s go find you an insect,” Raven said to Baby.
She ran away from the Wolfsbane, pretending she was flying, and Baby flew with her.
When she got home, Mama was in a sad mood. Raven was almost more afraid of the sad moods than the angry ones. Mama was lying on the ground by the back door. Her eyes were open, staring up at the sky.
Raven knelt next to her. “I’m home, Mama,” she said.
“I’m a bad mother,” Mama said without looking at her. “I should have left you in the forest.”
“You asked for me. I was yours. You were supposed to take me.”
“I did ask for you.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and when she closed the lids over them, they squeezed out like two tiny creeks that ran down her cheeks.
“You’re a good mother,” Raven said. She kissed her cheek. “I’m going to make dinner.”
Mama was silent, her eyes closed. It scared Raven. Every time it happened, she was afraid Mama would never open her eyes again.
She went inside and heated leftover casserole in the microwave. When she returned to tell Mama dinner was ready, the sun was behind the trees and hills. “Mama, I’m going to help you get up, okay? You need to go inside.”
She tried to lift Mama by her arm, but she wouldn’t move. Raven went inside and put some casserole on a plate. She poured a glass of milk and ate sitting next to Mama in the growing darkness.
After she put the dinner things away, she tried to get Mama up again, but she wouldn’t move. Raven got two pillows and a blanket. She lifted Mama’s head, put a pillow beneath, and spread the blanket over her. She lay down under the blanket with her arm wrapped around Mama. A barred owl talked to Raven for a while, telling her everything would be okay.
She woke in darkness, wet with dew. She put her hand on Mama’s cheek. Her skin was cold. “Mama, we have to go inside. Mama, Mama . . .”
She kept at her until finally Mama sat up. Raven took her arm to help her stand and walked her into the house. She led Mama to her bed, put a nightgown on her, and slipped socks on her feet. “I’ll make you breakfast,” Raven told her.
“No,” Mama said, staring.
Raven always wondered what Mama saw when her eyes stared. It had something to do with the earth spirits. Raven was afraid the spirits would one day pull her too far into their world. They would want Mama more and more as she came to know them better.
Raven spent the day keeping Mama in the world of people. She talked to her, brought her water and food, made her go to the toilet. She did her lessons in Mama’s bed, telling her about the work as she did it. She read her books.
A few times, Raven went outside to feed Baby. “Mama is with the spirits,” Raven told her. “I can’t be with you today.”
Baby flew down from the tree and perched on the fence that protected the vegetable garden from rabbits and deer. “I wish you knew my way of talking,” Raven said. “I would tell you to go to the Wolfsbane and see if Jackie is there. If he is, you could tell him I can’t come today. I can’t go there until Mama comes back.”
Baby tilted her head and looked at Raven, her dark, shiny eyes serious, as if she understood. She opened her wings and lifted off the fence.
“Tell him I’m sorry,” Raven called as the blue streak disappeared into the trees.
7
Mama spent almost two days in the world of the spirits. When she returned, she was sad and shaky. Coming back to the world of humans was always hard for her.
The next morning, Raven went to the Wolfsbane. Jackie wasn’t there. Baby flew to a tree on Hooper’s side of the stream and called to her. Raven thought she wanted her to go to Jackie’s house. She walked farther downstream, past the Wolfsbane, saying to Baby, “I can’t go there anymore. I ran away from his mother.”
Baby kept calling to her.
“No,” she said. She turned around and saw it right away, a blue piece of paper stuck onto the deer antler inside the “ancient” TV. The paper had writing on it. She pulled it off. Jackie’s printing was bigger and more wobbly than hers. It said, Meet me at noon Sunday.
Baby landed on her shoulder.
“Is this why you flew over here? You wanted me to see this?”
Baby made a soft sound and fluttered her wings.
“Thank you for showing me.” She gave the bird a peanut.
Raven wasn’t sure what day it was. She hoped she hadn’t missed Sunday while she was helping Mama. She crumpled the paper and hid it under a log as she walked home.
Mama was in the kitchen cooking. It was nice to see her doing that.
“Did you have a good walk?” Mama asked.
“I did.” She couldn’t say how wonderful it had been. Because Jackie had written her a note and wanted to see her again.
Raven went to the hanging calendar Mama made her mark every day to teach her about days, weeks, and months. “I forgot to mark my calendar,” she said. “Do you know what day it is?”
“I’ve lost track. Let me see.” She went into her office to look at her computer.
“Today is Saturday.” She pointed to the day on the calendar.
Raven crossed off the days she’d missed. She wished she could fly like a bird into the next day and see Jackie right away.
She spent the rest of the day at home taking care of the garden and helping Mama do laundry and clean the house. She did lots of lessons to make sure Mama wouldn’t make her stay home the next day. She went to bed thinking of Jackie and all the games he’d taught her to play. She looked at her wood ceiling and wished it had glowing stars.
The next day, she left the house before Mama returned from her morning walk with the spirits just in case she asked Raven to do more lessons or housework.
Raven waited for a long time, sitting in the stream pebbles next to the Wolfsbane. When the day grew warm, she took off her boots and put her feet in the water. Baby had taken food at the house that morning but hadn’t yet appeared. Raven hoped she was okay.
She and Jackie saw each other at the same time as he came around the bend. He smiled. He was carrying her boots. She stood.
“Hi,” he said. “You got my letter?”
“Yes.”
“Here are your boots.” He looked at the boots she’d taken off. “I guess you didn’t need them.”
“I have lots of boots.” Mama bought her many to make sure she always had dry ones for walking.
He placed the boots next to the other pair. “My mom was afraid you’d need them. She tried to go to your house to give them to you, but there’s no way to get in the gate.”
Only Mama and Aunt Sondra knew the numbers to make the gate open from the outside.
“Wha
t did your mom say when you came home without your shoes?” he asked.
“I told her I lost them when I took them off by the stream.” And that had helped her explain why she’d come home late that night. She’d said she was looking for her boots.
“She wasn’t mad?”
“No.”
“My mom said those are expensive hiking boots.”
Raven didn’t know what that meant. Mama ordered things and they came to the gate in boxes.
Jackie looked around. “Where’s Baby?”
“I don’t know.”
Raven felt his nervousness. He’d never been like that with her.
“I’m sorry I ran away,” she said.
“It’s okay.”
“Is your mother mad at me?”
“No. Not at all.” He picked up a stone and looked at it. “She’s more like worried.”
“Why?”
He looked up from the stone. “About you. And your mom and everything.”
Her mom and everything. What did he mean? Had his mother figured out that Raven was the daughter of an earth spirit? The boys never acted like they knew, but maybe a grown-up could see something Raven should have hidden.
“My mom didn’t understand why you don’t want her to meet your mom.”
“My mom doesn’t like to meet people.”
“Why not?”
She had no answer. Not one she could tell him.
“Reece’s dad is dead, and his mom drinks a lot. That’s why he kind of lives at our house.”
Raven didn’t know what drinks a lot meant.
“My mom would understand if something like that is happening with your mom,” he said.
Ms. Taft wouldn’t understand anything about Mama. They almost lived in different worlds.
He held out the stone in his hand. “The white lines on this look like an R. For Raven.”
She took the rock. It did have an R on it. She handed it back to him, but he said, “Keep it.”
The stone was surely a message from earth spirits. But Raven didn’t know what they were saying. She slid the rock into her shorts pocket.
“So . . . my mom wants me to ask you to come over,” he said.
“She knows you came here?”
“Not exactly here,” he said. “She said to invite you over if I see you again. I’ve been looking for you to tell you.”
She felt like two very different birds were inside her. One was happy about going to Jackie’s house, swooping around, making her stomach feel funny. The other felt like her heart had dived down into brambles to hide from a predator. Raven was afraid Ms. Taft would try to see Mama again. If Mama found out she’d been keeping Jackie a secret from her, she might close her eyes and never open them.
As if he knew her thoughts, he said, “My mom said she doesn’t have to talk to your mom. She just wants to know you’re okay.”
“I am okay.”
“I know. But come over and let my mom see. She’s worried about you.”
Raven didn’t like Ms. Taft being worried about her. Mama was right about the outsiders. They didn’t understand anything. They ignored what was important and made trouble about things that didn’t matter.
“Okay,” she said.
“You’ll come to my house?”
“Yes.” She would go there and show Ms. Taft she was not a person to worry about. She was Daughter of Raven. Her father was a powerful earth spirit. Her mother walked in a spirit world few knew how to enter. Even if they knew, they would be too scared to go there.
She put on the wet boots and left the pair Jackie had brought on pebbles near the Wolfsbane. When they started walking in the creek, Baby swooped down and landed on her shoulder.
“There you are. Where have you been?”
Jackie petted his finger on Baby’s back, and she asked for food. Raven gave him a peanut to feed her, and she flew away.
“Reece is over,” Jackie said. “He’s been asking about you, too.”
“Why?”
“He likes you.”
“Why?”
He shot a smile at her as they walked. “I don’t know. Everyone likes you. My mom says you have a powerful presence. I’m not sure what that means, but she likes you.”
Raven didn’t know what Ms. Taft meant, either, but the word powerful worried her. Possibly Ms. Taft saw some of her spirit side. Raven would have to make sure she acted like a regular girl around her. Maybe she should show her how many school lessons she knew.
They splashed through deeper water in silence. When they got to the alder trees, Raven asked, “Why did you say Reece’s mother drinks a lot? What does she drink?”
“She’s an alcoholic, Reece said.”
“What’s that?”
“A person who drinks too much beer and whiskey and things like that. She takes drugs, too.”
The only drugs Raven knew of were the white pills Mama gave her for fevers. “Why does that make Reece have to stay at your house?”
“Because his mom is wasted a lot of the time. She doesn’t take good care of him.”
“Wasted?”
“Drunk. High. Haven’t you ever seen people like that?”
“No.”
He was quiet for a little while. “I guess my mom doesn’t need to worry about your mom being like that.”
Raven didn’t understand any of what he was saying, but she wouldn’t ask more. Jackie’s house came into view. She had to act like a regular girl who knew all the things other children knew.
8
Huck threw a short pass to Raven. She caught the foam football and ran for the end zone. She was near the line, but when Reece leaped and tagged her, he lost his balance and fell on top of her. Chris had been close behind, and he fell on Reece and Raven. It hurt a little, but she liked feeling the weight of them. And their earth and sweat smell. And them asking if she was okay, and laughing, and saying how tough she was.
Ms. Taft jogged over from her garden. “Are you all right, Raven?”
“She’s fine!” Reece said, pulling Raven to her feet.
“It’s supposed to be touch football, Reece.”
“It was an accident.”
Ms. Taft gave him a look as she brushed grass and dirt off Raven.
“I’m okay,” Raven said. “I don’t care about being tackled.”
All the boys laughed or smiled. There were seven of them, the most that had ever been at the Taft house at one time. Jackie had invited two boys, and Huck had three friends over. It was a sleepover party, A Funeral for Summer, as Reece called it, because school started in a few days.
“Awesome catch,” Huck said. He held up his hand, and Raven slapped him five.
“Penalty for Rexes,” Jackie said. “Half the distance to the goal line.”
The Dacs, short for the Pterodactyls—named for Bird Girl—scored, but the T-Rex team still won the game.
They went inside for dinner. They made their own tacos and burritos from the many bowls of food Ms. Taft set out. At first Raven was surprised to see ground meat, but Jackie told her it was made from plants. Raven had gotten used to the vegan way of eating and even liked it.
The boys turned on a movie about people who could make magic with sticks called wands. The best part was sitting squished on the couch between Jackie and Chris, all the other boys close, joking and teasing, sometimes burping and farting. Raven could burp as loud as any of them when she drank a soda.
“Raven . . . ,” Ms. Taft said. “It’s getting dark.”
Raven had dreaded that moment all day. The party really was a funeral. The most wonderful of all summers had died. Her friends would go to school, and she wouldn’t get to see them whenever she wanted.
Even Ms. Taft wouldn’t be home now. She was a teacher who had to go to school all day. Jackie and Huck went to after-school care until she was done with her work. Jackie said they didn’t get home until dark in winter. That meant Raven wouldn’t see them at all on school days. Ms. Taft didn’t allow her to walk
to or from her house in the dark. That was her one big rule.
When Raven got off the couch, one of the new boys said, “Aren’t you sleeping over?”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked.
Reece said, “Her carriage and horses turn into a pumpkin and mice if she doesn’t go before dark.” He’d said things like that since the day she ran away without her boots. When the sun sank below the trees, he’d say, “Better get going, Cinderella,” or “Your carriage is waiting, Cindy.”
“Actually, she’s a vampire, and it’s time for her to feed,” Huck said.
“I thought she was a werewolf?” Chris said.
They were making jokes so she wouldn’t have to explain to the new boys why she was leaving early. Raven loved them all so much. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want school to start.
Jackie stood. “I’ll walk you to the fence.”
He usually did, but Ms. Taft said, “No. I will. Stay and watch the movie.”
The strong way she said it made Jackie say, “Okay,” and sit down.
“Bye,” Raven said.
All the boys said goodbye.
The sun was already behind the trees, and the clouds were pretty shades of pink and purple.
“Does your mother ask where you’ve been when you’re here?” Ms. Taft asked as they walked to the fence.
Raven didn’t know how to answer. Mama had gotten used to Raven being gone all day during the weeks she was feeding Baby, and that had made going to Jackie’s house without her knowing easy. One day after Baby learned to feed herself, Mama said, “You are much more at ease alone in the woods since you raised the jay. You must enjoy your time alone with your kin.”
“Yes,” Raven said. Her stomach felt like a hard knot of wood. Because she hadn’t been alone many of those times she was away from Mama’s house.
Mama hadn’t noticed the flush of guilt Raven felt. She’d beamed, put her hand on Raven’s cheek. “I came to know the joys of being alone with the earth when I was about your age. I’m delighted to see you bonding with the spirits. Raising the bird was an important lesson for you.”
Ms. Taft stopped waiting for an answer. Like Jackie, she had learned not to press Raven with questions about Mama. “Have you thought about what we talked about last time?” she asked. “About school?”
The Light Through the Leaves Page 12
