Ivy Aberdeen's Letter to the World

by Ashley Herring Blake

  Feet sounded on the ladder, and June leaped up, grabbing all her stuff and shoving it into a corner.

  “No! Mom, please don’t come up here!” June’s voice sounded funny, like she was trying not to cry. Ivy struggled to her feet and put her notebook and pencils into her bag just as Dr. Somerset appeared in the treehouse doorway.

  “What is all this?” she asked, her hands on her hips. She swept her eyes through all the stuff in the treehouse—the chair, the blankets, the lantern, the books—her mouth hanging wide open. “I said you weren’t allowed up here.”

  “It’s fine, Mom!” June said. She was still scrambling to hide everything. “I’m fine!”

  “I decide what is fine and what is not fine, young lady,” Dr. Somerset said. She looked tired, as usual, clad in a pair of olive-green scrubs.

  “If you had your way, nothing would ever be fine,” June said. She straightened her back, her hands balled into fists. Mother and daughter stared at each other for so many seconds, Ivy started to squirm.

  “Ivy, I think you need to go home,” Dr. Somerset finally said, then winced. “I mean… back to the inn.”

  Ivy nodded, but June grabbed her hand. “She can stay. Ivy’s fine, isn’t she?”

  Dr. Somerset threw her hands in the air. “Of course she is. That is not what this is about and you know it. This is about safety, and right now I need to talk to my only daughter alone.”

  “I’m always alone, Mom!” June said. Or rather, screeched.

  Dr. Somerset stepped closer to June and cupped her face in her hands. “Sweetheart” was all she said, but June’s hand went slack in Ivy’s.

  Soon tears ran down June’s face and her shoulders shook. Her face was blotchy and her jaw clenched, like she couldn’t figure out if she was sad or angry. Ivy wanted to help. She wanted to take June’s hand back and hug her. She wanted to draw June a picture of a blue whale with a big red heart in its middle.

  “Please,” June said, her voice muffled against her mother’s chest. “Don’t take it all away.”

  “Ivy, we’ll see you later, okay?” Dr. Somerset said softly. She wrapped her arms around June, who was crying so hard that Ivy almost couldn’t hear Dr. Somerset, and led her down the ladder.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Reunited

  Why had June been so upset when her mom came into the treehouse? Ivy didn’t really understand. It was just a treehouse, after all. But then there was that poem she’d looked at without June’s permission, and all the photographs June was taking, and her glass girl drawing. June was the loneliest girl Ivy had ever met. Maybe even lonelier than Ivy had ever been. One thing she knew for sure: June needed Ivy just as much as Ivy needed June.

  Ivy was lying on her bed at the inn, halfheartedly doing her math homework that was due tomorrow and conspiring how to sneak back to June’s, when her dad announced he was taking Mom out to dinner.

  “Elise, you need a break,” Dad said as he looped an ocean-blue scarf Mom got from her friend Anna around her neck. “You need to get out of this hotel room, and you need a hot meal. Layla and Ivy are perfectly capable of taking care of the boys.”

  “I get hot meals every morning,” Mom said, yanking at the scarf. She had never left the twins alone with anyone except Dad. “Robin is an excellent cook.”

  “Okay, fine,” Dad said. “You need a hot meal after nine in the morning. And you need to stare wistfully into my eyes and blush when I try to hold your hand.”

  Mom rolled her eyes while Layla made a gagging sound. Ivy liked it, though. She’d almost forgotten how cute her parents could be. She’d almost forgotten what it was like for her family to joke around.

  Dad laughed and ruffled Layla’s hair. Then he scooped Ivy from where she was sprawled on the bed and curled her into his arms like he was lifting weights. Ivy squealed, and he blew a raspberry into her hair and laughed.

  “Oh, Daniel, really,” Mom said. “She’s not six anymore.”

  “What?” Dad asked, pretending to be shocked. “Impossible!” He blew another raspberry and Ivy yelped again, laughing so hard, her stomach hurt. Even though Mom had her arms crossed, she was smiling. It reminded Ivy of before. All kinds of befores.

  Dad tossed Ivy onto the bed and winked at her before picking up Evan and kissing him on the head. Mom rattled off details to Layla about the twins’ bedtime routine and how to warm the bottles in the bottle warmer Dad bought last week.

  “And make sure you use the Butt Paste on Evan when you change his diaper,” Mom said, and Ivy giggled.

  “I know all this, Mom,” Layla said, holding Aaron and patting him on the back while he fussed. Ivy took Evan from Dad and made faces at her brother.

  “I know you do, sweetie,” Mom said, “but two babies are a lot, and Aaron’s had a little cold and—”

  “Exactly,” Dad said, and before Mom could protest anymore, he swept her out of the room. Literally. He swooped her into his arms just like he’d done with Ivy and carried her out the door. She squealed and smacked his back, but she was laughing, which was a pretty nice sound, Ivy had to admit.

  “Thank goodness, I thought they’d never leave,” Layla said. She walked over to the window and pulled back the lacy curtain. “And… we have liftoff.”

  “They were acting gross,” Ivy said, but she and Layla both knew she didn’t mean it.

  “We’re going bananas in this hotel room.”

  Ivy looked around their tiny home. Not only were the six of them stuffed into one room, but there was all the stuff they’d gotten since the storm. Aaron’s and Evan’s bassinets, a bouncy seat, secondhand toys, all Layla’s lacrosse gear that she’d borrowed from her coach, Dad’s work papers he brought home to do here so Mom could get a break sometimes when Layla was at school, Tupperware bins full of diapers and baby wipes and jars of peanut butter and granola bars and canned soup.

  Layla checked the time on the phone Dad bought her the other day—Ivy still didn’t have one—and then grabbed a tissue to wipe Aaron’s runny nose. “It’ll be better when we move into that guesthouse.”

  Ivy stopped making faces at Evan and stared at her sister. “What guesthouse?”

  “At Jasper’s mom’s house? Mom and Dad told us about it a while ago.”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  Layla made a frustrated sound through her nose and set Aaron in the bouncy seat. “Yes, they did. It was right after Mom and Dad met with the demolition crew at our house, and they ordered pizza and Mom was worried because Aaron was coughing and—” Layla cut herself off as she pulled the twins’ bottles out of the minifridge. “Oh, yeah. That was the night you stayed at Taryn’s.”

  “Yeah, I do remember that.” Ivy tried to force a lot of bite into her bark, but really, she felt like her chest was caving in. It wasn’t like she was hard to miss in this closet they were living in. Layla didn’t even remember she wasn’t there?

  “Well, anyway.” Layla waved a hand, and milk sloshed around in one of the clear bottles. “Jasper’s mom lives over on Fifth and has a guesthouse. The dude who rents it right now is moving out next month, and she offered it to us for free. And it has two bedrooms. With actual doors. Amazing, huh?”

  “Yeah, amazing,” Ivy said, but she was already wondering where she would sleep. Surely, her parents would give Layla a room by herself or Layla would nobly volunteer to share a room with the twins and do the midnight feedings.

  Maybe the guesthouse had an attic.

  “What’s up with you?” Layla asked as she plugged in the bottle warmer and filled it with a cup of water from the bathroom faucet. “I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

  That’s because we haven’t, Ivy thought.

  “Nothing much,” she said casually. “Just school and stuff. I’m hanging out with June Somerset a lot lately, so that’s cool.”

  Ivy tried to squash the smile that took over her face, but she couldn’t.


  “Ah, June,” Layla said. She switched bottles and handed the warm one to Ivy. Ivy held Evan like a football and offered him the bottle. He immediately latched on, gulping happily.

  “She seems really fun and smart,” Layla said.

  “She is,” Ivy said. Did she say it dreamily? Ivy was almost sure she said it dreamily.

  “She’s pretty too,” Layla went on. “I’d kill for hair like that.”

  Ivy nodded. She didn’t trust her voice not to squeak. June did have pretty hair. It was short, but super shiny, like dark corn silk. She had pretty eyes too. And a pretty smile. And a pretty laugh. And pretty hands. Pretty brain and ideas and heart. Pretty everything.

  Ivy tipped the bottle as Evan sucked more milk down. Her stomach felt fluttery again, thinking about how everything about June was pretty, inside and out. That had to be a sign, right? A sign that she really did have a crush and that June wasn’t just some different kind of friend. Ivy’s head swam when she tried to figure out the difference.

  “Come on, buddy,” Layla said as she picked up Aaron and offered him the other bottle. He squawked and squirmed in her arms, moving his head away from her. “You can invite June over if you want,” Layla added, totally oblivious to Ivy’s roiling thoughts.

  “Oh. No… I…” But she couldn’t finish because she really wanted June to come over. She thought about what it would be like to sit next to June on the couch and watch a movie on the old TV. She was sure June would like it too, anything to get her out of her own house, which she didn’t seem to like very much.

  But then, Ivy saw herself reaching out and holding June’s hand. And she didn’t hold it like she might hold Taryn’s or Layla’s or even like she’d held June’s hand in the past. She tangled her fingers with June’s. She ran her thumb over June’s knuckle. She sat so close to June that their shoulders pressed together. She—

  Ivy forced her brain to stop thinking. She felt dizzy and wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. It was all too much.

  “You what?” Layla asked, but before Ivy could think of how to answer, someone knocked on the door.

  Layla put Aaron down on a blanket and jogged to the door. Aaron immediately started wailing. Evan was pretty happy, his full tummy poking out like a bullfrog, so Ivy set him in the bouncy seat and scooped up Aaron. He was tense and red-faced, his tiny nose drizzling snot.

  Layla flung the door open. Ivy wasn’t sure who she expected, but it certainly wasn’t Georgia Fitzgerald.

  Also known as Gigi.

  “Hey, come on in,” Layla said, smiling.

  Gigi walked into the room, smiling back at Layla. It was a weird kind of smile. A we-haven’t-talked-in-forever smile. Gigi was wearing jeans and a flowing tank top, and her hair was plaited into a side braid.

  “Hey, Ives!” Gigi said, her eyes lighting up when she saw Ivy. Gigi and Layla were the only two people who called her Ives.

  “Hey,” Ivy said, but her voice was a whisper. She had no idea what was happening or why Gigi was here right now. She had no idea how she was supposed to feel about it.

  Clearly, Gigi had no such doubts. “I’ve missed you,” she said, and immediately pulled Ivy into a hug. Aaron whined between them. Gigi smelled the same, like green tea and flowery shampoo.

  “I’ve missed you too,” Ivy said, because it was true. “Where have you been?”

  Gigi glanced at Layla, who busied herself folding an already dirty burp cloth. “Just busy. But I’ll be around more now, hopefully.”

  Ivy didn’t say anything. Did they make up? Was Layla cool with Gigi being… whatever she was? Was Gigi still with that girl, Bryn? Suddenly, Ivy felt so desperate for answers, she could barely see straight. She wanted to yell and stomp. She wanted to take out all her stormy drawings she’d gotten back from Keeper and line them up for Layla to see. She wanted to show them to Gigi and demand help.

  Ivy gulped a few breaths while she tried to get Aaron to take his bottle.

  “What’s up, little dude?” Gigi squatted down in front of Evan and tickled his feet. Evan giggled. “They’ve gotten so big.”

  “Yup, they grow fast,” Layla said.

  It was all so… normal. Ivy hated it.

  Aaron’s cry faded to a whimper, and he sucked on his bottle a little. Ivy moved closer to Layla, who was looking at Gigi shake a toy in front of Evan with a little smile on her face.

  “Um, Layla, which burp cloth is Aaron’s?” Ivy asked loudly, before using her free hand to pull her sister behind a half wall by the beds.

  “What’s going on?” Ivy whispered.

  “What do you mean?” Layla whispered back.

  “Why is Gigi here?”

  “Why shouldn’t she be here? She’s my best friend. We’re going to hang out.”

  “I thought you were mad at her.” It came out before Ivy could stop it.

  Layla’s eyes widened. “Why… why did you think that?”

  “Because you haven’t talked in forever. You haven’t mentioned her, and she hasn’t come over, and I know that…”

  Ivy wanted to say it. She wanted to say it so badly, how she overheard their argument. But the words caught on her tongue like a swear word.

  Layla stared at Ivy, her face pale. “Ivy—”

  “So what’s it like living here?” Gigi asked. Layla shot Ivy one more concerned look before she walked back to the living room area. Ivy followed as Gigi stood up and took a lap around the Aberdeen home.

  “Crowded,” Layla said. “It’s been wild.”

  Gigi sat on the arm of the sofa in front of Layla. “A tree limb went through our kitchen window during the storm, but that was it. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.” There was a moment of charged silence, but then Gigi went on. “I’m so glad you called, Lay. How can I help? For real.”

  Layla exhaled and smiled at Gigi. If Ivy drew her sister right now, she’d use graceful lines and soft pastels, not a hard edge to be found. Layla didn’t look at Ivy, even though Gigi just confirmed that they hadn’t talked since their argument.

  “I’m okay,” Layla said quietly.

  “How about you, Ives?” Gigi asked.

  Ivy opened her mouth to echo Layla, but she couldn’t do it. Okay was the most useless word on the planet. Instead, Ivy just shrugged. Gigi tilted her head and nodded, like she knew exactly what Ivy meant. She wanted to ask Gigi so many questions. Ivy was full of questions, made of questions.

  Gigi came over to Ivy and let Aaron grab her finger while she leaned her head against Ivy’s for a second. Then Gigi pressed a kiss to her temple. It was so gentle, Ivy felt tears sting her eyes.

  “Want to watch TV for a while?” Gigi asked Layla, squeezing Ivy’s shoulder. “You know, something normal?”

  Layla nodded. “Let me just put Evan to sleep.”

  “Remember when your mom let me put Evan down when he was two months old and I fell asleep while rocking him?” Gigi said.

  “You could fall asleep while skydiving.”

  Gigi laughed. “It’s a gift.”

  Swaying Aaron to keep him calm while he ate, Ivy watched the two best friends. Layla ignored Ivy, but she seemed more relaxed than she had since the storm hit, maybe even before that. For the first time, Ivy noticed how tired her sister looked. She wondered how this whole thing had been for Layla. It’d been hard for all of them, but Ivy never once asked her sister how she was doing.

  Layla never asked her either. Not really. It was like they’d forgotten they weren’t alone in this. At least, they’d forgotten they weren’t supposed to be.

  Layla and Gigi whispered to each other while they put Evan to sleep in his bassinet next to Mom and Dad’s bed. Ivy struggled to get Aaron to finish even half of his bottle. He fussed and whined, never full-on crying, but never settling down either. Her arms ached from carrying him, and she felt sweaty. His hot little body was like holding a toaster oven. Finally, he dozed off, but every time Ivy tried to put him into his bassinet, he woke up and she had to start all over again. Ivy even t
ried her monkey face, which got his attention for a whole second before he started crying again. Layla and Gigi settled on the couch and put the TV on a low volume. Ivy thought about asking for help, but she wanted to be able to do this.

  Aaron whined louder and Ivy bounced him around the room. Her arm was damp where his little head rested, and even in the dim light, his face looked red. His crying broke into a cough, and Ivy propped him on her shoulder and patted his back. She leaned her head against his and hummed “I See the Moon,” a song Mom used to sing to Ivy when she was little.

  Ivy pressed her cheek to his, and his skin felt really hot. She shifted him back into the crook of her elbow and felt his head with her hand. He was burning up.

  “Layla?” Ivy called, but Layla didn’t respond. Ivy walked around their bed and into the living room area. Her sister and Gigi were on the couch, talking. Layla looked up as Ivy got closer and Aaron’s cries got louder.

  “Will he not go to sleep?” she asked.

  “I think he’s sick,” Ivy said. “He feels really hot. Where’s the thermometer?”

  Layla’s relaxed smile disappeared. She was off the couch in a flash, cupping her whole hand over Aaron’s forehead. “He does feel warm. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I am telling you.”

  Layla disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a digital thermometer. “I think Mom put this under his arm yesterday.”

  Ivy laid Aaron down on the changing pad on top of the dresser and wiggled one of his arms out of his onesie. Layla pressed the tip of the thermometer to his armpit and held his arm down. He screamed even louder, but she kept him there until the thermometer beeped.

  The digital display lit up bright red.

  “102.9,” Layla said. “Oh God, I think that’s bad in a baby this young.”

  “What do we do?” Ivy asked as she fixed Aaron’s onesie.

  “I’m calling Mom.”

  Layla took out her phone and tapped the screen, pacing while Gigi looked on, her brows scrunched up in concern. Ivy tried to keep Aaron calm, but he was totally losing it now. She couldn’t hear what Layla was saying over the shrieking, but her face looked panicked. She nodded and nodded some more before she finally hung up.