“Is he by any chance holding a jar?” whispered Firefly.
Cricket lowered his wings and raised his head just enough to see.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
Firefly lifted herself up a few inches, until she could see both the miniature giant’s hands. No jar.
“What’s he doing now?” whispered Cricket.
“Just standing there,” she said.
Maybe this was what giants did—just stand around—when they weren’t crashing about inside their enormous houses or playing baseball. After all, they couldn’t leap, nor could they fly. Firefly felt a tiny bit of pity for the miniature giant, huge though he was. Maybe Cricket felt the same way.
They watched in wonder as the miniature giant inclined his head first one way, then another. He appeared to be listening for something. But what?
Then, suddenly, he heaved a sigh.
Even hidden behind the rock, Cricket and Firefly felt the gale force of that sigh. Firefly was blown straight into an aerial backward somersault, and it was all Cricket could do not to flip over onto his carapace. Yikes!
Now the miniature giant turned and peered into the woods, in the direction of the clearing. He seemed to be looking for something. But what?
Another sigh! This time Cricket and Firefly were ready. But they weren’t ready for what happened next. The miniature giant spoke.
“They must be asleep, I guess,” was what he said.
What did that mean?
“Who’s asleep?” said Firefly, forgetting to whisper.
“No idea,” said Cricket, also forgetting to whisper.
The miniature giant whirled around.
“Oh no!” said Firefly.
“Duck!” said Cricket, and he scooted deeper beneath the overhang of the long rock.
Firefly didn’t know if she should zoom straight up into the air or take shelter behind Cricket. There was no time to think, because with one step of his huge legs, the miniature giant was there.
Right there.
As in right beside them.
His enormous eyes looked back and forth, searching for something. Searching for . . . them? Firefly and Cricket held their breath.
“I was sure I heard something,” said the miniature giant sadly after a moment.
Cricket and Firefly darted a glance at each other. Neither dared to say anything. A miniature giant was only inches from them. One more sigh and they could be blown halfway across the river.
Please don’t be talking to us, thought Firefly.
Please don’t be talking to us, thought Cricket.
Despite what the elders said—they can’t see you; they can’t hear you—it was terrifying to have those enormous eyes so close to them. The miniature giant stood up again—whoosh! Another gust of air—and trudged back to the far edge of the long, flat rock. “Everybody knows that crickets and fireflies don’t talk, Peter,” he said in a singsong voice.
“We do so talk,” Firefly whispered to Cricket.
They huddled back behind the overhang, thankful to be alive. What would he do next? It was awful and fascinating at the same time. What he did next was spread his arms wide and open his mouth. They braced themselves for another blast of wind, but none came. Instead he began to sing.
“Take me out to the river
Take me out to the sea.
Build me a raft and a mast and a sail
I don’t care if I never get back.”
“Hey!” said Cricket, forgetting himself entirely. “Those aren’t the words!”
Peter spun back. With one giant step he was back at their sides, crouching down by the overhang. Now you’ve done it, you dumb ground bug, thought Firefly, and she squinched her eyes shut. So did Cricket.
“Did I hear something?” said Peter.
“Nope,” said Firefly. “You didn’t.”
“Shhh,” said Cricket, and he poked her with one of his hind legs.
It was even scarier with their eyes closed. They felt him next to them, his hot giant breath. The seconds went by and Cricket, out of habit from Telling Temperature class, silently counted them.
One. Two. Three.
Four. Five. Six.
Firefly opened her eyes just a slit. The miniature giant was looking right at her! She darted a look at Cricket. His eyes were a tiny bit open too. He looked at her and then back at the miniature giant. Flee, thought Firefly. But it was too late to flee. Play dead, thought Firefly. But it was too late to play dead.
CHAPTER NINE
I KNEW YOU WERE OUT HERE
Peter sat back on his knees and nodded at Cricket and Firefly.
“I knew it,” he said. “I knew I heard something!”
Cricket pressed his wings together. Firefly rose into the air a few inches and glowed once, then twice, before she could stop herself. She felt a thud coming on. She steadied herself and took a deep breath. Be brave, she told herself.
“Listen,” she said. “Just tell us. Are you planning to kill us and eat us?”
“What?” Peter looked shocked.
Cricket took his wings off his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Are you?”
“Kill you and eat you?” said Peter. “Why would I do that?”
“How should we know?” said Firefly. “That’s the kind of thing that giants do, isn’t it?”
Now it was Peter’s turn to look scared.
“Giants? Where?”
“Right there!” said Cricket, and he pointed his wing at the giants’ house. “You live with them!”
Peter looked at Cricket, then at the giants’ house, then back at Cricket.
“I don’t live with giants,” he said. “I live with my mother and father.”
“Exactly,” said Cricket.
Peter looked even more confused. Firefly tried to clear things up.
“You live with giants,” she said, “but you’re not a giant. You’re a miniature giant.”
“No, I’m not. I’m a boy.”
Cricket and Firefly weren’t sure what to do at this point. It appeared that Peter didn’t know he was a miniature giant.
“Well,” said Cricket, trying to be diplomatic, “to us you’re a giant.”
“A miniature giant,” added Firefly.
Peter looked at them thoughtfully.
“I guess I must look pretty big to you, huh?”
Pretty big? thought Firefly.
Try enormous, thought Cricket.
They nodded.
“The elders say that miniature giants are nothing but future giants,” said Cricket.
“They also say that giants are the enemies of the cricket and firefly nations,” said Firefly.
“And that . . .” Cricket paused.
“That what?”
“That you can’t see us.”
“Or hear us,” added Firefly.
“That’s crazy,” said Peter. “I see you and hear you. We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”
He looked at Firefly and then pointed in the direction of the hollow tree.
“I’ve watched you fly.”
“You have?”
“Yup. Every night.”
He turned to Cricket. “And I’ve heard you.”
“You have?”
“Yup. Down by the river, at night.”
Cricket put his wings up over his head. All this time when he thought he was singing to himself, the miniature giant had been listening? The thought made him shy.
“I learned that baseball song from you,” said Cricket, trying to explain. “Back when you used to play catch with the other miniature giant.”
Now Peter sat all the way down on the rock and crossed his legs. He took a deep breath, and both Cricket and Firefly scooted under the overhang and braced themselves for dear life in case another sigh was coming. After a little while—no sigh—they emerged to find the miniature giant looking out at the river.
“But why did you change the words?” Cricket wanted to know. The ball game song was his favorite so
ng. It was a perfect song, just the way it was.
“Because,” said Peter.
“Because why?”
“Because my friend isn’t here anymore.”
“Why not?” said Firefly.
“Where did he go?” said Cricket.
But Peter didn’t say anything else. Instead he stood up with a whoosh of air that almost slammed them both against the rock. Then he jumped off the rock onto the sand—another whoosh, but they were getting used to it now and knew to hold on tight—and ran back up the sand to his enormous house. Cricket and Firefly watched him go.
“Well,” said Cricket, “we’re still alive.”
“Yes,” agreed Firefly. “We are.”
CHAPTER TEN
VOLE REMEMBERED EVERYTHING
From his boat, moored at the riverbank in the roots of the white birch and hidden behind the clump of nodding tiger lilies, Vole had watched the scene between Cricket and Firefly and Peter unfold.
Are you planning to kill us and eat us?
Kill you and eat you? Why would I do that?
How should we know? That’s the kind of thing that giants do, isn’t it?
Giants? Where?
Right there! You live with them!
The things these three didn’t know about one another, Vole thought. The worlds of tiny creatures and humans were unbridgeable, or at least that’s what crickets and fireflies were always told. But every once in a while a creature came along who questioned the elders. Every once in a while there was one—sometimes two—who ventured out of the firefly nation, out of the cricket nation, to test the waters on their own. Cricket was one of those creatures, and so was Firefly.
Vole had once been like that too.
Giants are the enemies of the river vole nation, his grandfather and the other elders had warned him when he was a young vole. Giants are to be avoided at all costs.
But, like Cricket, like Firefly, Vole had not listened. He had made friends with a boy, just like Cricket and Firefly were doing right now.
It was all so long ago, yet Vole remembered everything. He folded his mended fishing net in a neat pile, laid it next to the rudder, and stood at the railing. Leaning out over the water, which sparkled under the soft early morning sun, he peered around the tiger lilies to see Cricket and Firefly huddled under the overhang of the long, flat rock. The boy stood tall above them and began to sing.
“Take me out to the river
Take me out to the sea.
Build me a raft and a mast and a sail
I don’t care if I never get back.”
What was this? Peter had changed the words to the song. Cricket and Firefly looked surprised as well. Vole leaned farther out over the railing and shaded his eyes with one paw. Peter ran off down the shore. Cricket and Firefly floated and leaped back down the animal path into the woods.
The river was fast today. There must have been a storm far upstream, because something huge was bobbing on the water, heading toward Vole. Stormy days upriver always brought giant artifacts. What sort of thing was this? Ah, an enormous block of white. Vole guessed it was a pillow, something that giants used under their huge heads while they slept. But as it came closer, he saw that it was a plastic milk jug, riding high on the current.
“Build me a raft with a mast and a sail.”
Vole made an instant decision and picked up his fishing pole. The silvery fishing line spun through the air at just the right moment, and the hook plucked the plastic milk jug up out of the water.
Then, with a single easy cast, Vole flung it through the air so that the jug landed on the shore next to the big, flat rock.
He would see what Peter did with it next time he came down to the shore.
The river water rushed by. It was always in a hurry, always in motion. All sorts of things ended up caught in it: sticks and leaves and dandelion fluff. Vole had seen many curiosities drift downstream from the giant houses that were built here and there along the river:
An empty crinkly bag that had once held giant food.
An enormous circle of ridged black rubber with a hole in the middle.
A glove, its four fingers and thumb puffed and hollow.
A baseball card, with the smiling face of a catcher, his mitt raised to catch an imaginary baseball.
And even a jar, a horrifying glass jar containing the bodies of dead fireflies.
Many of these giant artifacts were bigger than Vole’s entire boat. Yet they went sailing past. Even the giants, big as they were, were no match for the power of the river. The river knew where it was going, and it went.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE FORK IN THE PATH
After Peter ran off, Cricket and Firefly set off for the Hollow. Neither said a word until they were well down the creature path. At the fork where Cricket turned left and Firefly continued straight, they paused.
“We just talked to a miniature giant, you know,” said Cricket.
“I know,” said Firefly.
“He wasn’t that scary,” said Cricket.
“He wasn’t scary at all,” said Firefly.
“Are you going to tell?”
“Are you crazy? No.”
Cricket shook his head. “It’ll be our secret,” he said. “Shake on it?” He held up one of his legs, and Firefly brushed it with her wing.
“Shake,” she said.
Then Cricket hopped left and she flew straight, and they both returned to their separate nations. Firefly balanced on the edge of her cubby, munching on a snail. She should be starving, but she wasn’t. It was quiet and peaceful inside the hollow tree at this time of day. The spiderweb hammocks swayed in the cubbies, each holding a young firefly.
Elder appeared before her, an inquiring look in his eyes.
“Well?” he whispered. “Did you find the cricket?”
“Yup.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Was he singing the baseball song you like so much?”
“He was.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“I did.”
Elder smiled. “About what?”
Firefly leaned forward so that no one else in the tree could possibly hear.
“He told me that he dreams about learning how to catch,” she whispered. “And I told him that I dream about flying up to the moon.”
She left out the part about the miniature giant. She couldn’t tell anyone, not even Elder, about that. Ever. It’ll be our secret, Cricket had said, and they had shaken on it.
“So you have a friend now,” said Elder.
“I already have a friend. You.”
“But now you can talk to Cricket. You can tell him your secrets.”
“He’s a cricket,” said Firefly.
“Still. I might not always be around.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean,” Elder said, “is that I’m getting old. Very old.”
“You are not!”
But even as she said the words, Firefly knew they weren’t true. Elder hovered in front of her cubby. His wings were nearly transparent, and his blinks were lighter and lighter with every passing night. She shivered. She didn’t want Elder to get any older.
“Firefly.”
He waited until she looked up and met his eyes.
“Did you know that when fireflies get very old, they turn into stars?”
“What?”
Could this be true? She pictured the night sky in her mind. All those thousands of glimmering stars, so high above. Was it possible that every star was a firefly from the past? If so, how had they gotten up there? Elder was nodding.
“It’s true,” he said.
“But—”
“And what that means,” he continued, “is that if the day ever comes when I’m not here, I’ll be up in the sky.”
“But—”
He raised a wing to stop her protest.
“Just remember that,” he said. “Remember that one of the stars in th
e sky will be me, and I’ll be watching over you.”
Then he blinked their secret code: Fast fast fast, looooong looooong. She forced herself to blink back. There was so much she wanted to ask him about, but talking would mean acknowledging the idea of Elder not being there, and that was something she couldn’t bear to think about. So she stayed silent, and Elder floated off on his rounds of the other cubbies. Finally Firefly fell asleep. She slept long and hard, and as she slept she dreamed of falling stars.
That night, when the moon was fat and yellow in the sky, the fireflies woke up and streamed out of the hollow tree into the cool night air. The babies worked on Basics of Blinking—signal straight, signal left, signal right—while Firefly and her friends practiced more advanced techniques. Most were still trying to master elementary maneuvers—hovering with minimal wing motion, tight spirals around the circumference of the white pine—but Firefly had moved far beyond them. Tonight she drifted to the very edge of the clearing and practiced parachute formation alone, the way Elder had told her to.
She worked especially hard tonight. Parachute formation was a difficult maneuver: wings up high, head drooped, legs dangling, letting the breeze waft her back and forth but always down. Down and down and down. It was a strange and unusual maneuver, but she was getting better at it.
Practice makes perfect, thought Firefly.
Forgetting Elder’s warning to practice this particular maneuver far from the others, she buzzed up to the first big branch of the white pine and drifted down in parachute formation, into the midst of the young fireflies.
“That’s creepy, Firefly,” said one of her friends.
“Yeah,” said another. “You look dead when you do that.”
“It gives me the willies,” said another.
Gee, thanks, thought Firefly. None of the others were interested in aerial maneuvers. They stuck to the basics. She said nothing, just zoomed straight up and practiced parachute formation again.
When she was done, she flipped onto her back. There was the moon, glimmering so high in the sky. How long would it take to fly up there? Would it be possible to do it in a single night? If she left for just a few hours and then came zooming back home, would anyone even notice she was gone?
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