The crickets were coming.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
WE HAVE COME IN SEARCH OF CRICKET
The hum of their voices, faint at first, grew ever louder. From the roots of trees, from under the overhanging rocks, from the tall grass and the edge of the marsh, the crickets were coming. One clear voice rang out above the others, counting out a marching beat.
“One and two and three and leap!
One and two and three and leap!”
“That’s her,” said Cricket to Vole. “That’s Teacher, the one who wants to put me in detention for the rest of my life.”
Teacher, whose stern and forbidding eyes had followed him every day of his young life at the School for Young Crickets. Her voice was the voice that led the crickets on. The ground trembled slightly under the weight of hundreds of crickets leaping in unison. On they came, and then they were there, at the bottom of the rope ladder that led up to the deck of the boat.
Vole leaned against the railing, his eyes fixed on the tall figure of Teacher. Cricket ducked down below the railing so that she wouldn’t see him, then lifted his head ever so slightly and peeked out over the edge.
Teacher made a mighty leap onto the tallest tiger lily and reared back on her hind legs, keeping perfect balance. She met Vole’s gaze head-on. A cricket clung to her back, and Cricket saw that it was Gloria.
Gloria!
Gloria, with her unearthly blue-green eyes. The other young crickets massed around them, silent.
“Mr. Vole,” said Teacher.
“Ms. Teacher,” said Vole.
“My students and I have come in search of Cricket.”
“Why?”
Teacher balanced perfectly on her two hind legs, her wings half-raised in the air. Even though Vole towered above her, furry and enormous, her dark eyes were steady. She said nothing.
“Why?” repeated Vole.
Gloria clung to Teacher’s back and stared at Vole. Her eyes glowed. Teacher didn’t answer. Be fearless, thought Cricket, and he leaped out in front of tall Vole.
“Yeah, tell us why,” he said. “So that you can put me in detention for the rest of my life? So that you can laugh at me some more?”
Teacher’s eyes narrowed.
“I was trying to keep you safe,” she said. “This fascination with giants and their giant ways can lead to no good.”
Vole cleared his throat.
“You haven’t answered my question, Ms. Teacher,” said Vole. “Why do you want to find him?”
“Because,” said one of the bolder of the young crickets.
“Yeah!” said the others. “Because!”
“Because why?”
Gloria, clinging precariously to Teacher’s carapace, raised her good wing for attention.
“Because they miss him,” she said. “That’s why.”
Chirrup! Chirrup! Chirrup!
Cricket stared down at the massed crickets.
“Yeah!”
“That’s right!”
“We miss him!”
One started to chirp Cricket’s baseball song. Then they all began to chirp and hop at once. The sand around the clump of tiger lilies vibrated beneath them. Teacher shook her head and sighed, as if she was giving up. She raised and lowered her wings.
“He’s weird,” said a cricket, “and he’s a pain, but we miss him anyway.”
“He keeps things interesting,” said another.
Gloria’s blue-green eyes shone up at Cricket’s, and she smiled.
The light from the moon high above was steady, and the river water below twinkled in its path. Down on the sand the young crickets leaped and chirped. Suddenly Teacher raised a wing and turned her head in the direction of the forest. The young crickets turned too, and then they hushed.
From the woods came a faint glow. The forest was filling with light. Cricket poked Vole’s furry leg with his wing.
“Fireflies,” he whispered. “The fireflies are coming too.”
They had left the safety of the clearing and were floating their way out of the forest to the banks of the river. They advanced through the dark air, a faint buzz surrounding them. Teacher and the rest of the crickets turned their heads in the direction of the light.
“What’s going on?” Cricket said to Vole, but Vole shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you ever seen the fireflies leave the clearing before?”
“Never.”
They stood still and watched. The sound now divided itself into distinct voices. Hundreds of fireflies called from the forest, hundreds of fireflies lit the night, and all were coming this way. Vole and Cricket stood on the deck of the boat, mesmerized by the growing light.
Cricket, with his sharp ears, was able to make out what they were saying first.
“No, Firefly!”
“Don’t do it, Firefly!”
“Come back, Firefly!”
Cricket turned to Vole.
“It’s Firefly,” he said. “Something’s wrong.”
Vole gripped the railing with both paws. He tilted his furry head, the better to hear. Now the voices of the fireflies were clear and urgent.
“You’ll fall!”
“You’ll drop straight into the river!”
“You’ll drown!”
The young crickets down on the sand leaped and buzzed anew, craning their heads at a strange, small light sparkling high in the inky sky.
“Look!”
“What is that?”
Cricket leaned back, the better to see it, and so did the others.
“It’s Cricket’s friend!” said a young cricket. “The crazy firefly!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ONWARD
The cricket and firefly nations turned their heads to the sky in unison. There was Firefly, so high up that they could barely see her. They all fell silent, watching. Cricket crossed his wings for luck.
Far above, Firefly took a deep breath, spread her wings, and pushed them down in another mighty stroke. Up she zoomed, the cool night air rushing past her.
If the giants can do it, so can you, she told herself.
She leaned her head back and looked up at the moon. It was round as an owl’s face, and the stars sparkled high above.
Elder’s up there, she told herself. All you have to do is keep going. One wing stroke at a time.
That was how the giants did it. Well, maybe not exactly like that—they had their silver spaceships—but close.
Onward and upward she flew.
Perseverance, she told herself. Determination.
Zoom!
A faint sound reached her ears, and she glanced down. Spread out along the shoreline of the river, the light of what could only be fireflies shimmered and glowed. Had the fireflies come to watch her fly?
No. That couldn’t be. They hadn’t even missed her.
But what else could that light be? She stared down in surprise, for a moment almost forgetting to keep her wings moving. It was the fireflies. They had ventured out of the clearing, and they were watching her fly! This gave her extra strength. She forced her wings down with renewed determination.
Zoom!
Now she was higher than she’d ever been before. All that practice this summer had paid off.
But the higher she flew, the thinner the air. The thinner the air, the colder she felt. She wasn’t used to feeling so cold, but she didn’t turn back.
She decided to distract herself with star formations.
That one over there in the western sky looked like a fish, didn’t it? She wondered what being a fish would be like.
It would mean being stuck underwater her whole life, for one thing. No thanks. Besides, fish couldn’t fly.
That cluster of stars to the east looked like a bear. She and Cricket had glimpsed a bear once, a black bear eating blueberries by the edge of the woods. They had huddled together next to the raft underneath the big rock and watched the bear lumber from bush to bush, raking through
the leaves and branches with his big paws, shoving them into his mouth. The bear stank of coarse fur and dirt and massive strength. He paid no attention to his surroundings, other than to shovel the blueberries into his mouth.
Would Firefly ever want to be a bear?
No. Too heavy and stinky.
And bears couldn’t fly either.
She spread her wings wide and pushed down. Up she zoomed. Except that at this point it wasn’t so much of a zoom as a float. The air up here was so thin, and she was tired. Distract yourself, she thought. Keep on going.
In the southern sky was a grouping of stars that looked a little like Vole.
She tried to imagine life as a river vole. She would live on Vole’s boat and catch fish for her dinner. She would sit on his deck and watch the moonlight shimmering on the water.
That didn’t seem so bad, did it?
But river voles couldn’t fly either.
No thanks to being a river vole. She took a tiny break and lay on her back, staring up. Now, what was that, right above her to the left of the moon? That little group of stars looked just like Cricket when he was crouching, preparing to catch another dandelion fluff. Wings up, Cricket, she thought. Let it come to you!
She gathered her strength for another push upward when an entirely new thought came to her.
What if she could be a giant?
Imagine being a giant. Imagine having that enormous body, those enormous arms and legs and hands and feet. Those enormous eyes. That enormous house. Think how powerful she would be, if she were a giant. The earth would tremble from her footfalls. All creatures would quake before her.
It was an entrancing thought.
But if she were a giant, she would have to live in a house. She would have to go to school. She would have to eat that awful giant food. She would be a wingless creature, dependent on a silver spaceship to fly up to the moon. And while the giants had landed on the moon, and even walked around on it, they hadn’t stayed there, had they?
She flipped over, spread her wings, and pushed downward. But the air was awfully thin up here, and she gained only a few inches of altitude. She tipped her head back and stared at the fat yellow moon. It didn’t look any closer at all. How had the giants done it?
Firefly was so tired. Maybe she could rest again for a minute. Even a few seconds would help.
She turned on her back once more and sought out the group of stars that reminded her of Cricket. Cricket, Catcher Extraordinaire, she thought, and suddenly her heart hurt.
I miss you, Cricket, she thought. And then, I miss you, Vole. I miss you, Peter.
Firefly flipped onto her stomach, fluttering her wings just enough to stay aloft. Far, far below shone the blue-green earth. Look at it. There was the green land, and the blue oceans. If she looked hard enough, could she see the river? Could she see Firefly Hollow? She marshaled all her powers of concentration.
Oh, there it was. There was the woods, and the river sparkling beside it, and the dark hulk of Peter’s house.
Onward, she thought. Onward and upward.
She forced her wings open and then down. It was strange to be flying alone like this, instead of hovering low to the earth, just above Cricket. She gave herself an extra push, so that she would zoom up again.
But there was no zoom. The air was so very thin. She’d had no idea that the air itself changed when you got so high. She was probably the only living firefly who knew this. All the others were too afraid to fly this high.
She could see why, too. It was hard to breathe, way up here.
She felt dizzy.
And faint.
Firefly took a huge breath, trying to fill her lungs, but she couldn’t. She spread her wings and gathered her strength, trying for another mighty stroke, but she couldn’t. The stars didn’t seem as bright as they had when she began flying to the top of the sky, and the moon wobbled when she looked up at it to get her bearings.
For a minute she thought of Vole’s cozy fireplace. She thought of the hollow tree in which she had been born and learned to fly. She thought of Elder, who understood her.
Oh, how cold it was up here.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Elder, help me,” she whispered into the thin air.
I’ll be watching over you, came his voice in her ears.
In the faint hope that he might answer, she mustered the last of her energy and blinked out their secret code—fast fast fast, looooong loooooong—but there was no corresponding blink from the stars above. Firefly looked down.
The cricket and firefly nations were amassed far, far below on the shore. Even from this distance the light from the fireflies was visible, and the dark eyes of the crickets glowed up at her. She could even see the dim light of Vole’s fireplace, glowing behind the tiger lilies.
It was a bewitching sight. She had never realized just how beautiful it was down there. She hung motionless in space for a while, looking down. But she couldn’t breathe, and stars swam in her head now. She couldn’t move her wings anymore.
The time isn’t right, she thought. I want to go home.
Her last act before darkness overcame her was to let her wings float up above her head in parachute formation. Then she began to fall—
—down
and down
and dooooooooooooooown.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
DISTANT VOICES WERE CALLING
In the giants’ house, Peter sat on the floor of his bedroom in his starship pajamas, the stack of fresh school paper before him and a new, sharpened pencil in his hand. Page after page filled with the same letters:
I miss Charlie.
I miss Charlie.
I miss Charlie.
Over and over and over he wrote. After a while his hand moved automatically, and the words became easier and easier to write. He was so absorbed in his task that for a long time he didn’t notice what was happening outside, down on the shore. Only when the moonlight outside grew so bright that his window filled with light did he hear the commotion and look up. He got up and went to his window and pressed his nose against the screen. Small, distant voices were calling.
“No, Firefly!”
“Don’t do it!”
“You’ll drown!”
The light of a thousand fireflies glowed on the shore, and the very air vibrated and buzzed from a swarm of crickets, leaping and chirruping on the sand.
Peter raced to the closed door of his bedroom, yanked it open, and pounded down the hall. Through the kitchen and past the surprised faces of his parents, who stood at the sink doing dishes.
“It’s Firefly,” he yelled in answer to their Wait, where are you going? questions. “She’s in trouble!”
And out the door he ran.
The creatures down below watched in horror as Firefly began to fall. Those who had cheered her ascent now watched in silence as she pinwheeled through space like a tiny falling star. The amassed crickets held their collective breath and turned their heads to the heavens, and the firefly nation barely stayed aloft in the air.
They were all frozen in place, intent on Firefly’s descent.
Then Peter, his parents far behind him, came pounding down the shore.
“Cricket!” he shouted. “Where are you?”
Cricket was still crouched on the deck of the boat, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Firefly falling from the sky. The sound of Peter’s voice jolted him from his trance.
“Peter!” he yelled back, his heart pounding. “It’s Firefly! She’s falling!”
“I know! We have to rescue her!”
Peter raced to the raft and heaved it from its storage place by the big rock and began hauling it down to the water.
“Hurry, Cricket!”
Cricket came alive.
Sproing!
With one giant leap he sprang off the boat and halfway to the raft. Peter stood in the water, his starship pajamas getting wet, one hand holding the raft steady and the other hand on the red-balloo
n mast.
“Get on!” he said. “We’ve got to catch her!”
Cricket leaped aboard and steadied himself on the rubber duck’s neck. He looked up. There she was, still falling. Still pinwheeling through the dark sky, straight toward the river. All the dire predictions of the cricket and firefly nations jumbled together in his mind in a big heap of worry.
Water is to be feared.
You will drown.
No firefly has ever flown that high.
Certain failure.
Doomed.
“You ready?” said Peter.
No. Cricket wasn’t ready. He would never be ready. This was craziness, he saw now, pure craziness. He didn’t know how to swim. Teacher was right. If the raft tipped over, he would drown immediately.
“Cricket!” said Peter.
But what choice did Cricket have? Firefly was still falling. Her wings were held out to her sides, the wind rushing beneath them. She was headed directly toward the middle of the river, where the water was deep and swift. It was now or never.
“Ready,” said Cricket.
And with that, Peter pushed off from the shore and leaped aboard. Cricket clung to the rubber duck’s neck with all six legs and folded his wings tight to his body, the better to hold on.
“Peter!”
“Peter!”
Cricket peered back. Oh no. The mother and father giants were at the river’s edge now, and the father giant had already stepped into the water.
“We have to save Firefly!” Peter shouted back to them, and he poled the raft farther out into the water.
Back onshore, the cricket and firefly nations buzzed and blinked. Crickets leaped about in a chaos of sound, and the fireflies rose higher into the air, flickering back and forth, a frantic mass.
“Peter!” shouted the giants.
“Firefly!” called the fireflies.
“Cricket!” yelled the crickets.
Cricket held on to the duck’s neck for dear life and kept his head craned back, eyes on Firefly. She fell through moonlight that shone down like a spotlight, illuminating her path. Then—
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