by Natasha Lowe
“Why? Is it dangerous?” Lucy said, starting to feel a touch nervous. “I’m not allowed to keep those kinds of secrets.”
“There’s nothing dangerous about this,” Chloe said, picking her way along the riverbank. “But your dad would want to bring all his students here on a field trip and tell the newspaper and stuff. And what I’m about to show you is private.” Chloe looked over at Lucy to make sure she understood.
“I promise I won’t say a word, Chloe,” Lucy reassured her. “And even though it’s freezing cold and I’d love some hot chocolate, I’m so glad you are sharing your secret with me.” This wasn’t entirely true. Lucy had just slipped on a patch of rotting leaves, and the damp, earthy smell was making her nose run, but she didn’t want to disappoint Chloe. Whatever Chloe was about to show her, Lucy would pretend to love.
“Careful going across here,” Chloe instructed, pointing to a fallen log. In the middle of the river was a small island, and Lucy realized that Chloe expected her to walk across the tree trunk to get to it. It was a large log and didn’t move when she stepped on top, but nevertheless she held her breath the whole way, not wanting to fall into the freezing water below. It was one thing going swimming in the summer, but quite another on a raw November afternoon.
“I used to come here all the time when my parents were fighting,” Chloe said, crunching through the tangle of frozen undergrowth. On the far side of the island were a series of wide, flat rocks running into the river. Lucy followed Chloe, who had stopped beside a birch tree and was kicking leaves off the rock underneath. “Right there,” Chloe said, nodding at the ground. “Isn’t that amazing?”
“What is it?” Lucy asked, looking down. She crouched next to the flat stone and touched the shallow imprint of what appeared to be an enormous three-toed paw. “It looks like a footprint. But it’s gigantic, like a dragon. Much too big for a bear or a moose.”
“You’re right.” Chloe crouched beside her. “It’s a dinosaur footprint. And no one else knows it’s here. Not even Jack or Mel.”
“How did you find it?” Lucy said, running both hands over the rock.
“By accident. I was sitting under this birch tree, feeling about as miserable as a person can feel, and when I looked down, there it was.”
“Oh, Chloe, it’s magnificent. It’s so clear,” Lucy whispered, tracing the outline of the footprint with a gloved finger. “He must have been an enormous dinosaur, like a T. rex.”
“A Eubrontes,” Chloe said. “An ancestor of Tyrannosaurus rex.” She fiddled with one of her earrings. “I’ve been doing some research on the Web, comparing footprints found in this area, and I’m sure that’s what it is.” Lucy knew there used to be dinosaurs all over the valley. According to Mr. Castor this part of Massachusetts had been a big, hot swamp at one time, and when the dinosaurs walked across the mud flats they made footprints that hardened in the heat, eventually becoming rock that would last for millions of years.
“I can’t believe it, Chloe,” Lucy whispered. “A perfect secret footprint that no one else knows about.”
“Ancient magic. That’s what I call it,” Chloe said, “because it’s been here such a long time.”
Lucy shivered with the thrill of such a find. “And you shared it with me.”
“But you can’t tell your parents.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Lucy promised, thinking that she might need to sew her lips together to keep such a secret inside.
“The point is, Lucy, this footprint has been here for at least a hundred and ninety million years, but life keeps on going. It doesn’t stop just because things change, and that’s okay. That’s the way it should be. There’s no point in worrying about the future because it will happen, whether you like it or not, and it will probably be just fine.”
Lucy nodded, staring at the enormous footprint and wondering if one of her footprints might still be around in 190 million years. But that was too big a thought to get her head around. She felt Chloe take her hand and give it a squeeze. Someone was burning brush on the other side of the river, and the air smelled of bonfires. A family of geese flew overhead, and right at that moment everything did indeed feel just fine.
MRS. CASTOR DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING to Lucy about being rude to the O’Briens when they were visiting, but Lucy couldn’t help feeling bad because she had snapped at Micky and run off by herself. Wanting to do something nice to make up for it, she decided to look through her spell book and see if there was anything in there which would cure Toady’s stomachaches. Little bits of Sunburst Yellow were spattered across the cover, and Lucy picked them off with her fingernails, astonished by how far paint could travel!
“Gripe water for crying babies,” Lucy murmured, studying one of the pages. It looked easy enough if she could find all the ingredients. “Chamomile, peppermint, fennel, ginger, caraway,” Lucy read, running a finger down the list. She managed to unearth a box of chamomile tea from the kitchen and a rather dusty jar of crushed fennel seeds. There was plenty of fresh ginger root, which Mrs. Castor now bought by the bagful, but no caraway or peppermint.
“That plant on the kitchen windowsill is mint,” Mrs. Castor said, giving Lucy a suspicious look when she asked her. “What exactly are you making, Lucy?”
“A little potion to stop Toady crying. Although I’m going to have to make it without the caraway,” Lucy said, “but I don’t think that will matter so long as I can come up with a good spell.”
“Lucy, no,” Mrs. Castor said firmly. “You can’t go making up strange concoctions and giving them to babies to drink.”
“Mom, it’s a magic potion,” Lucy insisted. “An all natural magic potion and I’m sure Mrs. O’Brien will love it.”
“Lucy, is this really necessary?” Mrs. Castor said with a sigh as Lucy shook fennel seeds onto a cup of chamomile tea that still had the bag floating in it.
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Then you are to tell Mrs. O’Brien exactly what you put in there,” Lucy’s mother said in her firmest voice. “I mean it, Lucy. You do not want to make Toady sick.”
Mrs. O’Brien looked surprised and rather pleased when Lucy turned up at her door with a jelly jar of magic gripe water. “It’s for Toady,” Lucy explained. “To stop his tummy hurting.”
“You made this?” Mrs. O’Brien said as Micky hugged his mother’s legs and peered around them at Lucy. Sammy and Billy joined him, crowding in to see what Lucy had brought.
“I did. It’s all natural,” Lucy said, reeling off the list of ingredients. “But the most important part is the spell,” she added, handing over the jar and a folded piece of paper. “You say it as Toady drinks the potion. It’s the magic that really makes it work.”
“I see,” Mrs. O’Brien said, nodding. She held up the jelly jar, which was full of a murky-looking liquid with little flecks of leaves and seeds floating about in it. “Well, thank you, very much.”
“Sounds like you should give him some now,” Lucy suggested, hearing Toady start to howl from inside.
“What’s the spell?” Sammy asked, staring up at Lucy.
Mrs. O’Brien unfolded the paper and read, “Toady, Toady, with a sore belly, you’re a little bit loud, you’re a little bit yelly. I can hear you screaming from across the road, so drink this potion and you’ll be a happy toad.”
“Funny,” Micky said, starting to laugh.
“Funny,” Billy repeated, speaking around the corner of his book he was sucking.
“It’s not supposed to be funny,” Lucy replied, a touch defensively. “It’s magic.”
“Well, this is very kind of you, Lucy,” Mrs. O’Brien said. “I’m sure Toby will appreciate it.”
“Toby?” Lucy said, looking puzzled.
Micky poked his head between his mother’s legs. “When he was born, Billy couldn’t say ‘Toby.’ He said ‘Toady,’ so that’s what he’s called.”
“Oh,” Lucy nodded. “Oh, I see. I thought it was …” She clamped a hand over her mouth. Clearly t
he Toad hadn’t been called that because of his striking resemblance to one. Mumbling a hasty good-bye, Lucy dashed across the street before any more words came spurting out.
It wasn’t until the weekend that Lucy discovered how her magic had worked. Mrs. Castor was taking one of her “never ending” naps, so Mr. Castor had suggested a walk in the woods, since it was such a mild December day. As Lucy stood on the sidewalk zipping up her jacket (not easy to do with a notebook wedged in the pocket), she watched Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien attempt to herd the boys inside their minivan.
“Your magic worked,” Sammy shouted, catching sight of Lucy.
“Lucy’s magic!” Micky shrieked, hopping about and doing some karate kicks.
“Come on, Dad, quick,” Lucy said, tugging her father over. “Before they leave.”
“It was amazing, Lucy,” Mrs. O’Brien said as she buckled Toady into his car seat. “I didn’t even need to give him the potion. Your spell worked just fine on its own.”
Not wanting to be strapped down, Toady began to howl, and all three boys started yelling, “Toady, Toady, with a sore belly, you’re a little bit noisy and a little bit smelly. I can hear you crying from across the road, so drink this potion and you’ll be a happy Toad.”
Toady immediately stopped fussing, broke into a gummy smile, and laughed.
“Works every time,” Mrs. O’Brien remarked. “Honestly, Lucy, you’re a genius.”
“It’s actually yelly, not smelly,” Lucy explained. “The words do matter.”
“Smelly, smelly,” Micky chanted. “Toady is smelly.”
“But I shouldn’t think one tiny little word change would make that much difference,” Lucy continued. “It is a very strong spell.”
“I guess it must be,” Mrs. O’Brien agreed. “Even worked in the middle of the night when Toady woke up crying.”
“Lucy magic!” Billy chanted, clutching his book as Mr. O’Brien scooped him up and hoisted him into the van.
Lucy smiled shyly, and after the O’Briens had left, she slid her hand into her father’s. “Do you really think it was the magic that made Toady stop crying?”
“Well, it’s the only thing that seems to have worked,” Mr. Castor said. He grinned at Lucy. “So yes, I would call that magic.”
Pulling out her notebook, Lucy added the “stop Toady crying” spell to her list of magical signs. “They’re actually not all that bad, those O’Briens,” Lucy said. “Although I still don’t want to babysit for them.”
I’VE GOT AN APPOINTMENT AT the hospital this afternoon for an ultrasound,” Lucy’s mother told her one Monday morning at the start of Lucy’s Christmas vacation. “You can come with us if you like, or Aunty Karen says she’ll watch you.” Aunty Karen wasn’t a real aunty, just a good friend of Lucy’s mom’s. She was also Lucy’s godmother. “They’re going to take pictures of the babies inside my belly,” Mrs. Castor said with excitement, “and afterward we can go out for ice cream.”
“Well, I’ll definitely come if there’s ice cream,” Lucy agreed, thinking how much she loved the holidays. “And on the way home we can look at all the lights on the houses and give them marks out of ten for fanciness.”
Mrs. Castor patted her stomach. “They’ll be able to tell us what we’re having,” she said. “Boys or girls or one of each. Last time I had an ultrasound, the babies weren’t very cooperative and we couldn’t see!”
“I hope they’re boys,” Lucy announced rather quickly.
“You sound very definite about that, Lucy,” her mom said. “I thought you would like a sister.”
“Well, you have a girl already, so you don’t need another. At least boys are a different species.”
Mr. Castor laughed. “Boys are actually the same species, Lucy. We’re all human.”
Lucy wasn’t sure she agreed with this. Not that it made a jot of difference. She still liked being the only girl in the family.
Snow had started to fall as they drove their way slowly to the hospital, a light powdered sugar coating that made Hawthorne look like a pretty picture postcard. This was rather unexpected because it hadn’t been in the forecast. It was also the first snow of the season. Another sign, Lucy decided, because nothing was more magical than snow. Sliding down her window, she stuck her head out and let the cold flakes fly against her tongue. The air smelled of pine trees and wood smoke and Lucy laughed. This was her favorite time of the year and nothing could change that. She would get a large peppermint sundae with hot fudge sauce and crushed candy canes on top.
Inside the hospital it was warm and brightly lit. They waited in a room with a lot of other enormous moms. Lucy sat in between her parents, flipping through a fancy magazine called Baking Delights. She stopped at a picture of a three-dimensional coconut snowman cake with French meringue frosting and homemade caramel buttons.
“Oh, Mom, look at this,” Lucy gushed, holding out the picture. “Can we make it?”
“Goodness!” Mrs. Castor stared at the recipe. “It requires three different sized cake pans and a candy thermometer.”
“Yes, and we have to make a molded chocolate hat and spun sugar snow,” Lucy pointed out. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”
Just then Mrs. Castor’s name was called, and Lucy’s mom struggled to her feet, a little too eagerly, Lucy thought. “Better leave that magazine in the waiting room, Lucy,” Mrs. Castor said. “Someone else might want to read it. We can have another look at the recipe on our way out.”
Lucy and her parents were led into a small room where the sonogram would take place. A technician spread clear gooey jelly all over a long white probe while Mrs. Castor lay on a sort of bed. Her huge white stomach reminded Lucy of a giant balloon, the sticky out belly button looking just like the bit you tied a knot in. “Right now, Mrs. Castor, this will be cold,” the technician said, rolling the probe across her mother’s belly. She studied a computer screen beside the bed and tapped at some keys. “Mmmm,” the technician murmured. “Let’s see who we’ve got in here, shall we?”
Lucy suddenly felt sick. She wished she had not come. She wished she were safely at home in her mouse hole. She did not want to see who was in there at all.
“Baby one,” the technician said, rolling the wand about. “And baby two.”
“Oh, hello,” her mother cooed, grasping Mr. Castor’s hand. “Aren’t they beautiful?” she said, starting to cry. “I’m sorry,” Lucy’s mother apologized. “I cry at everything these days.”
Braving a look at the screen Lucy wondered if her mother were crying from joy or from absolute shock. She tilted her head to one side and then back the other way. “Are you positive those are babies?” Lucy finally said. “They look more like baby crocodiles with enormous egg heads.”
“Two little girls,” the technician replied, rolling the wand back and forth across Mrs. Castor’s belly.
Lucy’s stomach tightened. Her legs went all wobbly and she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you sure?” Lucy asked. “I have never seen a girl look like that.”
“Quite sure,” the technician said. “They don’t have any, well, as far as I can tell, there are no …”
“No what?” Lucy said, puzzled.
“No little boy bits.”
“What’s a little boy bit?” Lucy asked, having no idea what the technician was talking about.
“You know, Lucy,” Mrs. Castor said. “She means a …”
“Oh!” Lucy answered, staring at the screen. “Isn’t that one?” she asked after a moment, pointing at a skinny waving thing.
“That’s an arm, dear,” the technician told her.
“Well, how about that?” Lucy said. “That’s got to be one.”
“That’s a foot.”
“I see.” Lucy sighed, swinging her legs back and forth.
“And aren’t they going to be lucky girls, having a big sister like you,” the technician said. Lucy didn’t answer. She just continued to swing her legs.
“Well, I say an ice cream celebration is in or
der,” Mr. Castor announced, giving Lucy a hug. “Three little girls are exactly what this Castor family needs.”
“Here, dear, you can have this,” the technician said, handing Lucy a grainy black-and-white picture of the big-headed crocodiles. “Your two little sisters.”
“Thank you,” Lucy answered politely, thinking that three little girls were not at all what the Castor family needed. She followed her parents back through the waiting room, but her mother didn’t stop to look at magazines. She had clearly forgotten all about the snowman cake, and when no one was looking, Lucy slid the sonogram picture underneath Baking Delights.
The diner was crowded and Christmas music was playing as Lucy and her parents settled into one of the red vinyl booths by the window. It was Jack who brought over their ice creams, although it took Lucy a moment to recognize him, because he had smoothed down his spiky hair and taken the safety pin out of his ear.
“Two scoops of peppermint ice cream with hot fudge sauce and crushed candy canes,” Jack announced with a grin, putting Lucy’s sundae down in front of her. “I swirled extra whipped cream on there for you,” he whispered, which was extremely nice of him, Lucy thought. The ice cream was delicious, but as she ate it she stared mournfully out the window, thinking about twin sisters and watching the snow turn into rain and wash away all the beautiful whiteness.
Lucy couldn’t help wondering if she had been the one to make it happen, since she was feeling so miserable and weepy. Maybe she really did have magical powers. Maybe she could control the weather by her moods. Perhaps she had made it snow on the way over here because she had been feeling all Christmassy and festive, and now she had managed to turn the snow into rain with her sadness. Which meant, Lucy reasoned, with a spark of excitement, that if she started to feel happy again, the rain would stop? Putting her forehead against the window, she forced herself to smile. It wasn’t an easy thing to do when you didn’t feel the least bit like smiling, and Lucy watched her mouth in the glass, twisting into odd shapes. This made her smile for real because she looked so peculiar.
