“I don’t understand any of this.” Juniper had seen enough. It was time to find Giles.
By the time she crept back through the attic window, walked down two flights of stairs and out the back door, Giles was sitting on a tree stump watching the ax man chop some more firewood on the far side of the yard. Giles looked to be in awe at the power of each swing, the crack of blade splitting wood with ease.
“I was going to call you, but . . . look how fast he goes,” he said as Juniper approached, never shifting his eyes. “It’s like the ax is a part of him.” He grabbed at his own biceps and frowned.
“That’s Dmitri,” she told him, hands still grasping her binoculars although they were attached to a strap hanging about her neck. “He does a lot of work around here.”
Hearing his name, Dmitri stopped, looked over, and waved. He was a big man with a large dark beard speckled with gray, brown, and orange, and massive arms and shoulders. After wiping his brow, he spat on the ground, dug his heels into the dirt, and went back to work.
“Do you think we can talk to him? I’d like to be able to do that, become as big as him.” Giles turned to Juniper but kept glancing back at Dmitri.
Juniper, however, had more engaging thoughts on her mind. She grabbed Giles by the arm, noticing that her hand could almost close entirely around it. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday,” she told him. “Maybe you were right to follow your parents, maybe they’re up to something in the woods.”
“You think so?”
Juniper thought of her parents’ strange behavior from the previous day and all the days leading up to it. “It’s possible.”
“But where did they disappear to?” Giles looked around, his hand displaying the sprawl of the woods. “It could be anywhere. We could search for days.”
“True,” Juniper said, “but I have a place to start. Right before I saw you yesterday I was exploring the woods with Kitty. We were playing a game. She hides and I try to find her.”
“Like hide-and-seek,” Giles said.
Juniper looked blankly at him. Hide-and-seek sounded familiar, maybe, but she certainly never played it. No, she played Here, Kitty Kitty. “Well, I couldn’t find her for the longest time, and just when I came across a clearing, I heard her barking. Someone had been out there, but I never had a chance to inspect it because of Kitty. I went running and that led me to you.”
“You never went back to check it out?” Giles asked.
Juniper shook her head. “But we can now. Together.”
Without another word, for they were understandably quite eager, they made their way into the woods.
It took some time for Juniper to remember where she had gone, but, searching for evidence of her steps with her magnifying glass, she eventually found the clearing.
Nothing whatsoever grew within this curious circumference. It was as if a perfect circle had been burned into the middle of the woods. She had never seen anything like it before. Giles appeared similarly perplexed.
In the center of the clearing, drawing their gazes, were the remainders of a campfire. Slowly, Juniper and Giles approached the soggy woodpile. Who was all the way out here? Juniper wondered. Stalkers? Her parents had had more than a few problems with overzealous fans recently.
Kicking at the charred tree branches, she noticed some debris sprinkled about. It appeared to be burned paper. She crouched down and picked up one of the scraps, part of a journal—there was a portion of a date at the top, April something or other, but because of the fire and rain the rest was indecipherable. She picked up another, as did Giles. Nothing could be made out. Then Giles came across yet another page, this one mostly intact. They looked it over. Some Roman numerals and random symbols, none of which meant anything to them. Juniper shifted more of the wood. There! A page with writing. She snatched it up and began to read.
Walls are walls are walls
And what we see is what we see
See?
Up and over is the only way
To an ornery new world
Not round and round and round (we go)
There is no either/or
Tranquilized eyes, I saw—
Oh, please, I must have a sickness
The sun’ll come out tomorrow, tomorrow, won’t it?
From such heights, one can only fall
HURRY UP PLEASE IT’S TIME
It always is even when it shouldn’t
It always is even when it couldn’t
Memememememememememememe
These aren’t my thoughts
I don’t know my self
The words terrified her. They were gibberish, mad ramblings. But this wasn’t the part that set her stomach fearfully tumbling.
“This is my father’s handwriting,” she said. There was no doubt this was true—the way the letters leaned and swirled, the faint punctuation—and yet there was not a trace of her father within them. What did it all mean? Why was he out here? She thought he might be trying to hide, but from what? What was happening to him?
“Juniper, the back.” Pointing at the paper, Giles looked bewildered.
Juniper flipped the torn page. On the back of the journal entry, scrawled across the top, she noticed the same numerals and symbols from the previous paper. And below that was a sketch of a very particular and striking bird.
“I’ve seen this bird before,” Juniper said. “It’s a raven.”
“I’m sure there are lots of them in these woods.”
“Not that I’ve noticed. I’ve seen only one around here.” Her eyes met Giles’s. “And I know exactly where to find it.”
Juniper led them back through the woods and to a tree near where she and Giles had met the day before.
It was an ugly tree. If any were to be chopped down, it should have been this monstrosity. Its branches were bare and sharp, reaching out as if to pierce the sky, although the sky certainly did nothing to instigate such an assault. The tree, not incredibly thick, not incredibly thin, was riddled with knots and odd twists, roots that ripped the ground, killing the grass and welcoming the weeds. Nothing else grew from the base all the way to the top. There was nary an insect crawling across the trunk or a squirrel nesting in the branches.
However, there was the raven. Juniper looked up at it, wanting to say hello, and the raven seemed to nod. Its feet were wrapped around its usual branch, wings tucked comfortably to its sides, eyes fixed on the two children.
“Is this what my parents were searching for?” Giles asked. “This tree? Do your parents know about it, too? They must.”
“I don’t know. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? But I don’t get it. What would they want with a dying tree?”
Circling the trunk, they both began inspecting. They yanked on branches, kicked at roots, pressed each knot, clawed at bark. Finally, Juniper pulled out her magnifying glass for closer inspection. Giles watched her. “Why do you have all those things?”
“What things?” Juniper asked as she continued her investigation, her lips pursed and tight in concentration.
“That magnifying glass, those binoculars around your neck. Yesterday you pulled out a telescope-type thing.”
“A monocular,” she answered without glancing up.
“Yeah, a monocular. Why do you use those things?”
“I . . .” Juniper had to halt her examination for a moment as she thought this over. What was it she loved so much about these possessions? She was never asked before. While nonchalantly flipping the magnifying glass in her hand, she turned to look directly at Giles. “When I look through them I see . . .” She had to search for the right word, for words are very, very important. “I see the truth.”
“The truth,” Giles repeated.
“They can be very truthful. They bring everything closer.” She glanced at her surroundings. “That cloud doesn’t really look like that and neither does that ant and neither do the stars or the moon or you or me or anything else we see, for that matter. These let me see
the smaller parts that make up everything else, the things that are hidden right before our eyes. I don’t know. What I like most of all is that they bring the world closer to me.” She shrugged, feeling like she might have rambled on too long and sounded ridiculous. “They’re my spyglasses.”
“You like to spy on things?”
“I like to explore. There’s so much out there to discover.” Speaking of which, she went back to inspecting the tree.
“For you, maybe.” Giles looked toward the sky with such a penetrating glare it was as if he wished to see right through it. “I think I found out all I’d like to know about this world.”
“Too bad it’s the only one we’ve got,” Juniper joked.
Giles didn’t laugh. “Maybe not. There has to be something else out there, something better.”
Juniper didn’t know how to respond to such a sad statement. It’s odd, she thought, he wants out of the world and I want in. Is there something in between?
Her fingers traced a groove in the side of the tree, and she immediately focused her magnifying glass over it. “Look at this.”
“What is it?” Giles asked.
A voice answered from behind them: “That’s from Betsy.”
The two friends turned to find Dmitri hovering over them, ax slung over his shoulder. There was a sudden rustling and they all watched as the raven took to the skies, screeching a disturbed tune. Dmitri eyed it suspiciously. Soon it was out of sight, who knows where and who knows if it was still watching.
“Betsy?” Giles asked, staring at the blade.
Dmitri extended his ax. “Betsy.”
Giles hesitated for a moment, then grabbed it for a look. The blade immediately fell to the ground. Beet red from both embarrassment and effort, he struggled to remove it from the soil.
Juniper questioned Dmitri. “You gave it a name?”
“Well, people give all types of nonliving things names, don’t they? Cars, guns, rocking chairs.”
“Guitars,” Giles offered as he finally pulled the blade free, nearly sending himself flying backward.
“Careful now,” Dmitri urged before continuing. “That’s right, guitars, too. Coincidentally, guitars are also called axes, and are usually given female names. So I figured I’ll give my ax a name.”
“You chopped this tree?” Juniper asked.
“Just one swipe. It’s an ugly tree. I wanted it for firewood for your family, but your father stopped me. He came running from the house. He was furious, eyes practically red. Told me to keep to that side of the yard, never to touch this tree. I’ve never seen him like that. Since then I’ve learned not to interfere, as much as I would like to. Some lessons have to be learned on one’s own.”
“What do you mean?”
Dmitri opened his mouth, then closed it quite suddenly. His eyes went to the part of the sky in which the raven had fled as he pondered something for a few moments—for some reason people always seem to believe the answers are right there above them. No doubt, Dmitri was debating something. Finally, he shook his head and, with his hand, retraced the mark his ax made in the tree. “This one’s ready to come down. This is the sweet spot right here. Just a few solid downward strikes and a ratty old tree like this will tip. I won’t be sorry to see it go, that’s for sure.” He pulled back his hand and wiped it clean on his pants. Juniper did not fail to notice his arm was covered with goose bumps.
Dmitri retrieved his ax from Giles and threw it down into a stump, where it lodged. “This is where she sleeps; don’t wake her up now.” He smiled without showing any teeth. “I’ll be on my break. Try not to get into any trouble, you two.”
He walked away and Juniper and Giles could only stare at each other. Dmitri’s words seemed to linger in the air, even the ones he didn’t say.
Juniper ran her finger across the mark once more. Her father stopped him from chopping it down. Why?
The search for explanations continued a while longer—Juniper setting up a tight perimeter to explore—but nothing was discovered, no revelations of any kind. What was the connection between her parents and Giles’s? What was the meaning of the scrawled ramblings and symbols, the clearing, the tree? They had to be missing something, but what?
After nearly an hour more, that missing something still wasn’t found. Exhausted and out of ideas, Juniper decided they should break for the day. However, at this point, neither she nor Giles wished to part company.
“I don’t have to be home yet,” Giles said. “Doesn’t seem like I have much of a curfew anymore.”
“Well, there’s still plenty of day left,” Juniper pointed out. “What would you like to do?”
“What do you usually do?”
“I’m usually alone,” she admitted.
“What about all those people outside your gates? You never made friends with any of them? They must be dying to meet you.”
“Ha! My parents would never go for that. I’m not allowed anywhere near them. My dad says they’re crazy, but I think he’s more concerned with lawsuits and bad press.”
“No, he’s probably right,” Giles said. “But I’m sure they’d like you. You’re smart and pretty.” He turned away. “They’d just mock me.”
“That’s not true. Why would you think that?”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it. Look at me, all scrawny and weak. There’s a reason why those people wait outside for a glimpse of your parents. They all want to be just like them. Nobody wants to be like me, and you know what, I want nothing to do with them. I wish I could just leave, just get out of here and never come back. I never need to see anyone ever again. I mean it.”
This hurt Juniper. She wanted to ask if he meant this about her, too, but kept quiet.
“I can live by myself,” Giles went on. “I know I can. Only problem is, in this world, people are everywhere.”
Except here, Juniper thought.
“We can have our own little world, Giles. Right here.”
He laughed at this. “Sounds good. Our own planet. Until I have to go to school again.”
And so, for the rest of the day, living in their own world, each had a friend in the other.
Even without much experience in friendships, the lonely girl and the castaway boy filled the time as two friends should. In fact, it so delighted Juniper to have a friend she nearly forgot the tree entirely. The reminders were never very far away—two of the biggest were lurking within her house—but for the moment they remained in the background.
Juniper led them on several insightful expeditions to the outlying areas of the yard, although not anywhere near the clearing. Through a variety of lenses they spied even more birds and animals making their way in the world, documenting it all in her notebook. “Can I see space with these?” Giles asked, scoping the sky with her binoculars.
“Not even close. I have a telescope in my room, though.”
Giles was excited. “Can I see it?”
Eyes to the ground, Juniper answered, “My parents wouldn’t allow it.”
“Oh.” Giles pulled at the loops in his jeans and rocked on his heels. “Can you see far with it?”
“The telescope? Really far. I’ve seen meteor showers, the phases of Venus, lunar craters, and, because I have a solar filter, sunspots. I’ve even seen the shadows of Jupiter’s moons on its surface.”
“Wow, really? Just think what else is out there.”
“You don’t have to go far. I’ve seen just as much in an anthill.”
Giles’s eyes searched the ground for one. Quietly, he began to sing. “‘Next time you’re found with your chin on the ground, there’s a lot to be learned, so look around.’” Catching himself, he suddenly stopped, embarrassed.
“What was that?” Juniper asked.
Giles blushed and fidgeted. “Nothing. A song my mom used to sing to me. I forgot all about it until now.”
“You have a nice voice.”
Giles smiled, then stopped, his eyes suddenly sad. “We used to sing together, the thre
e of us. My father gave me his record player—he says records make music sound more emotional—and we would sit around and sing old songs. I miss that.” Giles froze and looked gravely at Juniper. “Are our parents going to be okay?” His voice shook.
Just hearing such a question made Juniper’s entire body go cold. She didn’t know how to respond. She could only grab his hand and give it a soft squeeze.
They shook these fears free by keeping busy. They tracked Kitty through the woods, Juniper informing Giles on how to proceed in such a quest. While wearing goggles, they scanned the shaded depths of the heated pool for sunken treasure and did flips off the diving board. With a microscope, they examined a ladybug. They played hide-and-seek, which Juniper found to be no different from Here, Kitty Kitty except that Giles said she couldn’t use her spyglasses. It was as if they had been friends for years.
At dusk, just before Giles left to go home, Juniper suggested one more activity. “I want to have a race. One end of the yard and back.”
Giles looked intimidated. “Does the loser have to do something embarrassing?”
“What? No. It’s just for fun.”
Having agreed, at the starting point Giles asked, “Are you fast?” and Juniper responded, “I have no idea.”
Raising his arm, Giles announced, “On your mark, get set, go!” for Juniper didn’t know such protocol existed. They kicked their legs to the limit, these two, a fury of speed. Giles was quite fast indeed, and Juniper was surprised to discover that she was, too. In mere seconds they made their turns at the halfway mark and headed back for the finish line. Juniper grinned the entire way. When it was over, they hugged and said good-bye.
As for a winner, it was decided that the race was too close to call.
But if one were to possess a keen eye, as Juniper did, the outcome was evident: She won.
Chapter 5
Juniper Berry Page 4
