by Elise Allen
“We need to roll the hay bale over to the plank,” Summer realized. “Then we can climb up and reach our wagon!” But how to roll the hay without all four of them touching the ground?
“Whirligigs and wheelbarrows.” Spring sighed.
“That’s a great idea, Spring!” Winter said, a gleam in her eye. “We can use a wheelbarrow!”
“A wheelbarrow?” Autumn asked, confused. “All I see is a wagon.”
“No!” said Winter, hopping with excitement. “I’m talking about a Sparkle wheelbarrow!”
Without a second thought, Autumn lowered herself so Spring could stand on her shoulders. Next, Winter did a handstand and Autumn grabbed hold of her. Quickly, Summer burrowed inside the hollow of the sphere of hay, squirming through the scratchy straw. A clue stuck out inside the hay, grazing her cheek. She grabbed it and poked her head and arms out the other side.
“Another clue!” she said. Autumn peered over her shoulder, and Spring leaned down like a giant vine to get a better look.
Summer frowned. Unhinge your minds. What could that possibly mean?
From behind, Winter gave the wheel of hay a giant shove forward, then scrambled on her hands to push again. Summer went around and around inside the hay bale. It was actually pretty fun, like rolling down a hill. As the world spun around her, she saw a dark blur of figures at the starting line—the Weeds still hadn’t mobilized! A big thump told Summer they had hit the plank.
“Sparkles, let’s climb this hay!” Winter ordered. Summer squirmed out and pulled herself onto the top of the hay bale, jumping onto the plank where the wagons sat. Her sisters followed suit as first Winter, then Spring and Autumn shimmied up the hay. The four of them stood in a row, staring at the red wagon labeled “Sparkles.” But what next? Across a pumpkin patch were two big barrels. They had the wagon right before them, but no way to get down off the plank.
“Look,” Autumn said softly. “A hinge.” They looked where Autumn was squatting. A thin metal hinge ran across the length of the plank. Could that be what the clue meant? Summer carefully lowered her head to look under the plank. Pinned to a black strap was a note. The next clue! She held it up and Spring whisked it from her excitedly to read aloud.
“Hey, Summer … ,” Winter said.
“One step ahead of you,” said Summer, pulling on the black strap dangling beneath the plank. Immediately, another plank swung out with a click and connected with the ground, forming a wooden incline.
“Hurry up!” Winter said. Summer followed her gaze. The Weeds had copied their wheelbarrow technique and were starting to pull themselves onto the plank. All four Sparkles jumped into the wagon, Spring and Autumn on Winter’s and Summer’s laps.
“Wheeee!” Spring called out as Summer pushed off and the wagon flew down the ramp. Once it slowed, Summer jumped out and pulled her sisters through the pumpkin patch, weaving between the golden gourds. Ahead of them were the two barrels, one that read “Sparkles,” the other labeled “Weeds.” Summer hustled to their barrel. It was full of water, a few apples floating near the bottom. Autumn picked off a white note from the lip of the barrel and read it aloud.
What could that possibly mean? There was no time to think hard about it, as the Weeds had figured out the hinge clue and were hurtling toward their barrel. “I’ll be the one who bobs for apples,” Summer said.
“Maybe Autumn should,” Spring said cautiously. “She’s bobbed a lot before.” But Summer wanted to show her sisters how committed she was to their team.
“I can do it,” she said, dunking her head into the barrel of icy water. But as soon as Summer’s lips touched an apple, it slipped away. She came up for air and saw that Twister had an apple in his mouth. Summer took a deep breath and dunked her head back in. This time, instead of trying to feel the apple with her lips, she bore her teeth. She felt the stem of an apple on her front tooth and opened her mouth wide, biting down hard. Quickly, before it could escape her, she brought her head up.
“Whistle, whistle!” Spring demanded, bouncing from foot to foot.
Summer waved the apple above her head and put her lips between her fingers to whistle loudly. A beautiful bay horse emerged from the cornfield and trotted toward Summer—the next step in the obstacle course! The name “Nadine” was written on her saddle.
“Hurry up!” Winter shouted. “The Weeds are already on their horse!” The horse nuzzled for the apple in Summer’s hand, and as Summer petted her, her hand brushed against something smooth—the next clue! She took it off of Nadine’s mane and turned to her sisters.
“I’m going,” Winter said. “I’m used to riding Flurry.”
“I can go,” Spring said. “I’m used to riding Dewdrop. And he is a horsey!” Summer’s heart sank. Suddenly, Nadine neighed loudly. Spring cocked her head and furrowed her brow.
“Nadine wants Summer to go,” Spring said. Summer stared at the horse. How could she know how guilty Summer felt about letting her sisters down? Nadine calmly pawed at the earth, waiting. Time was running out. The Weeds could be almost at the end of the cornfield by now.
“Let’s go then, Summer!” Winter shouted. They mounted quickly and Summer gave Nadine a quick thank-you squeeze on the shoulder. The horse blew out her lips and nuzzled Summer’s hand, trotting to an opening in the cornfield below a wooden board that read “Corn Maze.” This was an actual maze made of cornstalks!
“A maze of maize,” Summer thought aloud.
Winter looked at her sister quizzically.
“‘Maize’ is another word for corn,” Summer said.
“Well, should we go left or right?” Winter asked.
“Let’s try left.” Summer pulled at the reins, but Nadine shook her head and resisted.
“Looks like Nadine doesn’t want to go left,” Winter said thoughtfully.
“That’s it!” said Summer excitedly. “‘Animal instincts.’ This is part of the challenge! We have to trust Nadine’s instincts.”
The line dawned on Winter. “Of course!” she said. “From the clue!”
“Okay, girl,” Summer whispered to Nadine. “You tell us which way to go.”
Nadine whinnied, then took a right. All around them rose tall, green cornstalks. Summer and Winter exchanged looks. Should they really trust a horse? But neither protested.
At last, they came to an opening in the maze and out of the towering cornfield. Ahead of them was a single oak tree, thick and tall, with a slide sloping down from a high branch. Nadine stopped.
“Can you take us to the oak tree, girl?” Winter asked.
Nadine shook her head, and reached back toward the saddle horn beneath Summer’s hand.
“This?” Summer asked, wiggling the horn. Nadine neighed encouragingly. Summer lifted up the saddle beneath the horn and, sure enough, found their final clue.
Summer and Winter exchanged glances, thinking the same thing. “Only one of us can touch the ground,” Summer said. She looked ahead, distracted, searching for the Weeds. They were nowhere to be found. Had they already won?
“Finally,” said a nasal voice behind her. They turned. It was Sleet, riding the horse with Thunderbolt behind him.
“See,” said Thunderbolt. “I told you all we needed to do was trust the horse.” He and Summer met each other’s eyes. For a second, Summer froze. It was a second too long.
“I’ll do it,” Winter shouted, and started running.
“Wait,” Summer called. “Use your scepter as a pole!” But Winter couldn’t hear. Summer saw a look of recognition cross Thunderbolt’s eyes, and he grabbed a thick branch that had fallen on the ground. Though he couldn’t pole-vault yet, he was able to use it for leverage. He slid off of the horse, sticking the branch into the ground and leaping, pushing up from the branch to gain height. He landed ahead of Winter and scrambled up the oak tree. Winter climbed up below his heels. Thunderbolt reached the slide and slid down headfirst, diving into a huge pile of crisp leaves. Winter followed. If only Summer hadn’t said the pole-vaulting hin
t out loud! Now the Weeds had a chance to win, and it was all Summer’s fault. She concentrated on the pile, trying to find the blue ribbon so she could warn her sister, but it was too late. As soon as she saw it, floating upward with the leaves after Winter’s dive, Thunderbolt saw it too. He reached up and caught it with one hand. Summer gasped.
Spring, Autumn, Twister, and Quake jogged out of the maze just in time to see Thunderbolt’s victory.
“Take that,” Sleet whooped. “Weeds are better.”
“Not so fast,” said Spring. “We still have three more contests, and the next one is in my realm.”
Twister rolled his eyes. “What is it, an egg-dyeing contest?”
“No,” Spring said defensively. “It’s a ballet race.” This only made the Weeds laugh harder.
“Don’t worry, Sparkles,” Summer said. “We’ll win this next one.” But even as she said it, she doubted it was true.
Spring stood on a stool in her pink ballet slippers in front of the outdoor Daffodil Dance Studio as Dewdrop the unicorn chomped on a nearby patch of pink milk thistles.
“The rules of Ballet Relay Racing are simple,” she said. “As in any relay race, each runner must sprint to the next person on the team and hand off the baton before the next runner can go. The team whose final runner crosses the finish line first wins.”
“So what makes this special?” Sleet asked, gazing at the daffodils uneasily. His nose quivered, as if he were allergic to the beauty of the flowers.
“You can only do ballet moves, silly,” Spring said.
“Ballet moves?” Quake snorted, his nose curling up as well. “Like—tra-la-la?” He spun around, skipping, his arms over his head.
“Sort of,” Spring said. “You can only move forward through pas de chat, chassé, assemblé en tournant, glissade, jeté, and pirouette.” As she spoke, she jumped off the stool, displaying the movements.
“You mean jumping?” Twister said with a guffaw. “Yeah, we know how to jump.”
“Good,” Spring said. “Then you shouldn’t have any trouble doing jetés in these.” She handed out seven pairs of pink ballet slippers. “And remember,” she added, “ballet is often done on your toes. If you run using any other part of your feet, you will be disqualified.”
“So basically,” Sleet said, “all we have to do is run in these pink shoes while turning and jumping?”
Spring nodded. Basically, that was it.
“Awesome!” Twister said. “This is the easiest contest ever!” Winter and Summer looked at each other. Why couldn’t Spring have thought of something a bit more challenging? But Spring didn’t seem bothered.
Once everyone was in their slippers, they spread out through the two gravelly race lanes cleared of daffodils: Winter first, then Autumn, then Summer, then Spring. The Weeds goofily followed, Quake starting out with the baton next to Winter.
After everyone was settled in place, Dewdrop cantered in between Quake and Winter, a checkered flag in his teeth.
With dignity, he brought it down. Winter and Quake were off, both going for speed. But while Quake stuck to running on his toes, Winter took long, graceful jumps and turns that brought her quickly to Autumn. Autumn was not as fast as Winter, but looked so elegant turning that Summer almost started clapping when Autumn got to her. But there was no time. Summer leaped and lunged from one toe to the other, using her arms to propel herself forward like she would if she were swimming in the sea.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thunderbolt next to her gaining speed. She almost laughed. He looked so silly, spinning and turning in his pink slippers. They handed off their batons at the same time—Summer to Spring, Thunderbolt to Sleet. Sleet grinned wildly, then started running. It was clear right away that he had underestimated the difficulty of running in ballet slippers. He faltered, his stride shortening as his face reddened and his breath quickened. Spring, meanwhile, easily glided across the gravel path. When she jumped, it looked like the wind itself was catching her up and carrying her forward. She crossed the finish line before Sleet could even hand off the baton to Twister. She threw the baton up in an ornamental twirl and the girls broke out in applause.
“You guys didn’t even give me a chance!” called Twister. He jumped, spinning in the air and landing right into a backward handspring. The Sparkles’ jaws dropped. Of all the adjectives to describe Twister, “graceful” was not the first to come to mind.
Thunderbolt jogged up to Summer, still wearing his slippers. He nodded toward Twister and cupped his hands to his mouth.
“Show-off!” he called. Then he leaned into Summer. “Think Spring will let me keep these?” he asked. “I lost my basketball sneakers.” Summer laughed at the thought of Thunderbolt playing basketball in delicate ballet slippers.
“Only if you pirouette before you dunk,” said Summer. She mimicked the move and Thunderbolt burst into guffaws.
“Nice steering with the toboggan race,” he said to her. “I would have eaten ice if you hadn’t helped us out.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Nice vaulting with the branch.”
He grinned at her and winked. “It was no pole-vault,” he said.
“Hey,” Winter said, staring at the two of them. “No talking to the competition! Come on, Summer. We’ve got a big day tomorrow. We need to rest up if we’re going to win both afternoon contests, and we need to. We’re tied with the Weeds right now. One to one.”
Summer blushed and looked at the ground. She hadn’t meant to make Winter angry. Wasn’t there a way she could prove to her sisters that she loved them without totally ignoring Thunderbolt? It had been a long, exhausting day. With a sharp jolt, she realized that the two contests that they’d have tomorrow would be in the Weeds’ realm—the Barrens—and her own. Yikes. She had a lot to do to prepare. Now if only she could skip tomorrow altogether.
Chapter 7
Summer woke up the next morning to a cloudless sky. It was a perfect summer day for sailing. And if there was one thing that could lift Summer’s spirits from yesterday’s races, it was sailing. She hopped into her green tankini and white shorts and slid down the banister of her spiral staircase that wrapped around the outside of the ceiba trees all the way down to the roots. The ever-blossoming pink blooms on the trees swirled as she spiraled down, becoming a pink blur to her green eyes. Summer landed on Shade’s waiting back, hugging the jaguar’s neck.
“To the boat dock!” she cried, and Shade raced down the pebbled path that wove down to the beach, where a stony dock stretched over the clear blue water. She loped past the boats until they were nose-to-bow with a bright green sailboat named Birdy. Its beak-like bow perched sprightly on the water like a chipper little sparrow. With any luck, it would be fierce and bold like a sparrow too.
Summer squealed with delight. “It looks small but fast,” she said. “Like me!” She clambered in and Shade followed. She had designed the boat for her sisters. She wanted it to be fast, easy to sail, but also fun and entertaining, in case Spring or Autumn got bored in the middle of the Sparkle Sea. She was dying to test it out before their race that afternoon.
“Hey,” a voice said behind her. “I’m here for my pole-vaulting lesson.”
Summer looked up. Thunderbolt was standing on the dock, wearing flip-flops and long black swimming trunks with purple lightning bolts up the sides. She hesitated. Would she be betraying her sisters by letting Thunderbolt sail with her? Then again, it was better to sail with two people—one steering with the tiller, the other manning the sails.
“Hop in,” she said. “Come try out this new boat with me first.” Thunderbolt leaped off the dock into the boat with a thud that set them rocking. “Be careful!” she said, but Thunderbolt laughed with such a huge grin on his face that Summer couldn’t help but smile too.
“As long as we get around to pole-vaulting at some point.”
“We’ll get to it,” she said, still smiling. “First, untie that rope from the dock. But be careful not to—”
Thunderbol
t was already standing at the edge of the bow, balancing precariously as he untied the rope and pushed off from the dock.
“Okay,” Summer said. “I’m going to turn the boat into the wind, so I need you to pull in the mainsail. Make sure to duck when the boom comes around.”
“What’s the boom?” he said, ducking just in time as the heavy log swung around. Shade burrowed into the deepest part of the hull with a yelp and put her paws over her head.
“Aaaand that must be the boom.” Thunderbolt laughed good-naturedly. Summer giggled.
“Just keeping you on your toes,” she said. “Now loosen up the mainsail and we’ll make this boat fly.” The sail caught the wind and the boat skipped cheerfully across the water. Shade relaxed and peered over the boat, pawing at the water for fish. Thunderbolt was a quick learner, good at anticipating how much wind the boat needed, and calm—very important for a sailing partner. Summer always had to soothe Winter when she got frustrated at the boom, but Thunderbolt didn’t seem nervous about anything.
“Let’s stop here,” he said. To their left was a mossy island with parrots and howling monkeys that Shade liked to chase up trees.
“At the island?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “Right here.” And he began to jump from one foot to the other, rocking the boat.
“Quit it.” She laughed. “You’ll capsize us.” He grinned at her.
“So?” he said, and jumped even harder.
“Thunderbolt! St—” The boat went under. The water was as warm as a Jacuzzi. When she surfaced, the boat had bobbed back upright. Thunderbolt pulled himself up into the boat and then lent a hand to Shade, who sulked onto the boat and shook out her dark mane of fur, gasping dramatically. Summer laughed. Thunderbolt caught her gaze. He dove back into the water and shot toward her like a shark. She dropped below him. When he surfaced, uncertain where she’d gone, she tugged his foot.
