Marigold Star

by Elise Primavera

  “It started today—that’s why we need to go see Granny,” Marigold said desperately.

  “I’m very sensitive to light, and that thing is giving me a headache.” The bird narrowed his eyes at the dragon. “Plus, I think I might be too big to take you to Granny Cabbage’s. Birds aren’t supposed to be as big as elephants—at least that’s what someone told me. . . . Hmmm . . . who would it have been?” The bird looked all around and then glared at Lightning. “Oh, that’s right. It was you!”

  Marigold tried to calm the bird. “Lightning didn’t mean anything by it, Big Flying Bird.”

  “You just called me big!” the bird complained.

  “I didn’t mean that.” Marigold waved her hands as if to erase what she’d just said. “You’re just a bird—a flying bird. I think—I mean, we both think—you’re just the right size!”

  Lightning said urgently, “Yes, parrot-size—just like all your brothers and sisters!”

  “My brothers and sisters, huh?” The bird nodded as if he were agreeing, but his face told a different story.

  Lightning smiled pleasantly in an effort to assume an expression of utter honesty. “Yes, I mean, you’re practically as small as they are.”

  “Yes, practically!” Marigold beamed.

  “You’re only just a teeny, tiny bit bigger,” Lightning added.

  “Lightning!” Marigold was horrified. “Don’t say the word ‘bigger’ to him,” she whispered.

  “Bigger?” the bird repeated, and his cheeks, where there were less feathers, became an angry red.

  Lightning’s smile faded. “So, what do you say, hmmm?”

  “Three words,” the bird snapped. “Take. The. Train.”

  Shroosh! Pop! Bop!

  The bird vanished.

  “Wait! Don’t go!” Marigold called but to no avail.

  Lightning stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the air where once there was a Big Flying Bird. “I think we need to go to plan B.”

  “What’s plan B?” Marigold kicked a rock out of the way and peered down the path, wishing a train would come.

  “Call for the ghost children,” Lightning said.

  Marigold frowned and started once again down the path, anxious to get to Granny’s. “You know how they are,” she said over her shoulder. “Those ghost children won’t do anything unless I give them something in return. Guaranteed they’re going to want to come with us to Granny’s, and that’s definitely the last thing I need right now.”

  Lightning hurried after her and panted, “Y-You mean we have to walk? The e-entire way? To Granny’s?”

  She stopped and waited. The dragon caught up and mopped his brow. Marigold knew he wasn’t used to moving so fast and she’d have to slow down. At this rate, it would be midnight by the time they made it to the old cabbage’s cottage. “I guess you’re right,” she said, then tossed a handful of gumdrops in the air. Out of nowhere, the ghost children appeared, circling above her head like seagulls at the beach, expertly catching the candy and gobbling it up. They playfully grabbed at her pockets for more. Marigold had never been so happy to see them.

  A ghost girl swished past. “Your star is blinking, Marigold.”

  “I know, and it won’t stop. I’m on my way to Granny Cabbage’s to get some advice,” Marigold answered. “By any chance, could you call a train to get me there faster?”

  “I can get the train to take us all to Granny’s!” the ghost girl said excitedly.

  “We love visiting Granny—she has the best candy,” her ghost brother chimed in. “Can we go with you?”

  “Not today.” Marigold gave Lightning her “I told you so” look. She could just see herself with a gaggle of ghost children nagging her for a story and candy while she was trying to get advice from Granny.

  “But, Marigold, it will take you hours to get there unless you go by train,” one of them said coyly.

  “Okay, here’s the deal.” Marigold was used to negotiating with the ghost children. “I’ll give you candy and tell you the best story ever if you call the train to take Lightning and me to Granny’s.”

  The only thing the ghost children loved more than candy was one of Marigold’s stories. They squealed with delight and quickly gathered around. Marigold doled out jelly beans. “Do I have your word you’ll call the train?” she said before she began.

  “You have our word!” the oldest ghost girl promised.

  “Tell us the story!” the others shouted, eager for her to start.

  Satisfied they would keep their word (to a certain extent—ghosts could be very tricky), Marigold began, “Once upon a time . . .” But right away she was interrupted by a strange rustling sound in the bushes. “Did you hear that, Lightning?” Marigold whispered. They were in Spookety Forest, where anything could happen.

  Even the ghost children watched tensely and barely moved.

  Marigold and Lightning remained very still. “Shhh.” She held a finger to her lips. “Look.” A small shadow flickered about in the murky wood, darting from tree to tree.

  “It’s a shadow boy,” Marigold whispered in awe.

  “It’s a shadow boy!” the ghosts shrieked. There was nothing they were more afraid of than shadow children. They instantly disappeared.

  Marigold, on the other hand, knew the creatures were completely harmless, though she’d never seen one before.

  “Hello, shadow boy,” she said in a soft voice.

  The shadow boy came into view and the next moment vanished. Marigold forgot her haste to get to Granny’s and held out her hand, hoping he would come to her. “I’m Marigold Star. Let’s be friends.”

  “What’s a friend?” the shadow boy said.

  Marigold strained her eyes to see, but the shadow boy was shrouded by the forest’s cloak of darkness. She felt a pang of sadness for him that he didn’t even know what a friend was. “A friend is someone you like no matter what,” she replied.

  The shadow boy’s voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere high in the treetops now. “You mean even if they are super scary looking?”

  “Yes, even if they are super scary looking.” Marigold looked upward to see if she could find him. “A friend is someone you always have fun with.”

  Thump!

  Marigold was startled to see a box lying in the grass at her feet. She leaned over to have a look. The title of the game was in big red-and-white, candy-striped lettering. “Candy Land?”

  “We can have fun,” the shadow boy said.

  Marigold studied the picture of a gingerbread house with lollipops growing out of the grass and gumdrops hanging off a tree—nothing so unusual. In Bramblycrumbly there were trees and meadows where just these sorts of candy grew wild. No, that wasn’t what bothered Marigold. It was the children depicted on the box, because she was certain they were humans.

  Marigold had heard at great length from every teacher she’d ever had as well as her parents that humans were awful creatures from a place far, far away that no one from Bramblycrumbly should ever have anything to do with.

  “Will you play Candy Land with me?” the shadow boy said hesitantly.

  “Wherever did you get this game?” Marigold asked.

  “I—I found it.” The shadow boy sounded as if he might cry. “It was stuck in the brambles.”

  Marigold glanced nervously at Lightning. “I wouldn’t touch that thing with a ten-foot pole,” the dragon muttered.

  Marigold backed away from the box as if it were contagious.

  “Never mind,” the shadow boy said sadly. “You don’t have to play.”

  Marigold called to where he had slunk under a bush. She’d hurt his feelings—the last thing she’d meant to do!

  A moment later, the ghosts reappeared. “Thank goodness he’s gone.” They shuddered collectively.

  Marigold tried to explain. “He only wants to be friends—”

  “Friends?” the ghosts all shouted at once. “Never!” They swirled around in a mass of white, all talking at once. �
�Quick! Tell us the story before that fiend comes back!”

  Marigold cringed. She knew the shadow boy was close enough to hear everything. If only she could get them to see how nice and friendly he really was! This gave her an idea. She handed out peanut brittle, and the ghost children settled down and listened with rapt attention.

  “Once upon a time . . . ,” Marigold said, “there was a shadow boy who wandered about in Spookety Forest—”

  “No-o-o-o-o!” the ghosts yelled, terrified. They huddled closer together and listened with wide, serious eyes.

  Marigold continued. “This shadow boy lived in Spookety Cave and was said to be the scariest shadow anyone ever saw. He was in the shape of a creature with pointy fangs, sharp claws, and a long slithery tail. In fact, he was so terrifying that everyone called him Super Scary Shadow Boy.”

  The ghosts listened, barely moving, their peanut brittle untouched.

  “What everyone didn’t know was that Super Scary Shadow Boy was loaded with magic powers!” Marigold said. “And this shadow boy loved ghosts too. He would always stay near them, ready at a moment’s notice to rescue one if they ever needed him. So, one day a ghost child wandered too close to the Human World.”

  “Wow! Really?” a ghost girl called out. “The Human World is scary!”

  “Scarier than you think,” Marigold said. She called to mind the surprising fact she’d read in school and added it. “When the little ghost got to the Human World, no one could see him because he was invisible.”

  “Wait. What?” The ghost children were puzzled. Their mouths hung open, and they looked like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on them. “Ghosts are invisible in the Human World? Why?”

  “Because humans are afraid of ghosts,” Marigold replied astutely.

  “Afraid? Of us? We don’t have long pointy tails or fangs or claws. We’re not scary, are we, Marigold Star? Are we?” They were becoming more and more worked up.

  Lightning nudged her to finish the story, and she was anxious to get to Granny’s too!

  “SH-U-U-U-U-SH!” Marigold scolded. They finally quieted, and she spoke quickly. “So, like I said, the little ghost was invisible in the Human World—he couldn’t even see himself—but Super Scary Shadow Boy had followed right behind. One of his magic powers was that he had super-duper vision. He could see the ghost, so he led him back to Bramblycrumbly, safe and sound. The little ghost told all the other ghosts, and from that day on they were no longer scared of the shadow boy. They all became good friends and lived happily ever after.” Marigold stole a look to see that the shadow boy was still in his hiding place. He must have heard everything.

  The ghost children sat with glum looks on their faces.

  It was not exactly the reaction she had hoped for. Seeing them unmoved by her story, she added, “Super Scary Shadow Boy was the most incredible superhero in all of Bramblycrumbly. . . . The end!” Marigold caught Lightning’s eye, and he tapped his wristwatch in a gesture that meant they needed to get going.

  “Now will you please get the train—a deal’s a deal!” the dragon said.

  “B-o-o-o-o-o!” one ghost called. “B-o-o-o-o!” the rest joined in.

  Marigold held up her hands to quiet them. “Don’t you see?” she tried to explain. “Just because someone is scary looking doesn’t mean you wouldn’t like him or that he’s not super nice.”

  “That’s a stupid story,” a ghost boy said. “Marigold Star is making it all up.” As they floated away, Marigold could still hear them grumbling about her tale. She was greatly relieved to see a beam of light coming right toward her. At least they had made good on their word.

  “Woo! Woo!” the train whistle sounded. The train was drenched in white fog, and tendrils of mist flew from its wheels. The brakes screeched as it glided to a stop. The door slid open.

  “All aboard!” the conductor called. “Next stop, Granny Cabbage’s!”

  The brakes were released with a loud whooosh.

  Marigold and Lightning made their way through the cars of the train. Red-velvet with gold-fringed curtains hung at the windows and a slight mist clung to the floor.

  Marigold slid into a seat, and Lightning sat across from her.

  “Is it still blinking?” she asked. She was too nervous to look.

  “It is,” the dragon replied.

  They sat in silence until Marigold said, “Do you think I could be coming down with something?” Without waiting for the dragon’s response, she said, “Or maybe I’m allergic to the strawberry jam I had on my muffin this morning instead of honey like I always have.”

  “I doubt it’s that,” Lightning said.

  Normally this was her favorite part of the trip, when she could sit back, close her eyes, and feel the train grow weightless while it ascended over the tops of trees, into the sky, where it would soar between banks of clouds. But not today. She worried and wondered if the old cabbage lady could even help her.

  Marigold leaned her head against the window and sighed. “I have a lot of problems.”

  3

  A Warning from Granny Cabbage

  The train pulled away, leaving Marigold and Lightning in a lovely glade powdered with wild daisies. They were just outside Spookety Forest, right by Granny’s cottage. Red, pink, and white roses covered the limestone walls. Lavender and mint grew plentiful in flower boxes beneath windows with diamond-shaped panes of glass that glinted in the sun. All was hushed except for the enchanted song of wind chimes that hung from the branch of a silver pear tree. Tiny yellow parakeets watched like sentinels from their perches and a moment later flew as a group to the house, as if to notify Granny that she had company.

  Marigold’s eyes rose to the chimney, where a puff of smoke meandered skyward. That meant the old cabbage lady was home.

  “I sure hope she’s not busy.” Marigold knocked on the door.

  “I sure hope not,” Lightning said.

  Everyone knew that Granny Cabbage had hundreds of friends and that they came from far and wide for help. Granny had an answer for everything, from tonics for whatever ailed you to the proper storage of magic beans and the care and feeding of a golden goose. She could thatch a roof, cure a bunion, and make porridge that actually tasted good.

  Luckily, today she was not busy and appeared at the door right away.

  If you could imagine an extraordinarily large cabbage with two eyes, a cabbage leaf for a nose, the squiggly edge between leaves for a mouth, stubby legs and arms, and all of this wrapped in a long shawl, that would be Granny. Granny’s face broke into a wide crinkly grin as soon as she saw Marigold.

  “I’m sorry.” Marigold held out her empty hands. She visited Granny Cabbage once a week to bring her a blueberry crumble from the Bramblycrumbly Bakery, which was known for the best crumble in the land.

  “Never mind that.” Granny eyed Marigold’s blinking star, and a mysterious smile stole across her lips. “It looks like you could use some advice.”

  “I could. I have five problems, Granny,” Marigold replied.

  “Five!” Lightning stressed.

  The old cabbage hurried Marigold and her dragon inside. Birdhouses hung from low rafters along with bunches of dried jasmine, horseradish, garlic, and other herbs. On the swept dirt floor were gardening tools and several quarts of apple cider vinegar that Granny used for just about everything. Lightning pulled his tail around him, careful not to knock any of the knickknacks and trinkets off the shelves that lined the walls.

  Marigold got on the stuffed chair by the fire that burned merrily in the corner. She tucked her feet under her while Lightning found a nice soft spot on a cushion beside her. Granny lowered herself into the other chair, placed her feet on a plump burlap sack of wood chips, and laced her gnarled fingers across her chest. “Tell me all your problems, child,” she said in a shaky voice, for she was very old.

  The words tumbled out of Marigold’s mouth.

  Granny listened intently, saying things from time to time like, “Hmmm,” and
“Oh, my,” and “Very interesting.”

  “And it’s just not the same at home anymore,” Marigold finished.

  “Oh?” Granny had a questioning look on her face.

  “Petal,” Lightning said in a grave tone.

  Marigold frowned. “If I went off into the forest and lived in a shack with Lightning, my parents would never even notice.”

  “Betel nuts!” Granny exclaimed.

  Marigold and Lightning sat up, slightly startled.

  “You were born with a star over your head, Marigold, and the star is never wrong,” Granny said firmly. “It’s a sure sign that you are marked for greatness.”

  “I know all that, Granny.” Marigold stood and paced in front of the fire. “It’s just that I can’t do any of the spells, and I can’t even get my magic wand to work right. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me.” She reached for the wand to show Granny, but her pocket was empty, and then she remembered that the last time she had the wand was to show Bob the Invisibility Spell. Probably Lightning had taken it from her for safekeeping. When she asked her dragon, sure enough, he produced it once again.

  Marigold laughed, feeling a little foolish, but Granny had a stern look on her face. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you, child, that you’re supposed to always carry your own magic wand?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts.” Granny shook her finger at Marigold. “You’re old enough to always know where it is.”

  “But look, Granny, it won’t even sparkle the way it’s supposed to.” Marigold held the wand in one hand. It hardly radiated even a dull light. She shook it a few times with little change. Marigold flopped back in the chair and folded her arms. “Anyway, why should I care where it is?”

  “Because you might lose it!” All the birds came out of their houses and began to tweet loudly. The old woman hushed them with a wave of her hand. She turned back to Marigold. “Never lose your magic wand,” she warned.

  Marigold had heard it a million times from her mother, who was afraid that a hobgoblin might get it—everyone in Bramblycrumbly had one or two living in their house. Hobgoblins, known as “brownies,” were small wrinkled creatures who wore brown cloaks and who came out only at night to steal honey and porridge. They always gave something in return, in the form of a task like washing the dishes or polishing the silver, and they were harmless . . . until they got ahold of someone’s magic wand. Brownies never thought twice about wishing for a river of honey or porridge to flow right through the middle of someone’s house! Once a hobgoblin came into possession of a magic wand, it could take a dozen wizards to get it back.