The Backward Season

by Lauren Myracle

  “Not tonight. Early, early tomorrow morning, right after midnight. But Emily, I haven’t made that wish, and I won’t. All right?”

  Emily considered this.

  “You’re my best friend,” pleaded Klara.

  Emily sighed. “And you’re mine. And you’re right, or the Bird Lady’s right, that I don’t care all that much about being the winner. But if it happens—”

  “Which it will, which I’ve been predicting all along!”

  “Well, if it does, that would feel pretty good. I would feel pretty good.”

  “As you should! I don’t know what I was thinking!” She thumped her forehead with the heel of her palm. “Except I don’t think that, and I won’t.”

  “My mom didn’t make her Wishing Day wishes,” Emily mused.

  “And did it hurt her? No.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true. If she had made her wishes, maybe she’d believe in magic. If she believed in magic . . .”

  Klara caught on. “Oh. Maybe she’d understand you better.” She frowned. “So . . . ?”

  “I think my mom feels safer in a world without magic. I think it made her world flatter, though. All her life, she’s done her best to scrub her life clean of surprise, but where has that gotten her?”

  Klara didn’t answer.

  “If we don’t make our wishes—or if you don’t, Klara, because I’m going to no matter what . . .” Emily studied her friend. “You’d never choose to give up your eyesight, would you? Or your hearing, or your sense of smell?”

  “All right, all right. I hear what you’re saying. I’ll . . . I’ll make my wishes. I’ll make the exact wishes I’ve been planning on making, and I won’t change them at all.”

  Emily made a face.

  “What?”

  “You’re forgetting about Ava,” said Emily.

  “What about her?”

  “She’s here with you—with us—because she wished to be. She used her Wishing Day wishes on us. That’s pretty cool.”

  Klara blushed. “I guess it is. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She gave a tremulous smile. “She said impossible situations call for impossible solutions.”

  Emily saw pride in Klara’s eyes, and for an instant, she could see the wonderful mother Klara would one day be.

  “But Ava needs to get back to her own present, doesn’t she? So, you might need to revise your wishes after all,” Emily said. “I’m not telling you what to wish for. I don’t have a clue about any of this, believe me.” She chose her words carefully. “Just, if our wishes are supposed to come from a pure place, an honest place . . .”

  Emily saw a glimpse of another time, another possible outcome. The magic that might have taken Emily and erased her . . . Emily caught just the flickering reflection of yet another truth, one that cut her to the core. Her mother already didn’t see her, not really. After years and years of living unseen, might Emily have disappeared regardless? Might the magic be telling Emily to see this truth clearly now?

  “Things are different than they were yesterday,” she said. “We know things that we didn’t know before, and we can’t unknow them.”

  “Changing what I wish for because I choose to is different from letting the Bird Lady convince me to,” Klara said. “I get it.”

  “There’s more,” Emily said, and her heart almost cracked as she shared her revelation with Klara. When she made her request, Klara shook her head vehemently.

  “No!” she protested. “How is that different from . . . you know?!”

  “Because it is.”

  A tear squeezed from Klara’s eye. Then another. Her chin wobbled, and she took a ragged breath. She glanced away from Emily, which told Emily that Klara would honor her request. This small good-bye was a preview of what was to come.

  They talked about how to proceed. Klara wondered aloud if she should spend the night at Emily’s to avoid the Bird Lady, or if the Bird Lady would find her at Emily’s just as easily?

  “And what am I supposed to say to her if she does find me?” Klara said. “Everything feels precarious.”

  “Everything is precarious,” Emily said. “I don’t think you should interact with the Bird Lady at all. You or me. We’ll ignore her if she tries to talk to us.”

  At first, Klara agreed. But then she changed her tune. She told Emily that they couldn’t just avoid the Bird Lady, as much as they might want to.

  “I don’t understand,” Emily said. “Are you saying this, or Ava?”

  “Ava—but she’s right.”

  Emily arched her eyebrows.

  “We can’t avoid the Bird Lady because of all the other girls,” Klara said hollowly. “The girls to come.” She wrapped her arms around her ribs. “We have to tell her to stop messing around with other people’s wishes.”

  “After school, then,” Emily said reluctantly. “We’ll get it over with, and we’ll still have time to spare.”

  “Not much,” Klara said.

  “No. But enough.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ava

  Ava was disappointed to find that going through a school day with Klara was almost as tedious as going through a school day on her own, except for the assembly in which the principal announced the winner of the Academic Olympiad.

  “Let’s hear it for Emily Blok!” he heralded, launching a loud, long roar of applause. When Emily returned to her seat beside Klara, Klara gave her a fierce hug. She was happy for Emily. Ava felt that happiness in every one of Klara’s cells.

  Emily’s mother, who had been invited to the school for the assembly, sought Emily out after the students were dismissed. Ava, through Klara’s eyes, saw a small, prim woman whose eyes darted back and forth. Ava saw a small, prim woman who one day would be her grandma Rose, who one day would be small and prim in the care center where Future Ava would go to visit her.

  Emily’s mother, who one day would be Grandma Rose, hugged Emily and loudly exclaimed how proud she was of her. Then, lowering her voice, “For heaven’s sake, why didn’t you wear that nice blouse I ironed for you this morning?”

  Emily’s expression went from happy and open to wary and cautious. Ava wanted to hug Emily now, hug her for real, the way Klara had. “Mom, kids don’t really wear . . .” She blinked. “That blouse is too fancy for school.”

  “But you won an award! You were called to the front of the entire auditorium!”

  “Because of the contest, Mom. Not because of how I dress.”

  Her mother made a sound of exasperation. “It was your chance to shine. I don’t understand you, Emily. I really don’t.”

  The principal came over and clapped Emily on the back. He held out his hand to shake Emily’s mother’s hand, and she simpered.

  “You’ve got a fine daughter, Mrs. Blok,” he said.

  “Yes, oh, yes, we’re all very proud of her,” she said. “It’s hard, as you might imagine, to be a single mother with such a”—she gave a strained smile—“unique child, but an honor like this . . .”

  The principal regarded her quizzically.

  “Well,” Emily’s mom concluded. “It’s good motivation, right, Emily? Hopefully affirmation from your peers will encourage you to continue to work on fitting in.”

  The principal opened his mouth, then closed it. Uncomfortably, he congratulated Emily once more and excused himself. Emily’s mother followed his lead, her heels clicking down the hall as she hurried off.

  “Sorry for that,” Emily told Klara.

  “What? No,” Klara said. She took Emily’s chin in her hand. “Hey. Hey. You do shine, always, and it’s not your job to apologize for your mom. If she can’t see how awesome you are, that’s her problem, not yours.”

  Yay, Mom! Ava cheered, making Klara’s insides go funny. Ava quickly amended her message. I mean Klara. Yay, Klara!

  So weird, Klara thought. This whole world is so frickin’ weird.

  But there’s nothing wrong with weird . . . right? Ava asked.

  Klara slung her a
rm around Emily and said, “C’mon, weirdo. Time to go receive more affirmation from your peers.”

  Emily laughed weakly.

  Ava glowed.

  The rest of the day was full of teachers and lectures and classroom discipline. Today, of all days, it was a chunk of time to endure and little else.

  When the last bell chimed, Ava helped Klara find the Bird Lady’s oak tree hideout. Emily followed quietly behind.

  At first, the Bird Lady was thrilled to see them, but she got skittish when they confronted her about her plans to talk Klara into changing her wish. Ava could tell that the Bird Lady felt guilty, as well she should. Klara and Emily explained about Ava and the future and how badly everything would turn out if the Bird Lady interfered.

  The Bird Lady pulled herself up tight and denied it all. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said frostily. “You’re making up stories about me just to be cruel, and I won’t listen. I refuse.”

  Ava spoke to Klara in her mind, and Klara reached for the glass bottle that held the scroll with Klara’s name on it.

  “No, no, these are my things,” the Bird Lady said, spreading her arms and blocking the way. “You’re not going to steal from an old lady, are you?”

  “How old are you?” Klara said, but Ava hadn’t really meant for her to. It slipped out of Ava’s consciousness and into Klara’s, that’s all.

  “None of your business,” the Bird Lady said.

  “Ma’am?” Emily said.

  The Bird Lady jutted out her lower lip. “No. Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it. Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

  Now was the time, Ava realized. Ava told Klara the Bird Lady’s secret, and when Klara gasped, Ava felt the gasp resonate through her. She felt so connected to Klara—her one-day mother. She was so connected. Was this what it was like to be in the womb? Would she really be reborn as her own self one day?

  Yes, you will, Klara told her fiercely. To the Bird Lady, out loud, she said, “We’re not here to steal from you. We’re not here to blame you, either. And we’re not making all this up. You know that what we told you is true; I can see it in your eyes.”

  The Bird Lady hemmed and hawed. She said, “Well, and what’s the harm? Maybe I was going to come to you tonight. Maybe I was. Wouldn’t have been the catastrophe you’re making it out to be.”

  “Except it would have,” Klara said. “That’s why we’re here. I’m safe now, and Emily’s safe, but you can’t meddle with the wishes of anyone else, ever.”

  The Bird Lady’s face fell. “I . . . I just want to help. All I’ve ever wanted is to help, and perhaps be appreciated a bit. That’s all.” She blinked and grew stubborn. “And so I will. You can’t tell me not to.”

  “Would you want to even if you knew you weren’t helping? Even if you knew you were making things worse?” Klara pressed.

  The Bird Lady’s eyes looked shifty.

  Klara lowered her voice. Gently, she said, “When your mother died, she whispered something into your ear.”

  “No!” exclaimed the Bird Lady. Red blotches bloomed on her face. “How do you know that? No one knows that! I was the only one with her!”

  “She said, ‘You are perfect just the way you are,’ and those were the last words she spoke.” As Klara spoke the words, Klara—and Ava—were flooded with compassion. “You told my daughter that, or you will. Time is . . . fluky. Jumpy. But you told my one-day daughter, and you told her for this very reason: so that you would believe me and listen to me and stop meddling.”

  The Bird Lady attempted to bluster her way around the truth, but gave up. Fat tears spilled out of her eyes. “I thought if I helped people, they’d be grateful. That maybe they’d come visit me sometimes.” In a voice barely above a whisper, she said, “All I’ve ever wanted is for people to like me.”

  Emily reached out to touch her. “We do like you.”

  “And we’ll come visit you,” Klara added. “We promise. Just, no more meddling with other girls’ wishes, ever.” She regarded the Bird Lady sternly. “Can you do that?”

  The Bird Lady asked Klara if she would tell her again about her mother’s last words to her, and Ava knew it wasn’t because she doubted Klara’s story. It was for the comfort of being reminded of her mother’s love.

  Klara indulged her. After repeating the story, she said, “It sounds like your mom loved you a lot.”

  “She told me to ‘be my own girl,’” the Bird Lady said wistfully. “I suppose I lost track of that, didn’t I?”

  Klara hitched her shoulders. “It’s okay. We all mess up.”

  “It’s late,” Emily said, tugging gently on Klara’s sleeve. “We should go home for dinner.”

  Ava nudged Klara to ask the Bird Lady something else before they left.

  Klara listened. She said, “Huh.” Then, to the Bird Lady, she asked, “What’s your name? Your real name?”

  The Bird Lady eyed them.

  “If we’re going to be your friends, shouldn’t we know?” Klara pressed.

  The Bird Lady cocked her head from side to side. She stilled herself and swallowed. “It’s Grace,” she said with dignity.

  “Grace,” said Klara.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Emily. “Bye, Grace.”

  “Bye, Grace,” Klara echoed. “We’ll see you soon. I promise.”

  Klara and Emily turned to leave.

  “Wait!” cried the Bird Lady—or rather, Grace. “Wait please, darlings. Just for a moment?”

  Klara and Emily shared a glance. They turned around.

  “I do have one piece of advice for each of you, but it’s not meddling, I promise.” She looked at Emily and said, “Emily, be your own girl.” She looked at Klara. “Klara, be your own girl.”

  “We will,” said Emily and Klara together.

  I wish for a happy ending.

  —NATASHA BLOK, AGE FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Emily, Age Thirteen

  At sunrise the next morning, at the old willow tree on top of the hill the town was named for, Emily flung her arms around Klara and hugged her tight.

  “It’s not good-bye,” she said. “It’s see you soon. Right?” She laughed a tear-clogged laugh and took a step back. They held on to each other, each girl’s hands on the other girl’s shoulders.

  “Absolutely,” Klara said shakily.

  “You’re still worried.”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, we’re making all of this up as we go along, when people’s lives are at stake. Like Ava’s.”

  “It is what it is,” Emily said.

  “I know, but . . . I keep thinking about how much courage it took, what she did. She’s thirteen, the same as us. Can you imagine doing what she did? Leaping into such a huge unknown?”

  Emily almost could. After all, she hoped she’d be leaping into the unknown herself.

  “She did it for you,” Emily said.

  “She did it for us,” Klara said. Then, softer, “Thank you, Ava.”

  “Yes,” Emily said. “Thank you, Ava.” She looked deeply into Klara’s eyes, blocking out everything else. No filters, no posturing, no shying away from the terrifying question of what it meant to be alive in this world. She lost herself in Klara’s dark pupils, stepping purposefully into the abyss. Ava? Ava, are you there?

  A shimmer. That was all, and that was enough. Emily put her hand to her mouth, reeling from the wondrous bigness of it.

  Klara squeezed Emily’s shoulders and let go. “Okay,” she said shakily. “You first.”

  Emily lifted her chin. There was magic in the air, most definitely. In a voice as clear as a bell, she spoke.

  “For my impossible wish, I wish to have a better relationship with my mother. For the wish I can make come true myself, I wish to stay best friends with Klara forever.” Her voice tried to escape her, but she didn’t let it. “And for the deepest wish of my secret heart . . .” She trailed off and spoke the last bit from her heart. (((((Daddy.))))

/>   She blinked at Klara, light-headed.

  “Good job,” Klara said. “You did it.”

  I did, didn’t I? Emily thought. She said, “Thanks. It’s your turn now.”

  “I’m going to go all the way to the willow,” Klara said. “Will you come with me?”

  “Of course.” Emily ducked under the willow’s graceful canopy and held up a section of fronds. Klara joined her, and they stood side-by-side by the willow’s great trunk. The willow had been alive long before either of them had been born and would be alive long after they were gone.

  The early morning sun cut through the branches, dappling Emily and Klara with spots of impossible colors that, nonetheless, were possible. Emily stretched out her arms, her soul soaring. She lifted her face, stretched her arms wide, and soaked it in.

  “Well . . . ,” Klara said.

  Emily’s heart beat faster. She knew in general what Klara would be wishing for, but not the exact specifics.

  A breeze made the branches sway, and Klara placed her hand on the willow’s trunk. Now the breeze whipped through the branches, and Klara’s hair blew crazily about her head. Emily’s hair was tossed and tangled, too. The air prickled with what felt like electricity, but Emily suspected it was a force far wilder.

  “Um, I’m going to close my eyes,” Klara said. “I have to, because I can’t watch. But you can do whatever you want.”

  “Got it,” Emily said, moved by the tears Klara wiped away.

  Klara scrunched her eyes ferociously. “First, my impossible wish. I wish for impossible things to become possible, every so often.”

  Emily smiled, because yes, Klara had gotten it just right. Wasn’t that what Ava had told Klara, that impossible situations call for impossible solutions?

  “My second wish is the wish I can make true myself,” Klara said shakily. “I wish that Emily and I grow up to be good mothers, and that our daughters grow up to be good mothers, and that their daughters grow up to be good mothers.”

  As Klara spoke, Emily felt a change in the air pressure, as if there was a ripple in the atmosphere. She was hit by a flood of images, and she knew she was seeing in her mind what Klara was seeing in hers.