Extraordinary October (25 page)

Epilogue

Colorado is the prettiest place I've ever been. Snow-capped mountains, crisp cool air, and the golden aspen trees. I love it. And school is okay too.

I miss my parents, but they're both fine and healthy and so, so happy to be home—their real home. They stayed in our house with me until I left for college, zipping back and forth to the other world to rule. The last couple months of high school were uneventful, except I went to the senior prom with Jacob. He isn't such a jerk after all, at least not all the time. He sends me some pretty funny texts from his college in Boston.

My dad has managed to keep the weight off—now that he's flying again—and he is back to cracking his terrible jokes. He and Mom are crazy busy doing human government-type things like setting up joint committees and building new troll and fairy schools and solving problems. My mom has quit growing Mycena luxaeterna Duo. My dad says he can smell them when she comes home from work and they stink. But I know she has a stash in case I need them to save the day or something.

I may have given up the throne, but I still have my “tattoo,” I'm still a couple inches taller, and my hair is curlier, thicker and a shiny, deep red. I still use my mind to send messages to my folks, and so far I've resisted using it to convince a professor to give me a better grade. I can still understand the birds and animals and the bugs. No one understands why I'm not bothered by mosquitoes or flies or those ticks that carry Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.

And sometimes, maybe more than just sometimes, when I smell Chinese food or see a fluffy black dog or watch a Porsche go by, I think about Walker, and sometimes I know he's thinking about me too.

“Get your head out of the clouds, Fetterhoff!” Mr. Powers, the intramural track and field coach, yells at me. “Starting line, please!”

I'm still klutzy and mostly average in every way except one: I can run really fast. Really fast. As I run and leave all the other competitors behind, I touch my silver necklace and send a thought to the other world.

I'm still here. Plain old ordinary October.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This story was my daughter's idea and I could not have written it without her. All through elementary school she was ridiculed for believing in things we cannot see. She never capitulated just to make the teasing stop and she never stopped believing. Her courage and conviction are an inspiration to me.

I want to thank my early readers: Norah Lunsford at 13 came up with a great title and helped me with details. Jen Hunter was enthusiastic and positive and pointed out some places that needed work. Ellen Slezak encouraged me to continue when I was ready to give up. And I thank my late readers: Denise Hamilton for an afternoon of tea and plotting and Heather Dundas who found the special mushrooms the story needed.