Some Kind of Happiness (29 page)

“Queen she's not.”

“Ours she is.”

“Free she's not!”

As the queen stumbled through the Everwood, the Dark Ones sang, taunting her. When they hungered, they clawed darkness from her heart and slurped it down.

“Child, you carry a great burden.”

The queen looked up, dazed, and found that she had walked into the humble hut of a seer.

The seer's eyes were white and blind. They fixed on the Dark Ones hunched on the queen's back, though the creatures were invisible to everyone but the queen herself.

“Forgive me,” said the queen hoarsely. “I have lost my way.”

The seer knelt before the queen and took her chin in one bony hand. “You do not know how true that is, child. I can help you.”

“No.”

“I will ask you for nothing in return. Consider it a gift. I want to help you.”

The queen struggled to her feet. “I am the queen of the Everwood. I do not need your help. I must find my way out of this forest and bring my burden with me. Only then can the Everwood be saved.”

“So brave,” said the seer, “and so foolish. Take this, please.” She folded wrapped food into the queen's hands.

The Dark Ones slapped it away.

“The queen is hungry! The queen needs to eat!” They tore chunks of fog from the air and spooned it into the queen's mouth. She ate greedily.

They clawed at her heart, drew out fresh spools of darkness, and devoured it. The queen lost her footing and struggled to breathe.

The seer watched, unblinking.

“We feed her; she feeds us!” the Dark Ones cried. “A queen, a queen, a delicious queen!”

“Thank you for your kindness,” gasped the queen, and left the hut, her head held high.

Dear Jack,

Meet us at the Tower tomorrow night at 11:45.

The ancient guardians are away.

We will be having a midnight revel.

All pirates are required to attend.

Your friend,

Finley

F
IRST WE LIBERATE
G
RETCHEN.

Avery inches her car down Stick's cul-de-sac with the headlights turned off. She is chewing gum and looks supremely bored, but I don't buy it.

From the backseat I text Gretchen; five seconds later her window inches open. She pops out her screen, pulls the window closed, and sneaks across her yard and into Avery's car through the door I am holding open for her.

I am impressed that she manages to restrain herself until we've left Stick's street.

That is when she explodes.

“Oh my
God
,” she shrieks, yanking me into a painful hug. “This is the best night of my life. Can we do this every
weekend? I feel like I could run a marathon, or maybe punch someone. I seriously could.”

Avery snorts. “I'd like to see that.”

We drive across town to pick up Kennedy and the twins from Avery's house. It is not as palatial as Hart House but still large enough to fit, I estimate, ten of my apartments inside it.

Kennedy convinced Aunt Bridget to let the twins sleep over tonight, so she could help them sneak out. Avery, Gretchen, and I all hold our breaths from the moment I text Kennedy to the moment she, Dex, and Ruth join us in the car.

(I realize that is physically impossible, but that's what it feels like.)

In the front seat Kennedy lets out a huge sigh and slumps. Ruth and Dex bounce between me and Gretchen, singing, “Par-ty! Par-ty!”

Gretchen punches Kennedy's arm. “You okay there, beautiful?”

Kennedy bursts into giggles. “I have never snuck out before.
Never.
”

“Oh, Little Miss Perfect. We're rebels now. Let's get tattoos!” Gretchen says.

“No.”
Avery glances over. “Kennedy, are you wearing lip gloss?”

Kennedy freezes, her eyes huge. “What? No.”

“You totally are.”

“Please tell me you aren't wearing lip gloss for Cole Bailey,”
Gretchen moans. “I will literally puke my guts up if you're wearing lip gloss for Cole Bailey.”

“Don't even think about it.” Avery glares at us in the rearview mirror. “Puking is strictly forbidden in my car.”

As we make our way back to Hart House, I listen to Gretchen rant about Cole Bailey. Kennedy defends him. Avery plays peacemaker.

The sounds of their voices fold me into a warm feeling that reminds me of home.

Here, in this car, I fit. I am one of them.

Here I am a Hart.

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A HART

• You don't need anyone but each other to throw a really good party.

•  •  •

The Everwood is different in the dark.

Tonight there is no moon. Clouds hide the stars. All we have to help us find our way through the trees is a flashlight.

Right now my forest seems like a living, breathing creature with a mind of its own.

Any minute now the Everwood's shadows will shift and stretch, and the mud underneath our feet will transform into a huge beast that will carry us away.

I do not think I would mind being taken away to a strange land with only my cousins for company.

We have arranged lanterns around the Tower. Avery found strings of lights in the garage and has hooked them up to an extension cord. It looks like we are surrounded by tiny fairies.

(The good kind, not the Everwood kind that set traps.)

Kennedy has pulled up the radio on her phone, but one of Avery's requirements for allowing this party is that she gets to choose the music.

So now we are listening to Marvin Gaye. Kennedy is dancing with Dex, Gretchen is setting up snacks, and Ruth is running around in her monster mask, roaring at the top of her lungs.

The queen startled, looking through the trees and the ever-present fog. Was that a chimera, a creature of the Everwood deep, approaching in the gloom?

“She sees things that are,” whispered the Dark Ones. “She sees things that aren't.”

Ruth latches on to my leg, roaring through her paper-bag teeth.

“What else?” Avery puts her hands on her hips. “This looks pretty good so far, right?”

When I look up at Avery, my heart expands to fill my entire body. I worried it would be weird, having her here. She is new to the Everwood. I would not blame her for thinking we are childish.

But she doesn't look like that at all. She is laughing, letting herself be dragged by Ruth to the Tower, because Ruth insists that Avery add her artwork to our painted collage.

Avery belongs here—in the Everwood—like we do.

•  •  •

I put on my crown and make a fallen tree my throne.

I have this horrible feeling that Jack never got my note, or that he has forgotten about me since we stopped coming out to the woods.

But then a chorus of shouts fills the air. Ruth leaps out of the Tower and puts up her fists.

“Attack mode!” she shrieks.

Gretchen rolls her eyes. “It's just the
Baileys
.”

Just
the Baileys. And Gretchen says it like it means nothing, when it really means everything.

WHAT HAS CHANGED THIS SUMMER

• Jack, Cole, and Bennett are
just
the Baileys.

• The Bone House is clean(er).

• I am no longer afraid to talk to Avery. (Mostly.)

■ Related: I have developed an appreciation for classic rock.

• My cousins are no longer strangers who happen to resemble me.

■ They have become more than that.

■ They are inside me now, pieces of myself I never realized were missing.

■ Now that I have found them, I will never let them go.

• I have developed my first crush on an age-appropriate boy.

Here he is, bowing to me, wearing an eye patch Dex assembled out of construction paper and bright green finger paint.

I try not to laugh. “Should you have wet paint so close to your eye?”

Jack shrugs, grinning. “Girls wear mascara.”

“I don't wear mascara.”

“You can try some of mine, if you want.” Avery plops down beside me. “So, you're Jack, huh?”

Jack springs to his feet. “Arrrr, the one and only, matey!”

“Matey?”

“He's a pirate,” I explain. “All the Baileys are.”

Gretchen is lying flat on her back nearby, looking for stars through the Baileys' telescope. “Once they were notorious, but they've been redeemed.”

Avery nods sagely. “Oh, I see.”

“And you must be the artist,” Jack says.

“Avery.”

“Finley says you're really talented. She says you could get into any school you wanted.”

My face flushes. What do I know about art, anyway?

But Avery kisses my cheek and whispers, “Thanks, Fin.”

With her beside me, everything is okay. Our shared secret knowledge sits between us, invisible, tying us together.

It does not seem so terrible that Grandma has cancer, that Dad is not here. Everything feels beatable and not quite real, like I am watching the world unfold on a television screen.

Cole is painting vines onto Kennedy's arms with dark green paint.

Ruth is burying Dex in leaves.

Gretchen is blindfolded, playing Marco Polo with Bennett and Jack. Kennedy yells a warning every time someone gets too close to the river.

There is no reason for me to be afraid. The night spins on and on, like it was made for us. We are wild Everwood creatures, and this is our kingdom.

Then I hear Cole yell, “Stop it!”

At the sound of his shout I turn around and see Gretchen trying to start a fire.

She has made a circle out of stones from the riverbed, with twigs piled in the middle of it. Kennedy hands her the skinny lighter from the kitchen.

“It's not a big deal,” Gretchen says. “It'll be a little one. How else are we supposed to toast the marshmallows?”

Cole slaps the lighter out of her hand.

Gretchen stares at him. I think it's the first time I've seen her speechless.

Avery steps out of the Tower, paintbrush in hand. “Hey, chill out! What's your problem?”

“My
problem
is that it's dangerous,” Cole replies. “Do you want to explain to your grandparents how their backyard got burned down?”

“It's fine. I'm watching her. We've got a garden hose.”

“Right. Have you ever
seen
a forest fire?”

“No. Have you?”

“On TV. It's summer. It hasn't been raining. Do you get that this place is covered in dry leaves? Do you know how fast a ‘little fire' could grow out of control?”

Bennett looks out from behind the mask Ruth helped him make. “But, Cole, I want s'mores!”

“Dad told us to never make a fire back here, not even a little one,” Cole says. “
Never.
You know that.”

Jack laughs. “Since when did you start caring what Dad thinks?”

“Shut up, Jack. You don't get it. You're not the oldest.”

“Aw, you're right.” Jack pouts and bats his eyelashes. “Please, Big Brother, will you protect me?”

Cole shoves him. “I said, shut up.”

“Guys, stop it,” Kennedy says. “You're freaking out Dex. Let's just eat the marshmallows uncooked.”

Gretchen crosses her arms over her chest. “What kind of s'mores have
uncooked
marshmallows?”

Jack retrieves the fallen lighter and flips it on. “Seriously, Cole. What kind of pirate are you?”

In the next few seconds a million different things seem to happen at once:

Jack successfully lights the pile of twigs on fire.

The fire catches and grows, quickly—still within the circle of stones, but even Gretchen backs away.

Cole screams, “Put it out!” and kicks dirt onto the fire.

Jack shoves him, Cole shoves back, and I am not sure who tackles who, but soon they are wrestling in the mud and leaves, punching each other.

“Whoa,” Ruth whispers, staring wide-eyed.

“Stop it!” Kennedy shrieks. “Somebody's going to get hurt!”

Avery grabs Jack's shoulders. “Cut it out! If you want to fight, go home and do it. Not here.”

I am impressed by Avery's Mom voice. Jack and Cole glare at each other, panting. I think everything might be okay now—but then Gretchen lights the fire once more.

“It's
not
a big deal,” she insists.

“Fine,” Cole says, “light your stupid fire. I'm going to go tell Dad.”

Gretchen snorts. “Yeah, like he'll actually stop drinking long enough to leave the house.”

Cole steps back, looking like Jack has punched him all over again.