The Next Full Moon (15 page)

“Good.”

They stood for another minute, the moments stretching out and seeming to last forever, until finally he said, “I'll go, then.”

“Umm, okay,” she said.

And then he raised her hand to his mouth, and kissed it, keeping his eyes on hers the whole time.

Her stomach flip-flopped, as if there were a fish trapped inside. She couldn't help breaking out into a huge grin, and had to stop herself from giggling like a dork. “Thank you for the adventure,” she said, “and the mayflies.”

“Any time,” he said. “So, see you at school?”

“Yeah.”

She waited until she was inside, and until she was sure that Jeff Jackson was no longer lurking outside her window. And then she threw herself onto her bed, buried her head in her
pillow, and screamed with that crazy kind of happiness that feels exactly, perfectly right, like a brand-new dress made just for you.

T
he next morning, Jeff Jackson waited for Ava on the school steps, and then he did it the next morning and the next. That weekend, he biked with her and Morgan to the lake, and it was just as natural as it'd been before, as if they'd all been friends for years. Jeff was sweet, funny, kind—so much so that Ava sometimes forgot how handsome he was. Well, until he looked at her with those blue eyes and made her knees go weak, just as Grandma Kay had told her a boy would do someday. And as the entire seventh grade class at Houghton Middle School readied themselves for their final tests, and for the long summer that would follow, it became
common knowledge that Ava Lewis and Jeff Jackson were “going together.”

The only thing more exciting than that for Ava was her impending birthday. Every morning she slashed through another box on her calendar, counting down. Every day she and Morgan added another cool thing to the party planning, and Morgan even started carrying around a notepad and clipboard to organize the different aspects of the day: food, party favors, guests, music, activities. The coolest thing was Ava's dad getting inspired one night to dust off his ancient banjo and recruit a few friends to provide music for the party. The guys came over twice to practice before the big day, and Ava hadn't seen her dad laugh so much in . . . well, forever. One guy, another professor from the university, played the fiddle, and another, someone her dad knew from his music days, played the accordion. Sure, it was old-people music, but it was fun and sweet and Ava loved those rare occasions when her dad loosened up and got lost in his playing. Way back when, she knew, he'd played soft music as Ava's mother rocked her to sleep, or so he told her. Plus Ava secretly thought the accordion was cool—covered in rhinestones and shiny mother-of-pearl, like a big jewelry box.

Between Jeff and tests and her birthday, Ava was so busy, in fact, that she stayed in her human form until one night, unable to sleep, she decided that maybe, finally, she would try to fly.

It was about a three-quarter moon, but the night was clear and star-speckled as she lay on her back in her bed with her arms bent behind the pillow. In the moonlight, the tree branches silvered. The leaves were shaped like hearts, and she could just make out a bird's nest in the shadows. The branches swayed back and forth in the faint breeze, but it was still hot, one of those hot summer nights when the fan wasn't enough to keep cool and Monique stalked about the house swatting at things.

Ava wiggled closer to the window, leaning against the wall to stare up at the sky, breathing in the perfume from the flowers.

She wondered where the swan maidens were right now. Maybe they had nests, too? She imagined how big and elaborate a swan's nest would have to be for one of them to sleep in it. If
she
had a nest, she thought, she would like a beautiful, fancy one, like an accordion, scattered with rhinestones and mother-of-pearl and maybe shells, too. She imagined the whole lot of them with such nests, adorned and glittering, all the swan maidens fast asleep at this very minute, maybe in some enchanted clearing somewhere or in the branches of some oversized, magical tree.

She shifted, moving her arms down, and folded her hands across her belly. Maybe, instead, they were all off flying somewhere right now, all the swans in a big group—a flock, like a flock of geese? a murder, like a murder of crows?—
sailing through the clouds and stars. Were there other girls out there, riding on the backs of swans? Other daughters of swan maidens nearing their thirteenth birthdays?

She laughed. Really, anything was possible, wasn't it?

And then Ava felt something she'd never felt before, not the way she did then: the desire to fly. A feeling that came up straight from her blood and bones, seizing her like hunger, like love. Her whole body bristled with it. She needed to fly!

She jumped out of bed then. Restless. Crazy. Moonstruck? She reached down to grab the feathered robe, and then hurried through the house with the robe in her arms, and out the sliding glass door, into the backyard. Within seconds she was stretching her wings on the grass.

She looked up and once again, the sky was like water she wanted to dive into. She had a bizarre, sudden memory from inside her swan body: of herself and her mother and father at the pool, of her sitting on her father's lap, the two of them watching as her mother walked out on the diving board, stretched her hands over her head, and dove into the water. The smell of tanning lotion and chlorine and melting candy. The three of them, together.

Then she ran, jumped, spread her wings and felt herself lifting up and up, just barely clearing the trees, and then, before she knew it, before she even had time to think about it, she was
flying
. Not just on the back of a bird now, she
was
the bird. Beautiful and whole and flying, with stars spinning
and twirling above her, leaves swaying under her, the whole world unfolding in her path, opening up like there was a fire ripping through it. She went faster and faster. Higher! Ducking her head to miss the stars, diving down until she could see the tops of the chimneys of the little houses right in the center of town. There was her school! The university, its giant football stadium with the lit-up billboards outside. And then, past all that, more mountains, more trees, more winding swerving creeks and rivers.

She laughed and whooped, and the honking sounds that came out of her were lost in the wind.

This was her life! She wasn't dreaming!

She sped up even faster, relaxing her body into the air. Ecstatic.

And it occurred to her: This is what her mother had given up, to be with her father for the time that she was. Wasn't it? She gave up all of this to be in an earthbound, human body, and she'd even become pregnant in that body. Pregnant with Ava. Wouldn't she have felt so awkward and strange? Wouldn't she have
missed
this?

How wonderful it must have been, the first time her mother took again to the air!

Ignoring the pang of sadness that accompanied that thought, Ava swooped down and turned a circle in the air, twisting her long neck, tucking her feet up into her body.

The energy she had! She felt she could fly like this for
hours. Maybe she could visit New York! Or Alaska! She could probably go anywhere, couldn't she?

Woooooooo!

Tempting as it was, she was afraid of going
too
far this first time, just in case she got lost or ended up getting suddenly tired and going kaput in the middle of New Jersey. But it was
so nice
, being in the air. Not even the heat had any effect on her as she whipped through the wind, which was cool and perfect as it slid through her feathers.

There would be time for all of that, later.

So she turned in circles, dipped down, and flew over the treetops and houses, crossing the forest and passing over the creek, which looked like liquid silver—inviting and beautiful. She went across the valley they all lived in and then back again, criss-crossing it like the topping of an old-fashioned apple pie, the way Grandma Kay made it. When she passed over the forest again, tilting left and then right, even flipping over in the air, she was no longer even thinking about what she was doing. Just playing with the air and the sky and the stars. The stars spinning like tops, like toys spread out under a Christmas tree. And then, on a whim, she turned from the stars and just folded her wings and dove straight down, right into the water. Right in with the trout!

Ahhhh!

The water folded over her like the best, most comfortable blanket, or like the loveliest nap after a long day. She pushed
forward, letting it envelop her, her wings tucked tight against her body. It felt so wonderful! She thought about the water at the lake, how she felt so alone and good when she was immersed in it—though the memories of her human body felt weirdly distant to her now—how free she felt, and then she rose to the water's surface, paddling her feet. Her body half in water and half in air. The air streaming through her wet feathers and the fish slipping under her. She laughed out loud, and her honking pierced into the quiet night.

How wonderful—to be back in the water, to be able to come here whenever she liked.

Then she launched herself up again, folding her legs and feet under her, and flew.

The world was so open to her!

She moved through the air, back and forth over town, until she suddenly recognized Grandma Kay's house under her. She dipped down and glided just over the dim streetlamps, past the line of houses with porches and rose bushes jutting out in front of them. She had flown right to her grandmother's house, without even thinking.

On impulse, she swooped down and landed on the lawn. It seemed so long since she'd seen her grandmother, though it had only been a few weeks before that Ava had stayed home sick from school and secretly paid her grandmother a visit. She laughed now, thinking of how freaked out she'd been—Ava, not her grandmother—that day. How awful it
had been, having feathers pop out all over her body. And now look at her. Flying over the valley, turning circles in the air.

She laughed, honking.

A few minutes later the front door unlatched and her grandmother appeared on the porch, dressed in a light blue cotton robe. Ava stepped back, almost stumbling over. It had to be way past midnight—what was her grandmother even doing up?

Ava had thought she had the whole night, the whole valley, all to herself.

“Ava?”

Ava watched her grandmother in shock. Had she even heard her correctly?

Grandma Kay squinted into the night. “Ava, are you there?”

Ava caught herself, reached back and transformed into her human form again, so that she was standing on her grandmother's lawn in her pajamas, holding her feathered robe. “Grandma?”

“Oh, it is you! Come in, dear, what are you doing out there?”

“But . . .” Ava stammered, not sure what to say. So she kept quiet, folding the white robe in her arms, and headed up onto the porch and into the house.

Her grandmother reached out and touched her, smiling
and nodding her head as she patted Ava's arm. “Can I get you some cocoa, honey? Are you hungry?”

“No, I'm fine, Grandma.”

“I baked some cookies this afternoon. Snickerdoodles.”

“Oh. Well, okay, maybe one.” Ava wasn't going to let a little weirdness come between her and her favorite cookies. Especially if Grandma Kay had made them.

“Then come help me get a tray together, and we can sit down and have a nice chat.”

“Okay,” Ava said, reaching out to help her grandmother down the hall.

Grandma Kay had a whole tin of Snickerdoodles sitting out on the counter, as if she'd been expecting Ava's visit, and there was a teapot of hot water on the stove.

“Were you . . . Did you know I was coming?” Ava asked.

“Oh no.” Her grandmother chuckled, waving her hand and taking out two mugs from the bright red cabinet. “I was just making myself some hot water with lemon.” But she proceeded to pour two hot mugs of water, plunking a lemon slice in one and a bag of cocoa mix—the kind with marshmallows, which Ava loved—into the other.