Molly and Pim and the Millions of Stars (15 page)

Molly's heart pitched about within her. She felt unsteady. Was that what was making
Ellen sick? Ellen thought Molly didn't find her interesting.

Ellen had felt as boring as Molly had felt weird. But none of the differences mattered.
Or, they did matter; they mattered because they were important and wonderful. They
were all part of a magnificent plan that made the world more interesting. Molly could
like Ellen with her plaits and practicalities as well as liking Pim with his
owl
sounds and curious taste for adventure. It was like being able to eat different meals.
Molly should have given Ellen the chance to see her unusual ways, instead of always
hiding them away.

If Ellen hadn't have been so ill, Molly would have jumped on the bed and given her
a big hug and confessed that right now her mama was a tree. But that could all wait.

‘Ellen, here's the deal. You stop being sad, and I'll stop trying to be just like
everybody else. I like you just as you are, and you like me, peculiarities and all.
Everyone has their own world: you, me, Pim Wilder, everyone. We're all like little
stars, shining as hard as we can, with our own particular kind of light.'

Ellen looked curiously at Molly. ‘Our own particular light,' she echoed.

‘Yeah.'

‘Little stars.' Ellen's face broke into a mad sort of grin. She pulled herself up
and reached out her arms to Molly, and Molly dived in for a hug.

And Molly felt the warmth of everything pressed and held between them.

CHAPTER 21

Owl Hoots

Ellen's mother almost cried with relief when Molly asked for a bowl of spaghetti
for Ellen. She rushed it in to Ellen straightaway and forgot to offer Molly some.
Molly was alone in the kitchen, surrounded by the smells of spaghetti bolognaise,
which travelled straight to her empty stomach. But, she thought, if she kept thinking
all the way home about how hungry she was, her Mama tree would make some fruit that
would just taste exactly like spaghetti. Not spaghetti bolognese, as Molly's mama
was a vegetarian, but spaghetti with tomato and olives.

This was what Molly thought about as she hurried home. She clambered down the side
of the valley that led to the small black creek, now bloated with the croaking of
frogs. Above it bugs buzzed and danced. Night coloured the sky.

For a moment Molly wished she had told Ellen's mother her secret. It had pounded
frantically inside her as if trying to burst out and land snug in the lap of Ellen
Palmer's mother. Instead, here she was in the dusk, all alone, shouldering something
bigger than her shoulders could carry.

From the other side of the valley there came a soft insistent hooting.

‘Is that you Pim?' she called out.

Two more hoots sounded. Molly ran up the hill. Dilapidated sneakers and a khaki cap
poked out from behind a bush. Pim had his hands cupped to his mouth and was making
a whistling, hooting noise.

‘What are you doing?' she said.

‘Being a powerful owl. Did I convince you?'

‘No. Well, almost,' Molly admitted. ‘Did you get my note? Where were you today?'
She was glad to see him.

‘Busy. I had stuff to do.'

Molly battled with a fleeting moment of jealousy. How could Pim have anything more
important than their mission to turn her mama back? Molly started to climb the hill,
towards her house. She didn't care about Pim's owl sound at all.

‘Hey, where are you going?'

‘Home. I've only got tonight left. The Grimshaws are coming tomorrow with the chainsaw,'
Molly said, just in case he had forgotten there
was something more serious than owl
sounds or other stuff to consider.

Pim caught up to her. ‘I know. I told my mum I was going to stay at a friend's place
tonight. I'm sleeping in the tree with you.'

Molly's cheeks reddened. He said a friend's place? She and Pim Wilder, friends? Yes,
it was true. She and Pim had become friends.

As she pondered this, a large black car came powering towards them. They had to jump
off the road to get out of its way, but not before Molly caught sight of Ernest Grimshaw
at the wheel and Prudence Grimshaw, stiff as a peg, beside him.

‘Did you see that?' Molly shivered. ‘It was the Grimshaws.'

Pim watched the car as it sped away. He shrugged. ‘Driving like that, they are probably
just compensating for their small minds. Come on, let's go before it gets dark.'

Above them was the glowing sky. Before them the road home. Molly smiled to herself.
Now that Pim was there, everything was thrilling again. Everything was possible.
The Grimshaws were defeatable. They weren't as big as they thought they were.

Sometimes, she told herself, you can't figure things out, you just have to live them
out.

CHAPTER 22

Connections

As soon as they were back at Molly's garden, Molly and Pim climbed the Mama tree.
The leaves rustled soothingly. The sky was dark and pink, and everything felt soft
and full, as if the day's brightness had all been drunk and was now settling, sifting
down, spreading.

Pim reached up and picked some fruit. Then he nodded at a rolled-up piece of paper
that was lying on top of Molly's nest bed.

‘Well, we can always go with plan B,' he said.

‘What's that?'

‘Have a look. It's what I was working on yesterday. I brought it here earlier and
then found your note so I went down to the creek to meet you.'

Molly began to unroll the piece of paper. Pim hadn't forgotten their mission after
all. She grinned and stood up, holding the paper against the trunk. It was a drawing
of a tree, and around it were words that seemed to represent thoughts that had grown
out of the tree.

It made Molly feel very serious. She felt she was getting closer. She grabbed the
torch. ‘Come on, I think we need to get down to look at it properly,' she said.

They unrolled the paper and lay it on the grass, pinning its corners down with stones.
Maude sat on it. Molly called her off and squatted beside her to give her some love.

Pim shone the torch on it. The drawing lay before Molly like a strange, mystical
map. Her heart leapt towards it.

What made it so entrancing? Was it that Pim had done it? Was it that he had done
it for her? She read part of it again.

It seems sometimes to have wounds, which it grows around or over or despite them.
(Like we do.)

Molly looked up at Pim. Did her mama have wounds too? Did she know that Molly was
wishing for a mother like Ellen Palmer's instead of her own? Was she hurt? Was that
why she wasn't coming back? Molly's body twitched. She took in a sharp breath. Pim
gave a curious smile. Molly ignored it. Now that her mama was gone, she wanted her
back exactly as she was. That's it, thought Molly.

As if Pim heard her, he said, ‘I think that the kind of magic we need is going to
come from being close to things, I mean trees, animals, earth, sky. We're all made
of dirt or flesh and blood or sap and air and spirit and stuff. We are all sort of
the same.'

‘So?'

‘So we should be able to connect one to the other.'

‘But how does that change Mama back?' Molly felt desperate. What was her mama feeling
inside that tree? Were her branches heavy? Was the sun hot on her leaves? Was she
sad and worried and desperate too? Did she know it was only a matter of hours before
her branches would be cut off? Molly couldn't let that happen. But she couldn't meld
things together in her mind. Tree, sky, magic…Where was her mama in all of this?

Pim was shaking his head, as if something had lodged in it and he wanted to get it
loose. He began to pace.

‘It's all about connection. Magic. Life. Forces
of nature. We have to find a way
to hook into the forces of nature to make that connection with her,' he muttered,
as if he was thinking out loud.

‘I danced.' Molly almost shouted this, and it came out unevenly, because she cut
herself short, realising it had been a private thing.