Selfish Elf Wish (23 page)

I take a mug out of the cupboard and pour myself some steaming mint and lavender tea, then I twirl a thick line of golden honey into my mug. “Has Willow been by yet?”

Mom shakes her head, but she smiles. “She’s off at Ash’s mother’s house, so I’ll have to hike over there in a bit to let her know we’re home. Although, who knows, word might have gotten that far already. You want to go with me?”

“I’d like that,” I say, but then I stop. “The only thing is, I need to let someone in Brooklyn know we’re gone.”

“Someone named Timber?” Dad says.

Uh, yeah, not that I’ll admit it, though I’m sure I blush. “I have to tell Mr. Padgett that I’m going to miss rehearsals and the performance this week.”

Dad smacks his forehead. “We didn’t even think about that.” He looks at me. “Are you really upset that you’re going to miss it?”

What I’ll miss is Timber, but I don’t say that either. Instead, I grab a warm muffin from the basket and shrug because I realized something during all those grueling rehearsals and the Rockefeller gig. “I’m not sure acting in musicals is my thing,” I admit. “I like being with my friends and I like performing, but Mr. Padgett sucks all the joy out it. Maybe singing with a band to a smaller crowd is more me.”

“Well,” says Mom. “I’m sure that you can do whatever you put your mind to.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I say. “I’ll remind you of that the next time I want to try something new.”

“Oh dear,” she says. “I should learn to keep my mouth shut.”

“Regardless,” Dad says, “you’re right that you have to contact someone. Why don’t you and Briar walk into Ironweed in a bit and use the library computers.”

I don’t mention that the last time Briar and I used the library computers, the librarians threatened to ban us from ever stepping foot in there again.

“Do you think it’s safe for them to be out in the woods?” Mom asks.

“The men have been combing the woods since Fawna showed up yesterday, and they haven’t seen anything,” Dad says. “I seriously doubt Clay and Dawn, or whoever they are, would show up here.”

“But Iris is still missing,” Mom says.

“Do you think Clay and Dawn have something to do with Iris?” I ask, trying to make my grandmother’s sister and those weirdos from Red Hook fit together in my mind.

“I wish I knew,” Mom says. “But until we do, I don’t like the idea of your going out into the woods alone.”

“Mom,” I say, “we’ve been walking there alone since we were twelve. We’ll be fine.”

“Even if Clay and Dawn are out there,” Dad says. “The girls can handle themselves.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Those big, blond doofuses would be no match for us in the woods.”

Briar and I bundle up in our thick tunics, leggings, deerskin boots and cloaks, and long woolen hats to walk to Ironweed. We traipse through the forest on our well-worn path like fairy-tale characters with five-foot birch walking sticks. We keep our eyes and ears open for anything strange, but everything is calm, quiet, and normal. When we get to Ironweed, the only signs of life are the few parked cars, the blinking OPEN sign in the bait shop window, and the lights in the library at the end of the road.

Briar cracks up when we step out onto the empty narrow street. “This place used to seem so big and scary to me.”

Somewhere in the distance I hear a snowblower, but other than that, it’s as if the whole town has been deserted. “Now it seems like the most podunk place in the universe,” I say.

Inside the library, the old biddy at the desk stares meanly at us, but she lets us pass. There’s no one else here, so we get online right away. As soon as I open my e-mail, I find twenty-two messages from Timber.

“Great granite!” I say, and turn to Briar, but she’s got the same stuffed in-box from Kenji. We both burst out laughing, which makes the librarian scowl more. We try to stifle our amusement over our crazy boyfriends so we don’t get tossed out into a snowbank.

I scroll through the messages, which started yesterday around noon after we left Brooklyn. We wanted to call them or text them from the car, but we knew better than to ask for Dad’s or Grove’s phone because everybody was so freaked out. I open the most recent message first, figuring the other twenty-one are outdated by now. It’s from ten o’clock this morning and says,

“What the ...” I mutter to myself. I open the message before that one. It’s from eight o’clock this morning.

“Check this out.” I tap Briar’s arm for her to read it, but her mouth is hanging open and her eyes are wide.

She grabs my leg and leans close to look at my screen. “Oh my God,” she says, then she whispers, “They’re coming here.”

“No way.” My face is screwed up tight. “They don’t even know we’re gone.”

“Click on the first message from Timber,” Briar says.

I open it to find this:

“Were they spying on us?” I ask.

“What’s the next one say?” Briar asks.

I open it:

“See?” says Briar. “They left New York.”

“They wouldn’t. The performance is this week.” Then I open each message from yesterday and today. The last one says,

“Snakes and adders, he’s lost his mind!” I laugh out of sheer disbelief. “Do you really think?” I start to ask. His words are insanely sweet, but my stomach churns because if Timber’s really trying to find me, it’s not good. “What are we going to do?” I whisper.

“Quick,” she says. “E-mail Timber. He’s got his iPhone.”

“No,” I say. “Let’s think about this. There’s no way they could find us. They must have turned back.” Just then a new message pops up. We both jump.

My stomach drops, my heart revs, and suddenly I’m sweating like it’s a hundred degrees in July.

“How the frog did they find us? ” Briar says way too loud. The librarian hisses at us to quiet down, but we don’t care. We bolt from our chairs and run for the door, because if they’re here, they’re nearby. We grab our walking sticks and throw on our cloaks as we run down the street with our scarves and hats flying behind us.

“There’s only one place they could be.” I point across the street at the only place that’s open. Part of me wants to run inside and find him. To open my arms and hug him because what could be cooler than your boyfriend driving eight hundred miles to find you? Then again, I’m kind of freaked out because my boyfriend drove eight hundred miles to find me! But if he’s here, I’ve got to find him before he finds me.

A clanging bell above the grocery/bait shop/restaurant door announces our arrival when we explode into the musty, overheated store. The guy behind the counter looks up from his newspaper and splatters his coffee onto the cash register. We run through the aisle and back toward the little coffee shop, and true as the noses on our faces, Kenji and Timber sit by the fishing rods, mopping up egg yolks with toast. When they see us, they both jump out of their seats and start yelling.

“We found you!”

“I can’t believe it!”

“It’s really you!”

Briar and I rush to them, half laughing, half scared out of our wits about what we’re going to do next.

 

 

It doesn’t take long to piece together the whole story over cups of hot cocoa with marshmallows, but I still can’t believe these guys are so possessed.

“We just had to find you,” Timber explains again.

“But how did you know we left?” I ask.

Kenji’s face turns red. “You didn’t call in the morning.”

“So we went to your house in the afternoon,” Timber adds.

“Somebody’s always home,” says Kenji.

“Your neighbor said you packed up the van and left,” Timber says.

“But how did you know we came here?” I ask.

“Where else would your whole family go?” Timber asks, which is a good point.

“Then I remembered that VH1 interview your dad did in the fall,” Kenji tells us. “We looked it up on YouTube and found the part where he’s standing by the sign for this town.”

“We put Ironweed in the GPS and here we are,” says Timber.

“Whose car are you driving?” I ask.

“My dad’s,” Kenji says. “My parents are in Japan for some lame wedding of some distant cousins.”

“Do you even have a license?” I ask them.

Kenji shakes his head no, but Timber says, “I have a learner’s permit. I just haven’t gotten around to taking the test yet.”

“What about the performance?” I ask.

Timber shrugs. “What about it?”

My jaw drops. A few days ago he wouldn’t even blow off a Friday night rehearsal! “Does your mom know you’re gone?” I ask him.

“Well,” Timber hesitates. “She does now.”

I groan. “We’re all going to be in so much trouble.”

Timber reaches out and grabs my hand. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

I look into his eyes, those gorgeous gray-blue windows, and I melt a little. “Of course, I am . . . ” I say. Then I shake my head. “But you don’t understand. You can’t be here.”

“Why not?” he asks, confused and hurt.

I look to Briar. There’s no way to explain this. “What are we going to do?” I ask her.

 

After lots of discussion in the bathroom, Briar and I come up with a plan. We know that we can’t stick around Ironweed for too long, or the erdlers here will get suspicious and start asking questions. So we decide that I’ll hike the guys up to Barnaby Bluff while she goes back to Alverland and gets my dad, who won’t flip out on Briar like he would on me, and who’ll likely be cooler about this whole fiasco than our moms would be.

We convince Kenji and Timber to leave their backpacks in Timber’s car because we know they’ll never be able to make the hike carrying heavy packs. I tell them we’ll come back with a sled to get all the gear later. They have no idea what we’re doing, and we’ve decided it’s best to keep them in the dark as long as possible. We all walk down the main road of Ironweed and duck into the woods. We follow the path together for a few miles, Kenji and Timber exclaiming about how beautiful this place is every five seconds and being amazed every time they see a squirrel or a chickadee.

“City boys,” Briar says, and we both giggle.

At the huge hemlock where the trail splits, we stop. “Listen,” I tell Kenji and Timber, “we can’t take you to our homes just yet.”

“We have to let our families know you’re here first,” Briar explains.

“What, do you live in some weird gated community?” Timber asks.

Briar and I look at each other. “Sort of,” I say, which obviously isn’t true, but what else am I going to say? “I’m going to take you on a little hike while Briar gets my dad.”

“I want to come with you,” Kenji says to Briar.

She hugs him and kisses his cheek. “I’ll just be gone for a little bit.”

“We could get in a lot of trouble if we show up with you guys. You’re not supposed to be here,” I remind them.

Kenji lets go of Briar and steps back. “Okay, but hurry.”

I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes, because I realize that my boyfriend is acting just as nutty driving twenty hours to find me. “Come on, guys,” I say, leading them away from Alverland and toward the bluffs. “You’re going to love this. We’ll probably see lots of hawks and maybe even some deer and moose.”

“Will you shoot one for me?” Timber asks, grabbing me around the waist. “I’m starving.”

I push him away. “Do I look like I’m carrying a bow and arrow?” I ask, kind of annoyed.

“Maybe you could club one to death with this big stick.” He laughs, which really ticks me off.

“It’s a walking stick,” I tell him. “My grandfather carved it for me.” I hand him the stick so he can see the intricate designs of flowers and leaves, totem animals, and old elfin words worked around the birch.

Timber turns the stick around and around in his hands. “This is beautiful,” he says as he studies the wood. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Buck makes one for each of his grandkids. And he has a lot of grandkids,” I say.

Timber nods and hands the stick back to me. “It’s amazing. I’m sorry I made fun of it.”

I smile. “That’s okay. Would you like to use it?”