The World Above (8 page)

But when I set my hand on the trunk, I felt the beanstalk’s inner core of strength. Felt that it possessed a single desire: to carry me and only me from the World Below to the World Above. The fluttering leaves reminded me of waving hands, beckoning me upward.

“You take good care now, Gen,” my mother said.

“I will. Don’t forget to chop down the beanstalk.”

“I’ll remember,” she said quietly, and I realized that for the first time in sixteen years my mother would be all alone. Alone in the place that had been both her sanctuary and her exile. I opened my mouth to say something, but Mama spoke first.

“I’m proud of you, Gen.” At her words I let go of the beanstalk. “I’ve always been proud of you. I probably haven’t said that as much as I should.”

My eyes filled with tears, but I did not let them fall. In this, at least, I was my mother’s daughter.

“I understand, Mama,” I said quietly. Now that I was about to embark on an adventure of my own, a great peace seemed to come over me. “You and Jack are so much more alike. And he’s so . . . charming. Don’t you dare tell him I said that. If you do, I’ll just deny it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” my mother said with the faintest hint of a smile. The kind that caused only one dimple to appear, rather than two. “But I mean it, you know.”

“I’m sorry I never really believed,” I said. “Not the way Jack did.”

“It doesn’t make any difference,” my mother replied. Her eyes focused on the beanstalk for a moment, then returned to mine. “You believe now. Be safe and smart up there, my Gen. Be yourself.”

Before I could answer, she turned away and walked quickly toward the house. I turned to face the beanstalk.

There is no going back now
, I thought.

For better or worse, there was only going forward. There was only going
up
. Seizing the trunk of the beanstalk with both hands, I pushed off from the World Below and began to climb.

How shall I tell you? How shall I even begin to describe what it was like to climb that beanstalk?

It was hard. A lot harder than I thought it would be, and it wasn’t just that the climb was long or that my dratted skirts slowed me down. I’d never been one of those girls who longed to do everything the boys did. Why should I? I did most of Jack’s chores anyway. But scrambling up that beanstalk hand over hand, hour after hour, I wished I’d had the foresight to put on a pair of pants.

Climbing a beanstalk is not like climbing a tree. A tree trunk is firm and hard. It feels unyielding beneath your feet and hands. Even when the wind moves through its branches, a tree feels solid. You can remind yourself that the tree lives and breathes, just as you do yourself. If you really put your imagination to work, you can conjure up an image of sap flowing, deep within. But it’s difficult to really feel this beneath your hands.

From the moment I first touched it, I knew that the beanstalk was different. Never in my life had I felt anything so magical, so alive.

The surface of the stalk was slightly tacky, which helped my hands maintain a firm grip, and kept my feet from slipping as I braced myself. The stalk itself was precisely the right diameter for me. Thick enough so that I could get a good grip, my fingers just touching as I closed my hand around it, but not so thick that my hands grew tired.

Leaves sprang from the stalk with what I can only describe as wild abandon. Some stayed in close, as if huddled against the stalk for protection; others unfurled into the open air, as if eager to explore. But no matter where they were, the leaves never stopped moving. The slightest breath of air made them dance and flutter.

Though I soon found I could rely on its sturdiness and strength (besides, having committed myself, what choice did I have?), it was slightly disconcerting to realize that not just the leaves, but the entire beanstalk itself, was always in motion. It swayed ever so slightly. Whether this was the result of my own movement, or was simply an attribute of all magic beanstalks, I had no way to discover.

I soon found myself settling into a rhythm, grasping a set of leaves with my right hand, boosting myself upward with my right foot braced against the trunk, then repeating the actions on the opposite side. I grew tired. I stopped to catch my breath, leaning my forehead against the great green trunk. My breath my own once more, I recommenced my climb.

Birds fluttered around my head, as if curious about this new creature invading their airy realm. But finally even those dropped away as I continued to climb. Hand over hand, hour after hour, up, up, up, until the very notion of the passage of time lost all meaning. There was only me and the beanstalk. All around us, the wide-open sky, the great expanse between the World Below and the World Above.

I did not look down.

It never even occurred to me to do this, believe it or not. All my energy, all my attention, was focused on going
up
. The higher I climbed, the more filled with possibilities the air seemed to become.

It got cooler too, after a while. Thin wisps of cloud drifted by. Gradually they became more dense, finally coalescing into a cloud so thick I could barely see the beanstalk. I could hear my heart, thundering inside my chest. My breath, whooshing in, puffed out white to become one with the cloud.

Surely I must be almost there
, I thought. For what else could this be but the layer of cloud that Mama had always claimed divided the World Above and the World Below?

Reach with the right hand, boost with the right foot. Reach with the left hand, boost with the left foot.
Keep going. Keep going. You can do this, Gen
, I thought. Jack had done it twice. I’d never prove myself to be my father’s daughter if I couldn’t even do it once.

As if thinking of my father had been a secret password, my head popped out through the cloud. The sun was so dazzling I squinted my eyes nearly shut. Slowly I eased my right eyelid open, and then the left, blinking rapidly in astonishment.

Oh my
, I thought.

I was in the World Above. Or at least my head and shoulders were. The rest of me was still in transition, below the cloud layer.

The new world rested on the surface of the cloud as if the mist was some strange bedrock.
No wonder this is a place where magic happens
, I thought. I pulled myself a little farther up the beanstalk, far enough to rest my elbows on the soil of the World Above. I could see the top of the beanstalk now, waving back and forth as if offering its congratulations.

I looked around. To tell you the absolute truth, the World Above looked an awful lot like the World Below, except for the fact that the ground didn’t look quite solid. In places, the land looked as dense and permanent as it was in the World Below. But in others, like around the beanstalk, for example, the cloud showed through, as if revealing a hidden portal.

Then, as I watched, the land shifted, sliding along the layer of cloud. And just like that, nearly all evidence of the cloud was gone.

Stop gawking like a tourist and get a move on, Gen
, I thought. I wasn’t sure what would happen if the World Above shifted when I was still half in, half out, but I was absolutely sure I didn’t want to find out.

Using the ground itself for leverage, I dug my elbows in and gave myself a boost, pulling my legs up into the World Above. Quickly I rolled away from the beanstalk and lay flat on my back. I lay still for a moment, stretched full length.

I’m here
, I thought.
This is real. I am in the World Above
.

For a moment I was dizzy, as if my body could not decide to which world it belonged. I closed my eyes, taking deep, steadying breaths. The air smelled sweet, like honey.

When I opened my eyes, the beanstalk was gone.

All right, that’s it
, I thought. I scrambled to my feet, filled with determination to be about my mission.
Which way to Father’s castle?
I wondered.
How can I find Shannon and Sean?

As it happened, my questions were answered before I could take so much as a step.

“Well, it’s about time,” an exasperated voice behind me said. “What took you so long?”

I spun around. Standing before me, hands on hips, was the most beautiful young woman I had ever seen. A riot of dark curls danced around her face. Her skin was golden, as if from long hours in the sun. She had bright eyes of a color I can only describe as violet. I couldn’t quite read the expression in them. Hope, fear, irritation, and curiosity were all crowded in together. She wore a simple countrywoman’s garments, just as I did. Sturdy shoes. A dress of brown homespun with an apron over it.

“You’re Shannon,” I blurted out. Hardly the most brilliant way to start.

“And you’re Gen,” she responded.

We continued to stare at each other.

“You don’t look as much like Jack as I thought you would.”

“That’s because we’re really not that much alike,” I answered, then bit my tongue. Confessing how different Jack and I were might not be such a good idea, I realized. After all, Shannon and her brother had helped Jack. Liking him had to account for at least part of why they’d done so.

“You, on the other hand, are exactly as Jack described,” I said, determined to get it right this time. “He said you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.”

“He did not,” Shannon protested at once. But her face had flared a bright red. Even as she made her swift denial, I saw the hope leap into her eyes.

So the attraction is mutual
, I thought. Had she and Jack fallen in love? What would it feel like to do this so suddenly? To fall in love at first sight?

“He did too,” I said with a smile. We sounded like a couple of bickering six-year-olds. “I don’t suppose you happen to know where he is.”

“Not precisely,” Shannon replied, her blush vanishing abruptly. “He and Sean—that’s my brother—set out for the de Trabant lands almost a month ago. I don’t know what’s happened to them, but I’m starting to fear the worst. But you know all this. It’s why you’ve come. Jack said you would, if things went . . . wrong.”

“We don’t know that anything’s wrong,” I said forcefully, as if a firm tone would convince us both.

“Why don’t you let me take your pack?” Shannon offered. “You must be tired and hungry after your climb. Come up to the house and we can decide what to do next.”

The house, of course, was actually a castle, my parents’ former home.

“We’ve done our best to maintain things,” Shannon said as we walked. My beanstalk had not been quite as obliging as Jack’s when it came to location. It had deposited me a bit farther away from the castle. The farmer in whose field my beanstalk had appeared had been keeping an eye on it, waiting to see who it might bring to the World Above. At the first sight of me, he’d run to fetch Shannon.

“But there are only two of us now,” Shannon went on. “Even when our father was alive, it was a lot to take care of. We really only live in the rooms off the kitchen. They’re easier to heat in winter, and in summer I’m close to the garden.”

“I’m sure you made the right choices,” I said. We walked in silence for a moment or two. I kept my eyes focused on the short grass of the path in front of us. When I spoke, I wanted to make sure I said precisely what I meant.

“From what Jack told Mama and me, you and your family put the people of what used to be Duke Roland’s kingdom first. No one in our family is going to find fault with that. I’d like to think it’s what we would have done ourselves.”

I could feel Shannon’s eyes on me as we walked along.

“I think I like you,” she finally said. “I wasn’t sure I would.”

I gave a quick laugh. “Well, that’s honest. To return the favor, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to come to the World Above. I wasn’t sure I believed it existed until Jack grew that first beanstalk.”

“I can understand that,” Shannon said.

I stopped walking.
“What?”

“Well, it only stands to reason,” she said, coming to a halt in her turn. “Jack said you were the practical one, the one who gets things done. I don’t imagine that leaves much time for daydreaming, even if you had the inclination for it.”