Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [37]
I had a sudden thought. “Hey, I bet whatever bad thing is creeping into our heads scrambled Zally’s map, too!”
“That makes sense,” Kerka agreed.
“So what do we do?” I asked.
“Be on our guard,” she answered.
Then I had an idea. “What if we had a signal? You know, something that will tell you I’m starting to get the weird feeling and I need your help,” I suggested. “And it would work the other way around, too, if you’re getting … well, snappish.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” said Kerka. “Like a handshake or a peace sign?”
“How about a sign that reminds us of the fairies?” I suggested, remembering the heart gift from the fairy queen. I put my hand on my heart. It felt goofy, but I also felt warmth welling up from my heart and actually giving me strength. “How about if this is our signal?”
“I like it,” she said, slapping her hand on her own heart vigorously. “It’s perfect.”
“Perfect,” I agreed. We sat there for a minute with our hands on our hearts.
We then continued on, and Kerka let me lead. Soon we could see the broken bridge up ahead that would finally take us across the canyon. “It’s the bridge I told you about!” I said. Despite the grim surroundings, I was thrilled that I had been right. Not in an “I told you so” way, but in an “I’m so glad I can trust my instincts” way.
“Good,” said Kerka. “I’m glad you were right. Do we cross the bridge?”
“Yes,” I said, sobering instantly.
It was nothing at all like Mo’s beautiful Ha-Ha Valley. But the vantage point was identical. My eyes fixed on a huge tree in the distance—the Shadow Tree. It was in the middle of a maze of boxwoods, their branches tangled and ghostly gray. Lightning flashed over the tree, and the blackest clouds I’ve ever seen hung over it. The wind whistled around us, and I shivered.
I walked to the bridge, the wind tearing at my fairy cloak. When we reached the bridge, Kerka marched over it in her usual way. She didn’t even hold the rotting handrail or miss a step as she avoided the broken slats.
I, on the other hand, stopped dead. How was I going to cross this bridge? I could barely cross the nice bridge in Mo’s garden!
I bet you’re wondering what the big deal was. Well, let me tell you: Not only was the bridge rotting and missing slats, but it was also literally covered with bugs—termites, spiders, ants, and bugs I didn’t know the names of and didn’t want to know the names of.
Kerka reached the other side of the bridge and turned back, brushing off what must have been some bugs that had gotten on her. “Come on, Birdie!” she called. “It’s just bugs.”
“Just bugs? Are you crazy? What about how high up it is?” I called to her. My stomach quivered at the thought of having to step on the insects or touch them. I shook my head. “No. This is too much.”
Kerka put her hands on her hips. “More than the shadow creeping into your head? Bugs are worse?”
I took a deep breath and stepped onto the bridge. The bugs crunched under my feet. I gagged and put my hand out to the railing, where, of course, more bugs were waiting. The bridge creaked under my feet, and I jumped back, shrieking and shaking off bugs. “I can’t do it!” I yelled. The only good thing about the bugs was that they seemed to stay on the bridge.
Kerka shook her head and tromped back over the bridge to me. How did she do it? Was she made of iron? She brushed stray beetles off her arms and legs as if they were dirt. I watched her with my mouth open.
“You just want to live in a sweet little garden where everything is safe and comfortable,” said Kerka.
“I’m just scared—” I tried to explain, tears filling my eyes.
“You’re scared of change,” said Kerka, cutting me off. “Well, change happens, Birdie.”
What was she talking about? I won’t let Kerka treat me this way, I thought. “Maybe you never had to move from a place you love to a place you