Page 18

T he forest vibrated with a strange, quiet energy that felt like a heartbeat and a calling. Cool moss tickled my bare toes.

I’d been sure I was done with this place. I’d moved on from white-outs and self-sabotage. I’d filed the teleportation incidents under bizarre, unexplained things I might talk about with a therapist eventually, and gone back to living my life.

The forest hadn’t gotten the memo.

I let out a long, slow breath and looked skyward.

Branches wove together in an intricate canopy of glowing leaves in impossible shades. A soft lavender and gold sky shimmered through the treetops. There was no sun or moon, only timeless light.

It should’ve been beautiful.

It was beautiful.

But I couldn’t appreciate any of it.

“Why am I here?” I asked the forest.

Of course it didn’t answer. But part of me knew—it had to be the bookmark. My body wasn’t drooling in my kitchen right now while my consciousness wandered. All of me was here, in this real place that existed beyond imagination.

I flipped the bookmark over in my hand and traced the turquoise stem and vibrant orange petals within. I’d carried myself here somehow by thinking about this pressed flower.

Maybe every time I’d appeared in this forest, part of me had wished for and manifested it.

But why?

Between massive roots that protruded from the moss, flowers grew—flowers that shouldn’t exist, flowers just like the one in my bookmark.

A memory flitted through my head of plucking the stems at their bases, of weaving flower crowns and playing hide and seek. The memory was incomplete, flashes and holes, a sense of joy and rightness.

That rightness was bittersweet. In returning to a place I’d once belonged, I’d left my family behind.

“Erika?”

Carson’s voice grounded me.

I had to be imagining it, right? Cautious hope bubbled in my lungs like carbonation. He couldn’t be here, yet….

I spun on my heel.

Ten feet away, there Carson stood in his Stay Sharp shirt, with his eyes wide in startled disbelief, and a wooden spoon in his hand. Adam and Micah sat on the ground by his feet, looking equally confused.

I had no idea how they were here. I only had guesses as to how I was here.

But the light feeling pattering between my ribs—excitement.

Micah exhaled all the air in his lungs then shot to his feet.

Adam remained seated and ran his hand across the moss. “Where are we?”

At the same time Carson asked, “What is this place?”

“This is my dream forest.” I walked closer, joining them where they’d appeared. “It’s where I go when I white out.”

“You didn’t disappear into your mind,” Carson said. “You physically disappeared from the kitchen.”

“And brought us along for the ride?” Adam asked.

“A few minutes later,” Carson said.

Had I somehow brought them here? I’d thought about being with them and then they showed up. But that didn’t make sense. I’d thought about them plenty of times in the past during my white-outs, and I’d never brought them with me before.

The only person I could concretely remember encountering here was the ghost witch. At least that was over. Everything else was vague, a sense of someone I’d known so long ago that I’d lost the details.

Adam and Carson were both looking at me with the same expectant eyes.

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“It doesn’t matter how we got here.” Micah spread his arms wide, gesturing to the neon landscape. His face lit up like he’d just unwrapped a new Xbox on Christmas morning. “Look at this place. It’s unreal.”

He started running, circling around through the trees.

Adam shot a hesitant look at me, one at Carson, then took off after his brother.

Carson cupped his hands and hollered to them, “Be careful.”

They laughed, carried on with each other, and paid no attention.

Carson shook his head, then turned his attention to me. “This place was always real.”

“I guess so. I still don’t understand any of this.”

“You didn’t always physically teleport,” Carson said. “Not when you dreamed of this place, and not when you whited out while we talked.”

Maybe the first time I actually physically came here was when I overflowed the bathtub not so long ago. Maybe it was before, some time when Carson didn’t notice because he was too sound asleep. Or maybe after, while we lived separate lives.

“Did something change to spark this?” Carson asked.

I opened my mouth and shut it again like a lost goldfish devoid of memory retention skills. “I don’t have any answers.”

He reached his hand out to me and took a step closer. “We’ll figure out the answers together.”

Something loosened in my chest, like a knot finally unwinding after being pulled too tight for too long. I wasn’t alone anymore, not in this place or in carrying the emotional weight of it.

This place was real.

So was my bond with Carson.

I started to reach back.

A strange crunch came from beneath Carson’s heel. I froze, both our arms outstretched for each other, but not quite reaching.

Carson moved his foot. We both looked at the ground.

Sitting inside Carson’s shoeprint was something domed, pink, and shiny. No way could it pass for a rock or wood. There were plenty of interesting colors in the forest, but no other manmade materials. Whatever this object was, it didn’t belong here.

Carson and I both bent down for a better look.

“Is it a toy?” Carson poked it, then quickly pulled his finger back. “Feels like plastic.”

“I have this sense that I used to run around here when I was a kid, like the boys are doing now.”

“Did you lose something?”

“Over thirty years ago? Who knows.”

Carson furrowed his brows, setting a contemplative stare at the ground.

“It’s probably safe to pick—” Before I finished my sentence, Carson reached down and pried the thing out of the soft soil.

It was a pink plastic dome with metal wire.

Micah’s retainer.

Our eyes locked—me and Carson. I watched his eyes sparkle and his lips pull into an amused grin. I felt my own cheeks pull, mirroring him.

“This is where Micah’s retainer ended up,” I said. “I crawled around under his bed so many times searching for it.”

Carson chuckled, and the sound warmed my soul.

“I’ve been searching too, in case he brought it to the house and didn’t remember. That’s how I ended up finding your bookmark under the mattress.”

“We need to flip that thing more often.” I realized after I said it that the “we” should have been a “you.”

Instead of calling me out on it, Carson said, “Help me remember for next time.”

My eager little heart gobbled up the implication— I would be there next time.

“Hey, Micah.” Carson rose to his feet and scanned the forest.

I stood, too.

There was no more laughter, no audible or visible trace of the boys in any direction. They were probably playing hide and seek…which sure, they were old for.

Or, more likely, they just wandered off a little farther than they should have.

“Micah?” I yelled. “Adam?”

There wasn’t any reason to worry. I looked at Carson. His expression was even. He wasn’t worried.

He stared intently at a bush with long pink leaves. “They’re coming.”

I couldn’t see or hear anything. Before I could ask Carson to explain, two small spiky creatures raced out between the leaves.

My boys were hedgehogs.

“You’re so cute.” I dropped down to my knees as they ran toward us.

One of them stopped in his tracks, curled his tiny back legs under himself and used the left back claw to scratch his face.

“Aww.” I knew the fawning was losing me cool mom points, but I couldn’t help myself. Giddiness bubbled out of my mouth, plastered a smile across my lips, and left me glossy-eyed.

How could I tell them apart? How did they transform? Where were their clothes? I had to know everything.

“Micah, we found your retainer.” Carson held out his hand to show the closest hedgehog.

The hedgehog—Micah—curled into a ball the way he did when he got startled.

“He’s not thrilled,” Carson told me.

I laughed. “Of course not.”

The hedgehog boys must have decided our interaction was complete. They turned around and ran back the way they came.

“How can you tell them apart?” I asked.

“They have different scents.”

“You can smell them…from here?”

“Yes.” He took my hands in his. His entire expression lit up, like he was as thrilled to share with me as I was to listen. “And their gaits look and sound different. Usually it’s Adam who’s faster, since he has longer legs and has more practice using them.”

“You can hear them running?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, this is wild.” I licked my lips. So many questions pinged around in my brain, it was hard to grab hold of one. “How can I tell them apart?”

“Micah is slightly smaller. He has a white spot between his eyes.”

“That’s great,” I said. “I can use that.”

“Adam has black paws.”

“Is that uncommon?”

Carson nodded. “Hedgehog paws are typically lighter in color.”

“What about you? What do you look like as a hedgehog?”

“Would you like me to show you?”

I didn’t have to think about it. My answer was immediate. “Yes.”

With a gentle squeeze of my hands, Carson let go and took a step back.

His smile faded, replaced by an intensity that chilled the air. I held my breath. No way would I let myself blink. I wasn’t going to miss a second of this, not this time.

My eyes began to burn as I watched his hair change. Slowly his short black curls straightened and stuck up in every direction.

Then, he winked at me.

And I could swear I caught a glimpse of movement, a shrinking action inside the collar of his shirt. But it happened so fast, I couldn’t be sure of anything.

One second, he was standing in front of me. The next, there was only a pile of Carson’s clothes on the ground.

I dropped to the ground and lifted his shirt, expecting to find a spiky little hedgehog underneath. But there was only underwear and jeans. Below that, his shoes.

“Don’t tell me you’re poofing away to another world now, too.” I laughed a bitter laugh, worried I’d jinxed myself by saying it.

But then, out of a size eleven white sneaker, popped a pointed snout.

His face was white, his eyes shiny little beads.

“Aww.” I reached down and offered my hand.

He climbed onto my palm.

His feet squeezed as he adjusted his weight. He felt so light. I could feel his tiny heart beating so fast against my skin, and the velvety fur of his belly.

I’d held what I’d thought were the boys’ pets briefly before, but everything felt different now that I knew the truth. I was present in a way I hadn’t been before, making the experience entirely new.

His spines were a blend of browns, creams, and grays, mimicking the palette of regular woodland forests. His rounded ears reminded me of rose petals. His quills tickled my thumb. Instead of sharp, they were delicate and springy.

I wished I’d experienced all of this sooner. I was grateful to experience it now.

“Mom, Dad.” Adam ran through the trees straight for us, with a strange expression on his face.

“What’s wrong? Where’s your brother?” I asked.

Carson hopped down from my hand and climbed into the leg hole of his pants.

“He’s right here.” Adam held out his hands.

Between them, a hedgehog—Micah—sat, nose twitching. He looked okay.

Adam said, “Watch.”

Two wings unfurled from Micah’s sides—thin, translucent, and filled with color.

The wings fluttered. Micah lifted off Adam’s hands by an inch before dropping back down.

“Are hedgehogs supposed to have wings?” I asked, knowing it was a dumb question.

“No,” Adam said flatly. “We’re definitely not.”

A hand gently squeezed my shoulder.

I looked back and found Carson there, re-dressed, and expression stiff.

He asked, “Is there something you haven’t told us?”

Even though he was looking right at me, it took a moment for me to realize he was asking me. “You think I know something about this?”

“Erika,” he said. “You have wings, too.”

I couldn’t feel anything weird about my back. I spun around trying to look.

A flutter of light caught my eyes—golden shapes hovering behind me. They didn’t look real. They couldn’t be real.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” My muscles slowly tightened, like tiny claws prickling all over my skin. “It has to be something about this place. Check your backs, Carson, Adam. You could be next.”

There was nothing behind either of them.

Hedgehog Micah lifted slowly out of Adam’s hands up into the air. His colorful wings beat as wildly and erratically as my heart.

Was this another cool magic part of our life now? Or some weird fluke that would disappear once we poofed back home?

How was I supposed to go on TV with golden appendages sticking out of my back? How was Micah supposed to go to school? We’d have to tuck them in, bandage them down under shapewear and industrial tape. We’d have to….

An outline appeared beside Adam—a golden silhouette I could hardly see but could definitely feel. Its presence sucked the color from the forest and the oxygen from the air.

Adam’s lips were moving, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

I couldn’t focus on anything beyond the figure.

This was the ghost.

It was supposed to be gone. I must have missed something. I was missing something still.

The world shrank to a pinpoint, just me and the presence.

The ghost moved—an arm reaching, grabbing, stealing.

Its fingers clenched around Micah’s body, crushing his wings to his sides and snatching him out of the air.

Micah squealed.

Pain.

Fear.

Or maybe the sound and all the emotion I attached to it had come from me.

Dark sticks flew together from everywhere and nowhere. Twine tied them together to form a door.

The door.

My stomach lurched like gravity shifted sideways, like I was falling while standing still. The blood in my veins turned to ice.

A voice echoed through my head. “Open the door, Erika.”

The ghost disappeared.

Taking Micah with it.