Into the Fairy Forest

By J. M. Stephen

Pippa is a typical teenager, if you don’t consider her inability to operate a cell phone. But then a-typical things start to happen. First her mother dies in a mysterious fire, then a fire seems to come after her. After the ground tries to eat her friend, she runs right into the arms of the most beautiful boy she has ever seen, Pan ... Then things get really strange.

When Pan opens a whole new world up to Pippa, she finds herself attending fairy weddings, running with satyrs, and battling a mad centaur. She also learns there are many secrets being kept, some about her and her family, and worse, they are kept from her. But, all she really wants is to find her way back into Pan’s embrace.

About the author:
J.M. Stephen is an author and educator with a penchant for mythologies of all kinds. She loves the woods, secluded places, reading Virginia Woolf and being out in nature. She has taught writing, literature and publishing at The Gotham Writer’s Workshop and The New School. Her articles and short stories have appeared in numerous publications. She lives in New York City with her family.

Reviews:
... a compelling read that draws readers in, works its magic with strong characters and a story filled with surprises ... It deserves a place in any teen fantasy collection – D. Donovan, Senior reviewer, Midwest Book Review

a magical adventure that weaves a delightful twist on fairies, the lady of the lake, and Pan. — Elizabeth Konkel, Manhattan Book Review

• Language: English
• Publisher: DX Varos Publishing
• Release date: Dec 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781941072592

J. M. Stephen

J. M. Stephen is an author and educator with a penchant for mythologies and history. She loves the woods, secluded places, reading Virginia Woolf and being out in nature. She has taught writing, literature and publishing at The Gotham Writer's Workshop and The New School. Her articles and short stories have appeared in numerous publications. Aside from her young adult series, she is also the author of the adult biblical fantasy, Nod and four works of literary fiction. She now writes for newspaper The Deerfield Valley News in the southern Vermont town where she lives with her family.

Book preview

The red of Philippa’s aunt’s living room was unnatural. It was a deep, blood red, the red of a woman wearing too much lipstick. Lipstick that had been slathered on and poorly applied. The color wasn’t unreal as much as out of place. Unlike the rest of the house, also decorated in bright, clashing colors, this room felt off; the paintings, the knick-knacks, the shelves full of photos, were somehow wrong – all wrong. Philippa could tell pretty clearly when something was off, even something small. She had a knack for organization, for general flow, a friend of hers had once called it feng shui. To Pippa, born Philippa Gardner, though everyone called her Pippa, there were things about this house in Upstate New York she could get used to, like having her own room painted light green with etchings of twigs and tiny leaves bordering the upper walls, and things about it she couldn’t imagine seeing everyday, like cobwebs, the creaking floors and dusty, unused bookshelves.

Then again after the death of her mother everything felt unnatural.

She hadn’t been sick, this wasn’t a lingering illness Philippa had had time to get used to. One moment her mother was making dinner, they were laughing over a terrible sitcom on TV and the next she was gone. There was a fire. Pippa had been there. They were making dinner one evening and suddenly their entire home in Irvine, California was up in flames. Pippa reached for her mother, she tried to get her to come out, but her mother sent Pippa out ahead of her and didn’t follow. Pippa tried to go back but the flames were too high and a firefighter had to pull her out at the last second. But, she’d felt a presence as she was standing amongst the flames, a presence that was safe, protecting her. Even if she had been protected, nothing had protected her mother who died in the fire that night.

Since then her life had been a slew of funeral arrangements and trips into lawyer’s offices. There was meeting up with her Aunt Catty and talking to various therapists and teen-friendly mental health professionals. They all walked on eggshells around her and though she cried at the strangest things, like the time she caught a whiff of her mother’s perfume at the grocery store, some woman in line must have been wearing it and she ran to her aunt’s car when the waterworks wouldn’t stop. Though she was terrified of starting school all the way across the country in Upstate New York, it was the way people treated her, like she suddenly wasn’t a person but a porcelain doll that would break at the slightest hint of trouble, that really bothered her. Then again, there were times she did break, like last night when she was going through her mother’s old jewelry and dropped it all on the floor. She just couldn’t hold onto it anymore. But before all of this, people, her mother especially, had always commented on how strong Pippa was.

You ready to go? Pippa’s aunt Catty asked, coming out of the kitchen disheveled in a long red skirt and men’s flannel shirt. She wore a chunky jade necklace and her frizzy orange-red hair looked as if it were standing up on end. Even when Aunt Catty had come to her old house in Irvine to visit, she had always reminded Pippa, of Ms. Frizzle, the wacky teacher from The Magic School Bus. Aunt Catty was nothing like her sister, Pippa’s mother, who had been blond and trim, with the perfectly manicured face, not of a teenager, not even of a twenty-year-old, but of a graceful movie star in her mid-to-late-thirties. But Pippa’s mother was gone, the funeral had been held a month ago and now it was just her and Aunt Catty until she graduated high school and could move on from this place where she had been deposited, smack in the middle of the woods all the way across the country.

Just let me grab my bag, Pippa said, reaching across the couch and glancing out the window at the back garden. She had to admit, even if she had come here under less than ideal circumstances (and that was putting it mildly), Aunt Catty lived on a beautiful piece of property. She had a house in the Catskill Mountains in a small, woodsy town, appropriately called Catskill. It was the kind of New England-esque hamlet that was full of farms and antique stores. It was a town with less than a thousand people and boasted of only one grocery store, one gas station and some kind of generic fast food place that sold hamburgers out of paper trays and ice cream in the summer. It was a rustic, natural place, though New York City was only a two-hour drive away. Her aunt’s property spanned five acres and there were trees all over. A path ran through the woods and the gardens near the house skirted the lake.

After all that had happened, it was in the garden that Pippa felt safest. Nature had always made her feel protected. Even as she stood outside the funeral home after her mother’s wake, all she’d wanted was to run to the safety of a garden, or the woods, even as she stood upon the bright white concrete and asphalt streets of Irvine. It wasn’t that she had an aversion to the rest of Aunt Catty’s house; it wasn’t as if she thought ghosts inhabited this one-hundred-year-old structure, but in the garden she felt, she physically felt, a presence, as if something, something protective, something loving and safe, was with her – a pair of incredibly strong, attentive arms that would not let her go.

And just last night, Pippa swore she saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was like it was there and it wasn’t. Not like it was there and then it wasn’t, no this both was and wasn’t at the same time. She was standing near the back garden, by the woods, when there was a flickering, the movement of white light trembling for a second, and Pippa thought she saw a boy with blond hair and blue eyes standing right in front of her. There was something about him, as if he was not of this world but she could feel him, like he was a part of her. Pippa saw him and she wanted to run to him but then the light shifted and he flickered away like he’d never been there.

But that feeling was like the feeling she always got when she was out in nature. Pippa could remember it ever since she was a little girl in her mother’s garden at the back of the house. This feeling had been what got her through those days after her mother’s death, it was all she’d had during the funeral service and the walk-through of her empty, half burnt home.

Your first day of school, that’s a big one, Aunt Catty said with her best gung-ho voice. She had been attempting to connect with Pippa, in a very overzealous camp counselor way, since she’d flown out to Irvine last month to handle her mother’s funeral arrangements before taking Pippa home with her. I’m sorry you have to start mid-quarter. I know it’s tough. It’s just that everything took so much time….

I’ll be fine, Pippa replied, grabbing her bag as her phone tumbled out of it.

You need to keep that more secure, her aunt warned. Her aunt, for all her quirkiness, sure did love her gadgets. She had an IPad she was constantly using for her art, a cell phone she was just about surgically attached to and a dozen or so digital cameras for documenting life as she put it. Pippa, on the other hand, had a knack for messing up when it came to technology that was almost comical especially for someone her age. You have the Smartphone skills of a ninety-year-old, was a common call from her friends back in Irvine.

Pippa grabbed her phone, checking to make sure the fall hadn’t damaged it. It hadn’t. Let’s just see, Pippa started, pressing buttons randomly, something red came up on the screen and then something blue, the phone beeped at her and her aunt laughed.

It’s really not that hard, Pippa, she said, grabbing the phone, pressing what seemed like more random buttons and fixing whatever arbitrary beeping Pippa had started. Here, she said, handing the fixed phone back to Pippa. Sometimes I think you have a gene that makes you inept with technology.

Thanks, Pippa said walking out the front door with her aunt.

You look nice, Aunt Catty complimented, as she marched toward her bright pink Jetta. Pippa could see herself in the car’s reflection. She had a roundish face that was almost an oval (someone had once said that she had very symmetrical features) and greenish hazel eyes that blended with her strawberries and cream complexion. Her long light brown hair, which had natural blond highlights, hung past her shoulders, and Pippa pulled it back behind her ears as she approached the car. Her mother had always said that she had a thoughtful and determined face. A light flickered off the car and Pippa’s heart beat more quickly as she hoped, she just hoped, to see that boy again – the one that both was and wasn’t there. Pippa nearly jumped as she watched the car, but he wasn’t there. He’d probably never been there, it had only been her imagination, the whole idea of seeing that boy, some might say it was her way of dealing with losing her mother. But it wasn’t only that she’d seen him for a split second, it was that she felt him. Just like she’d felt that presence of safety during the fire. Like she’d felt safe after the funeral for some odd reason that had nothing to do with her mindset.

Pippa tossed her bag in the back seat and crouched inside the car. Once the engine started the car radio came on and Pippa tried to focus on her upcoming first day of school. Aunt Catty, true to form, had been listening to talk radio the night before when she’d been driving back from teaching an art class at the Community College. There has been yet another house fire in Southern California, one announcer stated, solemnly, but conversationally, on this overly friendly, smiles too bright, morning show.

I know, another commentator replied. That’s about what, four, five in a month’s time? And they don’t appear to be related to the horrible wildfires that have started up in the mountains. This is the worst year for fires in California yet. Five girls, I believe, have gone missing and are presumed dead, and then there was the woman whose body they found— Aunt Catty cut the news off quickly, fumbling with the dials and nearly driving into the wrong lane of traffic. Luckily these country roads weren’t crowded, they were nearly empty, the exact opposite of the traffic patterns in Irvine.

I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t realize where they were going with that until– It’s New York I don’t know why they’re talking about California.

It’s okay, Pippa reassured her aunt. She knew why they were talking about California wild fires all the way out here, because what was happening was so odd. This had been the worst year for wildfires in recorded history and on top of that the constant house fires were raising concerns. I can handle it. She smiled at her aunt, who looked relieved as they drove toward the school.

It was a short ride near the mountains. This was farm country, not necessarily the middle of nowhere, there were strip malls a town or so over and New York City was a train ride away, but there wasn’t much, just a lot of trees and rows of cornfields and a few old houses with black shutters and white trim, houses older than Pippa had ever seen in California. I’m sure you’ll do great, Aunt Catty tried to reassure her as they drove. She’d been saying these things since Pippa had arrived, as if the more encouragement she gave, the less likely Pippa would be to remember that her mother was dead, her father had been nowhere to be found since she’d basically been born, and now she was alone in the world, alone with a kooky artist aunt and a bunch of gardens, where at least she could feel that safe, protective presence that seemed to be following her.

Here we are, Aunt Catty said cheerily as she pulled up to the drop-off spot. The school was made of brick. With all the old buildings around Pippa had been half-expecting a dilapidated one-room schoolhouse, but it looked like any school, not the newest model, but with a lit-up sign in the front that read Catskill High School, a flag pole off to the side and a few benches near the concrete walkways at the entrance. There were fields in back, one for football with track lines around it and a few tennis courts could be seen peeking out from beyond a small hill.

I’ll pick you up at four, Aunt Catty instructed and Pippa nodded.

Thanks, Pippa replied, trying not to sound gruff as she grabbed her green backpack and lugged it out of the car and up to the doors of the school. She’d been trying to be nice to her aunt since she’d arrived. They’d always gotten along, but things were weird now, and Aunt Catty had never been the nurturing type. She was more the playful aunt who let you stay up well past your bedtime only to sleep in past lunch and forget to feed you the next day. This new responsibility thing was a little hard for her.

They arrived just before class started; Aunt Catty had always been the type to scurry in at the last possible second. There were still groups of kids standing outside the school, just like there had been at Pippa’s old school. Sure, the sun wasn’t shining quite so brightly and most of the students were bundled up in jackets, some were even wearing gloves in October, but it looked like a high school. Pippa’s eyes swept the premises, landing on the green painted doors inside. She marched through the groups of her new peers, the Freshmen got out of her way, though the older ones, those her age and older, who seemed to know she didn’t belong there, stared an extra long time as Pippa marched through the doors and into the brightly lit halls with their zero tolerance florescent lights and the white chalky tiles that looked just like the ones in her old school.

Pippa had already met with the principle, being a new student, and coming from such strange circumstances, he’d naturally wanted to speak with her. She could tell Mr. Elderman was just sizing her up, he’d stood before her in his cheap gray suit, the shirt a little too small, the pants a little too big, wondering if he was going to be getting a problem child, who would take her grief over just losing her mother out on his school. Pippa had been very calm and respectful to him, but really all she’d wanted was to get her schedule so she could be on her way. When he’d asked if he could show her around, Pippa had said no, she could find her way, she’d always had a good sense of direction.

As she was walking toward her classroom the bell rang and a barrage of people scattered from the four corners of the school, from outside and in, from near lockers and bathrooms and outer hallways. Pippa could navigate a crowd just as easily as any unfamiliar place, but at one point, as she was glancing at her schedule, head down, Pippa looked up just in time to see herself smack right into a tall broad chest in a plain white T-shirt. Pippa’s backpack fell off her shoulder and she moved to pick it up as the body she’d slammed into rushed to gather his own books, which had tumbled onto the floor.

I’m really sorry, Pippa said, smiling awkwardly when she saw that she’d bumped into a tall dark haired boy. He was bigger than her and could have been a senior, though truth be told, if he hadn’t been carrying those books she might have thought he was, not a teacher, he didn’t look that old, but a college student shadowing a teacher for credit. I should have been looking and – she said, flustered.

It’s fine, really, I’m sorry, the boy said, holding his books tightly to his chest just as awkwardly. I’m Vincent, he said and when he looked in her eyes it was like he knew her. Pippa couldn’t place it, she hadn’t seen this guy outside the school, but something made it seem as if she was back home in California and all was right with the world, just like that flash of a blond boy she’d seen the other day. Well, if you need anything… he started to say and then looked up. Look, I’m sorry… he went on, as if he really had something to say to her. But he glanced away, his eyes presumably met something else as he awkwardly waved at someone behind Pippa and walked on.

Pippa turned to watch him go. He stopped at a locker where a few boys were gathered, all of them wearing track T-shirts and very nice running shoes. The boy didn’t look like he’d fit with them. They all seemed so normal and everyday and he did not. Not with his styled black hair and pale skin, the way he wore a T-shirt and dark blue jeans like he was in some kind of magazine ad, but this was a new school and maybe they did things differently in New York. Pippa shook her head. It’s your first day, she thought. Your first five minutes. Take it easy.

***

The day staggered by as uneventfully as Pippa had hoped it would. School was school but at least she hadn’t embarrassed herself. Her first class went well, as did her second. Each teacher briefly introduced her before going on with class. In Sociology, a class that only allowed seniors, though the school had made an exception because of Pippa’s records from California, the teacher had asked her to define what she meant to learn in class and Pippa had mumbled something generic before slipping back into her desk. In History the teacher forgot she was coming and didn’t even notice she was in the room until the middle of class when he asked her to introduce herself.

It was a normal day or at least as normal a first day as Pippa could imagine having. It was in English class that the normal day felt just a little less normal. They were studying Hemmingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. A girl sitting in the back looking like one of Pippa’s mother’s old porcelain dolls, with long black hair and pretty blue eyes, white, flawless skin and dainty arms and wrists, kept answering all the teacher’s questions like it was her own personal Q and A session.

What does the water represent?

Hardship.

Why does the boy not go with the old man?

He has to go alone, it’s man versus nature, there is no help.

What do the sharks represent?

The world, which tries to take a piece of all of our accomplishments, signifying Hemmingway’s own feelings about life.

Pippa could tell that the other kids were grateful to this girl for taking the heat off them and the teacher didn’t seem to be one of those sticklers who glanced over the kid who always sticks their hand in the air to try and prod the rest of the class to participate…or think. Even though no one else bothered to answer a question, Pippa could tell that her rapid-fire replies were still a little annoying, even if she was making everyone’s job easier. This went on for just about all of class but when the period ended and the rest of the class started talking amongst themselves, this girl got very quiet, she looked down, grabbed her books and nearly ran out of the classroom as if something in the room terrified her.

So what did you think of English? Anything like out in Cali? a boy with short brown hair asked Pippa as she stood at her desk after class. He seemed normal enough, though he used the word Cali as if he was forcing it, like he heard the term on TV. People hadn’t really called it Cali in a long time.

It’s about the same, she replied, grabbing her books. The boy looked at the load of books as if he wanted to offer to take them for her but was afraid of what it might look like. Boys did not carry a girl’s books anymore, not in New York and not out in Cali, this Pippa knew. And she didn’t want him to ask. She could carry her own books.

Well, I hope you like it here, I’m Phil, the guy said, awkwardly wrestling with his own books until he had them all under one arm so that he could give Pippa his hand to shake. She also had to wrestle with her books as she accepted the gesture.

Nice to meet you, I’m Philippa, everyone calls me Pippa.

Like Pippy Longstocking? he asked as if he was actually interested, not as if he was making fun of her name.

Um, I guess so, but not since I was seven, she retorted as they walked out into the crowded halls. A boy came up to them; he had red hair and freckles, but seemed to style it all in a way that was a bit more laid back than any ginger Pippa had ever met.

Is he bothering you? the boy asked playfully as Pippa and Phil continued walking through the halls. The redheaded boy joined them. Jesse, he said

This is Philippa, Pippa, for short, Phil introduced them. She just moved here from California.

Are you New York’s rival then? the boy asked sarcastically. Not that this is the New York people are thinking of…like ever…. Phil laughed at this, but Pippa did not want to be rude. She understood what it was like, they could make fun of their hometown, but an outsider couldn’t.

So what brings you here? Jesse asked. New York winters can be brutal.

I heard. I’ll get a warm coat, Pippa remarked.

And make sure you don’t skimp on the turtlenecks.... He said this as if it was funny, maybe it was an inside joke, because Pippa didn’t get it.

I should head to class, Pippa stated, noting that if she did not turn right in five seconds she’d miss her turn off to her next period, and she hated having to double back. A route like that lacked symmetry and was therefore not natural. I’ll see you around? She looked Phil in the eye and he nodded at her as she left.

Sure, yeah, if you need anything, just let me know, Phil went on just a tad too convincingly and Pippa felt a little embarrassed by the attention. She marched down the hall, not looking back, though she could feel the eyes of both boys on her. Maybe this attention was just because she was from Cali or because she was new to the school. She didn’t think the story, the whole story, of how she’d come here had gotten out yet. Mother dies in a mysterious house fire, daughter whisked away to live in a secluded house out in the woods with her kooky artist aunt. This story might get people’s attention or it might just scare them.

Pippa hadn’t expected to make any fast friends her first half day, but she’d thought maybe she’d have connected with someone in class enough to be able to sit with them at lunch but she hadn’t met anyone yet. Many of the sophomores were already outside the cafeteria, apparently they had something called open campus and sophomores, juniors and seniors (anyone who was not a Freshman) could leave for lunch, though where they would go in this town, off into a cornfield or to a nearby farm, was beyond her. This open campus meant that many of her fellow sophomores in her lunch period were already gone, as were the other upperclassmen and the freshmen here looked so young, Pippa didn’t think she could just sit with them.

She saw Tiffany from her Math class and waved to her. You wanna come with us to the Stop ‘N Shop, we’re gonna pick up snacks? she asked Pippa, pointing at two girls standing behind her. It’s okay if you don’t have open campus, you know, because you’re new, no one ever checks.

That’s all right, I think I’ll just eat here today, Pippa replied and the girls nodded, turning to go.

Maybe next time, Tiffany said, waving. As tempting as forty-five minutes at the Stop ‘N Shop sounded, Pippa thought she’d get more out of just hanging around school.

After purchasing water and a side salad that appeared as if it had been leftover from the day before, Pippa walked slowly down the rows of tables, her shoes clicking on the white tiles. She passed groups sharing IPads together and many people stared at their phones, which they were apparently allowed to have out at lunch. Some people were talking over one another. Finally, Pippa saw a familiar face, the girl from her English class who’d answered all the questions. She was staring at a book and wearing a pair of dark framed glasses that slid down her nose as if they didn’t fit. She was sitting by herself, an untouched sandwich next to her as she absentmindedly read a large and old-looking book with a worn hardcover. Pippa sat across from the girl for what felt like five minutes and still she did not look up from her reading. She turned a page, she absentmindedly pushed her glasses up her nose, she even sighed once, but she did not look up. Finally, Pippa cleared her throat and the girl glanced right at her, eyes wide as if the presence of another human being terrified her.

Hi, she said, her voice softer than it had been when she was answering questions in English. She pushed her glasses up her nose and Pippa thought she looked like a cute little kitten. I’m Phoebe.

I’m Pippa, it’s short for Philippa, but when I was younger I got called Pippy Longstocking. The girl stifled a laugh and for the first time looked Pippa in the eye.

You’re in my English class? Phoebe asked, pulling her long, straight black hair behind her ears. She was really very pretty, prettier than a girl who sits alone at lunch with a book should be. And no, she wasn’t an ugly duckling about to become a swan, she didn’t need someone to show her how to brush her hair or wear her makeup. In fact it looked as if Phoebe spent time on her hair, neatly brushing it pin straight, the light touch of makeup on her porcelain features was flawless and her clothes, while not super-chic, definitely looked nice on her. Yet here she was, alone at lunch. Phoebe took her glasses off and looked at Pippa. They’re fake, she said nervously. I don’t need them. I just like… I mean I like what they do to my face.

I don’t think you need them to sound smarter, you answered every question in English today, Pippa said.

I know I just…I like to feel smart, Phoebe replied, laughing at herself. So where’re you from? she asked as if she were willing her shy-self to speak.

Irvine, California. I got here a couple days ago. It’s been a crazy few weeks.

Moving across country, I bet, Phoebe remarked.

I mean, it’s a little more than that, Pippa said. My mother passed away at the start of the school year. Why not just tell someone? Pippa decided. I’m going to have to tell her sometime if we actually become friends, why start out by hiding something?

Oh, I’m so sorry, Phoebe replied, looking as if she wanted to reach out and grasp Pippa’s hand in friendship, though she wouldn’t dare. This was not the kind of girl who made direct contact easily. Your family must be devastated.

It’s just me, Pippa replied. I didn’t have any siblings, just Mom and me, and my father, well, my mother never talked much about him. She did always say that he loved me very much, that I shouldn’t hold a grudge against him for not being around.

Oh, I see…. Phoebe replied, mostly because there was very little she could say to that. It was a pretty big confession Pippa had just dumped on her.

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone on like that.

It’s okay, Phoebe replied. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met here.

A group of kids came in from the side of the cafeteria, most of them in blue and white letter jackets. They were talking loudly and playfully shoving at one another as if they were too good for this lunchroom and should be other places. Near the side of the line marched the guy Pippa had seen before. His black hair was tussled from the wind and he kept his hands in his pockets as he slouched. Pippa tried not to watch him, but when he saw her he did a double take. Their eyes met and Pippa felt as if she knew those eyes, that face, from someplace very familiar, just like the flash of the blond boy from the other night. He walked past, seeming to know not to stop. One of the guys with him banged into his side and he nudged him playfully back, laughing as they all left the cafeteria in the same train they’d started in.

Who was that? Pippa asked as Phoebe looked back up from her sandwich.

The black hair? Vincent Sheppard, he’s in my Global class, Phoebe replied. He was new here last year. At first he was really smart, answered all the teachers’ questions, especially in Earth Science, talked with the librarians after school. Then he must have figured popularity out. He started hanging out with football players, joined track…I mean, he still plays the violin, and he is smart, he’s just less vocal about it.

He’s on the track team? Pippa asked. Just looking at him she could tell that made a lot of sense. Something about his legs and the way he carried himself, it was as if he could outrun a car.

He’s their star, actually. He can outrun anyone. I don’t think he’s ever lost.

Wow, Pippa replied. I was just wondering, she felt the need to explain her interest in this guy, not that it didn’t make sense. I just bumped into him earlier.

It’s not a big deal, Phoebe replied, smiling. He is attractive.

The lunch bell rang and Pippa realized she hadn’t taken a bite of her salad. It hadn’t looked that appetizing anyway and so she gulped her water and put the closed plastic container into her bag for later. She only had three periods left until she was done for the day and her aunt would not be picking her up for a half hour after that, since she was teaching an art class until three thirty.

I have Physics next, Phoebe said. With Mr. Sidd. Maybe I’ll see you after school? she added this last part, as if she didn’t make friends often and this wasn’t the kind of shot that came around everyday.

I’ll meet you outside the school. I have to wait for my ride.

Phoebe smiled quietly and nodded self-consciously, gathering her book and half eaten sandwich as they walked out of the lunchroom and to their next periods together.

Chapter Two

The later half of Pippa’s day went by fast. She didn’t see Phoebe or Vincent, nor could she really distinguish one class, one teacher or student, from the next. There was Jesse from earlier. He was in her Speech class and kept asking her questions about her life before the Catskills as if she had some kind of superhero origin story, though he still didn’t seem to know what had really happened. Then there was Phil, who, directly after her Speech class, asked Pippa if she’d like to hang out after school. Some of his friends were headed to this pool hall two towns away, but she declined, not really liking the idea of pool halls. In Irvine at least they’d been pretty seedy.

The day had started out daunting and Pippa hadn’t been sure how she was going to deal but now it was almost over and it hadn’t been that bad. Yes, she was in a new school. No, she hadn’t really made a plethora of friends. Yes, her mother was gone and she was hundreds of miles from home. But if this is what the end of the world looked like, she could take it.

Phoebe met Pippa outside the main exit. A red and gold backpack was slung over her shoulder, though she was also carrying two books between her crossed arms like a girl in a 1950s high school movie. Pippa approached her, already feeling like the more outgoing one, even this far out of her element.

So how’d your first day go? Phoebe asked quietly.

It went well. I liked it. I mean, I didn’t become the most popular girl in school. But who wants to be that? Too much pressure.

I know what you mean, Phoebe replied. Popularity can be tough I’m sure. Mark Hammond, the football coach’s son, asked me out once last year and I couldn’t imagine what it would be like dating him. I don’t think he’s read a book in his life.

Pippa watched Phoebe. It made sense. She was really pretty. Even if she was quiet, even if she buried her face in a book and talked awkwardly around everyone, Pippa saw why boys liked her, of course a football player had asked her out. Kudos to her for saying no. At least she knew herself.

Pippa and Phoebe walked through the fields behind the school. The grounds, where all the football and tennis and track fields stood, were flat, but Pippa could see out past it, to the mountains in the distance. They looked like fading shadows, they were a deep lavender color as the near setting sun descended on them. The sun and shadows resting on the mountains stopped Pippa in her tracks they were so beautiful. This was the first time she understood what they meant by purple mountains majesty.

The girl’s tennis team was practicing on the courts and a few younger boys, probably freshmen, had started a game of touch football in the empty grass near the side of the school. Track was running around the football field. It seemed they got practice time before the football players did, just like back in Irvine. Phil was standing near the girl’s tennis courts, watching them play, or at least watching them pick up balls in their short skits, but he turned around quickly