Far Far Away

W
hat follows is the strange and fateful tale of a boy, a girl, and a ghost. The boy possessed uncommon qualities, the girl was winsome and daring, and the ancient ghost … well, let it only be said that his intentions were good.

If more heavily seasoned with romance, this might have made a tender tale, but there was yet another player in the cast, the Finder of Occasions, someone who moved freely about the village, someone who watched and waited, someone with tendencies so tortured and malignant that I could scarcely bring myself to see them, and even now can scarcely bring myself to reveal them to you.

I will, though. It is a promise. I will.

Let us begin on a May afternoon when the light was pure, the air scented with blossoms, and the sky a pale blue. Lovely, in other
words, and brimming with promise. The village trees were in full leaf, and there, in the town square, under the shade of one such tree, a boy named Jeremy Johnson Johnson stood surrounded by three girls.

Jeremy was a shy boy, so as the girls inched nearer, their eyes bright, he lowered his gaze. One of these girls was Ginger Boultinghouse, whose coppery hair grew long and wild and whose amber eyes possessed the hue, sparkle, and—or so it seemed—effect of a strong lager. The soft sun was behind her. As she leaned closer to Jeremy, she tilted her head so that her unruly hair fell in a dazzling display.

“About that insane word problem that our insane reading teacher assigned today,” she said in a low voice. “Was that what you were slaving over at lunch?”

It was indeed.

I had witnessed it all. At the end of the class, the teacher distributed a little poem called “A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky” and then asked the students to solve a riddle: “Find hidden in the poem the person who inspired it.” The class bell had rung. “It is deceptively simple!” the teacher called after the students as they filed from the room.

Well, what the teacher said was true. It took me just a moment and a half to find the answer (though it must be admitted that I spent all my mortal life as a linguist). For Jeremy, it was more difficult. He sat alone during the lunch hour and contemplated the problem, trying this and that while others joked and ate their food and wandered out of doors to enjoy the warm sunshine.
Would you like a hint?
I whispered, but he shook his head no. When finally the hour was nearly over and he sat alone
with his lunch untouched, he whispered, “Okay. But not the answer—just a hint.”

And so I gave him a small hint.
Acrostic
, I whispered.

He needed no more than that. A few moments later, the problem was solved.

“Yeah, I was working on it,” he said now to Ginger Boultinghouse, and such was the effect of the girl’s eyes that he again had to look away.

The girl teased free several strands of her coppery hair, held them in front of her face, and studied them for a moment. “And you figured it out, right?”

Jeremy nodded his head.

In the old tales, kindness is the purest form of heroism. Find the character who meets the world with a big heart and an open hand and you have found your hero or heroine. Jeremy was like this—whatever was his was yours. He would give up his answer the moment Ginger asked for it. But here was a surprise: the girl did not ask for it.

She pressed the gathered strands of hair between her lips and stared at Jeremy. Her gaze was strange, and somewhat alarming. She seemed not just to look
at
Jeremy but
through
him, as if he were a window to something far away. A moment passed, and then another.

When finally she spoke, it was not of the riddle within the poem but of something completely different. “Did you see the green smoke last night?” she asked, and I noted that the girlfriends’ faces retreated into mild disappointment.

“Yeah,” Jeremy replied, but at once he became flustered. He touched the leather cord that looped about his neck, the cord
from which his house key always hung. “Well, no, I didn’t
see
the green smoke. But I heard people talking about it.”

“But you know what it means, right? ‘Green smoke at midnight; Prince Cakes at first light.’ ”

Jeremy murmured yes. Everyone in town knew what the green smoke meant. But I knew that Prince Cakes meant something even more to Jeremy.

“We’re headed for the bakery,” Ginger said, looking off, but then she let her amber eyes settle fully on Jeremy for a long moment. “You want to come, too?”

Well! I can tell you that this was unexpected. Usually these girls took Jeremy’s answers and departed, but now …

Jeremy’s eyes slid away. “There won’t be any left.”

“There
will
be for us,” Ginger said.

But Jeremy still shook his head no. “I’m not that hungry,” he said. “And, besides, Prince Cakes are kind of expensive.”

Ginger smiled and said she wouldn’t worry about that.

“Why not?”

The girl’s dark eyes shone. “I just wouldn’t.” She drew closer. “You should come with us,” she said. “You like Prince Cakes, right?”

Again Jeremy dropped his eyes. “I’ve never had one.”

As Ginger released an astonished laugh, a pleasant scent of cinnamon blossomed into the air. “You’ve never had a Prince Cake?”

“No,” he said, but he did not give the reason.

“Not even a bite?” Her smile turned frisky. “Not even … a nibble?”

With each shake of Jeremy’s head, Ginger’s eyes grew brighter.
As if it were a wand, she touched a single finger to his forehead and said, “Then today is the day.”

He wanted to go—I could read this in the flush of his cheeks—but he was uncertain, and as he turned away for a moment, he placed a finger lightly to the side of his head between the eye and the ear. He wanted my opinion.

I was there to protect this boy—that was my sole reason for coming to this village—but, truly, he lived so much in isolation. I myself had investigated the bakery and found it harmless. It was time that he saw this as well, and, besides, what harm could come from a visit to the bakery in the company of three pretty girls?

None.

That was what I told myself.

But in this matter, as in others, I would be proved wrong.

So I whispered no warning to Jeremy, and in the next moment Ginger and her girlfriends were leading him toward the bakery in search of his first bite of Prince Cake.