The Next Full Moon (11 page)

Ava's father had been far too practical to read her stories about fairies and the rest. He had read her stories about Tarzan and the Old West and Al Capone, and pointed out the constellations to her while talking about supernovas and black holes. She was jealous of Morgan, suddenly, even more than she'd been before. Maybe having mothers meant learning about magic, along with everything else. Of course Ava had had Grandma Kay, but that was different.

A mother was something else altogether.

“So I think this is the perfect spot,” Morgan said. “No one around for miles.”

“Except for an elf or two, maybe.”

Morgan waved her hand. “Oh, they don't count.”

“I guess not,” Ava said, standing there, holding her backpack.

For a minute, neither girl moved. Overhead, a cluster of birds passed, seeming to swim through the air.

“Well?” Morgan said finally, her hands on her hips. “Did you just want to stand here all day staring at the sky?”

“There are worse things to do.”

“Yeah, and better,” Morgan said, grabbing for the backpack.

“Stop it!” Ava held on tight, but Morgan didn't let go. Suddenly the zipper flew open, both girls stumbled back, there was a terrible ripping sound, and the feathered robe came tumbling out and landed in the dirt.

Ava gasped. Her heart froze in her chest.

The two girls looked at each other.

“Did we . . . break it?” Morgan breathed.

“I don't know.” Trembling, Ava dropped down to her knees to touch it. As she reached out her hand, the edge of the robe closest to her seemed to shrink away. Or did she imagine it? She grabbed the robe and pulled it to her, sitting back and gathering it in her lap.

Morgan crouched down next to to Ava, the ends of her long red hair hanging down and scraping the feathers.

Around them, the woods were completely silent, except for the faint faint rushing of creek in the distance.

“Is it okay?” Morgan asked, her voice soft and timid.
“I'm so sorry, Ava.”

“I don't know,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

She stood and held up the robe, tentatively, as if it were made of glass, unfolding it so that it hung down in, almost, one big sheet. Wincing, she held it away from herself so she could see.

It was worse than she thought it'd be. The robe was covered in dirt. Near the center, the feathers were all awry, sticking out in different directions like a bad hairdo. Worst of all, a large rip ran up the bottom.

Ava's heart fell to her knees. She wanted to sob.

“Maybe you should put it on to see,” Morgan whispered, finally. “Maybe it doesn't matter.”

“Okay,” Ava said, unconvinced. She forced herself not to cry, knowing her friend felt bad enough already.

But just as she was about to pull the robe around her shoulders, something happened. A quiet sound, like breathing . . . And then, as both girls watched, the feathers smoothed and whitened and the tear mended, slowly, from bottom to top, until the robe gleamed like a bright white moon in the midst of the pitch black night.

“Did you see that?” Ava asked, barely able to breathe. The robe seemed to shiver under her fingers.

“Yes!”

The girls stared at each other and then at the robe, which hung still now, glowing.

“It's so beautiful!”

“It's amazing,” Morgan said. “Oh, Ava, put it on!”

Ava smiled and took a deep breath, her heart pounding with excitement. She pulled the robe around her shoulders. Before she could even put her arms through the sleeves, she felt the robe fusing to her back.

“Oww!”

“Oh my god!” Morgan leapt up. “What's happening?”

But Ava couldn't have answered even if she'd known what to say.

The feathers were like flames running down her back, her arms, and then her body bent and dropped down, her neck stretched up, and suddenly she was close to the ground, warm and strange, peering up at Morgan, who stood over her screaming and flailing about. But Ava could no longer hear her, not the way she could before.

Everything was different. Everything looked different, felt different, smelled different.

The air was different, even.

Ava was sure she could hear the sounds of the creek, the flopping of fish, the hush of the trout moving through the water. How was that possible?

She stretched out her wings. The breeze sifted through them. They lifted on their own accord. Her neck stretched out after them. Above her, Morgan didn't look at all like herself. She was misshapen, stretched out too long and too
tall like taffy. Over her, the trees were a dark, glowing green. The sky was like an ocean she could dive into.

Ava laughed. Morgan looked so funny! But what came out was a long, strange honking sound. She laughed again and the air was filled with it.

With each passing second she felt more and more comfortable in her new body. It was so . . . light! And lovely. She stepped forward, flapping her wings, and let out another loud honk when Morgan jumped back, screaming.

“Now turn back!” she heard suddenly, cutting through the haze of other sounds, and she focused again on the strange creature in front of her. “Ava! Turn back into a human!”

And Ava tried to remember . . . But instead all she could think about was how beautiful the sky was. How inviting. And it was so strange, the feeling that she was in the air and the sky was below her.

She realized then that she felt
exactly right
. Perfect. This is how she'd always wanted to feel! Her body, sleek and small and perfect. Weightless. She had imagined that sometimes, how nice it would be to float through the air and have no body at all. And now this, here, was almost like that. She lifted her wings again and flapped them, and the next thing she knew she was
in the air
, her face was level with Morgan's face, and it was easier than being on the ground.

HONKKK!

Right in Morgan's face.

HONK HONK!

She couldn't stop laughing at Morgan's horrified expression, and that only made things worse.

HONK HONK HONKKKKKKKKK!

She was so busy laughing she forgot to move her wings, and then she was flat on the ground with her feet—her fins? what were they?—at her sides, and Morgan was standing over her, swatting at her neck. “Hey, stop that!” Ava called, filling the air with more honking.

“Ava, you change back right now! It's my turn!!!”

Ava focused again on Morgan's words. Change back? Why would she do that, when all she wanted was to launch herself into the air? Why would she change back
ever
? This was so awesome!

And then she remembered that she was a human girl, and that even though she felt awkward and embarrassed all the time—though not today, not now, today she hadn't felt awkward hardly at all, had she, even with Jeff Jackson calling her pretty and all the zombies giving her their mean-girl looks?—she
did
want to see her father and Grandma Kay and her friends, okay, friend, and she wanted to kiss Jeff Jackson and possibly she even wanted to see Monique. Though that was a stretch. Plus, she had an amazing birthday party to plan.

But she couldn't remember what to do to change back.

She flapped her wings a few times.

She stomped her weird flat feet.

And then she thought about the feathered robe, how she'd slipped it on, and she moved as if she were lifting her hand and reaching for it, not even thinking about what she was doing . . . and suddenly everything happened in reverse and she was standing next to Morgan, the feathered robe in her hand.

She blinked and looked at her friend.

“Oh my god, you almost killed me!” Morgan cried. Ava wasn't listening. A euphoria moved through her. It was as if she'd just arrived at the top of Mount Everest, or ridden a roller coaster so fantastic it hadn't been designed yet. “That was amazing!”

“Well, you are the stupidest-looking swan I have ever seen.”

Ava jumped up in the air, and then started bouncing up and down like a pogo stick.

“AND the stupidest-looking human.”

Ava stopped bouncing. “Morgan, I cannot possibly explain to you how awesome that was.”

“Well, luckily you don't have to,” Morgan said, reaching for the feathered robe. She stopped just before her hands touched it. “Can I?”

“Yes, fine,” Ava said, though now she regretted having told Morgan she could try it. What if her friend really did ruin it? What if it wasn't allowed?

Morgan's face was shining as she took the robe, and Ava felt suddenly guilty. “Here, I'll help you,” she said.

Morgan smiled. Ava stood behind her friend, helping her maneuver into the robe. It was awkward; when Ava had done it, she hadn't even had time to slip her arms through the sleeves before she transformed. With Morgan, the two girls together had to struggle to get her arms through the slightly too-narrow sleeves.

Nothing happened. Morgan stood wearing the robe, but she was definitely still a human girl. “Did I do it right?” she asked, after a minute had passed.

“I think so. Let's try it again.”

They slipped the robe off and then on again. Still nothing happened.

“It looks kind of glamorous on you, at least,” Ava said. And it did. With her red hair and green eyes, Morgan looked like some kind of exotic Russian queen or something.

Morgan was not soothed. “Maybe we did break it,” she said, her voice quivering with disappointment. “Here, you put it on again.”

Ava took the robe and slipped it on. Immediately the feathers spread like a fire over her skin and she was back on the ground, stretching out her wings.

“Wooooo!” she yelled. This time, she leapt into the air and fluttered her wings up and up, until she was above the trees looking across the sky. And then she swooped down
to the ground, reached back as if she had arms . . . and was standing holding the robe again, shining with joy.

Morgan, on the other hand, was dejected. “I guess it only works on you, huh?”

“I guess so. Last night, one of them said I couldn't use hers, so I figured . . . I'm sorry. But it was worth a try.”

“It's so not fair. I'm the one who should be a swan maiden.”

“Well,
you
have a mom, at least.”

“I have a pretty good mom, don't I?”

“Yeah. So quit being so jealous.”

“Well, hopefully soon you'll have a mom, too.”

Ava nodded. “Yeah.” She smiled. “And if I get a mom?
Then
you can be totally, completely jealous.”

“Deal.”

The sun was beginning to fall in the sky, and the light grew more dim in the woods. Ava stuffed the robe into her backpack and the two friends made their way out of the forest and to Ava's house.

The house looked so cozy and sweet, in front of them, as they left the woods. Its little chimney jutted into the sky. Ava's dad was already home; the lights were on in the kitchen and living room, and Ava could see him moving around the kitchen.

“Oh no,” she said.

“What?”

“You'll see.”

The girls burst into the house, which smelled like meat and wine. Monique yowled a greeting and Morgan scooped her up, pressing her own cheek into the cat's.

“Can you take her home with you, please?” Ava asked.

“You are the most glamorous cat in the whole world,” Morgan said in her annoying cat voice, ignoring Ava. Monique purred loudly, looking at Ava accusingly.

“Girls!” her father yelled then, coming out of the kitchen. He was wearing a big goofy apron and a chef's hat, and holding a wooden spoon. “I'm making my special veal marsala,” he said. “Hungry? You staying for dinner, Morgan?”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Lewis,” Morgan said, suddenly going all bashful, a blush creeping up her pale, freckled cheeks, “I promised my mom I would be home. We're having company tonight.”

“Ah, well then, you'll have to have a taste now of my famous red sauce.”

“It smells amazing!” Morgan said. Knowing what was coming, Monique jumped out of her arms and scuttled away.

Ava rolled her eyes as they followed her dad into the kitchen, which was now a complete disaster, with pots and pans everywhere and bread crumbs and flour and grated cheese covering the counters.

“Dad!”

“Ava, this is how a real cook works,” he said as he dipped his spoon into one of the bubbling pots. “Now behold my famous pasta sauce.”

As Morgan leaned in and tasted a spoonful, doing a good job of pretending she hadn't tasted it a thousand times before, Ava suddenly had a memory. Just a flash of one, a sliver: her father and mother standing over the stove laughing together while she played on the floor. Her father feeding her mother a spoonful of something from the stove. Their two heads together, her mother's long moon hair next to her father's dark curls.

“Dad, you cooked this for Mom, too, didn't you?”

He looked at Ava, surprised. “Of course,” he said, after a second. “It's my specialty. She loved it.”

“It's delicious!” Morgan gushed.

“I remember,” Ava said. “I remember you guys cooking together.”

He smiled. Handsome despite his ridiculous getup. “Yes,” he said. “She liked to cook. She never really had before. We had a lot of fun in this kitchen.”

The two girls gave each other a look. Ava felt a strange sort of shiver going down her back.

Her mother, here, over this stove, tasting her father's sauce. But she'd been a swan, she wasn't supposed to have been here at all, Helen had said. A swan maiden, cooking Italian food in this little wooden house. Her mother!

“How come she had never cooked before?” Ava asked. “Isn't that weird?”

Her father shrugged. “She'd always loved being outside so much, your mother, she was a bit of a wild child. I tamed her, in a way. She loved this house, loved cooking in this kitchen, loved you and being your mother.”