The Diary of Miss Aidyn Hall, traitor and thief
Forgiven, but Not Pardoned
For the past two days, I stayed clear of the
my mind off of it—and especially off of Apple Blossom—was no easy task, but I
managed it. When my work wasn’t keeping me busy, I cleaned up the garden pond
and went frog hunting, and at night there were plenty of fireflies just begging
to be caught. I took an opportunity to see my friend Hannah for burgers,
lemonades, and a dip in the pool. Desperately, I tried not to think about the
jade stones, but they would inevitably show up in my mind and I would have to
hold back tears. At night, I didn’t bother holding back. Greenwood
This morning, I finally went back to the magnolia archway. The Grand Elder Guardian’s web still barred my way, and on the other side was a dejected looking Apple Blossom.
“Hey there,” I said, trying to sound cheerful in spite of the situation.
She managed a small, pitiful wave. For a few moments, neither of us said or did anything. We just stood there with our eyes darting from place to place until I figured it was up to me to extend the olive branch. I knelt down and held out my hands for her below the Grand Elder Guardian’s massive web. She approached me and took them. She was willing to look at me, and I figured that was a good sign. “Atta girl, there’s my friend,” I said, trying to smile for her. I’m still not sure whether or not I managed to.
“Do you know what I’m about to ask you?” Apple Blossom asked darkly.
“You’re about to ask me why I stole those jades.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Oh, Aidyn, why would you ever do such a thing? I didn’t think you were the kind to steal. In fact, I thought you were the complete opposite of that! Oh, Aidyn…”
“I didn’t think so either, honey,” I said. “It was…it was an act of impulse, I suppose. Don’t you ever act on impulse?”
“I can’t think of any time I did,” replied Apple Blossom.
“I can’t think of any time I did,” replied Apple Blossom.
“I can. Don’t you remember when you snuck a peek at your mother’s book?” I reminded her.
“Oh.” She let out a sigh. “I do, but this is different.”
“You’re right, it is.”
We were silent.
“Do you really want to know why I took them?” I finally asked.
“Of course I do!” said Apple Blossom.
“Are you going to be mad at me?”
“I’m already mad at you.”
“Well, I took them because I thought I could use them to harness the jade essences,” I admitted. “You said that you couldn’t teach me, so I thought that I might learn for myself.” Apple Blossom let go of my hands and took a step back. Fire was growing in her eyes. “I told you I couldn’t do that because it was against age-old tradition!” she cried. “I thought that you would respect that! You were going to try to break it anyway!” I’d never seen her get angry, and I was amazed by how fierce such a little girl could look. “I was never actually able to,” I said, as if it made a difference. “I felt too guilty to even try.”
“It’s the principle, Aidyn,” she told me. “Even if you didn’t go through with it, you intended to. To me, that shows a complete lack of respect! What did you plan to do with the jade essences? What makes you so worthy of them? We Jadeites use them to form deep, special connections to the forest. What do you need them for?”
I need them to write about them and make money. I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. What a greedy, selfish, traitorous, all-around horrible person I was! Of course, I couldn’t tell her that. Truth is important, of course, but you don’t break someone’s heart while you’re trying to redeem yourself. So instead, I told her, “It was so I could form a special connection to the Jadeites, and so I could form a special connection to you.” It wasn’t a lie. To write about the Jadeites—to write about anything—I needed to form those special connections. But ugh, look at me. I’m talking about the Jadeites as if they’re merely writing material. That can’t be the only reason I want to draw closer to them! I want to draw closer to them for Apple Blossom, of course. I want to strengthen (and now repair) our friendship. And I still want to show them that humans are not all bad, that I am not all bad. I want to befriend all of Apple Blossom’s little friends—especially Wildflower—and show them that we humans are not the bogeymen that they had been taught to fear. It wasn’t all about the writing. It couldn’t be all about the writing.
“Oh, Aidyn…” Apple Blossom stepped forward and took my hands again. “There are other ways to do that. You don’t have to harness the jade essences to do that!”
“Will you teach me the other ways?” I asked her.
“Of course I will.” And so we were friends again, but I’m not off the hook yet. She hadn’t said that I wasn’t going to be punished, and either way I have to make amends.
The Grand Elder Guardian still blocked my way, but he was willing to move aside when Apple Blossom politely requested that I be let in. The other guardians parted the way for us, though I’m sure it was very begrudgingly. “Who was it that I stole the jades from?” I asked Apple Blossom.
“Her name is Chicory of Willowmead,” Apple Blossom told me. “She’s a gardener and a flower gatherer. In fact, she was gathering some flowers along the
that day when you…” She did not finish that sentence. Bell
“Take me to her,” I said. “I’ll apologize and do whatever she asks of me to make amends. Maybe she needs some work done around the house, or an extra set of hands to help in the garden.” It wasn’t until I said it that I realized it wouldn’t hold any water. Why in the world would she trust a thief with her house and garden? I had delusions of grandeur, thinking that I was going to just blaze through her front door with an apology and offers of menial labor and then everything would be okay again. The truth of the matter was that she may not accept any form of apology from me.
Apple Blossom said, “We’ll just have to wait and see, Aidyn.”
When we crossed the bridge, we were greeted by several men and women in emerald green uniforms fashioned from maple leaves and reinforced by armor plates. Apple Blossom had told me about them once; they were a sort of public militia that dealt with street and civil matters in the
they worked on the streets, they were dispatched by only one person: the king. Just
because I had been forgiven enough to be let in doesn’t mean that all was well.
Who would have known that petty theft was a reason to call upon the street
militia? Oh wait, it wasn’t, unless you were a human among Jadeites, and
therefore universally distrusted in the first place. Greenwood
“Good afternoon,” Apple Blossom said to the soldiers, and I nodded to them. The soldiers, whose stony eyes had been fixated on me, bowed to their princess. Then one of them, a gruff-looking man holding what appeared to be an old mace, began speaking quickly to her in a language I couldn’t make out. I figured it was the tree elf language that they used for their writing. Apple Blossom spoke back to him in the same language, and that got me irked. It was all well and good if these soldiers didn’t trust me to hear what they were saying that was very obviously about me, but Apple Blossom had trusted me enough to remain friends with me even after what I did, so she should trust me enough to hear at least her end of the conversation about me! Now that I think about it, if the Jadeites think humans are so terrible, why did they—or at least, this particular branch of them—adopt our English language? Isn’t it just a little presumptuous of them to go around speaking the language of the creatures they so hate and distrust? And if human contact is discouraged at best and forbidden at worst, how were the Jadeites able to get close enough to humans to adopt an entire language from them? Was it always like this? It’s something for my Need to Know list, and something to stay up late into the night pondering.
The only words in the conversation that I could make out were my name and Chicory’s name, both said by Apple Blossom. The soldiers’ words were lost on me, and because they were doing such a good job of remaining stone-faced, there were no expressions for me to speculate from. Finally, Apple Blossom took my hand and the soldiers moved aside to let us pass. They fixed their eyes on me again, and I tried to smile for them but I don’t think I quite managed it. As we headed past the village where I had been gawked at so many times (amazingly, nobody was gawking now), I understood that the soldiers were following us—specifically, following me. So this was how it was going to be.
Chicory of Willowmead, it turned out, lived in a small, boxy tree-bark shack out of the way of everything else. Everything about her was simple, from her unremarkable grass-green hair cut short to her faded blue pants and worn-out grey tunic. She had a plain but pleasant face, slate-blue eyes, and a little spot of dirt on the tip of her nose. It seemed like the only thing about her that wasn’t plain in every way was her garden, which was just like a picture out of Burnett’s The
. Roses of all colors—red, pink,
purple, yellow, white, and even blue—grew in arches and trailed like
waterfalls. Snapdragons grew several feet tall against the garden gates.
Camellias and peonies, lilies and dahlias, azaleas and petunias, and flowers I
didn’t even know the names of formed a carpet of color intertwined with jade
stones of varying shapes and sizes. When we arrived, Chicory had been
harvesting from bushes of bright bleeding hearts. When we entered—me and Apple
Blossom in front, soldiers spread out in a fan behind us—she paused and looked
at us. The sight of the soldiers visibly intimidated her, but she softened when
Apple Blossom approached her with her characteristic smile. “Good afternoon,
Miss Chicory,” she said. Chicory bowed her head so that her nose touched the
spade she was holding. Secret Garden
“You have the loveliest garden,” said Apple Blossom. “I see that you take the best possible care of it. I like to see nice flowers and the nice people who tend to them.” I understood that she was trying to make the poor girl less anxious. Sure enough, that got a smile out of Chicory.
“This is my good friend, Aidyn Hall,” said Apple Blossom, putting her arm around me. “She’s human, but she is most definitely one of the sweetest ladies you could ever hope to meet.” When she said this, I smiled a real smile, because I knew once and for all that she had forgiven me. “But,” Apple Blossom went on, “as you must know, even the sweetest are capable of doing the wrong thing sometimes. Why, the list of the wrong things I’ve done could fill a book from beginning to end! And so I am afraid that Aidyn has done the wrong thing, and it is you she has wronged. She…”
“She’s the one who took my jades!” Chicory exclaimed.
“I’m afraid so,” I told her. “But I am genuinely remorseful for doing so, and I will do anything you ask of me to make up for my crime—anything at all! I am your loyal servant from now until you decide that I have sufficiently apologized for the stealing.”
“Right now I just want to know why you took them,” said Chicory.
“I wanted to study them,” I told her.
“Study them for what? You humans don’t have them where you’re from?”
“The ones we have are nothing like the ones you have,” I said truthfully.
“Well,” said Chicory, dusting off her pants, “if you wanted to ‘study’ them you could have waited for me to come back and asked me. You’re a grown-up lady. You should have known that there was no need for stealing! Do you still want to look at them?”
“Thank you, but I’m no longer interested,” I told her. I didn’t feel that I deserved it.
“Well, that’s all, then,” Chicory said. “You don’t have to work for me. You really don’t seem so bad, and I’m sure that the princess knows what she’s talking about, but there is nothing that I would feel right in trusting a human with—certainly not my prized garden! So I will accept your apology and leave it at that.” So I was forgiven, and it didn’t even take any work. I was slightly disappointed, as I’m sure that working as a maid or a garden-hand in a Jadeite household would have given me quite a bit of excellent material. But Apple Blossom said, “I am glad that you found it in your heart to forgive Aidyn. You are so kind, Chicory, and the perfect example of what a citizen of my
Chicory reached up into one of the arches and picked off an exquisite white rose, so well-formed and detailed that it almost looked like it was made rather than found in nature. She handed the rose to Apple Blossom, who received it with her usual enthusiasm: “Oh! It is beautiful, beautiful! What a perfect rose! Oh, thank you, Chicory! Thank you, thank you! But,” she turned to me, “can you give one to Aidyn too?” When Chicory looked doubtful, Apple Blossom said, “Oh, please? She’s my very, very best friend!” My heart swelled.
Chicory picked an identical white rose—I wondered how many perfectly-formed roses she had on those arches—and handed it to me. “Thanks very much, Chicory,” I said with a smile. Apple Blossom put her arms around Chicory, stood on tiptoe, and kissed her cheek, and Chicory blushed as she returned the embrace. “Thank you very, very much, Chicory,” Apple Blossom said. “Thank you for being so kind and for forgiving Aidyn and for having such a wonderful garden.” She took my hand then, and we took our leave.
I am forgiven. I am still Apple Blossom’s friend—her very, very best friend, her only human friend. I really want to keep it that way.