The
Diary of Miss Aidyn Hall, traitor
August
28
5:00
PM
Making
Amends
I
left the Greenwood on Monday afternoon, and I haven't been back
since. I spent my last two days there avoiding everybody, including
Apple Blossom, until she decided that she missed my company after her
Monday lesson. I was holed up in the fairy tale room, scribbling away
in my notepad. It had become my favorite room in the palace, and I
suppose that's why she thought to look for me there.
“Hey,”
I said, peering over my notepad to look at her.
“Hey.”
She sat down beside me. I didn't bother to ask if she was still mad
at me. We were silent for a good long while.
“I'm
leaving today,” I informed her without looking up.
“You
don't have to,” she protested. You could've knocked me down with a
feather! “I don't have to?” I asked, making sure that I heard her
correctly.
“No,”
she answered, “you don't have to.”
I
couldn't believe it! She wasn't angry! I had spelled out full intent
to betray her and her people, and yet she still wasn't angry! She
even wanted me to stick around! If anything, that made me feel even
more like a jerk and even less like I deserved to stay an extra day.
“Apple Blossom,” I said, trying to smile, “you are the kindest
little soul I know, and I really mean that. But I've got to get home
to my own world.” My own
world—that's
what it is, and I'm
no
better than any one of the other “tan-skinned beasts” that define
it. I could see why the Jadeites, and the tree elves before them,
hated us so. Our very nature goes against every bit of theirs, and
Apple Blossom's insatiable kindness and the reluctant but unruffled
tolerance of her people provided living proof of that.
“Okay,” Apple Blossom conceded,
“but I liked having you around here, Aidyn. It was just like you
were my real sister. You'll come stay with me again sometime, won't
you?”
I set down my notepad and gave her a
big hug. But I had no answer beyond, “We'll see.” I hoped she
wouldn't automatically take that as a no, the way that human children
so often do.
Before I packed up, she rounded up
her band of friends and we all played together on the banks of the
Bell's Rush, chasing and frolicking and tossing rocks into the water
to make satisfying “plops.” At one point, Wildflower came running
over to me with her fist curled around something. “What did you
catch?” I asked, and was appalled to see her fingers clasped around
a terrified little fairy, wailing something unintelligible as she
struggled to get free. “Let her go, Wildflower!” I said sternly.
“Let her go right now!” Stunned, Wildflower set the fairy down,
and I did my best to help the poor thing uncurl her wings and get
back on her feet. She took off as soon as she was able to leave the
ground, and I turned to Wildflower. “Don't you ever do anything
like that again, you hear me? You could have really hurt that poor
little fairy!” I guess I'd raised my voice a little bit too much,
for she recoiled like I had boxed her ears, and I softened. “What
if some much bigger thing picked you up and squeezed you in its hand?
You would be scared, wouldn't you?” She nodded. “Then you don't
do it to anyone else,” I told her. “You don't do things to others
that you wouldn't want others to do to you.” It was part of the
Golden Rule, a human philosophy that so many humans neglected to
follow. “If you want to show me a fairy,” I went on, “then you
lead me to her. You don't pick her up and take her to me. Do you
understand?”
She nodded again, and I patted her
on the head. I wasn't sure that she understood all of that, but I
knew she wouldn't squeeze the life out of fairies anymore. When I
returned home late that afternoon, and my phone service returned with
me, I realized that I myself had been neglecting that Golden Rule. My
phone was backed up with unread texts and missed calls from Katie; it
was the first time she had ever been completely unable to reach me
during a retreat. As I scrolled through those texts, I ruminated on
just how horribly I had treated my former best friend. Yes, she had
messed up and destroyed my trust in her, but even before that, I had
treated her like crap. After spending the whole summer avoiding her
in favor of this entire secret life I had, I'd finally let her in on
the secret, as we had done with all of our secrets ever since the day
we met. She had only wanted to be a part of it, and not only had I
denied her that, but I made an active attempt to drive her away.
Maybe she told the others because she was concerned. Maybe she told
the others because she was tired of my crap.
But still, in doing so, she had put
the Jadeites in danger...or had she? If they were in any danger, they
didn't seem to know it. The king himself did nothing more than turn
his passive-aggressive silence on me; no sentries were posted, the
gates remained open and unguarded, no preparations were made for a
possible attack. And really, what had Katie done? She told two
nobodies that I was telling stories about an elf in the woods. It
wasn't exactly unusual for me to tell stories. Did they even believe
her? They'd seemed pretty convinced that we were pulling their legs,
or that I had gone out of my mind and taken Katie with me. Never once
did they indicate that they would go stomping through an elven
forest, destroying everything in their path, all because of a story.
Why in the world would they do that, even if they did believe the
story?
They wouldn't. I had assumed that
they would because of what I saw in those books, what I'd heard from
Apple Blossom, and how I had been regarded by the Jadeites since day
one. I hated humans—my own kind, as if I was any better!--because
the Jadeites hated humans. I viewed them as ugly, beastly creatures
simply because I had been told to, without ever learning the whole
story behind it. In turn, I had become an ugly beastly creature; a
horrible person who treated one set of friends like dirt and betrayed
another one.
I hate myself.
9:25 PM
I've never been to the Greenwood so
late in the day before. After a visit with Katie, I headed on over to
see Apple Blossom. I had actually contemplated taking Katie with me,
but decided that it just wasn't the right time.
It is Katie's custom to bombard me
with questions at the end of every retreat, and since this was the
first one I'd returned from with no pictures or souvenirs (I hadn't
thought to take any pictures), her question supply had increased
tenfold. On the day of my return, I had been subjected to an
hour-and-a-half-long phone call about where I had gone, and what the
environment was like, and what I did there, and how deep in the woods
it had to be to cut out my phone service. And it pains me to say that
I lied my way through that entire phone call. Though I had decided to
forgive Katie and understood that I had been a bad friend to her, I
wasn't yet ready to tell her where I had really been for those four
days. Today, though, I told her everything, leaving out the betrayal
because she had asked about my vacation and that had nothing to do
with it. I watched her eyes grow wider with every word I said
(amusingly enough, she reminded me of Apple Blossom). When I
finished, she had fallen into a sort of haze, and I knew that she
needed a few moments to take all of it in. The first thing she said
was, “So that's why you weren't able to answer your phone.”
“No phone service in the
Greenwood,” I told her.
“So
they actually let you stay in the castle?”
she asked, as if to make sure she had heard me correctly. “You're
not making just that part up?”
“I'm not making anything up,” I
told her. “They let me stay there, and they want me to do it again,
or at least Apple Blossom does.”
Katie
shook her head, and I wondered if this was just a little too wild for
her to believe. I mentally cursed myself for not thinking to take any
pictures. Finally, she said, “Aidyn, you are the most amazing
person I know. At this point, if you told me that you've been to
Narnia or to Atlantis or to Fairyland, I would believe you without
question. If anybody could bring a world to life that we all thought
was only part of a story, it would be you. All of my life, I'd never
believed in things like fairies and elves. I figured they were only
little stories to tell children to make the world more interesting.
When you grow up, you know it's all make-believe. But now, I don't
know what make-believe is anymore. A part of me still wants to
believe that this is all an elaborate prank, but at the same time, I
know that it can't be. I've met
the elf, and she's as much an elf as an elf could be. It's as if
you've managed to cross the line between reality and fantasy, so that
now everything that was make-believe is real. You've done something
that we've all wanted to do when we were children, but just couldn't
figure out how. We just couldn't find the way, because we were all
told that there was no real way to find. Aidyn, you have no idea how
much I want your life!”
She spoke with longing, her voice
increasing in volume and speed with every sentence. If I had the key
to Narnia, the door to Atlantis, or the gate to Fairyland, she wanted
to go in with me...
On my way to the magnolia archway, I
half-expected to find my way closed off and the Greenwood soldiers'
spear tips pointed right at me. But when I got there, the web was
raised as if I had been expected all day. Apple Blossom was not
there, which unnerved me until I reminded myself that it was very
late in the day; usually, if I hadn't shown up by then, I wasn't
going to. As I made my way to the Greenwood alone for the very first
time, every sudden rustle of a shrub in the wind or a bird hopping
through the leaf litter gave me a fright. I couldn't stop thinking of
the guards and those spears...
I finally met Apple Blossom on the
other side of the bridge, stirring the surface of the Bell's Rush
with a branch to make ripples. “Hey there!” I called out, and she
jumped a little before turning to look at me. “Oh, it's you,
Aidyn,” she said, and I was so startled by the coldness in her
voice that I took a step back. I knew I had messed up then. Apple
Blossom had never spoken to me like that. “I'll go if this is a bad
time,” I told her meekly.
“I just thought you were finished
with me, that's all,” she said, focusing on the ripples in the
water.
“Oh dear...” I sat down beside
her. “I'm not finished with you! I don't want to be finished with
you, Apple Blossom. You're my best friend!” I put my arm around
her, and when she didn't object I pulled her into a full hug. She
returned it, wrapping her arms around mine and settling against me. I
knew that I was forgiven, and I knew that meant that Apple Blossom
was the best friend I or anybody else could ever have. If she could
forgive me after what I had planned to do, then I could forgive Katie
for her much smaller offense. We could all stand to be a little more
like Apple Blossom.
We spent the rest of the day playing
out in the forest, even setting out on an impromptu hunt for the
wish-granting “shekrumseh.” Apple Blossom described it as a
little blue creature that looked like a fat, wingless fairy and wore
a cape made from a maple leaf. Unfortunately, we didn't find it, so I
didn't get to see it for myself. “If we find it, what will you wish
for?” she had asked me expectantly as we were closing in on its
alleged lair.
“You aren't supposed to tell
anyone what you wish for,” I told her, “or else it's not a wish
anymore, and so it won't come true.”
“Where did you hear that?” she
asked with wide eyes. “I tell my wishes all the time!”
“Maybe it's just a rule for
humans,” I said. “You know, when you wished on the candles at
your birthday, you did the same thing that humans do on their
birthdays.”
“I did?” If her eyes got any
wider I was sure they would take up her whole face. “You did,” I
said with a nod. “Wishing on birthday cake candles is a human
tradition...and so is having a birthday party, and a birthday cake.
It seems to me that Jadeites and humans celebrate their birthdays in
the same way.”
“Can I come to your birthday
party, Aidyn?” she asked quickly. It was as if she already knew I
was planning to have two parties—one for Jadeites and one for
humans—for my December birthday. “My birthday is still a few
months away,” I told her, “but of course you can. In fact, I
already planned on inviting you.” She beamed. It still amazed me
just how human she really was, in spite of total isolation from
humanity. They were all human enough; they spoke a human language and
took part in human traditions such as birthday parties, they display
inherently human emotions and social desires, their monarchy system
and the architecture of the castle both have their origins in human
history and culture. Now that I really thought about it, I knew it
all had to come from somewhere.
There had been an alliance before.
The striking similarities between us are the greatest evidence of
that. Apple Blossom knew that—she had figured it out long before I
did. Now she dreams of another one, in her own time. As her best (and
only) human friend, I know I must do my part to make that dream a
reality.