Enchanted Summer Read online

  “Ariadne, you’re incredible!” Hanna exclaimed jumping out of the tree line and noticing two familiar cars—Ray’s and Nate’s—parked exactly where they’d left them.

  The fairy girl shifted and nodded to her. “I’m glad I was able to help.”

  “Okay, let’s pack the things into the car,” Ray said, his voice slightly shaky. “It’s going to be a long ride home.”

  He shot Nate a weird glance as he passed him and tried to ignore Ariadne’s presence completely. While Hanna helped him load their bags into the trunk, Ryan walked over to the dryad.

  “Will I ever see you again?” he asked her, his eyes alight.

  “Of course.” Ariadne’s iridescent laugh seemed to echo all around the place. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.”

  “Well …” He grinned. “See you later, then.”

  Ariadne nodded to him and cast a quick glance at Mimi before turning into the bubble of light again. Nate opened the car door for her, and she flew inside, a trail of magical pollen left behind her in the air melting before it could reach the ground.

  Ryan watched in wonder as she disappeared within the vehicle, then walked backward, barely slamming into Mimi. He apologized and, saying goodbye to Nate, set out to climb into Ray’s car. Mimi lingered only for a moment, catching Nate’s glance and mumbling something to him as a farewell.

  Her heart was racing as she climbed in the back seat beside Ryan, and she hurried to plug up her ears with music, turning it on louder than usual. Ryan was already plunged into his video game, no doubt seeking out elf girls and mentally comparing them to Ariadne. Mimi rested her forehead against the window.

  Soon enough, her other brother got into the driver’s seat, and Hanna settled beside him, closing the door and clicking the safety belt into place. She chatted vigorously, her loud voice sounding almost louder than the music in Mimi’s ears. Not for the first time in her life, Mimi admitted to herself that she envied her best friend. Envied her positive outlook on life, the fact that the guy she’d always loved was hers and only hers for as long as she could remember, that she could talk to anybody in every possible situation and still remain confident and full of energy.

  On days like these, Mimi wanted to crawl under the blanket and hide from the whole world. It felt as if everyone around her—even her own family—was watching her, judging her, anticipating her failures only so that they could point them out to her later. Sometimes she wanted to disappear completely; go hide in some parallel world, only so that she could get momentary relief.

  People like Hanna didn’t need all of that. They fully belonged in this world and knew they had a rightful place in it.

  The car rumbled to life underneath them, and Hanna picked up her phone, chatting all the while. Mimi closed her eyes, concentrating on the lyrics of the song that was currently playing. She’d managed to relax enough to let go of the thoughts that were swarming her mind when Hanna’s sudden cry made her shudder and instantaneously rip out her earphones from her ears.

  “What?” Mimi squeaked in a shaky voice, leaning forward. “What happened?”

  Ryan looked up from his phone and took off his headphones, his eyebrows twisted in confusion.

  Hanna just stared open-mouthed at the screen of her phone, not able to utter a single word.

  “What’s going on, babe?” Ray frowned, gripping the steering wheel.

  “The photos! The photos I’d taken at the Secret Lake!” Hanna cried out, blinking at her phone in disbelief. “They’re all gone!”

  Ray flicked his eyes to hers. “You mean deleted?”

  “No! Look!” She turned the phone screen so he could take a look. Mimi and Ryan dashed forward so that they could see it too.

  Ray blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. The car paused at the entrance to the road. Hanna swiped her finger across the screen so that pictures replaced one another.

  “There were pixies on this one, and look!” Hanna screamed, showing everyone the photo of two dragonflies seated on a rock—a mundane gray rock, nothing magical about it.

  The other photos showed an ordinary lake with dull, murky water. Some reeds growing by the shore. A fish jumped out of the water on one of the pictures—a pretty rare sight, but Hanna claimed there were nixies captured on that one earlier.

  Ray fumbled for his phone and swiped through the photos that he’d snapped.

  “Same thing.” He nodded, then showed Hanna the pictures.

  She stared at them in bewilderment.

  Ryan tapped at the screen of his own phone. “Hey, look,” he said after a moment, drawing everyone’s attention. “I found it online. It’s the pictures of that lake we should’ve found.”

  He showed the screen to everybody, and Hanna gasped.

  “It’s that same lake!” she said, covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes flicked to Ray. “The one on our photos. It’s like we’ve been there but saw an illusion instead.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Isn’t that what Ariadne tried to tell us? That it’s all in our heads?”

  “Yeah, but electronics don’t lie.”

  “Who knows …”

  “Maybe that fairy was a part of the illusion as well,” Ray muttered, turning to face the windshield.

  Hanna looked up at him, and for the first time since that morning, she didn’t argue.

  Ryan flicked his eyes between his brother and her, and then he leaned back in his seat, putting his headphones on and diving back into his game. Hanna twisted back in her seat and clutched her phone, totally confused.

  Mimi watched them all for a moment before plugging her ears with music once again. She wished she could believe it was all just one big illusion, but something told her that things were much more complicated than they seemed.

  Ray drove home much faster than usual.

  Thirteen

  That night, when Nate came downstairs after taking a shower, a towel still around his neck, he found Ariadne sitting in one of the cozy armchairs in the living room, reading a romance novel from his aunt’s extensive collection.

  As to not damage her wings, she’d swung her legs over one armrest and leaned her back against the other. Careful not to disturb her, Nate padded into the kitchen and brewed two cups of tea for them.

  Ten minutes later, he walked in and offered a steaming cup to his otherworldly guest. She blinked, emerging from the imaginary world she’d just been immersed in and looked up at him sheepishly.

  Nate smiled, crouching beside her chair. “I thought you might want it.”

  Ariadne blinked once, twice. Her pale fingers brushed the handle of the mug.

  “I was just thinking about it,” she admitted, “but I was too lazy to get up and brew it for myself.”

  Nate grinned. “Good thing I can read your mind.” Her eyebrows rose slightly, and he chuckled. “Besides, I haven’t taught you how to use the stove yet.”

  Ariadne closed her eyes and carefully sipped from her mug.

  Nate watched her, his eyes gleaming. “Enough honey?” he asked.

  She nodded slightly. “It’s perfect.”

  He realized she was watching him as he settled into an armchair across from her. Nate took a sip of his own tea before catching her gaze.

  Before he could ask his own question, Ariadne lowered her mug onto her lap and spoke. “I wonder … Would you ever play the piano again?”

  It came so sudden and unexpected, Nate almost choked on his tea and nearly spilled the beverage all over himself. He recollected himself, then met her eyes again. “Do you … want me to?”

  A faint blush crept over her cheeks. She averted her eyes. “That would be nice. I like listening to you play.”

  All those times when she sneaked in to watch him from a windowsill flashed before Nate’s mind eye. He hesitated for a second, peering into the honey-gold liquid in his mug, then set it on a side table and got up. Next thing he knew, he was sitting down on a wooden bench, opening up the fallboard.

  “I forgot you visited me a few t
imes in your fairy form just to listen,” he said with a smile, touching a few keys with his fingers. “Do you enjoy piano music? Or just … any kind of music?”

  Ariadne’s blush deepened. “Not any kind of music,” she murmured, then added, so silently he thought he might have imagined it, “but yours is special.”

  Without another word, he began to play, catching at the first idea that came to his mind and weaving the sounds together until the melody formed. It was a bit hard to concentrate at first, with Ariadne watching him so intently from her seat, but the deeper he got into the melody, the more he relaxed, that familiar feeling flooding his body.

  Music was his element. When Nate played it, he was at home.

  Entranced by it almost as much as his stunned audience, he didn’t notice how the minutes went by. The bright lights of the living room dimmed, and they were back on the clearing littered with glittering crystals. A few butterflies fluttered past, flying low to touch the keyboard with their multicolored wings, and when Nate looked at them closely, he realized those weren’t insects at all but pixies—the same as they’d met on their hike in the woods.

  The whole room was transforming now, bookshelves becoming thick tree trunks overgrown with moss, armchairs turning into green bushes covered in magical flowers. A water stream trickled nearby, and Nate imagined teal scaled nixies frolicking in the water, but his eyes were still focused on the keyboard, following down the enchanted path. The music guided him along.

  Finally, it died down, like a drop of paint dissolving in the ocean, and the vision popped as quickly as it came. As the last sound ceased, Nate looked up at Ariadne.

  All of this time she sat so quietly as if fearing the slightest movement from her would distract Nate and prevent him from playing. Now she gazed back at him in awe, her wings trembling faintly.

  A smile broke across Nate’s face.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  Ariadne shivered, blinking rapidly. It took a few moments for her to reply.

  “I think you’re hurt.”

  Despite himself, Nate laughed. It was the last thing he expected her to say. “That’s what you’ve concluded from the melody?”

  She shook her head, white hair flying. Her delicate hands gripped the mug on her lap. “It’s not about the melody. I can feel it when I’m around you. When I’m …”—she flicked her eyes to the side for a second—“near you.”

  Nate’s fingers hovered over the piano. He looked down and brushed the keys gently, extracting a few sounds. “Is that one of your abilities?”

  “You may call it that.”

  A corner of his lips turned upward, but he no longer smiled. “And what am I sad about?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t tell that—just that you’re hurting on the inside. That’s all a dryad needs to know.”

  “What for?”

  Another few sounds spilled into the living room. The melody stopped and started, as if played by a broken record player.

  “To help,” Ariadne said simply.

  She sipped her tea as Nate raised his eyes at her again. “You said to Ryan that you were a healer. Is that what you do? Help people to cure?”

  He thought he heard her sigh—barely audible. “I wish. But no—I do nothing important.”

  Nate knew they were probably getting into the forbidden territory—he was asking questions she made clear she couldn’t answer. But he wanted to keep exploring. Inch closer to the understanding of who she was and what was that magical place she called home.

  So he continued down that path.

  “But how can you help someone,” he said, “if you don’t even know why they are hurting?”

  “The way I healed that dying tree in your front yard,” Ariadne replied. She was peering into her own mug now, looking sad, as if she herself recalled some memories she wished to forget. “Though when it comes to trees, I can feel what went wrong. A broken branch. A rotten core. Pests. But the magic I use to heal them is the same that I use on humans. Drops of light and love, energy and serenity.”

  Nate felt himself smile; his gaze traveled down to the piano. “Some people say love can heal anything.” His fingers paused, and then he lifted his hands from the keyboard, leaning forward to fold his arms on top of the fallboard. “Don’t you think it’s strange? We invented musical instruments, pens and paper, canvas and paint. All for one reason: because of the infinite need to express ourselves, to ease that longing in our souls. And then we created all kinds of rules around this primal need. Now, when a child picks up a pencil—just out of nothing but curiosity and a need for something they can’t even fully explain—their parents take them to the art class or hire someone to teach them how to do it right. As if there’s a wrong way to express your deepest feelings. And then the thing that brings you the most joy becomes torture.”

  He couldn’t tell if Ariadne was confused by his words or just pondering on what he’d said. So he continued.

  “When I was in middle school, there was this forest at the edge of our neighborhood I liked to escape to. Sometimes I would skip school just to run there. Not too often, but it happened. I wasn’t interested in the names of the trees that grew there or what animals I came across on my hikes. All I wanted was just to be there, to feel myself a part of it all. In turn, the forest inspired me to come up with melodies. At that time, I didn’t tell anyone about my growing passion, but there was one person who understood me better than I did myself.” Nate dropped his gaze, then straightened up, running a hand along the top of the piano. “This piano? It was a gift for me from my grandfather when I was just about five years old. That’s when it all had started.”

  “Did you live here?” Ariadne asked.

  He shook his head. “Not here; in another town. This piano used to occupy half of the living room in our house. At first, it was the most incredible, magical thing in the world to me.” He chuckled, rubbing his forehead. “Then, slowly, it became something else.”

  The memories flooded Nate’s mind once again, blocking out the reality for a moment.

  A boy sitting on the floor in a small dark closet. All curled up, his head buried in his knees.

  A loud voice sounded from the other side of the door.

  “Nate? Are you in here? Come out, now.”

  A streak of light fell across the boy’s head; the ends of his unruly locks glowed, illuminated by sunlight.

  “Please,” the boy’s voice was a little more than a whisper. “I don’t want to do this.”

  “You’re embarrassing us. How many times do we have to have this conversation for you to understand? If you do it again, we’ll cancel your lessons.”

  “Then do it. I don’t want to be doing this anymore.”

  “Fine. Then the piano goes too.”

  Little boy’s eyes grew wide. “No! Please …”

  “This is not a toy, Nate. We’ve talked about it before. You either do it right or you don’t do it at all.”

  A pause. Then, “Well?”

  But the boy just sat there, trembling slightly, looking into one spot.

  “Well, that was your choice.”

  The door creaked, and the boy’s small figure plunged into darkness.

  The memories shuffled, like a deck of cards, and another scene came forth, this one brighter.

  Little boy peering through the crack in the door at three people seated in the living room.

  A beam of sunlight pierced through a window, making figures into shadows.

  “The thing is,” one of them said, “he’s really got some talent. If we could only find a way, maybe try another approach …”

  “Unfortunately, he’s also very stubborn. If he doesn’t want to do something, he won’t do it under any circumstances.”

  The vision dimmed, followed by a voice coming from a black abyss. There were no images attached, just a rough sound.

  “Then you’re not really serious about it.”

  Nate blinked as the remains of the mem
ories fizzled out around him. Ariadne’s pretty face came into view.

  “So the piano got moved out of the house. At first, they wanted to sell it, but as my grandfather was still alive and didn’t approve of their actions, my aunt offered to take it. She said it could sit in her living room and entertain the guests she invited to her parties. We’d moved across the country soon after, so I couldn’t just hop on a bus to go visit her and play the piano. Besides, I was too small to do it by myself at that time.”

  Ariadne stared at him with her eyes wide open. “Why did they do it? I don’t understand it.”

  “Did your parents set any rules for you when you were little?” Nate asked a question, then bit his tongue. He assumed that she had parents, but what if she didn’t?

  But his fairy companion didn’t seem to be disconcerted by the question. “My whole life seemed to be just one big set of rules,” she replied quietly, a sad smile appearing on her lips.

  “Well, then you understand what I mean. We’re helpless when we’re little. If our parents or someone authoritative see our life and our future one way, we have no other option than to obey. And it’s hard to shake off those imaginary shackles even when we grow up. Society has its own set of rules, too. And if you don’t fit in, if you’re not willing to play the game, you become an outcast.”

  ∞∞∞

  The last of Nate’s words echoed in Ariadne’s head as she plunged into another one of her memories.

  This one took place in a radiant dining hall inside the Rainbow Castle. Nobody was present aside from her father seated at the head of a long table, her mother by his side, and Ariadne herself a few seats away from them. The clinking of the rose-gold cutlery on fine porcelain dishes and the distant rush of the waterfall beneath the castle were the only sounds to disperse the silence that hung over the room.

  Ariadne’s wings trembled slightly despite being tightly folded at her back. She knew her parents could see it, and she hated it.

  “I don’t understand,” she finally uttered, breaking the silence.

  She heard her father sigh.

  “You don’t need to understand, Ariadne. You are still so young. We don’t expect it of you. But believe me, one day you will. And you’ll be thankful you did what we told you to do.”