Saturday came quickly, and it ended even faster. A boy and his mom moved in just next door, the only house on our street that was still vacant. Dad offered me as a tribute to slave away and help them into their new home and befriend the boy. He’d be student number twenty-three in my class, and if it were Opposite Day, I’d say that he’d fit right in.

There were doodles on his hands and not to mention the homemade jewelry and forresty scents he seemed covered in. Beads, charms, feathers— anything really, were strung in loops around his neck.

He regarded me curiously— and for some reason cautiously– as if I were placed under a curse.

“Hi, I'm Aven, I guess you're the..” I cut myself off upon watching him flinch back hard enough to throw his necklaces in his face.

He cleared this throat hard before extending a stiff hand to me, 

“Rowan,” he said, looking at the ground. “You can call me Ro, if you want,” He continued, still stubbornly avoiding my face. I smiled a bit, he reminded me a little bit of a chipmunk, timid and skittish– maybe even more so.

“Do you know those woods very well?” He asked, politely trying to make conversation I guessed. Seemed like a strange way to do it, but his mum wasn't a leading example of normal either. I think fondly of her though, she was so eager to meet me, she even handed me a small gift box.

“More than anyone else my age, probably,” I said, 

“Good,” he murmured quietly, “You might need to.” He retracted his hand ducked inside, bringing in a short stack of boxes.

That night I opened the small box that Rowan’s mum had palmed me. Barely the size of my fist and carved in light and rough rowan wood were symbols. A large circle with an upside down crescent moon near its base, and an inverted triangle that pointed down like an arrow or an anchor to hold something down. All around the box, my fingers felt the texture of leaf-like runic patterns, each one stirred something in me, peeling back layers of thought, tugging at edges of memory, to forge connection, maybe, the outlines of a dream I couldn't remember.

I wasn’t met with much resistance as I pried the lid off, though the brass hinges gave a soft squeak. There laid on a bed of velvet was a necklace, not unlike Rowan’s, a leather cord with a few silver beads, but the part that outstood the most was a large mirror-like glass piece framed in bronze. Couldn't make out my reflection in it, where I expected to see olive skin and a dark braid, I only appeared as a hazy bluish light. I lifted it carefully, and the moment I did, I felt a quiet thrum travel from my fingers, barely a quarter of a second. Nevertheless, it felt magical.

I stared at the glass for what felt like a very long time before deciding to drape it over my neck. The silver beads felt warm and comforting, uncannily so. I told myself it was my own body heat, I didn’t believe me, but it was beautiful still. I took it off for now, I’d wear it tomorrow.

Sunday was not at all calm, if anything, traumatizing.

Mrs. Takoda– Rowan's mom, saw me headed to the woods and called me over.

“Hello dear, did you like the necklace?” she asked, giving me half her attention. The other half was steadfastly glancing at the treeline, as if she expected something awful to crawl out of there any moment.

“I did, it’s beautiful,” I smiled, but she didn’t. Instead she frowned slightly, scanning me like she was checking for something, to see if I was wearing the necklace, I assume. I tugged it out from beneath my shirt to display to her, I noticed how her brow began to relax once I took it out. 

“Would you like to come inside? Ro is still waking up-- but I'm hoping if you go into the forest, you’d at least take him with you? Show him around and all...” She smiled and opened her door further to reveal a surprisingly normal appearing living room.

She guided me in and sat me down beside the coffee table, and disappeared briefly, returning with a tray of brownies. 

“Would you like some tea as well, Aven?” She was already pouring bubbling water into a teapot before I could say anything. I shifted on their orange couch, my head still tangled with last night’s dream. 

TBC...