Trinity's Book Page 2

  Half an hour later, we called it quits for the day.

  “Now it’s time for dessert.” Dad patted his stomach as we walked back to our picnic spot.

  “Sugar berries,” I said. “Yum.”

  “I think they’ll taste a lot better with pound cake fresh from Alma de Chocolate,” Dad said. “Don’t you?”

  “Absolutely!” I exclaimed. Alma de Chocolate was Zally’s family bakery. “They make the best pound cake in the world!”

  “I’ll be right back,” Dad said as he ran ahead.

  Mom smiled slightly and shook her head. “It’s almost like he knows.”

  “Knows what?” I asked.

  “That you and I need time alone to talk.”

  My thoughts raced as I followed Mom back to our picnic spot. When parents wanted to talk, it was almost always about something bad or embarrassing.

  What was so important it had to ruin our wonderful day?

  “I’ve got an early birthday present for you,” Mom said as she put her kite away.

  “What is it?” I asked, trying to keep the relief out of my voice. I stowed my kite and joined her on the blanket. I felt guilty for assuming the worst.

  “Something I hope you’ll treasure as much as I do.” She pulled a velvet box out of the picnic basket and handed it to me.

  I took the box, but I didn’t open it. Mom’s tone and the serious look in her eyes were clues: The gift was important somehow.

  “Open it,” Mom urged.

  I lifted the lid, saw the familiar greenstone beads, and gasped. “This is your necklace!”

  “It’s yours now.” Mom smiled, mistaking my dismay as delight. “By tradition, the necklace is passed on when a daughter turns thirteen.”

  The jade necklace with the round, silver-dollar-sized pendant had been in our family for generations. I cherished my Ananya heritage, but I did not believe the lineage talisman was a source of mystical power. My mother did. That’s why she always wore it.

  Until now, I thought. I hadn’t noticed it was missing because Mom didn’t always wear it outside her clothes. Today, I had assumed the pendant was under her T-shirt. I had been too excited about flying kites to pay closer attention.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I held the pendant in my hand and traced the etched Maori tattoo with my finger. The design was the ancient symbol for the family name. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s all right,” Mom said. “I have a lot to tell you. For one thing, this is much more than just a beautiful piece of jewelry.”

  “What is it?” I asked, intrigued.

  “It’s magical,” Mom said with a wistful smile.

  I did not roll my eyes, but it was an effort.

  Mom took the necklace from my hand and depressed a thumbnail clasp. The top of the pendant opened like an old-fashioned pocket watch.

  “It opens!” I exclaimed, stunned.

  My mom had worn the necklace all my life, and I never knew it had a hidden compartment. I felt stung. Then I realized that revealing the secret was probably something saved for when daughters were given the necklace.

  I stared at the pendant, fascinated by the miniature technology inside. A transparent crystal covered an intricate mechanism of colorful ultrafine filaments intermeshed with delicate cogs and gears. The movement was so silent and flawless the device did seem more magical than mechanical.

  “What does it do?” I asked.

  “The compass calculates everything you’ll need to know when you learn to fly,” Mom said. “Wind, weather, direction, cloud conditions …”

  Mom’s incredible words were spoken so matter-of-factly I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly.

  “Like this.” Mom held the open compass in the palm of her hand and spoke into it. “Wind.”

  The image of a yellow daffodil appeared on the crystal. The bloom bobbed and the stem bent slightly to depict a gentle breeze. After a few seconds, the flower faded away.

  I was too stuck on my mother’s previous announcement to be amazed by the hologram.

  “Fly?” I asked. Then, suddenly realizing she could only mean one thing, I gasped again. This time my delight was real. “Are you and Dad giving me flying lessons for my birthday?”

  “Flying airplanes?” Mom looked startled. “No, that’s not …”

  I was disappointed but not surprised. I badgered my parents on a regular basis about learning to pilot a small plane, but their argument was always the same: I was too young.

  “Hang gliding!” I exclaimed. I often imagined what it would be like to plunge off a cliff harnessed to a delta-wing sail. In my dreams, I knew instinctively how to steer and take advantage of the air currents. A hang glider was the closest a modern Maori could come to riding a kite like the ancients.

  “No, Trinity,” Mom said with a hint of exasperation. “Just listen for a minute and I’ll explain.”

  “Okay.” I sighed and sat back on my heels.

  Mom paused to take a deep breath before she began. “As you know, the women in the Ananya Lineage all have certain traits in common. An innate love of flying is just one of them.”

  “The best one,” I said, bracing myself for the outrageous and totally unbelievable parts that came next.

  Normally, I had no patience for Mom’s wild stories about family ties to an imaginary land where girls trained to be fairy godmothers. She always spoke as though the tales were true and shrugged when I insisted it was all nonsense. My friends at the new school believed eerily similar stories about their families. It was exasperating, but I never accused them of being naïve and gullible drongo. I would never call my mother an idiot, either. I just nodded and tried to look interested.

  “But it’s more than just a love of flying,” Mom went on. She closed the pendant and gave it back to me. “It’s a gift. When we truly believe we can fly, we can.”

  I almost laughed but choked it back. The idea was preposterous, but I couldn’t deny that if I could have one impossible wish, it would be to fly. I was also oddly comforted knowing that I shared this with my mom, and my grandmother before her.

  “But you have to believe to the very core of your being and know that it’s true,” Mom said. “Otherwise you’ll be grounded with no hope of ever breaking free.”

  It made no sense; my mother’s degrees in engineering and hours of training in the cockpit had turned her dream of flying into a reality, but for some reason she thought that something magical in her blood and not hard work had made it possible. When my mom talked like this, I always looked for a way to end the conversation quickly.

  “I believe I can do anything I set my mind to, Mom.” I smiled to reassure her. “You and Dad taught me that.”

  She clasped my hand and smiled, but her gaze was intense. “No matter what happens, Trinity, don’t ever forget that.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “The cake man is back!” Dad’s voice rang out. “Dig out those sugar berries and let’s eat!”

  I put the necklace back in the velvet box and dropped it into my kite bag. Then I held out a bowl. “Did you order my birthday cake from Zally’s mom?”

  “Yes, I did,” Dad said. “They’ll deliver it tomorrow night when Zally comes over.”

  “Cool.” My mouth watered just thinking about it.

  After dinner, Dad went into his study to prep for his trip to Orlando. Mom and I sat in the living room with popcorn and hot chocolate, watching a documentary about the Wright brothers. We had seen it before, but it was one of our favorites.

  The Wright brothers were not, as many think, the first men to build a flying machine. They invented the controls that made fixed-wing flight possible, though, and they were the first to stay airborne under power for a long time.

  “I guess people have always wanted to fly, huh?” I asked the question absently, not really looking for a reply.

  “Yes, they have,” Mom said.

  “There is nothing more exhilarating than soaring through the sky.”

 
; “Is that how you feel in your jet?” I asked.

  Mom laughed. “No, that’s how I feel when I lock onto a strong air current that doubles my body speed in Aventurine. Like a surfer who finds the perfect wave in Hawaii.”

  “Oh, right.” I watched the rest of the show without comment, trying to forget that my mom—an intelligent woman with a successful career—really thought she could fly.

  At 9:55 I was logged onto my computer for my Skype date with Holly. She wasn’t always on time, so I settled back to wait.

  My gaze flicked past the velvet box on my nightstand to the kite bag hanging on the wall above my bed. Whenever my mother brought up Aventurine and her fantasy fairy life, my sense of reality shifted uncomfortably. The kite was real and gave me stability. It was the most important inanimate thing in my life, and one of only three things that decorated my walls.

  I don’t like clutter—in my thoughts or my surroundings.

  A huge, framed photograph of my mother and me flying kites in New Zealand hung above my desk. Holly and several other family friends were in it, too. Dad had taken the picture five years ago, capturing a moment of pure happiness. A traditional wood carving of a Maori fishhook hung beside the picture. To the Maori, the symbol represented strength, good luck, and safe travels over water. To me, it was a nice reminder of my ancestry.

  “Kia ora, Trinity. I’m here!” Holly’s beaming face appeared on my screen at 10:02.

  “Hello back!” I grinned, thrilled to see her.

  “I missed you so much today,” Holly said.

  “I miss you every day,” I teased.

  Holly faked a frown. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yep.” I grinned. “Did you fly a kite at Matariki?”

  “Of course I flew a kite!” Holly exclaimed. “That’s the whole point of the festival. Did you?”

  “Yes, in Central Park with Mom and Dad,” I said. “Americans don’t celebrate the New Year in May with kite flying, though. But the party they throw in Times Square is still pretty awesome. We might go next year to watch the ball drop. This year we just watched it on TV.”

  “That’s cool. But I bet it won’t be as much fun as I had today,” Holly said with a mysterious smile.

  Now I faked a frown. “How could you have fun? I wasn’t there!”

  Holly giggled. “But Anthony James was.”

  “Who’s Anthony James?” I asked.

  “My new boyfriend!” Holly squealed and bounced in her chair. “He is so cute I can’t stand it!”

  “But is he nice?” I asked.

  “He’s really nice,” Holly said. “He’s glad I’m smart, and he loves the fact that I like kites and horses and tramping through the woods more than I like clothes and makeup.”

  “Anthony sounds a lot better than the jerks I met in the park today,” I said.

  “Oh, that stinks. What made them jerks?”

  “One of them called me a liar and the second one thought it was funny,” I said. “But the third one wasn’t so bad.”

  “Wait. You mean you met a boy you like?” Holly’s eyes practically popped out of her head.

  I just shrugged. “I’ll probably never see Parker again, but I’m glad you found Anthony.”

  “Me too!” Holly sighed. “Anthony is taking me to the movies, so I have to go. Can we do this again tomorrow? I’m going to have so much to tell you!”

  “Same time,” I agreed. “Three of my new friends are sleeping over for my birthday. I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

  After I signed off, I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I walked back into my room, Mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, holding the necklace.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked. She hadn’t tucked me into bed since I was seven.

  “It’s in a mother’s nature to worry about her child,” Mom said.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Mom.” I perched on the bed beside her. “I’ve got too much common sense to get into trouble.”

  “Perhaps, but”—Mom paused, then gripped my hand—“you are so certain of so much, Trinity, and that might be your greatest weakness.”

  “What?” I inhaled sharply. Nobody had ever accused me of being weak, and hearing it from my mother hurt.

  “We have to recognize our weaknesses before we can deal with them,” Mom explained. “Dealing with them makes us strong.”

  “I don’t understand,” I mumbled.

  “Life isn’t always neat and orderly,” she went on. “One day, it will defy your expectations and force you to confront things that don’t fit the world as you understand it. When that happens, you’ll have to reassess what you think you know and adapt—or you will fail.”

  “I can adapt,” I said stubbornly.

  Mom watched me in silence for a moment. Then she asked, “Would you wear the necklace tonight?”

  “Sure,” I said. I didn’t want to, but I knew it would make Mom happy. She smiled as she slipped the necklace around my neck, and I held up the back of my hair so she could fasten the clasp.

  When she finished, I slipped under the sheets and closed my eyes. It had been a long, busy day, and I was exhausted.

  My mother spoke again as I drifted off to sleep.

  “Remember everything I’ve said about Aventurine, Trinity. I think I’ve told you everything you’ll need to know.…”

  I flew high over a rolling landscape of forests, meadows, rivers, and lakes, arms spread to catch the air currents, my long brown hair streaming out behind me. A flock of geese called, welcoming me to their sky. The sun glinted off water below, daring me to dive. I pulled my arms in tight and arrowed downward, relishing the burst of speed and the sting of wind on my face as I plunged.…

  I hit the ground and awakened with a start.

  “What?” I sat up, heart pounding. I had been having vivid flying dreams for as long as I could remember, but I had never fallen before. The effect was startling, and a few seconds passed before I realized the crash landing wasn’t the only difference.

  I wasn’t sitting on crisp clean sheets in my bedroom, but rather I was on ground covered with twigs, pebbles, and grass. My breath caught in my throat as I glanced around. It was too dark to see much, but I could tell that I was wearing my clothes from earlier that day and the Ananya necklace.

  Why? I felt panic rising in my chest. Inhaling deeply, I calmed myself so I could think clearly. There had to be a logical explanation.

  For some reason, I had gotten dressed and sleepwalked my way back to Central Park.…

  Or I was still dreaming.

  I pinched myself.

  It hurt.

  But I didn’t wake up in my bed.

  I was outside, but where?

  I sat still and used my other senses to gather more information. The scent of flowers mingled with the tang of woodsy decay. And I couldn’t hear the rumble of traffic. Except for the crickets chirping and a soft gurgle of water, the land around me was quiet.

  Too quiet, I thought with a shudder, and totally creepy.

  Did I really leave our apartment and wander off in my sleep? The evidence seemed conclusive: I was deep inside Central Park.

  I had never sleepwalked before. Why had I started now?

  Unless I hadn’t!

  Another plausible theory popped into my head.

  Mom was worried that I couldn’t adapt to strange and unusual situations if the need arose. What if she had brought me out here to test me?

  That has to be it, I decided. Nothing else made sense.

  I knew she wouldn’t leave me to face the dangers of the park alone. Mom was nearby, watching to see what I would do, ready to rescue me from harm.

  Convinced I had figured it out, I was determined not to fail.

  As the minutes passed, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could make out shadowy shapes. I was surrounded by trees with graceful branches that drooped to the ground, like the weeping willows by the boathouse pond.

  These trees grew on the banks
of a stream. I couldn’t see it, but I could hear water tumbling over rocks.

  A flickering light caught my eye as a cluster of fireflies emerged from the trees. They cast a remarkably bright glow, and I could see that the ground under the willows ahead was clear—almost like a path. I didn’t hesitate. If I wanted to get home before dawn, I couldn’t waste time.

  Confident my mother would keep me in her sight, I rose to my feet and took several steps toward the fireflies. The movement disturbed them, and they escaped back into the trees. But I had moved far enough to see a dim gleam of light on the far side of the willow woods.

  Light equaled safety and civilization. I walked toward it, using my hands to push willow branches out of my path.

  As I got closer, the quiet was broken by a whispering hum. It sounded like the hummingbirds that hovered to drink from Zally’s nectar feeder. I pressed on—until the hum became a buzz.

  Bees?

  I stopped. I wasn’t allergic to bees, but I didn’t want to be stung.

  Then I heard a melodious, feminine laugh.

  “Mom?” I spoke without thinking.

  “Who-oo?” someone who wasn’t my mother asked.

  I didn’t answer. If Mom was scoring me, I had just lost points for alerting someone to my presence.

  I waited. Nothing moved, so I cautiously continued on toward what I could now make out as women’s voices.

  Had my mother brought friends to witness what must be an Ananya family initiation? Given everything she’d said before I’d fallen asleep, I should have guessed. She didn’t want me to fail, so she had practically told me what to expect without actually telling me!

  I spotted a lighted clearing beyond the gloomy shadows of the willows and hung back, studying the scene so I wouldn’t do anything embarrassing.

  Lanterns that seemed to hang suspended in midair were spaced around the perimeter of the glen. A large stone table stood at the center. Several beautiful women with wings entered the clearing from the woods.

  “That’s not my mother,” I gasped, and closed my eyes, certain I had stumbled upon a bunch of weirdo women dressed up like fairies!

  “Who-oo?” The voice spoke from above.