Girlwood (7 page)

Polly hardly noticed when they left. She stood at the window and drank in the sight of the dragonfly doing loop-the-loops—a showoff if Polly ever saw one, tattered wings and all. Polly gripped the window ledge and thought of how close she'd come to ruining everything. It was too much to believe, which was exactly why she liked it. That was no insect but her sister, come to save
her.

***

Polly was taking an algebra quiz when the first bulldozer rumbled by.

"Dad got the go-ahead for Mountain Winds," Carly announced to the class.

Polly stared at her test, but the numbers swam. Her mom must have handed over her environmental impact report, the one that said there was nothing in the woods worth protecting. Polly listened to the slow crawl of heavy equipment and stumbled through the remainder of the test. When the bell rang, she took one look toward her next class and headed the other way.

Racing out of school toward the forest, she hardly noticed the light sprinkle or the puddles in the streets. Still a quarter mile from the woods, she knew that everything had changed. There, on a giant billboard, the sign had already gone up.

MOUNTAIN WINDS—HEAVEN ON EARTH!
1,000
LUXURY-HOME SITES
.
TAKING RESERVATIONS NOW!

On the edge of the woods, a double-wide trailer had been set up as a construction office, and a rough, new dirt road led into the trees. Polly bent forward, feeling dizzy. In the distance she heard diesel engines, chain saws, the rumbling of bulldozers. A tree shrieked as it fell and thudded against the earth.

With a lump in her throat, she followed the new road. For a few minutes, the forest looked safe and intact, and she dared to think that everything would be all right. Then she rounded a turn and met a traffic jam of construction equipment, men with chain saws, and downed trees. A man in the cab of one of the bulldozers gestured for her to go back, but when she just stood there he shrugged and lowered his blade. Polly watched, horrified, as he tore a lush thicket of serviceberries from the ground. She could have picked the dark purple berries and dried them for Bree to eat all winter. She could have simmered the inner bark to make a salve for sore eyes.

Her own eyes burned at her helplessness, and then, suddenly, the men stopped their engines. She couldn't understand
what was happening until she realized she was soaked. The light mist had turned to a steady downpour and the men headed for shelter in the trailer.

Alone, Polly laid her head on a fallen white pine. It still had a dim green energy around it, but as she stood there, the color faded away. The few tears she shed got her nowhere. Hands in fists, she ignored the rain, along with the laughter of the men in the trailer, and walked out of the woods. The construction workers just wanted a paycheck. What she wanted was someone to blame.

***

In the rain, the squat gray office building looked even uglier than usual. Polly grabbed a rock from the stark landscaping bed of stunted pines and prickly junipers, and aimed for her mother's office on the second floor. She smiled grimly when she hit the metal trim with a satisfying
thwack,
and her mom's pale face appeared in the window. The enemy was in sight.

Her mom came out the door a moment later, pulling on her jacket. "What are you doing? Did something happen? Is it Bree?"

Polly didn't hesitate. "How could you give them the permits?" she shouted. "How could you let them build up there?"

Her mom had grabbed her wrist, but now she let go. "Is
that what this is about? You left school to talk about some little development?"

"It's not little!" Polly was screaming so loudly, two men on the second floor looked out. "Did you know they're tearing down the trees right now?"

Her mom narrowed her eyes. "Did you go up there? To the woods?"

"Yes. After I saw the equipment go by."

"I can't believe this," her mom said. "You just walked out of school and thought you'd go for a little hike? Do you realize you'll get a truancy?"

"You should have told me they were going to start building!" Polly said.

"I should have done no such thing," her mom countered. "This is my job, Polly. I surveyed the soil and plants and wrote up my usual report. They have every right to build up there. There's nothing special about that land."

Polly felt like she'd been hit. As if another tree had come down, this time in her own yard. "Except that Bree's there," she said.

Her mother looked almost in pain. "Oh, Polly."

Polly widened her stance. "You must think she's there. You've been leaving things for her."

Her mother's eyes looked wild for a moment before she turned away. "I'd do anything if I thought there was a chance
she'd ... She's not taking them, Polly. The boots, the food. They're right where I left them."

Polly shook her head. Maybe Baba was bringing Bree food or, even better, Bree was learning to fend for herself. "She'll take them when she needs them," she said, "but not if you let them tear down the woods around her."

"I'm not letting anyone do anything. My office is in charge of the environmental impact study. That's all. I'm not going to have this conversation. You have to go back to school."

Polly didn't budge. She'd make her mother drive her back and shove her into class. Even Bree would be impressed with her lack of surrender.

"Don't take that tone with me," her mom said, even though Polly hadn't spoken a word. She almost looked behind her to see if Bree was there. She hadn't heard her mother sound so furious and fed up since before her sister disappeared.

"And don't ever throw a rock at my window again," her mom went on. "I was done with that the day I moved out of your grandmother's house."

Polly tried to hold on to her mutinous gaze, but her mom was shaking.

"It was Baba they were aiming for," Polly said, her bottom lip trembling, the cold starting to get to her, too. "People have always been out to get her."

"Yes, and I paid the price. You have no idea what I've had to do to make people treat us the same as everyone else."

"I know exactly what you did! You stopped loving Dad when he quit his job and got too weird for you. You cared more about what the neighbors thought than your own marriage."

"There was more to it than that, Polly."

"No there wasn't!" Polly said. "He still loves you. I know he does."

"Polly—"

"You pushed Bree away too! You didn't care about the drugs, you just couldn't stand to think that people would start talking about us again."

Her mom might have started crying, but in the rain it was hard to tell. And Polly was on a roll now.

"Well, guess what," Polly went on, hardly knowing where the words came from, hardly recognizing herself. "People are talking. You want to know what they're saying? They're saying Bree didn't run away because she was doped up. They're saying she ran away because she was pregnant."

Even in the rain, Polly could see the color drain from her mother's face. And all at once, Polly thought,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
but she knew the words came too late.

"Mom, I'm s—"

"Don't even think about going back to the woods," her mom said. "Not today or any day. You're grounded. Get in the car."

A plant originally imported from Europe and now considered an invasive weed throughout North America; the young leaves are tender, have a lemony flavor, and are high in vitamins C and A and in beta carotene. The roots are used to treat diarrhea, while the leaves are thought to break down and sometimes eradicate tumors.

Every night, Polly dreamed she sprouted wings and flew away. In the dream, Baba brought her food and blankets, but unlike Bree, Polly didn't need them. She lived in the grove and survived on nothing but nectar and freedom. If it had been her, she'd have proved it could be done.

But when she woke, her powers vanished. Grounded for two weeks, Polly served time at her bedroom window, wondering how her sister was coping with the blustery weather, unable to do anything but watch the last of the leaves fall.

After school one afternoon, Polly whirled away from the window, as helpless as Tinker Bell trapped under glass. Her hair slapped her face as usual, and she tugged at an unruly curl. She'd always loved her grandmother's long, unbridled hair, the way it swirled in the wind like a wild creature itself, but what Polly needed was short hair that wouldn't get tangled in the thorns of the devil's club. What she needed was something to do.

So she grabbed a pair of scissors and, before she could lose her nerve, hacked off her curls above her ears. Then she opened the window and tossed the ringlets out, satisfied that at least a part of her would be out there where Bree was.

Later, she heard her mom come in from work and immediately pick up the phone. Her mother refused to talk about the possibility that Bree was pregnant, but every night she called more women's clinics and asked if anyone fitting Bree's description had come in. By the time Polly walked downstairs, her mom had closed the phone book and sat with her head in her hands.

Polly swung her head from side to side. She hadn't realized how much extra weight she'd been carrying around.

"Mom?"

Her mother raised her head and flinched. "Oh, Polly," she said. "What have you done?"

"I like it. It's a pixie cut."

"Are you crazy? We'll have to take you to the salon to get it fixed."

"No!" Polly said, stepping forward. "I told you I like it."

"How can you? It's uneven."

Polly shrugged. "So what?"

"
So what?
" Her mother got to her feet, looking confused and horrified, as if she were dealing with someone from another culture—someone who ate bugs or wore war paint to breakfast.

"I can't believe this," her mom said. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."

"This isn't about you!" Polly said. "It's got nothing to do with you at all."

"This is your grandmother's doing." Her mother grabbed her purse and headed toward the garage. "Come on.
Now.
"

They'd forgotten dinner, but that wasn't why Polly's stomach hurt. They didn't have to speak during the ten-minute drive to Baba's house to know what the other was thinking:
I don't like you anymore.

***

Baba's bonfire was visible from down the street, a six-foot-high blaze in the middle of her gravel driveway. It was the night of the full moon, which was when Baba always burned
her garden debris and fed the ashes back into the soil. Polly was surprised that the neighbors weren't standing in their yards armed with garden hoses.

Polly's mom stopped the car beside the fire ring and got out. "Mom!" she shouted. "Do you see this? Do you see what you've done?"

Baba stepped around the flames in a long black skirt, a man's work shirt, and muddy hiking boots. Polly would have given anything to have a mother like her—a mother who thought the ugliest, dirtiest, weirdest things beautiful. Maybe her own mother knew this. Maybe that's what this was all about.

"What?" Baba said. "Turned Polly into a lovely young lady?"

Polly got out of the car beaming, but her mother started to cry. "She had beautiful hair. Like mine, only pretty."

A wolf howled in the distance while Baba checked that her fire was well contained. "Let's go inside," she said.

Baba's kitchen was more like an extension of her garden than a room, smelling of mint and sage and pine, every countertop and shelf piled with herbs. It looked chaotic, but Baba knew where everything was and picked a variety of leaves to make them all tea.

"I can't do it anymore," Polly's mom said.

"Don't be silly," Baba told her, clearing off roots and seeds to make room at the table. She set out three cups and poured
boiling water over her tea leaves, then sweetened the brews with cream. "You
are
doing it. You get up every morning and breathe. That's all anyone's asking."

Polly's mom usually steered clear of Baba's teas, but this time she sat down and drank greedily, as if hoping for something to knock her out.

"Did I ever tell you," Baba said, easing herself into a chair and looking at Polly, "about the night someone tried to burn down this house?"

Polly loved her grandmother's stories, but tonight nothing could compete with the colors dancing around Baba's head. Arcs of red, orange, and purple—a rainbow she didn't dare look away from for fear that when she turned back it would be gone.

Baba winked. "It started with the rocks, as usual," she said. "They broke the living room window, then someone set a rag on fire and tossed it in. I came in to find my curtains going up in flames."

"Did the house burn down?" Polly asked, still gawking at that rainbow.

"Heavens, no. I put out the flames with a pitcher of water, though I did switch to blinds after that. That was the night your mother was born."

Polly's mom finally looked up. "You scare people, Mom."

Baba shrugged. "Only those who are already afraid."

"What have you ever done that was so awful?" Polly asked.

"You help people no one else will touch! The ones with nowhere else to turn."

Baba laughed. "Yes, but I have too much fun doing it, and to many people, life is serious business. And then there's the problem of me not caring what anybody thinks. Let me tell you, Polly, I've found indifference to be quite a powerful thing."

Polly knew her grandmother had spiked each tea differently when her mom's head began to bob.

"I think I need to lie down," her mother said.

Polly and Baba helped her to the couch. Polly's mom glared at Baba as her eyes began to close, but in seconds she was curled up, asleep.

"You drugged her," Polly said.

Her grandma smiled. "She needed to stay here tonight and rest. And I want to see what you've been up to at the grove."

"I'm grounded," Polly said. "I'm not supposed to go to the woods."

Baba looked at her sideways, as if to say that what you're supposed to do has nothing to do with anything. Polly couldn't believe how much she loved her.