Holiday Magick (23 page)

The platform creaks beneath my feet. I'm still not used to wooden structures, and probably never will be. Even our paddock's new, birch-built fence gives me fits, but wooden homes and fences are all the rage now that we
can
use wood again, and we've learned that, if we're careful, this new forest will sustain us for years to come. All of Cillian has turned out for this year's festival, dressed in greens and browns that signify the village's new beginning.

I take a deep breath, breathing in the smell of flowers and freshly turned soil. This is Cillian's fourth Earth Day, and as the one who vanquished the forest's Keeper I have been the main attraction every year. Of course, that hasn't stopped the fluttering nerves and the constant feeling that I'm about to pass out, but I like to think I'm getting better at it.

Gabriel squeezes my hand. Every year, I make him promise to stay with me during the festival. His constant presence is like an anchor that keeps the anxiety from washing me away.

The crowd below us swells. I see Mother, smiling from ear to ear beneath a curtain of dark hair. Brigid and Fagan's oldest child gurgles in her arms. My two other brothers stand beside Mother, waving at me, their faces a mixture of amusement and pity—but mostly amusement. I fight the urge to give them a dirty look and force myself to stay still. In a moment, Papa and Gabriel's father will join us on the platform, and the four of us will present this year's seedlings.

A cheer starts, and I see them, each one clutching a scrawny young tree by its canvas root bag. The seedlings' siblings wait behind me, silent except for the occasional gusts of wind that rattle their miniscule leaves. For one wide-eyed moment, the sound reminds me of the old forest, the trees that reached and clawed and pulled apart anything in their clutches. But I remind myself that those trees are gone. And, so long as we take care of the land that takes care of us, the trees will never harm us again. I straighten the flower chain that perches on my head. It's a gift from a group of giggling girls who took my hand and gave me a tour through the now two- and three-year-old trees we planted during the last festivals.

“People of Cillian!” Gabriel's father places the seedling at his feet and spreads his arms, his booming voice rolling over the crowd like a wave. Gabriel rolls his eyes, and I grin.

The ceremony is short, and before I know it, people have formed four lines around the platform, waiting to head to the forest and begin planting. My line, I notice, is the longest. I scoop seedlings up in groups of three and four, handing them out with a grin and as much conversation as time allows. Trees in hand, the people disappear toward our new forest, and soon the hills echo with friendly voices and laughter as the trees are planted, fertilized, and watered.

Gabriel and I bring up the rear, heading for the forest only after everyone else has left the platform. He's walked with a limp ever since that night in the woods, but that hasn't slowed him one bit. After the festival, he and I will travel to the coast and spend the better part of the summer in a merchant village, him working on a fishing rig and me selling Cillian's wool. Once the weather turns cool, we'll travel back to Cillian and spend the winter in our cottage at the edge of the pasture. This will be our third year as summer merchants, but we always come back to Cillian and its hills, its bonfires, and its friendly faces.

And, of course, its trees.

Arbor Day. A holiday in which people are encouraged to plant and take care of trees. Seems straightforward enough, right? The idea is that we should celebrate trees for giving us things like oxygen, fruit, shade, wood…the list goes on. But what if Arbor Day's
roots
go deeper than that? For instance, haven't you ever wondered who started Arbor Day? Was it Julius Sterling Morton, a Nebraskan newspaper editor who served as Grover Clevelend's Secretary of Agriculture during the late 1800s? Um, yes. Yes it was.

But…isn't it possible that someone or something else
planted
the idea in his brain? Is it
nutty
to think that maybe, just maybe the story is a little bigger than that? Woodn't you like to know the real truth behind Arbor Day? Well here it is, the [insert your favorite tree-related adjective here] story.

“Red. Hey, Red.”

Mars twists with a deep space rumble. “Hmm? What's going on, Blue?”

“We've been friends for a while now, right?”

“You kidding me? We're like brothers.”

Molten rock shifts uncomfortably beneath Earth's surface. “So if I asked you a question you wouldn't lie to me?”

A crescent shadow smirks across the surface of Mars. “Depends.”

“C'mon. I'm serious.”

“What's bothering you? You thinking about
her
again?”

Hurricane winds rage across the Central American coastlines. “Pssh. No, c'mon. What? No—”

“Blue. This is me you're talking to. Be honest.”

Earth quakes once or twice. “No, it's not her. It's just…”

“It's her.”

Thick cloud cover disappears into a slow wisp. “…does it look thin to you?”

“This again!”

“Sorry, I'll drop it. Just forget—”

“You look fine. Totally natural.”

Earth arcs a cumulonimbus. “You can't be serious.”

“Listen, Blue, you have nothing to worry about. If you think she's really going to care about a little—”

Hundreds of lightning bolts flash to the problem areas. “But just look at how thin it's looking.”

“Look at me!” Dust dances all over Mars. “I don't have any at all.”

“Yeah, but you can pull it off with that shade. Red is so badass. You're…mysterious.”

“You have LIFE on you!”

“Yeah, but nobody gets me.”

“Don't look at it like that. You're
unique
.”

The tip of Africa points directly at Saturn. “Yeah, but Rings said it should be—”

Mars picks up a stray asteroid, speeds it up with its gravitational pull, and flings it toward Earth. “
Rings
! I told you not to deal with her. You know as well as I do that she's always just out to make some quick metal. What'd you get yourself into, Blue?”

“Nothing serious.”

Mars' atmosphere drops a few degrees. “What'd you do?”

A Buddhist monk finds enlightenment in the pure silence of the Earth.

“C'mon, Blue. Fess up.”

Many of the more ancient glaciers crack from increased polar pressure. The monk scratches his head as he returns to the normal human experience. “So, don't be mad, but on our last pass I may have made a little deal with Rings—so small it can hardly be called a deal really.”

“Rings doesn't know what she's talking about! She's all glitz and glamour, no substance! Don't you know she's just full of wind!”

The Pacific Ocean blushes a deeper blue. “You're being too hard on her.”

“I'm not!”

“Behind all that flash is a good, solid foundation.”

Mars waves its two moons back and forth. “Just gas, my friend. Just gas.”

“Whatever.” Earth moves a bit to block the sun's rays from reaching Mars. “Just forget it.”

Iron and aluminum groan against each other inside of Mars' belly. “Okay, I'll hold off on my judgment. Go ahead.”

“So for a little bit of platinum, she came up with a system—”

“Platinum! You barely have any platinum left!”

“It doesn't matter.” Earth shrugs its mountains a fraction of an inch. “It's only metal.”

Mars extends its atmosphere with two huge plumes of nitrogen. “Only metal! Oh, Blue, these women have you so messed up.”

Earth huffs a dust storm over the Sahara.

“How much did you promise her?”

“Don't worry. It was half up front, half when it works.”

“Blue, I know that I'm a little younger than you, but sometimes I feel like you
just
accreted from the solar nebula.”

“Hey! Look who's talking.” Earth moves its moon, puffing up its tides. “Have you ever even changed polarity?”

“Ouch, Blue. Just…ouch.”

“Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.” A dense fog drops on Ireland. “I just get sensitive about…”

“Listen to me, Blue. Planet pattern baldness is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“So you
do
see it!” All of the active volcanoes in Hawaii erupt at the same time.

“Okay, so maybe your tree line
is
receding a bit, and your forests don't look as thick as they used to, but—”

“I knew it was noticeable!”

“Relax. I only see it now that you mention it.”

Enormous clouds whip up over Iceland, startling many schoolchildren during lunch. “You're lying!”

“Get a grip, Blue.”

“It's these pesky humans!”

Thermal activity causes a thunderous Marsquake. “Don't do that. You
love
your humans.”

“But—”

“Don't go down that path, Blue.”

“Yeah fine, my humans are cool and everything, but—”

“But nothing. You aren't the easiest planet to live on, Blue. Think about what happens when you do something as simple as shift one of your oceans to get comfortable?”

All wind erosion ceases for a moment. “I try my best to stay still.”

“And for reasons like
that
Venus is going to love you. I don't think she cares about something as trivial as full forests.”

“Shhh! I don't want her to hear us talking about this.”

“C'mon, buddy. Big Yellow hooked you
up
on this.” Mars spins on its axis in such a way that Olympus Mons—the tallest mountain in the solar system—salutes the sun. “There's a reason you two are so close. We all know you and Venus are meant to be.”

“We're
too
close.”

“What?”

“She's got the best view of my
barren
landscape.”

“I wouldn't go as far as to call you barren. You have nothing to worry about. You're such a great planet. Think about it. How many of us can conjure up a rainbow?”

“I
do
make good rainbows.” So much light is refracted in Earth's skies that parties immediately break out in a combined eight hundred churches, mosques, and synagogues. Sheila Templeton from Sheboygan, Wisconsin, complains that the rainbows are too bright for her, so she goes back inside and slams the door.

“Damn straight you make good rainbows.”

The light disappears from the skies and three cults act very cultish. “Thanks, Red.”

“Always, Blue. Now tell me about this foolish deal you made with Rings.”

“Well, Rings can be pretty insightful if you can believe it. She said my problem could also be my solution.”

“Hmm.” Mars turns to reveal the smirk of his Valles Marineris—a valley that's about as long as Europe. “That sounds like her hubby talking.”