At least Angela stayed away, too, Ava thought. She told herself that Papa understood that Wishing Days were for members of the family, and she chose to find hope in the fact that he honored that. She told herself that he must still long for Mama. Angela couldn’t replace her. No one could.
The meal was a mishmash of happy banter and sticky syrup fingers. Everyone fussed over Ava, and when Aunt Vera refused to let the girls help clean up the dishes, they happily obliged. Natasha led them to the rope swing Papa had made, which had a wooden plank to sit on. Mama used to love the swing. She still would, if she were here.
And she will be, Ava told herself firmly.
Natasha and Darya allowed Ava to sit on the swing since this was her special day. Natasha pushed her from behind, and Darya, standing in front of Ava, return-pushed her in the opposite direction, pressing her hands to Ava’s bare feet and shoving. She felt like their plaything as they passed her back and forth. As they outlined their plan for how and when Ava would carry out the ritual of her Wishing Day, she felt even more so.
“We’ll climb to the top of Willow Hill as soon as the moon comes out,” said Natasha.
“All three of us,” said Darya. “I don’t think we need the aunts. Do you, Natasha?”
“I don’t think we should bother Mama, either,” said Natasha, and the way she phrased it stung. A mother should want to be there for her daughter’s Wishing Day. It shouldn’t be “a bother.” But if Natasha and Darya were going along with the group lie, who was Ava to break rank?
“Once we’re at the top of the hill, we’ll let you go to the willow tree by yourself,” Natasha went on. “But we’ll stay close. Ten feet away.”
“And you know what to do, right?” asked Darya. “Touch the bark and make your wishes?”
“Sounds good,” Ava said.
It did, in theory. Just, Ava had her own plan already in place. For hers to work, she had to agree with her sisters. She had to go along with their assumption that she’d carry out her Wishing Day the way they’d carried out theirs, at the ancient willow at the top of Willow Hill. That she’d touch the bark, close her eyes . . . do everything just like they’d done it, as if that were the law.
It wasn’t. Girls could make their Wishing Day wishes however they wanted. For Ava’s sisters, as well as Mama, Aunt Vera, and Aunt Elena, as well as their mother before them and so on, making their wishes at the willow tree was a time-honored tradition. But sometimes traditions had to be broken, because sometimes cycles needed to broken.
Ava felt guilty for misleading Natasha and Darya, but only slightly. They were pushing her around, literally—and why?
Because they saw her as a baby.
She considered what Aunt Elena had said, about how Natasha, Darya, and Ava were a unit, and that one day Ava might miss being treated like the baby. Not today.
“Will you two please stop pushing me?” she said. “If I don’t quit swinging, I’m going to faint.”
When they didn’t comply, she said, “Or throw up. If you don’t stop pushing me, I’ll throw up. I mean it.”
Natasha grabbed the ropes and stilled the swing, and Ava hopped off. The world swayed.
“You are the best sisters in the world,” she said as she headed across the yard. “Thanks for everything!”
“Where are you going?” Darya called, exasperated.
“For a walk, just to think about things. I’ll be back!”
“Think about what?” asked Darya. “What you’re going to wish for?”
“Uh-huh,” Ava replied without turning around.
“That’s good,” Natasha said, always the oldest sister. “Just remember: You can’t wish for anything foolish or dangerous or whatever. You can’t go against me on this, Ava. I love you too much to risk letting you get hurt.”
“Uh-huh!” Ava repeated.
“Believe it or not, I do too,” Darya said. “Would you turn around?”
Ava stopped, took a breath, and turned around. She pasted on a compliant-little-sister look of confusion. “Yeah?”
“We all love you, me and Darya, Mama and Papa, Aunt Vera and Aunt Elena,” said Natasha. “So, do you promise to make your wishes carefully?”
“Natasha, we’ve talked about this,” Ava said. “Don’t you trust me?”
For a microsecond, Natasha regarded her suspiciously. Then she smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes at herself for thinking that little Ava would defy her older, wiser sisters.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Emily, Age Thirteen
Emily fell hard and fast into the friendship Klara offered. Maybe it was because Emily had never had a best friend before. Maybe it was because Klara was so comfortable expressing her affection for Emily that Emily felt bold enough to do the same. There was no jealousy or jockeying for position, not that Emily could detect. For a little while, Emily stayed on the alert, wondering if all this was too good to be true. Could becoming friends with someone happen so naturally?
As their friendship deepened, Emily realized she didn’t need to label whatever magical alchemy bound them together. Why ask why an orange was called an orange and not a lemon? Why ask why an orange was an orange, when the answer smiled coyly from its tangy pulp?
An orange was an orange was an orange.
Emily and Klara were Emily and Klara; Klara and Emily were Klara and Emily.
Klara went home from school with Emily one afternoon during the first week of April, and Emily introduced her to Nate. They already knew who the other was, so it wasn’t a big deal. Klara’s reaction, however, came to Emily as a shock.
Klara liked Nate, like in a crush sort of way . . . and Nate liked Klara. Their crush-feelings were too strong for Emily to block. Emily couldn’t decide whether to be amused or horrified.
“The Academic Olympiad?” Nate said after Klara stammered something about how she and Emily were working on a school project due in May. “Yeah, I did
