I wish I could go to Willow Hill again. I wish I could remember where Willow Hill is!
—EMILY BLOK, AGE UNKNOWN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ava
As Ava escaped from her sisters, it occurred to her that there was a benefit of being labeled the baby of the family: No one was scared of babies. No one looked at babies suspiciously, wondering if they might be up to no good. If the baby wasn’t crying, then great. The baby was fine and no need to worry.
Stealth mode. Ava could work with that.
It took her fifteen minutes to walk to Tally’s house. When she reached the cluttered yard of Tally’s foster parents, she slowed from a purposeful stride to a purposeful . . . stall.
No, she told herself, straightening her spine. No chickening out!
She stepped over a miniature plastic grocery cart that lay on its side and punched the doorbell.
“Hi!” said the woman who answered the door. “Can I help you?” She had short, grayish blond hair, cut so that the front hung longer than the back. She was small and plain, but her smile was warm.
“Hi,” Ava said. “I’m—”
“One of the Blok girls! Everyone knows the Blok girls!”
Ava braced herself.
“Let’s see, you’re the youngest, aren’t you?” Tally’s foster mom said. “Come on in. I’ll call Tally.” She opened the door wider, revealing a hoarder’s heaven of magazines, overflowing boxes, and random appliances. A microwave sat on an old-fashioned square TV.
“Tally!”
There was a patter of footsteps, and Tally appeared in the hall. Scowling, she brushed past her foster mom and grabbed Ava’s upper arm. “Bye, Deanne,” she said, pulling Ava with her.
“Bye, Mrs.—” Ava broke off. She didn’t know Tally’s foster mother’s last name. “Tally,” she said, stumbling as she tried to keep up. “Tally, what’s wrong? Will you please slow down?”
Tally released Ava’s arm, but maintained her speed walker’s pace. “Why are you here? Where’s Darya?”
“I’m not attached to Darya by the hip, thank you very much.”
“At the hip.”
“Huh?”
“The expression is at the hip.”
Ava considered. Tally might be right, since being attached at the hip would describe two people with their arms around each other, for example. Being attached by the hip would be like saying attached by a string, which would imply, like, dangling. Ava did not “dangle” from Darya or Natasha.
“Whatever,” Ava said.
It was May. It wasn’t yet hot, but it was warm enough to make Ava’s hair feel heavy against her neck. She pulled a ribbon elastic off her wrist and gathered her hair into a bunch. Deftly, she swooped her hair through and twisted the elastic. She repeated the process until she was left with a nice, tight ponytail.
Tally side-eyed her.
“What?”
“You reminded me of someone for a second.”
“Who?”
Tally shook her head. “Listen, I don’t like people coming to Deanne and Troy’s house.”
“Deanne and Troy are . . . ?”
“My foster parents.”
“Why? Do you not like them?”
“I like them fine. I just don’t like people showing up unannounced.”
“Got it. Sorry.”
Tally took several brisk strides, then exhaled. She slowed down, though not by much.
“What’s going on?” Tally asked. “What do you need me for? Does it have to do with Darya?”
“It kind of does. But . . .” She steered the two of them to the left instead of continuing straight ahead. She checked over her shoulder. Tally followed, but looked put out.
“I thought we could go to the lake,” Ava said.
“Why?”
Because, Ava thought. Because of life, the universe, and everything, and because that’s where I need you to help me.
“Will you tell me about your mom?” Ava asked.
“My mom? Why?”
Because of life, the universe . . .
“Because today’s my Wishing Day.”
Tally cut her a look. “Whoop-de-do,” she said. She had moved to Willow Hill when she was thirteen and a half. She hadn’t been granted a Wishing Day.
“I want to make my wishes carefully,” Ava said. “I have to. For one thing, it’s my only chance. Also, you may not believe in any of this, but my wishes have a good chance of coming true. I know that sounds dumb, but it’s something that runs in my family. The magic, I mean.”
Ugh. She was babbling. She lifted her chin and said, “In my family, the magic tends to work. My ancestors are the ones who brought it here.”
“If you say so,” said Tally.
“It’s not that I say so. The magic says so.” She shrugged. “Magic is weird.”
“‘Magic is weird’?” Tally said. They reached the footpath that cut through to City Park, where the lake was. “Ava, your whole family is weird.”
“I know!” Ava said. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. That’s why I need you to come with me to the lake.”
“Ava—”
“That’s why I asked about your mom,” Ava said hurriedly, her heart rate bumping up. “I’ve seen the picture you drew of her.”
Tally’s eyes darkened. She stopped walking. “What picture?”
“I think you know, but . . . here.” From the pocket of her cutoffs, Ava pulled out a drawing Tally had torn up and thrown away months ago. Darya, without Tally’s knowledge, had retrieved it and taped it back together. Ava, without Darya’s knowledge, had later appropriated the drawing for reasons of her own.
She passed the folded piece of paper to Tally, who accepted it reluctantly. When she unfolded it, the color drained from her face.
“Where did you get this?”
“It is your mom, right?” Ava asked. “You drew it based on a photo of her. I heard Darya say so.”
Tally started walking. Ava stayed by her side, matching Tally’s pace as they neared the lake. In the distance, Ava could spot the rustic bench swings she’d always adored.
“My mom recognized her from your drawing,” Ava said. “My mom recognized your mom, whose name is Emily. Her name was written on the back of the photo.”
“So?”
“So, my mom’s best friend was named Emily, as you know.”
“Only she never actually existed, according to Darya.”
“And my dad had—or hopefully has—a little sister.” Ava swallowed. “Her name is Emily, too.”
Tally tightened her jaw.
“And your mom, whose name, you know, is Emily, doesn’t remember her past,” Ava said.
“She remembers
