Free Pieces of My Sister's Life by Elizabeth Arnold

he read, “‘so much time that her blue hair had grown long past her knees, enough time for her to wonder if there was more to learn from life. Each night she would gaze into the vast, star-stung sky, waiting for the future that felt like rushing, crushing waves against her chest. And watching her, the fairies saw what that future would bring, and they were afraid.’”
    Justin stopped talking and I opened my eyes, found him watching my face intently. He blushed and glanced away. “You want to hear another one?”
    And so we spent our day sorting through the pages, him leaning on one elbow, me on my back beside him with my vision blurred, listening and dreaming. I waited for the moments our eyes would meet, because each time he looked my way something passed between us, something silvery and thin as gauze. The afternoon light began to fade, but instead of switching on the lamp, Justin reached for a flashlight and read on, the two of us surrounded and held together by the dark.
    When he’d finished, Justin sat up and gathered the papers into a pile. “This was amazing,” he said. “Completely amazing. I’ve been writing this all down for months, but for some reason this is the first time I’ve actually sat to read the whole thing together.” He smiled hesitantly. “So, you think it’s any good?”
    “It’s totally incredible.”
    He traced his finger over the dim oval cast by the flashlight. “Know what I was thinking sitting here reading? Maybe I could make this about us, the two of us, a boy telling a girl the stories he’s made up in his head. And they both get so caught up in the stories that they actually enter the world while he’s talking, as Morwyn and Gaelin. Dream the same dream.”
    “About us?”
    “We could name the world after us.” He grinned. “Call it Ker-tin.”
    “Juserry,” I said, playing along.
    “Or last names? Barnacaine? Cainard? Canardia, how’s that?”
    I tried to bite back my smile. It was wonderful, not just a joining of names but a joining of souls, like a marriage. Justin pulled me into a quick hug and I thought how here it was, destiny coming together just in time. It was just like LoraLee always said, that destiny usually came to you disguised as a bang-up coincidence. “We have to celebrate,” I said.
    “Celebrate?”
    “I’ll cook you dinner. Over at my house tomorrow night.”
    “You can cook?”
    “I’m an amazingly great cook, you’ll see.” I squeezed my hands into fists. “I’ve got these special recipes I’ve really been wanting to try.”
    Justin smiled at me and brushed his knuckles against my cheek. Just the briefest touch, but it echoed through me and I had to bite my lip to keep from sighing. And maybe I was wrong but I thought Justin’s eyes momentarily flickered a lighter blue. It almost seemed as if he’d felt something too.

6
    I PLEADED A BELLYACHE. It was more or less true after all; my stomach felt like a washing machine on spin cycle, and I had way too much to do to waste the day in school. Half of my brain laughed at me, the other half steeled its shoulders and began to go down its list.
    I bought frozen chicken and strawberries. Strawberry soup, the book had said, and the chicken should be cooked with apricots. I had never in my life tasted an apricot, and all I could find in the fridge was a jar of toast-crumb-littered marmalade, but it was orange and fruity; close enough.
    Lettuce for salad. Dressing made of mayonnaise, brown sugar and vinegar, with poppy seeds I brushed off sandwich rolls. Apparently poppy seeds were supposed to engender lust. The dressing also called for dandelion leaves. Where the heck would I find dandelions this time of year? I remembered last spring spraying LoraLee’s dandelions and pulling the withered stems. How long did it take for compost to decompose?
    On the way to LoraLee’s I knocked on the trunk of every tree I passed, which of course made the walk take significantly longer than was justifiable.