CHAPTER 1
Vvvvvmmmmm
The buzzing.
In the roots of my teeth.
Vvvvvmmmmmmmmmmmmm
In the thick of my tongue.
I search around on the shady forest floor.
Nothing.
I pull apart flat, feathered fern leaves.
Nothing.
Vvvvvvvvvvvmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
I push bracken aside with my size-ten boots. Clodhoppers, Grandad calls them.
Nothing.
Where is it? I let the bracken bounce back.
Must be here somewhere. The buzzing’s never wrong.
“Lonny—wait for me!” Midge stumbles through the trees, that ridiculous yellow baseball cap stuck backward on his head. “What’re you doing?” he says. “What happened?”
I look down. The basket’s on its side, ink caps scattered over the ground. I must’ve dropped it.
He rights the basket and scoops the mushrooms back in. His sleeves are too long for his arms. He has to stop to roll them up.
Vvvvvvvvvvvvvmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
My jaw vibrates.
“Lonny?” Midge frowns. “You’ve got the buzzing again, haven’t you?”
Vvvvvvvvvvvvvmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
“We should go back home,” he says. “Dad said you have to walk away if you get the buzzing.”
Walk away.
“C’mon.” He yanks at my sleeve, but he’s tiny, Midge is. No match for big brother Lonny. I push him off, hold him behind me with one arm, and keep on looking.
Ah.
There.
A rabbit. Breathing tight little dying-rabbit breaths. Twitching.
It’s not got long. Must’ve been mauled by a fox, unlucky thing.
Or a weasel.
I kneel down—at the head end, mind. The rest’s all blood-stuck and askew. I reach out a finger. Stroke its ear.
Feels soft. And warm. Like kisses and kind words from your mother. And I haven’t had either of those in a very long time, so I keep on stroking.
“Lonny! Don’t, Lonny!” Midge, all fretty. “Leave it alone. Walk away. It’s just a rabbit. We shouldn’t even have come out this far. Should’ve stopped at the oaks. Let’s go home.” Tug, tug, tug at my sleeve.
I shake him off.
Vvvvvvvvvvmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
The buzzing shifts. Shudders down my neck. Squeezes past my shoulder, my elbow, my hand. Pushes out through the ends of my fingers.
The rabbit stops twitching.
Its breathing slows.
Dead?
No.
Wait.
The breathing doesn’t stop, it just slows to regular. Then the little rabbit legs twist themselves around and the dark rabbit blood dries itself up and everything slides nice’n’smooth back into place.
Like magic.
It gets up, gives itself a shake, and hops off.
And the buzzing’s gone.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” says Midge. “What’s Dad going to say?”
“Who’s going to tell him?”
He looks at the ground where the rabbit was.
I sit back on my heels.
Calm teeth.
Calm tongue.
Calm head.
Okay, so I’ve aged again. Voice got a little bit deeper, arms grown a little bit longer. But it was only a rabbit. It’ll shorten a few days from me, a week at the most. Talents like this don’t come free, you know. There’s always a price.
Give a bit of life, lose a bit of life.
That’s how it goes.
Breathe, Lonny.
Breathe.
“Lonny?”
Copyright © 2022 by Kirsty Applebaum.
