could no longer deny it: Mother never seemed to be on her side.
Alice hung her head and drew in a deep breath, determined to keep moving, no matter what. One day, she said to herself, she would return home with Father in hand, and Mother would finally appreciate her.
Just then came the sound of trumpets and a sudden explosion of color that fell and hung neatly in the sky.
It was the official announcement. The beginning of the rest of her life.
Mr. Lottingale stepped onto the stage.
A hush fell over the crowd, and the eighty-six of themâhovering just to the sideâwere so collectively nervous Alice could almost hear their hearts racing in unison.
Mr. Lottingale was one of the Town Elders and he had come to make a speech. It was the obvious thing to do, to make a speech before the main event, but Alice could never take Mr. Lottingale seriously. He looked a bit like a pistachio. He was round and beige, cracked open only at the top, his head turtling out, and his brown-green hair flopped around in the breeze. She knew it wasnât fair of her to focus only on Mr. Lottingaleâs looks, as he was certainly a nice-enough person, but every time she looked at him she couldnât help but think of the time she saw him lick a caterpillar off his upper lip.
âFriends of Ferenwood,â he boomed, caterpillar voice creeping out of his caterpillar lips. âI congratulate you all on the first day of spring.â
The crowd cheered and stomped and raised their glasses of cider.
âToday is a most auspicious occasion,â Lottingale went on.
And on, and on and on.
He spent the next ten minutes giving a speech about the great day that is the day of their Surrender, and I canât be bothered to remember it all (it went on for nine minutes too long, if you ask me), but suffice it to say that it was a heart-warming speech that excited the crowd and sent jitters up Aliceâs skirts; and anyway, I hope you donât mind but Iâd like to skip ahead to the part where things actually happen.
They would all perform. All eighty-six of them.
Only after all of the twelve-year-olds had surrendered their gifts would they be allowed to take seats with their families, where theyâd attempt to eat a meal while the Elders took a break to deliberate. Once the decisions were final, an envelope would appear on their plates, their tasks carefully tucked inside.
Of the group, only one task would be announced to all of Ferenwood; only one child would be celebrated.
Only the best.
Alice held tight to this reminder as she watched Valentina Milly take the stage. She was the first of them, and Aliceadmired her for it. Valentina stood in the middle of the square with a great, quiet sort of dignity, never once letting it show that sheâd been crying in the bushes just a moment before.
And then she sang.
She had the voice of a featherlily, effortlessly charming the lot of them. Valentina sang a song Alice had never heard before, and the words wrapped around their bodies, sending shivers up tree trunks and hushing the birds into a stillness Alice had never seen. The song was so lovely that Alice was blinking back tears by the end of it, certain that something strange and frightening was coming to life inside of her.
Alice knew then that Valentina Milly had no ordinary voice, and though Alice was terribly jealous, her hands found themselves clapping for her competitor all the same.
Next came Haider Zanotti, a boy with the bluest hair Alice had ever seen. Electric, violent blue, thick and rich and so gorgeous she was sorely tempted to run her hands through it. Haider stepped into the very center of the square, took a bow, and then jumped. Up. High. Straight into the sky. His hands caught something Alice could not see, and he was suspended in midair, fists clenched around what seemed to be an invisible ladder. He hoisted himself up and climbed until he was standing taller than the tallest trees, a speck in the
Alice hung her head and drew in a deep breath, determined to keep moving, no matter what. One day, she said to herself, she would return home with Father in hand, and Mother would finally appreciate her.
Just then came the sound of trumpets and a sudden explosion of color that fell and hung neatly in the sky.
It was the official announcement. The beginning of the rest of her life.
Mr. Lottingale stepped onto the stage.
A hush fell over the crowd, and the eighty-six of themâhovering just to the sideâwere so collectively nervous Alice could almost hear their hearts racing in unison.
Mr. Lottingale was one of the Town Elders and he had come to make a speech. It was the obvious thing to do, to make a speech before the main event, but Alice could never take Mr. Lottingale seriously. He looked a bit like a pistachio. He was round and beige, cracked open only at the top, his head turtling out, and his brown-green hair flopped around in the breeze. She knew it wasnât fair of her to focus only on Mr. Lottingaleâs looks, as he was certainly a nice-enough person, but every time she looked at him she couldnât help but think of the time she saw him lick a caterpillar off his upper lip.
âFriends of Ferenwood,â he boomed, caterpillar voice creeping out of his caterpillar lips. âI congratulate you all on the first day of spring.â
The crowd cheered and stomped and raised their glasses of cider.
âToday is a most auspicious occasion,â Lottingale went on.
And on, and on and on.
He spent the next ten minutes giving a speech about the great day that is the day of their Surrender, and I canât be bothered to remember it all (it went on for nine minutes too long, if you ask me), but suffice it to say that it was a heart-warming speech that excited the crowd and sent jitters up Aliceâs skirts; and anyway, I hope you donât mind but Iâd like to skip ahead to the part where things actually happen.
They would all perform. All eighty-six of them.
Only after all of the twelve-year-olds had surrendered their gifts would they be allowed to take seats with their families, where theyâd attempt to eat a meal while the Elders took a break to deliberate. Once the decisions were final, an envelope would appear on their plates, their tasks carefully tucked inside.
Of the group, only one task would be announced to all of Ferenwood; only one child would be celebrated.
Only the best.
Alice held tight to this reminder as she watched Valentina Milly take the stage. She was the first of them, and Aliceadmired her for it. Valentina stood in the middle of the square with a great, quiet sort of dignity, never once letting it show that sheâd been crying in the bushes just a moment before.
And then she sang.
She had the voice of a featherlily, effortlessly charming the lot of them. Valentina sang a song Alice had never heard before, and the words wrapped around their bodies, sending shivers up tree trunks and hushing the birds into a stillness Alice had never seen. The song was so lovely that Alice was blinking back tears by the end of it, certain that something strange and frightening was coming to life inside of her.
Alice knew then that Valentina Milly had no ordinary voice, and though Alice was terribly jealous, her hands found themselves clapping for her competitor all the same.
Next came Haider Zanotti, a boy with the bluest hair Alice had ever seen. Electric, violent blue, thick and rich and so gorgeous she was sorely tempted to run her hands through it. Haider stepped into the very center of the square, took a bow, and then jumped. Up. High. Straight into the sky. His hands caught something Alice could not see, and he was suspended in midair, fists clenched around what seemed to be an invisible ladder. He hoisted himself up and climbed until he was standing taller than the tallest trees, a speck in the
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