Ivy Aberdeen's Letter to the World: Chapters 10–15

She tried to remember a time when she and Taryn had so much fun that it made her all giddy and trembly.

Annie Demetrios, in a pair of bright orange sweatpants, was arguing with a woman Ivy assumed must be her mother because they looked so much alike.

Ivy’s empty stomach lurched at the thought.

Right when she thought she needed to sit down, Ivy saw a nurse with bright red hair and a stack of pillows in her arms. And in between dingy white and stripes and polka dots, there was a peek of blue.

Ivy swallowed a scream and opened the pillowcase wider, nearly sticking her whole head inside. But all she saw was that infuriating drawing of her family she had stuffed into her pillowcase last night before the tornado hit.

“This is wonderful, Robin, thank you,” Mom said, but her voice sounded flat and wispy, as thin as a tissue.

“I’m heading back to the house with Jasper,” Dad said, his voice jolting Ivy from her thoughts.

“We’re meeting the insurance adjuster, and then we’re going to see what we can salvage from the house.”

“I just want to see it, that’s all.” Ivy twined her hands together and held her breath. She wanted to go home.

Ivy braced herself for the inevitable Are you okay? How are you holding up? I’m sure everything will work out. Blah, blah, blah.

“All right,” Robin said, standing. Then she started rummaging in a desk drawer.

Robin frowned at her. Not in a mad way. More like Robin was baffled.

Robin nodded. “I started when I was about your age too. I grew up in this house, you know. My first entry was a minute-by-minute account of a ghost hunt in the attic with my best friend, Laurel. It was riveting.”

“Wow,” Ivy echoed, but she grimaced.

After he loped off down the hall, Ivy scrubbed both hands down her face.

She felt like a volcano bubbling and stewing underneath the surface.

Ivy popped open her locker, happy to focus on schoolwork and history lessons and protractors.

Taryn’s voice startled Ivy so badly, she knocked her elbow against one side of the locker and yelped, the pain radiating up her arm.

She slunk down in her chair as Ms. Lafontaine called roll.

The community was highly spirited and resilient, despite the storm damage.

“Exactly,” Ms. Lafontaine said, pointing her pen at June. “Resilient means the ability to withstand or recover quickly from difficulties. It doesn’t mean things aren’t hard. It doesn’t mean we aren’t hurt. It just means we keep going. We keep living. We keep trying."

“Our school, the elementary school, and the high school are coming together to put on a creative arts show. In one month, on May fifteenth, we’re going to display original student art that represents resiliency at the Kellerman Gallery here in town. It can be any kind of art you want, and it doesn’t have to be directly related to the storm. You can write, paint, draw, do a collage, submit photographs—as long as we can see it, it’s good to go.”

June was funny and kind and, yeah, a bit quirky, a bit weird, but that’s what made her interesting.

Normally, Ivy would’ve smiled and indulged Taryn’s gooey crush, but today it felt like sandpaper on a sunburn.

The Calliope Inn that loomed up on her right like a haunted house, all eaves and gables, was very much not her home.

The Calliope Inn that loomed up on her right like a haunted house, all eaves and gables, was very much not her home.

Inside the inn, Ivy climbed the creaky steps to her family’s room, bracing herself for a flourish of activity and noise.

“Ivy,” Mom said. “This is exquisite.”

What if Dad gushed over it just like Mom was doing?

Aaron’s cry cut her off. He bucked against Mom’s chest, and his face scrunched up like a raisin.

June took a deep breath, her eyes wide. It was actually really cute, and Ivy had to stifle a laugh.

Ivy picked up the journal and read the neat scrawl:
Glass feet,
glass hands,
glass bones under my skin.

She watched June for signs of smugness or sneakiness or anything other than the doe-eyed look of wonder June wore right now, but she didn’t find them.

June popped up to her knees and started grabbing at all the papers, collecting them in her arms in a haphazard bundle.

Ivy had no clue what to say. She did want to stay, but wasn’t sure what was going on here. Dr. Somerset looked just as flummoxed.