The Silver Moon of Summer Read online

  “Ahh!” she shrieked as she watched the dark form dart around the room. “Aaaaaahhh!”

  3 • A Shadow in the Rafters

  “What happened?” Zinnie asked, sitting up. It was dark and she was totally disoriented, but her sister’s screams woke her up immediately. “Marigold, are you okay?”

  “It’s alive! It’s in the rafters!” Marigold said, her voice spiking with fear.

  “Huh?” Zinnie asked, trying to make sense of the situation. “Where are you?”

  “Down here!” Marigold said. “Under the bed.” That’s when Zinnie saw that Marigold was on the floor, covering her hair. “Don’t be an idiot, Zinnie. Duck! Or it’ll get you!”

  “What will?” Zinnie asked, dropping to the floor with some annoyance. She didn’t appreciate being called an idiot.

  “That!” Marigold said, pointing up.

  “Eek!” Zinnie screamed when she saw the shadowy animal in the rafters. It had beady little eyes and wings.

  “That thing!” Marigold said. Whoosh! It buzzed as it flew past Zinnie and swooped back up to the ceiling.

  “AHH!” Zinnie said, diving under the bed. “A bat!”

  “Be careful—it might get into your hair and build a nest!” Marigold said, her eyes as wide as Mochi ice cream balls. “And I don’t know how it’d ever get out. You’d probably have to shave your head!”

  “What?” Zinnie said, and covered her hair.

  “Stop it, you two!” Lily said in a firm but calm voice. “You’re scaring it. It’s just a little old bat.”

  “That might have rabies,” Marigold whimpered, grabbing her covers from the bed and wrapping herself like a mummy.

  “Oh no!” Zinnie said, copying her sister and yanking a sheet around her head like a Russian babushka. “Rabies!”

  “Hardly any bats have rabies,” Lily said in a measured voice, and she tilted her head to the ceiling. “Hush now, bat. Don’t you worry. I’m going to get you out of here safely.”

  “Lily—just get Aunt Sunny,” Zinnie said as she scurried across the floor to join Marigold under her bed. Zinnie had taken a wilderness survival class this year at school. It had been a three-day trip in the Angeles National Forest with the school camping club. Now, she could start a fire using flint, and pitch a leakproof tent. She even knew how to hang food in a tree to keep it away from bears. But bats? In the house? That was something else entirely. She watched as Lily tiptoed over to the bedroom door and closed it.

  “Lily!” Marigold said, now clearly on the verge of tears. “What are you trying to do? Get us all bitten? Do you want us to get rabies?”

  “In case you don’t remember, I did my science fair project on bats!” Lily replied. “And I won!”

  “We know,” Zinnie said as she and Marigold clung to each other. “But this isn’t science fair, this is real life. Please get Aunt Sunny!”

  “Bats don’t bite unless they feel incredibly threatened. They’re actually delicate creatures who are important to the life cycle,” Lily said. Marigold grunted in frustration. “And they’re threatened in many parts of the world.”

  “I don’t care,” Marigold whined. “I just want him out without infecting any of us!”

  “You should care,” Lily said as she began to remove her pillow from its case. “Do you have any idea what would happen to the planet without bats? And this little guy is probably feeling so alone. Bats hardly ever travel alone. Aw, poor little bat. He’s actually kind of cute.”

  “You absolutely cannot keep him,” Zinnie said. Lily was crazy about animals—all animals, but especially those she studied.

  “Aunt Sunny!” Marigold called.

  “Lily, get down!” Zinnie said as she watched her sister climb onto her bed and approach the bat. “That is a wild animal,” Zinnie continued, trying to appeal to her little sister’s rational side. “It’s not used to humans, and what you’re doing is dangerous.”

  At that very moment the bat emitted a high-pitched squeak that caused Marigold to squeeze Zinnie so tightly, she thought she was going to pass out. Marigold wasn’t much of a hugger, so it was always a bit of a surprise when Marigold turned to her for help, which she did during scary movies. As Zinnie wrapped her arm around her sister, she could smell her expensive shampoo, which Marigold didn’t like to share since she saved her allowance for it.

  “Echolocation!” Lily said with delight. “I think he’s calling his friends.”

  “No!” Zinnie and Marigold both screamed. At that moment Lily leaped toward the bat, covered it with the pillowcase, and guided it to the open window, where she set it free and shut the window tight behind it. Zinnie exhaled with relief.

  Marigold was taking shallow, nervous breaths as Aunt Sunny and Tony entered the room in their bathrobes and slippers. In spite of the current drama, Zinnie couldn’t help but think it was cute that their silhouettes matched.

  “What’s going on?” Aunt Sunny asked, flipping on the lights.

  “There was a bat!” Zinnie said. Marigold was still gripping her arm.

  “In here?” Tony asked. “In the house?”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Sunny. I safety brought him outside,” Lily said. “Using only my scientific knowledge and this pillowcase.”

  “Good gracious!” Aunt Sunny exclaimed. Zinnie wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Aunt Sunny so genuinely alarmed. “Are you okay? Did you get bit?”

  “No!” Lily said. “It was a sweet bat. Just a baby, I think.”

  “For heaven’s sake,” Aunt Sunny said, pulling Lily toward her and examining her skin for any marks. “You’re sure it didn’t bite you?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” Lily said. “I think I’d know if it did.”

  “You have a point there,” Aunt Sunny said, embracing Lily and kissing the top of her head.

  Zinnie had a flash of her sister turning into some kind of bat vampire. That would definitely make a good blog! Would a fiction blog work? she wondered. “Sister gets bitten by a bat” was a great hook, and if she slowly transformed into a vampire, that would give the blog legs.

  “I didn’t make any contact except with the pillowcase,” Lily said. “And I don’t see any droppings, so that’s a good thing. Bat poop can carry disease.”

  “You really should have come to get me and Tony,” Aunt Sunny said to Lily. “It’s not okay to handle a bat. But I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

  “They’re such intelligent creatures. I knew that the bat trusted me,” Lily said. “I also think he knew that these two were his enemies.”

  Lily pointed to her sisters. Zinnie and Marigold shook their heads, but honestly, they had been pretty panicked. Lily was the only one who’d kept her cool. How is a seven-year-old not scared of bats? Zinnie wondered, remembering that two summers ago, Lily was petrified of swimming in the ocean. Yet here she was, capturing creatures in pillowcases.

  “I’m pretty dang certain I’d know if we had an infestation,” Tony said, checking the rafters and the corners of the room.

  “It was a lone bat. I’m, like, almost a hundred percent sure,” Lily said, sounding like an adult. She sighed. “Well, I guess I’d better go wash my hands.”

  “I’ll say,” Aunt Sunny said. “With hot water and plenty of soap, and please give me that pillowcase.”

  Lily handed the pillowcase to Aunt Sunny, who held it pinched between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Are we going to . . . use that again?” Zinnie asked, pointing at the pillowcase. Marigold was making a face like she’d eaten a lemon.

  “I think not,” Aunt Sunny said.

  “I guess this is how it got in,” Tony said, walking across the room and picking up the screen. “Not much of a mystery here.”

  “How’d that come off?” Aunt Sunny asked.

  “Yeah,” Zinnie wondered aloud. “How did it?”

  “I took it off,” Marigold confessed. “I was . . . looking around.”

  “Why?” Zinnie asked. There was a story here. She could feel it.

/>   “I couldn’t sleep,” Marigold said defensively. “And I was hot.”

  “Huh,” Aunt Sunny said as she put the screen back in place and fastened it.

  “Huh,” echoed Zinnie.

  “Lily’s right. There aren’t any droppings,” Tony said. “I’ll give this house a once-over tomorrow morning, but I’m almost certain it was one bat. Just flew in by mistake.”

  After Aunt Sunny and Tony had gone back to bed, and Lily had settled back down with her fresh pillowcase, Zinnie asked, “Uh, Marigold, why did you take the screen off? Were you planning on running away or something?”

  “I was just getting fresh air,” Marigold said. “I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “She was probably looking for Peter,” Lily chimed in.

  “Ohhhhh,” Zinnie said. “Were you?”

  Marigold was silent for a moment.

  “Well?” Lily asked. “Am I right?”

  “I was looking at the stars,” Marigold said. “Good night.”

  “Interesting,” Zinnie said. “Were you going to climb out and find him?”

  “No!” Marigold said. “That’s all I’m going to say on this subject. Now good night, good night, good night!”

  “Good night,” Zinnie said. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite! Or the bats!”

  Lily giggled, and Zinnie drifted off into her own thoughts. There was definitely some intrigue in this Marigold situation, but of course, Zinnie didn’t dare write anything about her sister. Not after last summer when she’d read Marigold’s diary and gotten into such trouble, not to mention losing her very own sister’s trust for what felt like forever. Marigold still brought it up every now and then. But bats, on the other hand, were fair game.

  4 • The Elusive Idea

  Early the next morning, while her sisters were still sleeping, Zinnie brought her laptop to the corner of the yard where there was a Wi-Fi signal. Last summer Zinnie had used Aunt Sunny’s office, which had been cleaned out for Tony, as her own private writing room. It’d had a little desk and almost nothing else in it, and Zinnie had relished the privacy it gave her. This summer that room was Tony’s office, and it was full of building plans, tools, and all of his guitar stuff, so Zinnie had decided that the picnic table in the backyard, which Tony had built especially in anticipation of the girls’ visit, was her new writing space. It was under the big beech tree and was the very place where Zinnie had first had the idea to write her first play two summers ago.

  It was a shady spot, and the sunshine through the leaves created a dappled effect. Even though there wasn’t a door to close like there was in her office, it was far enough from the house that she couldn’t get distracted by her sisters, but close enough to the back door that a snack was never very far away. She just needed to remember to make sure her laptop was totally charged in advance.

  After checking to see if she had an email from Max—she didn’t, bummer—she went right to the Miss Hadley’s School for Girls Writers’ Workshop website, which had the links to her fellow writers’ blogs. All the girls in the group had set up their blogs using templates before the last day of school. As Zinnie clicked on each link, she saw that she was the only one who hadn’t personalized her blog yet. The other girls obviously all had their ideas, and some of them even had their first two posts. The assignment was to write two posts a week for eight weeks. It was almost the end of the first week, and she was already behind!

  The competition for editor in chief of Muses was stiff. Zinnie wanted it so, so badly. The idea of taking the literary journal in a fresh new direction filled her with energy and a sense of purpose. She was pretty sure that her biggest competition was Madison Valenzuela. With her straight As, perfect bangs, and impressive vocabulary (she used words like “visceral,” which Zinnie had to look up), she commanded attention without ever raising her voice above a cool, inside volume.

  And then there was sweet Jenny Tom, who in addition to being a crazy-talented poet, also had a real knack for design. That would come in handy when it came time to create the layout of the journal. Her mother was an art director at a Hollywood studio, and she had taught Jenny how to make her projects and presentations look like something from a magazine. With the help of her mom, Jenny could give Muses a new look. And Jenny was also extremely organized. Zinnie felt deflated every time she considered what a natural Jenny was for the job.

  But Zinnie also knew that she herself had some special qualities, too. She worked really hard. When other people wrote just two drafts, Zinnie wrote three. In anticipation of the Writers’ Workshop trip to England this past spring, Zinnie had researched what routes to take on the Tube, which is what the British call the subway. This way, they were able to set aside the funds they would have used for taxi fares for a traditional high tea in a hotel. Mrs. Lee had told her that she’d taken notice of her work ethic and foresight. Also, Zinnie definitely put the “creative” in “creative writing.” She was unafraid to use a bit of magical realism in a story or add what Mrs. Lee called “nonlinear narrative structure,” meaning telling the story out of order. Mostly, though, there was something about Zinnie that made it easy for her to be friends with everyone. She never hung out with any one group, but could find things in common with lots of girls in her class. She had three simple friendship rules: One, remember everyone’s birthday with a funny card. Two, never turn down a nice invitation. And three, be a good listener. The rules were simple and they worked. Even though she was never the most popular or the prettiest or the smartest, kids seemed to like hanging around her. They thought she was funny and nice and a good friend. Would these attributes be enough to get her nominated as a candidate for editor in chief of Muses?

  Zinnie inhaled deeply and clicked on the link to Jenny Tom’s blog. Zinnie held her breath. With an animated backdrop of a wave washing up onto a shore, it looked downright professional. It was called Poems of Summer. As Zinnie read the first two entries, she realized that Jenny was going to write a series of poems having to do with summer, presented with supercool graphics, for each post. It was a great idea. So simple and clear, and so Jenny.

  Next she looked at Madison Valenzuela’s blog. It was called Sea Change. Madison was going to write about her summer at the beach in Santa Monica and how much the city of Santa Monica had changed from when her grandmother was a girl by alternating perspectives between her grandmother and herself. She was going to use entries from her grandmother’s old diary. She had her grandmother’s diary? From when she was Madison’s age? A primary source? Oh, man. That was so good it hurt. How was Zinnie supposed to compete with a grandmother’s diary?

  How would she think of a hook with legs? Why were ideas the hardest part?

  She took a deep breath as she massaged her temples. Her father had once advised her that if she needed inspiration, she should ask a tree. She stared at the giant beech tree, which a few years ago she’d done a dance around, chanting a plea for help when she was trying to write a play for the talent show. Now she just gazed at its leafy majesty as a breeze fluttered the leaves, and said, “Got any ideas for me, tree?”

  She listened to the sounds that followed: leaves rustling, a squirrel scampering across the branches, and a bird warbling, but no blog ideas magically popped into her head. Maybe it was because her stomach was distracting her. A delicious and familiar smell was coming from Aunt Sunny’s kitchen window: pancakes! Her mouth started to water. She closed her laptop and pointed at the tree. “I’ll check back with you tonight.” It was breakfast time! If she didn’t come up with something by the end of the day, she thought as she walked toward the house, she was going to use another one of her father’s tricks: putting a question—What should my blog be about?—on a piece of paper, tucking it under her pillow, and hoping the answer would come in the night.

  5 • A Party for Marigold

  “Here she is,” Aunt Sunny said when Marigold walked into the kitchen the next morning, still bleary from sleep.

  It was eight a.m., but only five a.m. in L
.A. She might have slept later if the sun hadn’t flooded the room with light, her sisters hadn’t been so noisy, or the sweet smell of fresh blueberry pancakes drifting up from downstairs hadn’t lured her from her bed to the kitchen, where the fan over the stove made a pleasant noise as Aunt Sunny greeted each niece with a kiss on the forehead. Marigold put a hand on her belly as it growled at the sight of the steaming pancakes.

  “Where’s Tony?” she asked through a yawn.

  “Checking for bats!” Lily said.

  Lily was rinsing extra blueberries in the sink, and Zinnie was putting plates on the table.

  “He’ll be down in a jiffy. Now, how many pancakes would you like?” Aunt Sunny asked as she added a few to a pile that she was keeping warm in the oven.

  Hmm, Marigold thought. Normally, Marigold drank kale-and-berry smoothies in the morning, but there was nothing—absolutely nothing in the whole world—more irresistible than Aunt Sunny’s made-from-scratch silver dollar blueberry pancakes with a hunk of butter melted between them and real maple syrup drizzled on top. Except for maybe Aunt Sunny’s surprise brownies. Those were so insanely good that when Marigold got a craving for them back in L.A., she immediately asked her mom if they could whip up a batch together. The ingredients were always on hand in the Silver home. “I think three.”

  “Sounds a bit modest. I’d better give you four,” Aunt Sunny said matter-of-factly. “Would you please help Zinnie set the table? Oh, and we might need extra napkins.”

  “Sure.” Marigold smiled up at her aunt as she opened the silverware drawer and counted out five forks and knives. She was so glad to be back in this kitchen. Even between meals it always smelled like something was cooking in here—pancakes, omelets, roast chicken, baked macaroni and cheese with crispy bread crumbs on top, linguine and clams, scones, cookies, cakes, or brownies. And Aunt Sunny kept the girls busy in here, too. They were forever slicing, measuring, mixing, and of course, washing dishes.