The Story of the Trees - Sword, Ring, and Crown Book One

Chapter One

"Did you take my contacts?" I asked Klick and Klack with narrowed eyes. They snapped their beaks at me to protest their innocence.  I hummed at them, suspicious. Luis would be mad that we would have to buy new contacts. They were expensive and I'm not sure how he managed to get them for me. That was another of his secrets.

I picked up the necklace I made of my mother's earrings. Before she abandoned me, she left them with me for safekeeping, warning me never to let them out of my sight. Ever since I've guarded them, only a single person tried to take them, and his hand withered. It was an adequate deterrent. At least, I never saw him again, so I figured it was.

As I put on my chain, I whispered to the sky. "Mother, my birthday is in two weeks. Will you come this time?"

For my last three birthdays, I had gone to the alleyway in hopes she had come there, but she never had. Additionally, I'd also hoped that perhaps Adrian would somehow be there, but, of course, that didn't happen either. I don't think I'd ever told him when my birthday was. And besides, why would he come?

I missed him. He had been a solid companion when Luis wandered.

 I didn't deserve to miss him.

"Matt!" a croaky voice from the house screeched, distracting me from my guilt.

"Woof!"

I peeked out the window down at Luis. He was disguised as a dog today, and I knew he did that to annoy Aisa. Anytime she saw him in the yard, she'd yell at me about letting in strays. He didn't like her, but we didn't have alternate living arrangements.

"Search for my contact. I lost it," I called down to him. He barked again, and I heard the irritation in the growl that came after. "I know! Sorry!"

I kept losing them -- I was careless.

I climbed down the tree and headed towards the weather-beaten row house. It was once a vibrant pink but had faded to a rose-white shade. The white trim was now grayish, with much of the wood exposed. Aisa didn't want to spend any money on paint. She didn't like spending money on anything.

She watched me as I entered from the back door. After I entered, the screen door slammed, and I winced. "Sorry, Aisa."

She sniffed at me with disapproval. "I heard that dog again. I told you that he doesn't get to stay in the yard. I don't mind your rabbit, but the dog stays out."

"I know. He jumps the fence, and he chews the leashes I use to keep him tied." It was the same excuse. I was relieved that, despite her complaints, she never called the pound.

She held out the monstrous sweater she'd knitted with a humph. "Since you're useless for anything else, put this on so I can see how it looks."

While smarting from her harsh assessment of my worth, I put on the ugly sweater. Because it was the only rent she charged me for living in her house, I couldn't refuse. Nevertheless, her critical comments stabbed me. I knew she was right, but I wish she didn't remind me every day.

The sweater had a huge cowl neckline that made my head seem like it had been cut off and set on top of a Pepto-Bismol-pink trash can lid. Giant yellow wings stood up without wires from the shoulders, and large, red balls sprouted all over the sweater like zits. The sweater billowed over me, past my knees.

I lifted my hand and stared at the red lump which festered on the end of a sleeve. Then, finally, I asked, "Who are you mad at this time, Aisa?"

A scowl creased her wrinkled face. "Her name is Pamela Winters. By tomorrow, she will get a nasty case of boils and swell up to the size of a hippopotamus."