Ivy's Tangle (Legend of the White Sword - Book 1)

Chapter 14 - Questions and Answers

After mid-summer, things were generally good between Ivy and me. The more time I spent with her, the more certain I became that her original miserableness had been a self-defence mechanism, and though she was no less weird, I'd noticed that sometimes she could be remarkably thoughtful and kind. Ivy had a particular soft spot for all of nature's little creatures—even the ugly ones. One afternoon, I was tackled to the ground by a little blond ball of fury. I'd been standing on one leg, with my foot poised to squish a nasty, hairy caterpillar in the garden. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back in the dirt with Ivy on top of me.

"What's the idea?" I demanded.

"What were you thinking?" Ivy shot back.

"I was just going to squish a caterpillar," I said. "They eat the plants in the garden."

Ivy climbed off and picked up the hairy little creature.

"This has as much right to live as you do," she said.

"I don't think it's a kind that'll turn into a beautiful butterfly or anything. That grub will just become an ugly little mo–"

Ivy's angry expression cut short the rest of what I was going to say. She looked as mad as I'd ever seen her.

"Is the moth worth less than the butterfly because it's less beautiful?" she asked.

Ivy liked butterflies. They were always landing on her fingers, and often, one would be in her hair when we were out in the garden. The only bugs Ivy liked better were bees. She thought bees rocked. I'm not kidding.

"I thought you liked butterflies."

"You're an idiot."

Ivy carried the caterpillar to the far side of the lawn and set it down in the grass. She came back and started working again, ignoring me completely. I still wasn't a hundred percent sure what I'd done wrong, but it was nicer when Ivy wasn't mad at me, so I apologised anyway.

"Sorry," I said. There, problem solved.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because... I upset you?"

"You're an idiot," Ivy said again, but she didn't sound angry.

Time to change the topic.

"Where exactly are you from?" I asked.

Ivy looked up from the weed she was pulling.

"I promised I wouldn't speak of that," she said.

What?

"Promised who?"

"Your grandmother," Ivy said.

"Why? Why would Gran care if you told me about yourself? That makes no sense."

"She didn't give me her reasons. Perhaps, you should ask her."

Asking my grandmother a question that mattered was like asking my parents. I might as well ask a brick wall for all the information I'd get.

"So you aren't allowed to say anything about yourself?"

"Not in specifics," Ivy said.

Wow, that was messed up.

"How about generalities?" I asked.

Ivy considered a moment.

"If it doesn't touch on my promise, I can answer."

"OK, I guess. Do you have brothers or sisters?"

"I'm an only child. My parents were so disappointed in me; they decided they would have no others."