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    The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two
    The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two
    The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two
    Ebook289 pages5 hours

    The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two

    By Catherynne M. Valente and Ana Juan

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    About this ebook

    "One of the most extraordinary works of fantasy, for adults or children, published so far this century."—Time magazine, on the Fairyland series

    September misses Fairyland and her friends Ell, the Wyverary, and the boy Saturday. She longs to leave the routines of home and embark on a new adventure. Little does she know that this time, she will be spirited away to the moon, reunited with her friends, and find herself faced with saving Fairyland from a moon-Yeti with great and mysterious powers.

    The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two is another rich, beautifully told, wisely humorous, and passionately layered book from New York Times–bestselling author Catherynne M. Valente.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMacmillan Publishers
    Release dateOct 1, 2013
    ISBN9781466848535
    Author

    Catherynne M. Valente

    Catherynne M. Valente began September’s adventures in installments on the Web; the project won legions of fans and also the CultureGeek Best Web Fiction of the Decade award. She lives with her husband on an island off the coast of Maine. She has written many novels for adults, but this is her children’s book debut.

    Read more from Catherynne M. Valente

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    Reviews for The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two

    4/5

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    • 3/5
      The third in the Fairyland series and the least engaging this far. I think too many "life lessons" were shoehorned in, at the expense of the story. There were still some beautiful moments but I'm not sure I'll continue the series.
    • 5/5
      The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two by Catherynne M. Valente is the third of September's adventures in Fairyland. In the first one she was a hero, the second one, a bishop, and now she's a criminal on the run. Not exactly — but nothing in these books is ever cut and dry and that's a big part of what makes this series so magical.September has waited and waited and grown impatient in the quiet normalcy that has settled with her father's return from the war. In that time she learns how to drive a Model A, which is frankly one of the best and funniest description of driving a vintage car of that ilk. Now, like the Gump in The Marvelous Land of Oz, the car becomes a mishmash of things and comes alive as it and September find their way into Fairyland.In the first book, September crosses Fairyland by foot and Velocipede, and circumnavigates it by sea. In the second she travels beneath it, in a world made up of the shadows of Fairyland. Now she drives above it, to the moon, where she must face a fierce-some Yeti.It will be nigh impossible to go into too much detail of September's adventures with out spoilers. To those who are fans of A Through L and Saturday, then you will be happy to know that they are really and truly back. They are a big part of September's latest adventure. There is also an ending that puts September in line with Dorothy Gale, but with greater consequences.
    • 5/5
      Third in the series! And the way it ends, there will be more-yay, it isn't just a trilogy! These need to be read in order. Same cast we know and love, plus several new characters. September is a little older, and desperate to return to Fairyland. Eloquent writing, joy, sorrow, humor, adventure.
    • 4/5
      September travels back to Fairyland, but everything goes so quickly! Fourteen year old September has a heart, and emotional restraint, and a lot of worries about her fate. Her friends are all there, and Fairyland's moon is as full of wonder as the planet itself. The ending made me eager to follow what comes next.
    • 4/5
      Having read the previous installments in the Fairyland series, I was anxious to read this book, the third in the series, The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two. In this book, September is 14 and feels like she is growing up too fast, old enough to be banned from Fairyland. Alas, she is whisked away to Fairyland yet again. She meets her friends and encounters new ones along her journey. Valente draws on classic children's literature such as The Phantom Tollbooth, Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland<,/i> although she sprinkles her own storytelling and mythology among the references. Valente gives the series the send-off it deserves with a graceful ending.
    • 4/5
      alas this one is merely very good whereas the previous novels were spectacular
    • 4/5
      “Just because it’s imaginary doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”In The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two, September fears that now that she is 14 years old that she is much too old to be able to travel to Fairyland. Her fears become unwarranted as one afternoon she suddenly finds herself leaving her ordinary world once again. She’s joined again with her dear friends Saturday and A through L but instead of journeying to Fairyland, she finds herself on an adventure to the very moon itself.‘Shall I tell her? Shall I be a kind and merciful narrator and take our girl aside? Shall I touch her new, red heart and make her understand that she is no longer one of the tribe of heartless children, nor even the owner of the wild and infant heart of thirteen-year-old girls and boys? Oh, September!’From the very beginning of the Fairyland series it has been said that are heartless and they have not yet grown a heart which is why they are able to do all the wonderful and amazing things one does when they are a child. The types of things that grown-ups with hearts frown upon and look on in fear. When children remain heartless they still retain their innocence. In this story, September finds herself in possession of a new, red heart and she’s not quite sure how to handle this. She fears that once she acknowledges its existence that the fun will all be over, that she will be forced home and will never be able to return to the wonderful world of Fairyland.Having read the two previous Fairyland installments, I’ve grown used to (and grown to love) Valente’s florid use of words. Something seemed off with this one though. It was almost, dare I say, excessive? Her typical style of writing felt a tad overdone this time around and too ornate at times. While this installment may overuse the flowery writing, this entire series is a truly brilliant read. They are anything but simplistic and are actually extremely smart and sophisticated. The target audience may be middle graders and one might argue that they are much to complex for children of that age and they may be right. But technically there’s nothing wrong with a book that challenges a young reader. But personally, I think these stories serve as a tribute to those much loved children’s classics that Valente clearly draws deeply from such as Peter Pan, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe and Alice in Wonderland. And more so, I feel that they’re intended as a catalyst for those readers that still remain heartless to ease their concerns that the adventure isn’t over just because you’re grown up.While Valente’s stories draw deeply from those classic children’s novels, she incorporates an eclectic blend of mythology, folk tales and fairy tales that make them wholly unique. Her novels will forever be a wonderful adventure to find yourself on.
    • 4/5
      Although not as engaging as the first two volumes, there's still a lot to recommend this third entry in the series. We are treated to an allegorical journey into growing up, emotional restraint and expression, and the value of saying 'no' and changing your own fate.The ending broke the pattern established in the first two, which I found quite interesting, and I'll be among the first to pick up the fourth volume when it appears. This is not the place for new readers to start the series, but since when has the third book ever been the best place to start? If you've been charmed by September before, you'll appreciate every chance you have to visit her again.
    • 4/5
      While I continue to be a fan of both Catherynne and September, this third book felt a little less sure in its pacing than the first two books. It was also left on more of a cliffhanger note, promising more adventures to come. I've enjoyed Valente's authorial voice in watching September grow up- she's a teenager this time around, with a fully functioning heart, but not fully adult. In particular, this was the first book in which readers see September actively wanting to go back home to her parents.
    • 5/5
      This is the third book in the The Girl Who series by Valente. I absolutely loved the previous two books in this series (and I love Valente’s writing in general). This book was better than the second book and I really enjoyed the creativity and wonderful imagery throughout. There are rumored to be at least two more books in this series due out in 2014 and 2015.September misses her friends from Fairyland but is trying to make the best of her time at home with her mother and father. But then when she runs into a Blue Wind she can’t help but hitchhike a ride to what she hopes is Fairyland. However, she doesn’t end up on Fairyland...she ends up on the Moon. While she does get to meet her friends again, she also ends up on a dire quest to save the Moon. And to do so she will have to face off with a horrible Yeti and journey through bizarre landscapes.This was an excellent continuation of this series. I absolutely love these books. The are incredibly creative, beautifully written, and just an absolute joy to read.September has grown up some and is trying to act more mature and take on jobs and adult responsibilities. However, she has trouble understanding other girls her age and desperately misses her friends from Fairyland. Along her journey to Fairyland she is accompanied by her faithful Model A car, a car which undergoes some strange changes of her own.Saturday is back in the story and the strangeness of how he meets himself throughout time plays a large role in the story. Him and September have a bit of a sweet and budding romance, which is as dear and wonderful as it is bizarre. We also get to spend time with Ell, who is much more himself in this book than he has ever been and is going through some changes of his own (having the ability to breath fire, but being cursed when he does so).The story is serpentine at times, but the plot is well done and well resolved. As with all of Valente’s books the beauty is in the writing. The writing is lush and sparkling; the creative and bizarre surrounding come alive completely. This makes for a slow read, but it is like a fine wine or fine chocolates...something to be savored. Additionally I love the creativity of the story. You never know what strange situation September will be in next or what strange creature will happen around the corner. However with her friends at her side, September is willing and ready to face anything. I love how all the characters in the book embrace each others’ differences so wholly.Also there is a lot of witty humor in here and lots of irony. It makes the book all in all a very enjoyable read. This book ties up the plot nicely, although I am dying to see what adventures September will go on next!Overall a spectacular read and highly recommended to those who love fantasy and don't mind a bit of ambiguity. Wonderful characters, absolutely beautiful writing, creative settings, and an unpredictable plot make this a must read. I can’t wait to see what adventures September, Ell, and Saturday have next!
    • 2/5
      I was delighted to find that The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two was being offered on Amazon Vine for review. It sounded like everything I like in a book. Fairyland, magic, dragons, ( well sot of ) and all sorts of fantastical, quirky and fun things. I like books like this. In fact I love books like this. ( usually) And, as an added bonus, I had book one : The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making by Catherynne M. Valente sitting on my TBR shelf, right next to my chair. A match made in heaven and I'll take it, thank you. I immediately picked up The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland so I would be ready and waiting when The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland arrived. I jumped in with great anticipation. And then I put it down. I started making excuses about why I didn't have time to read. ( uh oh ) I avoided looking at it. ( bad sign). Finally, The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland arrived and I picked up book one again with great determination. And I read. Then I put it down. After several goes at it, I decided that I would give book one a pass, because even though I had heard good things about it, and it was just the type of book I love, clearly it was not for me.So. I opened The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two, fully expecting that since there had been two books in the series already, that this would be better than book one. I opened the covers and dived in. Because I like this type of book. Fantasy was my first love when I started reading as a a child. ( quickly followed by sci fi ) I read with great anticipation and with the certainty that I was going to love it. My friends said I would, after all... and the recommend books for me all the time. And then I put it down. This happened several times this week. Again, excuses, avoiding eye/book contact. There was no escaping it. I didn't like it and I didn't want to read it. And so this review.I tried. I wanted to like it, I expected to like it. My friends were sure I would have a great time reading these books, and they all know what I read, since I post all of my books read. But. No. Try as I might I just couldn't get through it. I didn't like the characters, either the mundane or the fairy-ish. I didn't like the story. I kept thinking that it sounded like a through the looking glass wannabe on steroids. Come to think of it, I wasn't crazy about Alice either. And so here we are. I did not finish reading The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two. I didn't like it enough to finish it. I tried. I take reviewing seriously and I tried. But as all survivors of book funks know, continuing such foolishness is an invitation to a book funk. Then there's trouble. I don't like book funks, and I didn't like the half of The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two that I read, so I stopped. I left September and her hapless father, and all of her fairyland friends to their own devices, because I just didn't care. Sorry.
    • 4/5
      This, the third book in the marvellous Fairyland series, is not quite as cohesive as the first two books, taking much longer to actually get going, and with some imagery that's *incredibly* hard to visualise. Nevertheless, this is compensated for with more nuanced characterisation - September is wrestling with the complexities of growing older, the implications of predestination and the meaning of love - and it has the same sublime command of language, the same cleverness and joyousness, and the same female-friendliness that I've come to expect from Cat Valente. Overall, a splendid entry in the series, and I'm already looking forward to the next book :-).
    • 5/5
      This book was So! Good! I'm at least a little bit in love with all of the characters beautifully written characters. This book feeds my soul - I will absolutely re-read this, and probably love it even more each time I visit Fairyland. Ms. Valente's was just right to bring even more life and depth to this amazing work.
    • 4/5
      I love the way the narrator narrates these audiobooks; the worldbuilding is amazing; and I love the characters.
    • 4/5
      This is the third book in the series that started with [The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making]. I really, really like this series. It's well-written and wonderfully inventive, with an impressive philosophical bent. It also manages to capture a lot of the feel of classic children's stories while displaying a decidedly modern sensibility. (I'm particularly impressed by the sheer number and diversity of roles that are filled by female characters, which is gratifying to see.)In this one, our hero, September, has turned 14 and is worrying that she may soon be too old for fairyland, so the overarching themes here have a lot to do with the passing of time, and the experiences of realizing you're growing up and trying to figure out what your adult self is going to be. It handles these very well, I think. I'm slightly less certain about the plot, which is a strange one even for this series, and ends on a very frustrating note that I suppose I am going to have to wait for a future book to resolve for me. Still, it's good stuff, overall: clever and imaginative and insightful. So I think I can forgive it for that.
    • 4/5
      September has spent a whole year desperately waiting and wishing to return to Fairyland. And yet the Green Wind has yet to reappear and whisk her away. Instead, while headed out to mend a fence on her farm, September encounters a Blue Wind and ends up sneaking in after her to Fairyland. Once there, of course, she once again searches for her friends A-through-L and Saturday and ends up going in hunt of a Yeti who's trying to break the moon. But as always happens in Fairyland, not all is as it appears.The third book in Valente's Fairyland series is sure to please fans of this eccentrically delightful series. While September has grown up between the previous book and this one, she still remains a charming girl (with a great deal more heart than she started with). The narrative tone is still decidedly present and as lovely as ever. While not precisely a cliffhanger, the ending of this book does leave you rather eager for the next book to see the ramifications of what happened.
    • 4/5
      The third book in the Valente’s Fairyland series is as whimsical and entertaining as the first two. September hitches a ride back into Fairyland, finds old friends, meets new ones, and makes some unexpected discoveries.
    • 4/5
      Plot: 4 stars
      Characters: 4 stars
      Style: 5 stars
      Pace: 4 stars

      Such a strange, lovely story. Though no where near resolved in the end, but bits that touch on such deep truths that they can only been seen mirrored.
    • 5/5
      A M A Z I N G ! ! !
    • 5/5
      The series continues to delight me, and I'm impressed that it also constantly surprises me. Full of interesting imaginings, whimsical conversations and unexpected adventures, September's journey continues on. This one read by the author, and well read, too.
    • 3/5
      The curse of the third book - I liked this book, but not nearly as much as the first two. Sometimes I found myself a bit bored with the long and cryptic explanation characters gave September, but it's still got the charm and imagination of the other Fairyland books.

      I'm not sure how I feel about the ending.
    • 4/5
      I love Valente and I love the Fairyland series, so I was delighted when my thirteen-year-old chose this as his next bedtime story. Especially good timing as I'd gotten him book four for Christmas.As a stand-alone book, this volume would be kind of weak. There is a lot of in-between-ness in this book. September is growing up, and there is a lot of meditation on what that means for her and her trips to Fairyland, on what it means for her life at home. There's far more of that than there is action, but if you remember where you are in the overall story arc, and you enjoy Valente's observations on life, it still manages plenty of charm.Eager for the next volume.
    • 4/5
      Like the previous books, this book contained some surprising nuggets of wisdom one would not generally expect from a YA book (although I may be biased, because I am generally not a big fan of that genre, and I have not read a lot of YA books). Like the previous books, I liked the characters, but sadly, this book was not quite as brilliant as the previous book.

      What I will say is that the ending is far more surprising and maybe even sinister than expected. I am very curious to see how the series will go on now, but it seems I will have to wait a while for that to happen, as the next book has not been released yet.

    Book preview

    The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two - Catherynne M. Valente

    The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

    For all those who take the hand of a brightly colored stranger

    and journey back to Fairyland once a year

    and everyone

    whoever thought

    they were too young

    or too old.

    Dramatis Personae

    SEPTEMBER, a Girl

    Her Parents

    AROOSTOOK, a 1925 Model A Ford

    BOOMER, a Lineman

    BEATRICE, a Gentleman Greyhound

    The Blue Wind

    PEASEBLOSSOM, a Puffin

    THE CALCATRIX, a Strange Crocodile

    Several Untrustworthy Winds

    BALLAST DOWNBOUND, a Klaubautermann

    The Moon

    The Black Cosmic Dog

    RUSHE, a Black Jackal

    WAITE, a White Jackal

    NEFARIOUS FREEDOM COPPERMOLT III, a Lobster

    SPOKE, a Taxicrab

    ALMANACK, a Very Large Whelk

    ABECEDARIA, a Periwig

    A-THROUGH-L, a Wyverary

    CIDERSKIN, a Yeti

    SATURDAY, a Marid

    VALENTINE AND PENTAMETER, Two Acrobats

    CANDLESTICK, a Buraq

    MARIGOLD, a Lamia

    TAMARIND, a Lamia

    A Certain Leopard

    TURING, a Tyger

    TEM, a Child

    Her Parents

    ERRATA, a Wyvern

    THE PEARL, a Thaumaturge

    A Fairy

    Contents

    Title Page

    Copyright Notice

    Dedication

    Dramatis Personae

    Chapter I

    Chapter II

    Chapter III

    Chapter IV

    Chapter V

    Chapter VI

    Chapter VII

    Interlude I

    Chapter VIII

    Chapter IX

    Chapter X

    Chapter XI

    Chapter XII

    Chapter XIII

    Chapter XIV

    Interlude

    Chapter XV

    Chapter XVI

    Chapter XVII

    Chapter XVIII

    Chapter XIX

    Chapter XX

    Chapter XXI

    Copyright

    CHAPTER I

    THE INVISIBLE CLOAK OF ALL THINGS PAST

    In Which a Girl Named September Tells Several Lies, Hoards Money, Turns Fourteen, Wears Trousers, and Goes on a Joy-Ride

    Once upon a time, a girl named September told a great number of lies.

    The trouble with lies is that they love company. Once you tell a single lie, that lie gets terribly excited and calls all its friends to visit. Soon you find yourself making room for them in every corner, turning down beds and lighting lamps to make them comfortable, feeding them and tidying them and mending them when they start to wear thin. This is most especially true if you tell a very large lie, as September did. A good, solid, beefy lie is too heavy to stand on its own. It needs smaller, quicker, more complicated lies to hold it up.

    September would be awfully crushed to hear us call her a liar, but it cannot be escaped that she and honesty had not got on well for some time.

    There are many sorts of lies. You could fill a shop with them. To be sure, lies are terribly common. Few would pay particularly good money for fibs when they are so busy making their own at home for nothing. But if you peek inside the shop door of the heart, there you will find a full stockroom. Lies to conceal dastardly deeds stack up smartly along the shelves. Over in the refrigerated section hang lies told so long ago and so often that they turned into the truth and get taught in history books. Lies told to make oneself seem grand pile up high on a special four-color display. And in the front windows, laid out so nicely no one could blame you for having them, snuggle up little harmless lies told to spare feelings or save face or keep a friend from trouble.

    *   *   *

    Of course, nothing is really harmless. Sometimes telling the truth can bang the world about its ears just as much as any lie. But you must always be careful when you visit that little shop where lies are kept. They are always looking for a way out.

    *   *   *

    The first lie September told was very simple indeed. It was such a tiny lie, in fact, that if you were not looking carefully, as we are, you would surely miss it. She told it on a rainy, blustery, squalling day, which is just the right sort of day to start down a strange and secret path. Long, cindery, smoky-colored clouds rolled and rumbled over the Nebraska prairie. The storm fell in silver streamers, stirring the thirsty earth into a thick soup. September sat in her mother and father’s house, looking out the window at the sloshy drops plunking into mud puddles the size of fishing ponds. Everything glittered with the eerie, swirling light of the heavy sky. Her familiar fields looked quite like another world.

    September had a book open on her lap but could not concentrate on it. Her cup of tea had gone altogether cold. The pink and yellow flowers on the handle had worn almost to white. A certain small and amiable dog rolled over next to her, hoping to have his belly scratched. September did not notice, which deeply offended the dog. Her mother read the newspaper by the fire. Her father napped quietly with a checkered blanket thrown over his poor wounded leg, which never could heal quite right, no matter how many long trips into the city they took to visit his doctors. A bubble of thunder burst and spat. September’s mother looked up, leaving off an interesting article about a modern new road that might run very near to their house, and asked her daughter:

    Whatever are you thinking about, dear? You seem quite lost in your head.

    And September, very simply, answered, Oh, nothing really.

    This was wholly, thoroughly, enormously untrue.

    September was thinking about Fairyland.

    Now, you might say that September had been lying all along, for certainly she never told her parents about the magical country she had visited twice now. That is what grown-up sorts who are very interested in technical terms call a lie of omission. But we will be generous and forgive September for leaving her adventures out of suppertime conversation. How could she ever explain it all? Mama and Papa, you might be interested to know that I flew away to a land of Witches and Wyverns and Spriggans, fought the wicked Marquess who was in charge of it all, and won—please pass the roast beets? It would never do. Papa and Mama, not only did I do all that, but I went back! My shadow had been making trouble, you see, and I had to go to the underworld to fix it all up again. Shall I do the washing up?

    No, it seemed best to leave the matter where it lay. And where it lay was deep inside September where no one could take it from her and ruin it by staring at it too closely. When she felt afraid or alone, when her father was in such awful pain he could not bear to have anyone near him on account of the terrible racket of their breathing and thinking and swallowing, she could take her memories out and slip them on like a shawl of fabulous gems.

    Poor September. Everyone has their invisible cloak of all things past. Some shimmer and some float. Some cut all the way down to the bone and farther still.

    *   *   *

    If you could only hear the little trumpet of that lie, calling all its brothers and sisters to muster!

    And muster they did. What was September to do when her teachers asked her to write a composition on how she had spent her summer vacation? Five paragraphs on I brought my father’s shadow back from Fairyland-Below where my own shadow had pulled it over from the war in France and I carried it all the way home to put it back together with his body again? Certainly not. Like all the other students, she wrote a nice essay on the unusually hot August she had spent bringing the harvest in, learning lacework and how to repair the brakes on Mr. Albert’s Model A.

    Yes, Mrs. Franke, that was all. Nothing interesting in the slightest.

    And when Mrs. Bisek, who taught physical education, remarked on how fast September could run nowadays, could she possibly pipe up and announce: I have had good practice while migrating with a herd of wild bicycles, as well as escaping several alarming creatures? Out of the question. It was all up to helping her father learn to walk properly again, of course. Together they made endless circuits of the acreage so that he could get strong. And worst of all, when Mr. Skriver, the history teacher, asked if anyone knew the story of Persephone, September had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out: I went to Fairyland on a Persephone visa and I ate Fairy food and both of those put together mean I shall go back every year when the seasons change. Instead she let one of the girls whose fathers worked at a bank in Omaha and wore smart little gray hats answer, and get it wrong at that.

    All around her, the children September had known since her first days of school were growing up. The girls loped tall through the hallways and talked about their boyfriends in the same thrilled and thrilling tones you and I might use to discuss marvelous flying dragons. They shared the mystic secrets of keeping one’s golden hair perfectly golden and one’s ivory skin perfectly clear. Some of the boys had bits of beard or mustache coming in, of which they were very proud. September was excluded from the mysteries of golden hair and ivory skin, having neither. Nevertheless, she was getting taller, too. She would soon find herself taller than all but three or four girls her age. Her face was turning into the face it would be when she was grown. But she couldn’t see it, for no one can see themselves change until they have already done it, and then suddenly they cannot remember ever having been different at all.

    And above all the bustle of thirteen-year-olds becoming fourteen-year-olds floated the great and powerful rumor: The war would be over soon. Everything was going to go back to normal.

    *   *   *

    Spring melted over the farms outside Omaha like butter in a pan. Sharp, green days full of bold white clouds. September could not help smiling a little smile, all day long and in her sleep, too. Waiting for Fairyland was like waiting for a raspberry bush to fruit. One day you thought the whole thing was dead and hope lost, and the next you were drowning in berries. But the fruit always came. That is what September told herself. Of course, faith and patience are very hard tricks for a heart to learn. It would be easier for our girl to learn how to somersault off a trapeze than to believe that the dastardly, dashing world tends to do things whenever it pleases, on its own persnickety timetable and not that of yearning young people. She watched April rumble through like a bright, wet train and May burst in close behind, warm and noisy and full of wheeling, boisterous birds.

    Her fourteenth birthday came.

    September’s father felt well enough to help with her present. It was a present so wonderful it came all the way round again to terrible and so terrible it sped through to wonderful with a quickness. September felt so nervous and excited her skin flashed cold and then tingly and then hot as a stove.

    September was going to learn to drive.

    On the morning of September’s birthday Mr. Albert’s creaking, cranky Model A Ford sat out in front of the house like an old horse ready for the races again. A little orange ribbon fluttered in the wind, tied round the burlap Aroostook Potato Company sack that covered the spare wheel. The Model A could not claim to be young nor fast nor good-looking, but it made fantastic snarling noises. Alongside her mother, September had worked her fingers into almost every part of that engine. Now those fingers twitched with eagerness, remembering valves and pistons. With some coaxing and bargaining, she knew, the aged beast would roll down the road to town, grumbling plenty all the way.

    And now it was hers.

    At least for the afternoon.

    The moment it became her own, September saw the Model A as quite a different animal. It was no longer a chore to be finished by supper, but a glorious monster, a puzzle smelling of gasoline with a lot of parts like teeth. She touched the battered, accordioned vent—the paint had not won its battle with fifteen Nebraska winters. Once it had been pure, dark, wintry green. Now it looked like a pelt, with spots and stripes of naked metal and rust showing through. The black fenders curved up and over piebald front wheels, hoisting the near-flat spare and big froggy headlights. The chrome had not dreamed of shine since Mr. Albert had whacked it up against a beech tree a month after he bought the thing. The cracked windshield sparkled in the hot sun. It had a cloth top you could pull over your head, but the day glowed so warm and still that September knew they wouldn’t bother with it. Not today. She would drive with the wind in her hair and get a marvelous roadster’s sunburn.

    Hullo, September whispered to the Model A, just as she would to a crabby old horse who didn’t want her apple, thank you very much. Don’t be afraid, I shall try very hard not to crunch you or whack you in any way. Of course, I cannot promise, but I am usually quite careful when dealing with terrible engines.

    Her father eased himself into the passenger seat, his face a little red and flushed with the effort and the sunshine and the bustle of a birthday. He tightened the straps of Mr. Albert’s driving goggles over September’s head and pulled the extra pair down onto his own big, lovely nose. September could hardly breathe. Her excitement leapt and sputtered in her as though the car were already speeding down the road.

    Now, a Model A does not start and stop the way automobiles whose acquaintance you and I have made do. It has a good number of levers and valves and switches, and operating one is something like puppetry, something like lion taming, and something like dancing. September’s mother pointed and explained the peculiar workings of the rusty creature with an engine for a heart.

    Now, she said brightly, her warm, firm voice full of confidence in her daughter. There are important rules in driving an automobile, rules from which no one, not even your own mother, is exempt.

    Tell me the rules, said September with that secret little smile her mother could not interpret.

    Some are easy: Go on Green, stop on Red. Use your mirrors, they’re there for a reason. Look both ways before turning. Brake into a turn and accelerate out of it. But most of the rules have to do with not killing the car while trying to get it started. Getting things started is always such a difficulty! But, like so: the brake must be on before you can begin. This seems backward, but it’s important. Turn on the gas valve and push the spark lever—that’s the one on your left, dear—all the way up. It’s fire that makes a car go, my love, fire and fuel. Now pull the throttle lever—on your right, darling—a little ways down. Imagine a clock, where the throttle is the hour hand. Put the hour hand at four o’clock. See how at four o’clock the accelerator pedal goes down all by itself? That’s how you know you’ve got it right. You must turn the carburetor—that shiny knob there—one full turn closed, then one full turn open. Put the gear in neutral—neutral means neither forward nor backward nor fast nor slow, and it is the place from which you must always begin. Closed before open. Brake before beginning. Now, at last, turn the key to ON. But it is not ON yet, no matter what the key says! Pull the carburetor rod back, and press this button on the floor which is the starter. Wait for the engine to turn over—that sound like it is clearing its throat and will soon begin talking up a storm—and let the rod go.

    September thought the rods and buttons would slide smoothly into place with satisfying sounds and clicks. Once you knew what to do, well, doing it would be no trouble! But it was not like that at all. It took all her strength to drag the throttle lever into position. She thought her wrist might snap before the gearshift would agree to grind into neutral. The Model A spat and gargled and shuddered awake, but not all at once. First she gave too much gas; then she was too slow to press the starter after yanking back the carburetor with both hands and her shoulders put into it in earnest. No wonder Mr. Albert thwacked that beech tree.

    September’s father put his warm brown hand over hers and let the spark lever down a little. There were more strange words—clutch and choke and shift, like the car was a body and quite alive, if a little sick with bellyache or cough.

    Had she been less excited by the phlegmy roar of the Model A, September might have noticed how much she had grown in order to touch the pedals with her feet and see out the windshield while sitting up very straight and proper and not boosted on heavy books. But the car jangled and her heart jangled with it. When she released the brake, there certainly was much clutching and choking. September let out a whoop of joy that was swallowed up in the raggedy protestations of the engine, and off they rattled down the dirt road, bouncing and jostling and knocking and bonging. When it came time to shift gears, the Model A bolted forward ungracefully. When it came time to slow down, it whined and sputtered. September did not care. She leaned into the road, mud spattering her goggles, laughing into the May wind.

    It was, after all, so very like riding a Wyvern.

    *   *   *

    Nothing else happened that day.

    The sun set without peculiar happenings and no sooner than she could blink, September once more lived in a world without the Model A, as if none of it had ever happened. The wonderful, monstrous, noisy car vanished back to Mr. Albert’s garage. No Wind of any color came rushing up behind the exhaust-blast of the car. When she lay in bed that night, she could still feel the vibration of the engine in her bones, like when you have spent the whole day swimming and the sweet rocking of the water lulls you to sleep long after you’re good and dry. I shall not worry just because the Green Wind did not come today, she thought over the echoes of shifting gears shivering her skin. Aunt Margaret says worry only turns down the bed for bad news.

    Instead of fretting over a day here or there, she would prepare. The place that fear took up in her heart she would fill with provisions and readiness. She was a seasoned Adventuress now, after all. It would never do to keep turning up in Fairyland like a helpless lamb with nothing but the wool on her back. Grown-ups didn’t just wait around for things to happen to them. They made plans. They anticipated. They saved up and looked out and packed in. September slept very well that night. She dreamed of neatly filled suitcases and lists with every item checked off.

    The first and most important of these preparations began with a mason jar under her bed. September had been saving pennies for some time. She was her mother’s daughter and that meant a frugal girl with a weakness for hoarding what she never knew if she might need. But now her efforts had a clear purpose: September was quite fed up with the problem of having needs in Fairyland but no means. It was no better than her own world! Worse, in fact, since she hardly had a notion of what money meant over there at all. But she would have no more First Kisses traded on the open market this time, nor rubies wedged out of a Fairy sceptre that might well have been an oversized log back in Nebraska. She would never be a rich girl, neither here nor there, but she could at least make a go at convincing magical folk that a bit of copper was as good as a kiss.

    And so September offered herself up to all her neighbors: no chore too big or too messy, guaranteed no complaining! She fed sheep and chickens and weeded kitchen gardens. She pinned up washing like blowing white sails on seas of long grass. She wrote letters for Mr. Killory who couldn’t read and wasn’t about to start learning now. She looked after the dusty, crabby Powell workhorses, fed and watered and combed them while they snorted in pointed disapproval. Mrs. Powell gave her a half-dollar as pretty as a plate when the big roan turned up pregnant after they’d long given up on the notion. She took over her mother’s errands for Mr. Albert, driving round the county to fetch or deliver or purchase. Dimes and nickels and pennies went into her jar, filling it up like glinting jam.

    Being prepared meant standing at the ready at any moment, should Fairyland come for her—and this was how she conceived of it in her deepest heart: a whole world drifting ever closer in a beautiful chariot of air and light and ocean, a whole world coming to collect her. Thinking everything over and laying her fairy-habits out one by one like butterflies in a tray, September had to admit that shifts and dresses were not the most practical of traveling clothes. She had only one pair of trousers, but they became dear to her—wearing them meant that she would soon be tumbling over stone walls and chasing down blue kangaroos. They meant going and doing and daring.

    September also took her father’s temperature every day, though when he offered her a dime for being such a steadfast nurse, she would not, could not take it. She asked after his pain as though it were a visiting relative and recorded the answers in a little book given to them by his doctors. He went to Omaha every three months. Ever so slowly those doctors were straightening his leg. There was nothing to be done about the piece of bullet lost somewhere in his thigh. September watched him go each time from her window, disappearing in the long, sleek Packard sent by the Veterans’ Association. Each time she had the peculiar thought that he was under a spell just like hers, compelled to

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