Эллен Шрайбер: Once in a Full Moon

“It is supposed to be taken in its pure form,” Dr. Meadows said, and poured two cups. Then she turned to me.

“No thank you,” I politely said.

“Ah… a skeptic,” Dr. Meadows said. “Always one in the room. Dragged here by your friends? It’s okay,” she offered again. “I didn’t put anything into the tea.”

I know. I watched you , I wanted to say.

Ivy and Abby were sipping from their teacups like we were dining with the queen of England.

Dr. Meadows held my hand for a moment. She was dead silent.

“I see snow,” she began. “Beware of the woods… of the sounds of howling. There could be outsiders who will turn… underneath the glow of the full moon.”

Chills raced up my arm and straight to the top of my neck. I tried to pull my hand away, but her grasp was too tight.

We struggled for a moment until finally she released her grip.

“I think it’s time we go,” I said, rising.

Dr. Meadows still seemed to be in a trance.

I turned to my friends, who reluctantly returned their teacups to the table.

“We have to go…” Abby said.

“Yes?” Dr. Meadows said, coming back to life. She sighed an exhausted sigh.

I marched out of the room, and Ivy and Abby followed.

Abby grabbed a benign, humorous book on witchcraft for her essay and she and I placed our money on the counter when Dr. Meadows finally appeared. Ivy handed her a credit card.

“We need three receipts, please,” Abby requested.

Dr. Meadows handed us our change and gave Ivy her receipt to sign.

“I hope you will come again,” Dr. Meadows said, escorting us to the door. “At least for some tea.”

“This is the best time we’ve ever had!” Abby squealed, giving Dr. Meadows a hug.

“I’m coming here for jewelry!” Ivy said.

I, on the other hand, decided this would be my last trip to Penny for Your Thoughts. I would have gladly traded in my bogus reading for the stunning, luminous earrings, since they wound up being the same price. Now I knew why they called them “fortunes.”

When we reached the door, Dr. Meadows had parting words for my friends. “Thank you so much for coming,” she said, giving each an embrace. “You’re such delightful girls. Remember what is inside of you — not just what is on the outside.”

My beaming friends exited the shop.

Then, suddenly, Dr. Meadows turned to me and grasped my shoulder.

“Celeste,” she said vehemently. “Beware of a kiss under the full moon. It will change your life forever.”

Dr. Meadows’s words haunted me. Her messages to me were so specific yet, at the same time, mysterious. My reading had not been anything like my friends’. It wasn’t about my personality but rather about events. The snow. The woods. Howling. The moon. A kiss? Not only did I get a crazy fortune, but I’d blown my allowance for the entire week on foolishness.

As we dished by the car, Abby and Ivy cracked up.

“I thought she was great!” Ivy said. “She was so right on with me.”

“Well, it wasn’t hard to figure out that you are athletic,” I said to Abby. “And that you are a fashion diva,” I stated to Ivy.

“Then how do you explain yours?” Ivy asked.

“Hocus-pocus,” I said. “She had to throw in something to get our money’s worth.”

“I can’t wait to tell Nash what she said,” Ivy said. “He better stay away from you and the woods.”

“Oh, great — I’m going to be late to volleyball practice,” Abby said, checking her phone. “If I’m late, I’ll have to do extra laps.”

Ivy didn’t have time to drop me off. Instead she would have to take us all back to school. I wanted some downtime and wasn’t in the mood to travel back to Legend’s Run High.

“Are you sure?” Ivy asked when I announced I was going to walk home along the bike trail.

“It’s just up the road. I can almost see my house from here,” I reassured them. My home was less than a mile away, and I thought the cool air in my lungs would perk me up.

“I don’t want you walking home alone,” Ivy said. “Please come with us.”

“We don’t have much time to argue,” Abby urged. “She’ll be fine. Her house isn’t that far away.”

I nodded in agreement.

As my friends departed, I followed a bike trail that ran between the Westside woods and the main road. As long as I stayed on the path, I’d be home within twenty minutes. I began walking, enjoying the sights of endless trees, the smell of November air, and the sounds of geese flying overhead. Birds’ nests high atop a few of the naked trees were clearly visible. I took out my binder and jotted down a few notes, wanting to remember these elements for future stories. What I didn’t anticipate was the snow.

It began with a few flakes. Tiny frosted crystals started to sprinkle down, tapping my fur-lined boots and knit gloves. I was delighted; it made my rural journey that much more enchanting. I loved fresh snow, gentle and whimsical, coloring the sky and trees bright white. The flakes hit my worn binder, dampening my pages, so I stopped and placed it in my backpack. I held out my hand and captured a few flakes in my glove. They didn’t dissolve right away; I could see the tiny, intricate crystal formations. I didn’t remember a snowfall forecast and assumed it would be a light sprinkling for the next few minutes and enjoyed the tapping of snowflakes against my cheeks.

As I continued on, the falling flakes grew bigger, dotting the road and grass. The wind picked up and the now quarter-size flakes flew into my hair and face, tickling me. I covered my head with my fleece hood. The wintry scene was beautiful; I could have walked in these conditions for days. But it wasn’t long before the wind blew with huge gusts. I zipped up my hoodie and walked on. The snow increased and pelted down while the wind picked up speed.

Instead of the elements painting a blissful picture, they began to fight against me. It was more difficult to view the trees in the distance, and I was annoyed that it was growing colder and getting harder to walk. Within a few minutes, the road was caked with snow. The sky was completely overcast — gray-and-white clouds engulfed it. The trees I could easily make out a few minutes ago were now difficult to see. I realized if I couldn’t see anything, then an approaching driver’s vision would be impaired, too. There wasn’t much room between the road and the bike trail, and I worried a driver might drift off the road now that the lines were invisible. To play it safe, I stepped off the bike path and caught my breath by a row of evergreens. The tall, lush trees blocked most of the wind and snow. The scene around me was breathtaking, but when the gusts grew even stronger and objects only a few yards away became invisible, I decided to press on. I hung on to several evergreens as I walked, using them to guide me forward. Before I knew it, I was grabbing brush instead. I could no longer see the trail or the road. I was frustrated. As the elements were battling against me, all I saw was snow above me, in front of me, and on either side. I could barely keep my eyes open. I was getting really cold and wanted to get home. I walked from tree to tree. I assumed they were paralleling the road and bike trail. I continued on until I grew tired. I stopped by an old oak and leaned against it, catching my breath again. I hadn’t seen anything but trees for a while. Then I realized — where was I?

The snowfall was getting worse. I was frightened. I knew the Eastside very well and it was so developed that people, businesses, and homes were in easy reach. I decided to stay put for a few minutes and ride out the storm. When it was clear, I’d get my bearings back and figure out my location.