For the American Indian, the rite of passage from childhood to adulthood usually included a period of about three days during which the youth went alone to a special hill or wood. He took little or nothing with him, and was forced to deal with any fears he had of the dark or being alone. This rite usually included the Vision Quest, an attempt to gain contact with and insight from the Spirit World . . .
A tap on my shoulder interrupted me.
“Hi, Ariel.” It was a girl I was getting to be friends with. “What’re you reading?”
“Just some stuff about rights of passage.”
“Is that like civil rights?”
“Not really,” I said.
“There’s a guy in math class that likes you.”
“Really? Who?”
“That Phillip guy with buck teeth.”
“Really? What do you know about him?” I asked, sort of interested.
“Too weird! But I know someone else who likes you.”
“Who?”
“That Tim behind you in Social Studies.”
“What’s he like?”
“He wants your body!”
“Thanks,
Jenny.”
“Well?” she said.
“Well
what?”
“Which one are you gonna go with?”
“I don’t think I’m into boys right now, unless a really nice one comes along,” I said
“Aren’t you going to the Halloween Dance?” she prodded.
“No. It’s on Halloween night.”
“When did you expect it to be, Christmas?”
“I’m going trick-or-treating.”
“You’re
crazy!”
We had to go off to class. I didn’t think my friendship with Jenny would go very deep.
All that day I pondered the Vision Quest. Three days alone. That’s two nights! No equipment. Wow. It sounded like just what we needed for our training, but I couldn’t see how we could get away with more than two days and one night. And we would have to do some careful begging and pleading for that much.
After school I started my secret plan. Five more yards of blue cloth. This one would be a little longer than mine.
When I got home from the yardage store, I learned that my First Aid and Rescue teacher had called that day and talked to Mom. When Dad got home, they talked about it for a long time in the kitchen while I cut out the cloak pieces in the family room watching TV.
Dad came in. “Why didn’t you tell me you could swim a mile? Do you know that’s 35 laps? And in cold lake water! And why didn’t you tell me you rescued someone?”
I looked at him. “Because, Dad, it’s a very personal thing for me. I didn’t do it for a medal or anything, and I wish he hadn’t told you. Anyway, I can swim two miles or more in colder water than Green Lake.”
“But, Honey, it’s wonderful!”
“Then why do I feel like I’m being punished?”
“Honey, we just want to share . . .”
“D0 you know what the word personal means, Dad? I’m sorry, but it’s not a school thing and it’s not a family thing. Okay?”
There was silence between us for a while.
“Do you want to do those first aid demonstrations?” he finally said.
“Yes,
Dad.”
“Will it effect your school work?”
“I’ll keep up with the work, but I don’t know what they’ll think about the absences.”
“We’ll take care of that part.”
“Thanks, Dad. Would you do me one more favor? Call Penny’s mom and make sure she can do it too. I don’t want to if Penny can’t. Did you know that Penny can swim even better than me, and she rescued the girl who was drowning? I only had the scared one.”
“Penny’s a good friend, isn’t she?”
“Yep.”
The next night I got the pieces sewn together, but I wanted to wait until she tried it on to do the hems. Then I got out the scrap box, which was okay for me to use, and thought about my own cloak. I wanted some pockets on the inside, belt loops, and a tie at the neck for cold weather. I got ambitious, and even put zippers on a couple of the inside pockets.
Penny came over on Saturday.
“I heard you would only do the demos if I could too. I can!”
“Great!” I said.
I took her into my room, made her close her eyes, and put the cloak in her hands. “Okay, open them!”
“Ariel! I was wondering how I was going to get one like yours. Thanks!”
“It still needs hemming. Put it on.” She looked in the mirror and I put pins in. “I made it extra long for you.”
“I’m a string bean. Don’t rub it in.”
I sewed up the hems, and we made a belt. I showed her the improvements I had made to mine, and then we did the same to hers, except that I was out of zippers.
Penny worked on the map of the Grove in our Grimoire while I told her
about the Vision Quest ideas.
“That
sounds
so scary. No sleeping bag or anything?”
“We’d do it in the summer. Do you want to, next summer?” I asked.
“I . . . sure. As long as we practice being in the dark a lot before then,” she said.
“Don’t worry! I’d flip out too if I tried it right now.”
The map looked good — old fashioned. All the road names were in calligraphy, the Old House was marked, and the High Hill, and the different kinds of woods.
Halloween. Penny’s mom drove us to the Haunted House at the college, but we couldn’t talk her into going in. We had decided not to wear our cloaks in public, so we just wore some green and white make-up. The House was pretty good, with lots of actors in costume and strobe lights and stuff. Penny’s mom took us out for hamburgers on the way home.
Then we went to the Haunted House at the high school. It was funnier than the college one. Her mom wanted us to start trick-or-treating before dark, so at 5:00 we put on our cloaks and jewelry and just kind of walked around and talked about magic spells and stuff.
About 6:00 it was getting dark. We were on a little street without any streetlights. We were thinking of starting to go to some houses, when all of a sudden there was the sound of engines roaring several blocks behind us. We looked, and saw two motorcycles coming this way, fast.
I looked at Penny. “Time to be invisible, fellow Sprite!” We pulled up our hoods and ducked into a bush.
Just as the motorcycles got to us, there was the sound of gun shots and breaking glass. They roared on past and turned a corner.
“Jeez!” Penny said.
We stayed frozen in the bush. A man came out of the house that had been hit. Some neighbors came out and talked to him.
“Damn punk kids!”
Then I saw blue lights flashing way down the street. “Penny!” I whispered.
“Let’s get out of here! I don’t want anyone to think we did it!” We looked around.
“Straight back between those houses!” Penny said.
“Stay
low!”
We waited until no one was looking, then crept away. Between the houses.
Through a gate. Toward the woods behind the houses.
“Eeek!” Penny said and fell with a thud.
I got down beside her and felt around. “Feels like clothesline,” I said.
Then I remembered the Athame on my belt.
“Look, Ariel! The cops are out there!”
I could see the blue lights flashing and spotlights being shined everywhere.
I reached for the knife, and feeling Penny’s legs with my other hand, cut through the twisted cords.
She wiggled free.
“Let’s go!” I said.
We dashed into the woods and ducked down just as a powerful flashlight searched the yard we had been in. “No one here,” he said.
“Roger,” crackled his radio.
“That was close!” I whispered.
“I’m sure glad you had the knife!” she said.
We were silent for a minute, watching the commotion.
“Isn’t this what Halloween is supposed to be like?” I asked.
“Yeah! Let’s go!”
Now we were in a mischievous mood, and it was completely dark. We lurked through the woods and came out on another street.
“Still have your bag?” Penny asked.
I pulled it out of a cloak pocket and unfolded it. “Sure do!”
We started trick-or-treating. First we hid on both sides of the door, and when they opened it, jumped out and yelled, “Boo!” Only one old man didn’t like it.
When we got tired of that, we just stood there a moment as the door opened, faces hooded in shadow, then raised our arms and made haunting noises. They all liked that one.
We circled around a few other streets, lurking in the shadows and hiding when cars came by. We were getting good at it!
The piles of candy, fruit, nuts, and cookies we made at my house was
amazing! We did some swapping and then went into my room and lit the candles.
“Penny, I want to show you something I found.” We huddled together at my desk in the candlelight. “You know how witches’ brews are always made of weird stuff that no one could ever really get, like eye of newt, wing of bat, and all that?”
“Yeah.”
“I found out it’s a code! And in this little book I found is a list of what each thing really is. They are herbs and plants and stuff, and a few simple chemicals.”
“Neat! So if we wanted to make one of those old potions, we could find out what all the ingredients really are.”
“Yeah. I’m going to put them into the Grimoire.”
We talked on into the evening, and about 10:00 Penny’s mom picked her up. I got out my pens and lettered.
Witches Brew
Bloody Fingers - foxglove
Candlemas Maiden - snowdrop
Crown for a King - wormwood
Dew of the Sea - rosemary
Eye of the Star - horehound
Little Dragon- tarragon
Maiden’s Ruin - southernwood
Ram’s Head - American valerian