Penny was in high school now, along with me, Sandy, and Michael. He was a senior, but because of doing the 9th grade twice, I still had three years to go. I would miss Michael when he graduated. He was still the first boy I had ever loved. For a while I had hated him too. But he had stuck with me, and I couldn’t think of him as any less than a dear friend.
Penny flew up to me in the hallway after lunch.
“Ariel!”
“Hi, Penny! Want to pick herbs and things with me today?”
“Sure. Want to go to the Search and Rescue meeting with me Saturday?”
I had to swallow. “Um . . . I haven’t been to Search and Rescue in years.”
“Isn’t it about time?” she asked.
My memories of Search and Rescue were good ones . . . as much as I could remember. That was before the fog, the drugs. In some ways it was almost like another lifetime, or a different person. I was a kid then, strong and fast and fearless. Now . . . I was getting strong again, but I couldn’t find the speed and courage so easily. And Penny was learning to swim again, but it looked like her near-world-record speeds were history.
“Are you going to rejoin C team?” I asked.
“Yeah. And I’d really like it if you’d at least come back to B team. You’re good. You’re strong again. On a couple of rescues, I’ve really felt lost without you. I brought it up at the last meeting, and we voted unanimously to invite you back. And we agreed you’d only be a trial member for a few months,
instead of a year. Please.”
It would be neat to see Jack and Mabel again, and Carl and his dare-devil driving. I could feel the corners of my mouth start to curl upward. “Okay.”
“Great! I’ll arrange a ride. It’ll sure be fun having you there on rescues.”
I thought about Search and Rescue for the rest of the day, and as I padded around barefoot in my garden after school, I started remembering the rescues I had helped with. The tree. The helicopter. The lady in the mud. It was coming back to me. It felt like . . . sort of a bridge was being built, from those wonderful days when I was younger, to the present. It was exciting. I didn’t like not remembering those earlier days. And I didn’t like the memory of those damn pills sliding down my throat.
Penny arrived, pulled off her shoes, and we harvested things until the sun set and the sky turned pink.
Well, I did it. I was back on the support team, even though Mabel wasn’t running it anymore. I got a Search and Rescue pack, and as we practiced first aid, CPR, and transport techniques, I found that I hadn’t forgotten everything.
There were a few faces missing from the team, and a few new ones. I told them what had happened to me. I wanted them to know. I was sure they’d find out anyway.
As Halloween approached, Rachel spent a lot of time with us, running or swimming, in the garden, even doing homework together. She was in the fifth grade, exactly where I was when I started the Grove. That brought back more memories.
“So when we first met at the State Park, you had just done your Vision Quest, and that’s the passage to the third level of being a Sprite?”
“Yes. The Vision Quest tests your strength inside, being alone with yourself, just as the elements tests prove your physical strength. Both are necessary to becoming strong and wise.”
“But I remember Issa saying you’re at the fourth level. How do you get there?”
I didn’t answer right away. How could I tell her without scaring her? But she asked. I have no right to withhold what I know. “The way to the fourth
level is personal, different for everyone. It is the real crucible. We all have limits, weaknesses, and the things we do . . . tend to let us find those limits.
The other tests are just games in comparison.”
“I bet it will be something I can’t imagine . . . something I’ll never dream of before it actually happens.”
I looked at my young friend with respect and wonder. I knew the years would bring her wisdom far beyond mine. That same night I began her Wood Sprite cloak, and more memories opened themselves to me. As I worked, I decided to reread our study book, and maybe some new stuff too. I had an eager student, and I could feel myself being called to be the best possible Teacher I could be.
On Halloween, the sun set suddenly, leaving stars burning in a black sky and a cold stillness everywhere. We sat long in the dark, and I could tell that Sandy was restless. Michael and Dulcy built a leaping fire, and I gave a lesson on Symbolic Alchemy, relating the steps for the production of gold with the steps in a person’s growth. I could not have given that lesson in years past. I would not have known what it meant.
Rachel listened intently to my presentation and the questions that followed, but remained silent. Issa gave Sandy a medallion with the Hebrew word Binah on it, Understanding. Michael and Issa did a Halloween story, complete with spooky recorder music, and Dulcy led the sharing of wine and cakes. That chalice was very important to me — several times a year now, I had chances to prove to myself and my friends that I needed no more than a little sip of wine.
We talked long around the fire, passing cookies and mugs of hot cider.
Seven Sprites now. I remembered the days when there were just two or three of us. The group felt complete, but somehow I knew a change was coming.
And somewhere, in the back of my mind, I had a vague memory that we had been warned.