Serina wonderland's Arc

Chapter 5 of 9

Serina stood at the counter with the cloudberry jar open. The cardamom sat beside it. The orange zest curled on the board. She had the flavors. She had the shape in her head: something small, something old. But she did not have Cole. Not really. She knew his door was blue. She knew his gran had carved a wooden hedgehog. She did not know one story from his life. Not a real one. Without that, the gift would be pretty and empty, like a card signed by a stranger. The fairy in the red flower dress landed on the flour sack by the wall. She watched Serina stir nothing. "You've been holding that spoon a minute," the fairy said. "Butter's fine. You aren't." "I don't know him," Serina said. "I know he buys cinnamon bread on Tuesdays. That's it." "Then ask someone who watches him," the fairy said. "I watched him for weeks." Serina set the spoon down. "You saw him eat it. On his step." "Every Tuesday," the fairy said. "Same spot. Same bite order. Corners first." "That's not a story." "It's a habit. Habits come from stories." The fairy shrugged. "Ask the girl. She sits on his lane all day." Serina wiped her hands and crossed the lane. Cheshire sat in the doorway of the abandoned shop with the faded pink sign, feet bare, dress rumpled. She looked up. "You came back fast," Cheshire said. "I need something," Serina said. She crouched. "The boy with the hedgehog. Have you ever watched him? Really watched?" Cheshire thought. She chewed her lip. "He talks to it," she said. "To what?" "The little wood thing. He takes it out of his pocket when he sits on the step. He sets it on his knee. He eats the bread and he tells it stuff. Quiet. Like it's listening." Cheshire tilted her head. "Once he said, sorry I forgot Sunday. That's what I heard." Serina's throat tightened. Sunday. His gran had been a Sunday, too. Her gran had been a Sunday. Everyone had a Sunday they were trying not to lose. "Thank you," Serina said. She pressed a coin into Cheshire's palm. "Get something hot." She ran back across the lane. The fairy was already at the counter, arms crossed. "You have it," the fairy said. "I can see it on your face." Serina pulled dough onto the board. She rolled a small round, no bigger than a plum. She pinched a nose. She pressed two seed eyes. A hedgehog, curled like something that fit in a pocket. Inside, she tucked a bead of cloudberry jam and one whole heart-shaped fruit from the jar on the top shelf. She marked the base with a tiny S. For Sunday. For sorry. For both grans. She slid the tray into the oven and shut the door. Then she remembered Cole had never told her he ate alone on that step. He had not told her anything. She had built the gift from things overheard. If he asked how she knew, she had no honest answer.