SOME MORE NOVELING
i know a teensy tiny bit about, like, appalachian granny magic and mountain-y stuff and i think that’s what i’m moving towards, but also the thought occurred to me: “matilda but older and gayer,” so who knows where we will end up
[some visual context: Em’s sitting on the roof outside her window, looking down at Casey in her front yard]
Em holds her breath, doesn’t take her eyes off the surprisingly elegant arc of Casey’s body in a too-big t-shirt and leggings as Casey’s scuffed Keds skid for a half a second in the grass before she leaves the ground. It’s a good jump, a strong start–Casey throws her arms up immediately to grab the closest branch and actually manages to catch it, which is further than she’s gotten since her primary goal in life became Climb Em’s Granny Tree.
It’s just an Elm tree. Em might have been convinced when she was a kid that a little bit of her grandmother’s soul was inside of it and might have told Casey that once when they were younger. Their sleepover talk tended to veer in the direction of I thought for awhile that my grandmother didn’t so much die as she became one with the giant tree in our front yard conversations, rather than the things that girls in movies talk about. She thinks this might be true of lots of girls, but she can’t say for sure.
Casey had nodded like it was the most reasonable thing in the world and refused to enter Em’s house without first greeting her grandmother from that point on, originally with reverence, eventually with hugs. This morning, she had thrown her arms around the trunk and said, voice slipping into something a little more sweet and Southern than usual, “Granny, you’re gonna finally let me in today.”
Casey swings from the branch and her feet scramble against the bark to try to force herself up before she says, “Shit damn,” in one breath and her hands slip.
Heat flares up underneath Em’s skin. For a second, everything dims except the shine of the sun against Casey’s hair, braids piled up on top of her head. She might not actually hurt herself if she falls naturally, but it doesn’t matter. The world shifts inside Em’s head. Everything shifts from hot to cold then back again. Two seconds pass and Casey lands gently on her knees in the grass.
“Why does she hate me?” Casey asks, sighing dramatically and throwing herself onto her back, not noticing a thing. “Doesn’t she know I’m family?”
Em draws in a shaky breath before she smiles, throws down another gummy worm that manages to land on Casey’s bare stomach where her shirt has ridden up. Casey laughs and eats it immediately.
“She’s a tree,” Em says. “She doesn’t know anything.”
“Don’t talk about your grandmother like that,” Casey says. She groans like the weight of the world is on her fourteen-year-old bones as she pushes herself to her feet, pointing a finger at Em. “Don’t move, I’m coming up.”
“Yes’m,” Em murmurs, leaning back against the wall, her feet dangling over the edge. This is as dangerous as she gets: sitting.
oh my god, they were roommates 