Girlwood Read Free Page A

adults often did, like she was darling and ridiculous.
    "Ah," he said.
    Her father tugged one of her curls. "Of course she'll be all right," he said. "But you're my wood sprite. You're the one who'd go into the woods, not Bree."
    Polly couldn't argue. When Bree had turned sixteen and moved indoors, Polly continued to climb trees and make fairy villages out of twigs and mud. She still searched for the forest plants her grandmother said were edible—salty monkey flower leaves, miner's lettuce, the roots of the purple-flowered
salsify that, remarkably, tasted like oysters from the sea. Polly was the only one who cried when it was announced that beginning this year much of the woods around town would be turned into a thousand-home subdivision called Mountain Winds.
    "I know it doesn't sound right," Polly said to the officer. "But that's what Bree said. She's in the woods. All you have to do is look."
    Max Wendt was still smiling condescendingly, but at least he said, "I'll send a couple men out there. If she did head into the woods, she couldn't have gotten far."
    Polly didn't know if that was an insult or if he was just dumb. Even a girl like Bree could be miles away by now. She could be lost for good.
    After the officer excused himself to search Bree's room, Polly's dad said, "It was probably just a dream, honey."
    Polly widened her stance. "I saw her."
    "I know what you think you saw," her dad replied. "Sometimes dreams can seem real. But—"
    "I can find her," Polly said.
    "I know every inch of the woods."
    She nearly made it to the door before something yanked her back by the hair. Her mom stood above her, her features so distorted she looked like someone Polly would avoid on the street. She twisted Polly's head to the side until Polly
blinked back tears. For the first time in her life, she was afraid of her own mother.
    "You can't go anywhere," her mom said. "Just ... stay still. Don't move."
    She released her grip slowly, as if Polly might bolt. But Polly's scalp throbbed so much she couldn't take a single step. Her mother had hurt her; she was hardly able to think.
    Max Wendt came downstairs satisfied. "No signs of forced entry or foul play, but we'll get a detective out here just the same and send some men into the woods. I'll head down to the high school."
    "I'll go with you," Polly's dad said.
    Before they reached the front door, the knob turned.
    "Bree?" Polly's mom said, flying across the room. The door opened wider, and Faith Greene's face fell at the sight of leather boots, a floor-length brown skirt, green camisole, and gray hair so long and wild it looked like a living thing.
    Polly was the only one who smiled when she saw her grandmother. The policeman retreated a step, Polly's dad slipped out the door, and her mom collapsed on the sofa, her head in her hands.
    The house filled with the scent of cedar, and Polly took a deep breath. Baba looked at each of them, then put her hands on her hips.
    "What'd I miss?" she said.

4 TWISTED STALK
(Streptopus amplexifolius)
Found in shaded streambeds and moist areas across North America, the plant has young shoots and bright red, egg-shaped berries that taste like cucumbers and are an excellent trail snack. Also known as "scoot berries"for their laxative effect, the juice of the berries soothes minor burns and rashes.
    By the afternoon, it was official: Brianna Greene had disappeared. Laramie, Idaho, was one of the fastest growing cities in the Northwest, a city of newcomers, a city of strangers, and Polly swore they were all in her house. People brought casseroles and fruit baskets and asked what they could do. They might have stayed for dinner if they hadn't noticed her grandmother standing at the kitchen stove, stirring a large pot of something unusually green and pungent. When Baba fixed them with her stare, even the newest residents mumbled a quick goodbye and ran off as if they'd been hexed.
    Baba smiled at Polly, her brown medicine bag slung around her neck.