Page 19 - Solstice Art & Literary Magazine 2021

Pepper danced around the stretching shad- ows as they made their way down the street. They arrived on the doorstep. Luther waited for his watch to turn to five o’clock before ringing the doorbell. He could hear lively conversation from the porch, then approaching footsteps. The door opened, re- vealing a middle-aged woman with curly hair. She beamed so brightly that, for a moment, Luther thought the streetlamps had turned on early. “Oh, hello! I’m Nina.”
Before Luther could introduce himself, Pep- per plastered on a small mannequin smile and re- plied, “I know. My name is Pepper Wilde, I live down the street with my dad, and we made you
these cookies. They’re gluten free because I didn’t know if you had allergies.” With a slight shrug, she held out the tray covered in cling wrap.
Nina’s face showed only mild surprise as she took it and noticed at least three kinds of cookies. Luther forced a chuckle. “She’s quite the chef. I’m Luther.” He held out his hand. Nina clasped it in both hands.
“Nice to meet you, Luther and Pepper,” she said. “Thanks for the cookies, I’m sure they’ll be wonderful. Why don’t you two come in? Some oth- er neighbors showed up; we’re having an early din- ner to get to know them. The kids are upstairs,” she added to Pepper as she ushered them inside, balanc- ing the cookie tray with one hand.
Luther followed Nina halfway through the house before realizing Pepper was still with them. “Aren’t you going to play with the other kids? I’m
sure they’d love to explore with you.”
Pepper blinked. Her smile softened until it
was almost natural. “You’re sure?” No, not really. “Positive.”
Pepper nodded, grinning. She planted a kiss on his cheek and sprinted for the stairs.
When the kids came downstairs to get food, Pepper wasn’t with them.
Luther watched each of them come and load their plates like they’d never eat again, but no rainbow hoodies or yarn dolls. One of them sat on Nina’s lap, right beside him.
Luther tapped the boy on the shoulder. “Is Pepper still upstairs?”
“Who?” The boy spoke too loudly.
“Pepper. She had a rainbow hoodie.” He didn’t mention the doll or the paint in her hair.
The boy’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, as if he’d suddenly discovered the secrets of the universe.
SOUND BOOTH • ISABELLA LEVINTHAL
Gouache • 25.5”x19.5” • Scholastic Art & Writing Awards: Silver Key
LA JEFA • SAMARA JAQUEZ
Acrylic Paint • 14”x11”
“You mean Faulin—no, Fanalan—”
“Faunalyn?” It was one of his daughter’s fa-
vorite make-believe names. She said she was an el- vish princess with elemental magic, tasked with pro- tecting the forests. He had given her a book about global warming hoping she’d hold onto the idea of protecting the forest for real. She returned it to the library the next day.
“Yeah, her.” The boy leaned in closer to Lu- ther and whisper-shouted, “She’s crazy. She ties her shoes wrong and sees things that aren’t real and talks to things that can’t hear her. Are you her dad?”
Luther bit back every defensive retort that rose to his mind, and the one thought he always
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