Some Kind of Happiness Read Online Free Page B

Our feet swing over the water. Gretchen wears red galoshes over her pajamas.
    â€œThe woods?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell . . . it’s complicated.”
    â€œFinley, we’re Harts. We share blood, you know. You can tell me.”
    What does that even mean, being a Hart? It has to be about something more than blood; otherwise Hart House wouldn’t feel like it is the wrong size for me. Maybe I should start a new list: What It Means to Be a Hart. If I can figure that out, maybe I’ll be able to survive the summer.
    We share blood. Kind of creepy, really.
    I take a deep breath. “I like it because . . . it’s the Everwood.”
    Gretchen frowns. “What’s that? Like Narnia?”
    â€œIt’s a real place,” I clarify, “not imaginary, and not in another world. It’s in our world, but you can only find it if it wants you to find it. I’ve been writing about it forever. Since I was seven.”
    â€œAnd you think this place is it?”
    â€œMaybe,” I say. “It looks like it always has in my head, but even better. I had some of it right, but I also got a lot of things wrong. Now I see how it all really looks.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œWell . . . that’s the Green.” I point up the hill of the pit, toward the bright green lawn. “You know, for festivals and things. And that’s the Great Castle.” Now I point to Hart House. “It sits right at the edge of the Everwood, guarding against trespassers.”
    â€œIs there a king and queen?”
    I think for a second. “No. The Everwood has never had a king or queen. It’s really old, and it’s been hidden away for a long time. Only one who is truly worthy can be ruler of the Everwood, and no one has ever been worthy enough.”
    â€œWhat makes a person worthy?”
    â€œOnly the Everwood knows that.”
    Gretchen nods, leans back on her elbows. “So does anyone live at the castle?”
    â€œOf course. Someone has to, until the king or queen arrives. The two ancient guardians live there, all alone.”
    â€œThat’s sad.”
    â€œNot really. It’s their solemn duty.”
    â€œSo how old are they?”
    â€œThink of the oldest thing you can imagine, and that’s them. Their duty is to watch over the Everwood and guard its secrets until the rightful ruler is found.”
    These words spill out of my mouth as if they have always been there, waiting to become themselves. I have written dozens of Everwood stories, but now everything is different.
    Now I am actually here .
    â€œAre they the only people who live in the Everwood?” asks Gretchen.
    â€œOh, no, lots of other people live there. There are witches, and barrows—these digging creatures with huge mouths like shovels. They live underground, and you have to be careful where you step, because they can reach up and grab you. And there are fire-breathing salamanders with poisonous drool, and fairies that will play tricks on you if they decide they don’t like you, and sometimes there are knights, if one gets lost during a quest—”
    â€œOh!” Gretchen shoots upright, her hand in the air. “Me! I want to be a knight. Can I?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œA knight! I’d be a great knight. Would I get a horse? Would I fight dragons?”
    My thoughts spin out of control.
    What does Gretchen mean, can she be a knight? The Everwood is not a game. It is not a thing you play at; it is a thing that already exists. You can’t simply become a part of something that doesn’t belong to you, something you’ve only just learned about.
    I find myself wishing Gretchen had never come out here. Then she would never have found out about the Everwood, and it would still be safely mine.
    Now that she knows, who else might soon know? And what will they think of me? The Everwood has only ever belonged to me. We understand