Prologue
The garden was a large space behind the house that was fenced off by a great, hand-stacked stone wall. The wall was fully closed from the back of the house to where it wrapped around the side yard, and small animals often nested between the largest gaps between the flat stones. It was late September, and things had mostly died down to a large pile of dead foliage and old pine needles. Thalia picked up one of the jump ropes, shaking off the dead leaves with little fear of the creepy crawlers that might have been hiding there, and immediately started to trot around the yard with it. Ember pushed her hands deep into her pockets as her teeth chattered against the dropping temperature that came with a premature northern night.
Thalia’s feet crunched on the leaves. “One, two, three, four, five...”
Thalia didn't like to play with others, and often neglected Ember, who might have preferred the company. Ember liked to trick herself into believing that Thalia liked being alone. It wasn't really that she liked being alone--she liked being with her mother and Nan. She just didn't like being with Ember, and oftentimes, Thalia thought she was a figment of her imagination, and if she ignored Ember long enough, she might disappear and go away.
But as a real flesh-and-blood child, Ember was incapable, as many times as she had tried. Sometimes, when it was time for bed, or when Ember found herself alone in a corner, she would shut her eyes tight, pretending that she really had been a figment. With the world blacked out to nothing, she would imagine that she was Thalia, the girl with the pretty hair and the perfect demeanor, and that Ember had been something she pretended.
But it never came true.
"...seventeen, eighteen, nineteen...”
Alone with herself, Ember stared up at the sky, and the trees, and she felt the breeze blowing through the fabric of her jacket and cloths and touching her skin. She shivered with both the cold and the sensation.
“...thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three...”
She walked to the wall at the back of the garden and started searching for birds' nests or signs of ground squirrels in the gaps and holes. She stared intently, hoping they hadn’t all gone away to wherever they hibernated, though it was getting late in the year and late in the day. Dragging her hand along the wall as she went, over the sharp edges and unforgiving hardness, she turned the corner into the side yard and heard her Nan and mother talking about something. It was something upsetting and serious, by the sound of it. Ember only sighed heavily, and then looked up to stare at the sky as she tried to ignore the voices. The sky was darkening, but it was still too light for stars; Ember stayed looking straight up until it made her dizzy.
She finally looked back down at the far end of the side yard, where the alleyway made by the stone wall ended, and noticed something. There was something red on the wall, and the presence of the red thing piqued her interest. It wasn’t a natural red, like one would see on flowers or birds; this red was artificially bright. It was not from her mother’s garden.
She walked toward the pretty thing, and picked it up. It was a scrap of cheap ribbon, like the kind used to tie a child’s helium balloon to their wrist.
“Hello.”
Ember looked up with surprise to see a boy sitting on top of the wall. She was sure that he hadn't been there before. He wasn't quite a man, though he certainly appeared more of an adult than a child. He had dark hair and deep, dark eyes, and long limbs which he had composed around himself like casual accomplices.
Ember smiled at his friendly confidence. The stranger smiled back.
“Hello.” Ember said, intrigued with the turn of events. “Is this yours?” She asked, holding out the bit of ribbon. It seemed rather a melancholy treasure without its balloon, frayed at one end and clipped straight at the other.
“Yes.” The stranger smiled more broadly, revealing starkly white teeth. “But I am giving it to you. Do you like red?”
Ember stared back down at the red ribbon, and suddenly realized that she did very much like red. She was also pleased that the stranger would find the bit of ribbon of enough value to give to someone like it was a gift; her mother would have called it a piece of trash. “Yes, I like red. Red is my favorite color.”
“Mine too.” The stranger said with another grin that never touched his eyes. “What is your name?”
“Ember Gillespie.” Ember said wistfully, rubbing her head against her shoulder to push a stray bit of hair back behind her ear.
“Ember. Gillespie.” The stranger repeated back to her without blinking. “May I come into the yard, Ember?”
With a pleased smile, Ember nodded. “Yes. You can come down.”
He dropped gracefully from the top of the wall to kneel down on ground before her. He had black hair and a handsome face, like a prince from a storybook. He brought his hand to touch the part of the ribbon that hung from Ember’s hands. “I like red, too…Though I believe I like a different red than you. Red is a very special color.”
“What's your name?” She asked, smiling at the random things he said.
His expression twisted into a smirk and he raised his eyebrows as he stared at her, shaking his head; this time, the smile came through his eyes instead of his mouth. Suddenly, his face contorted and he raised his arm defensively.
Ember frowned, wondering what she had done to displease her new friend. “What’s wrong?”
The stranger lowered his arm and smiled, though his nose was wrinkled in disgust. “Someone inside is cooking. That’s all.”
“Ember!”
She turned around to see her mother running toward her in long, graceful, gazelle-like strides, her bare feet crunching on the leaves. She reached Ember and scooped her up; Ember saw the kitchen knife in Gina’s hand. As Gina passed her daughter off to Nan, Ember turned in time to see Gina strike the knife one quick time across the stranger’s face. It made a sound like nails on a chalkboard, and the stranger reached up to grab at the dark, bleeding cut in shock.
Gina pointed the knife at his chest. “Stay away from her.”
“Why?” He replied with a hiss, pulling his hand away from his face. “I didn’t hurt her.”
“No.” Gina shook her head, once again raising the knife to gesture at his face. “You know why.”
In her grandmother's arms, Ember disappeared around the corner, clutching her gift ribbon in her hand. The next day, they put her on a plane to the contiguous states, where she went to a private boarding school and received a first-rate education. Ember didn't see the stranger again for many years afterward, and when she finally did, she didn't recognize him.
She only knew he was someone important to her—the first person to value her as a personal treasure and not a damaged item. She held on to the ribbon long after it had lost its childish charm, using it as a bookmark. She lost the ribbon when she forgot to pack the book she was reading for a trip she took when she was eighteen.
She was going back to Tulukaruk, intending to pay her last respects at Gina Gillespie’s funeral.