The Names They Gave Us(48)

I lie back on my bed while the girls gather around Keely, and I drift off to the familiar story.

Once there was a little fox named Posy who loved her family. Their life in the woods was simple but happy. They ate, frolicked in the snow, and curled up in their cozy den until their red fur felt warm. Posy and her parents cooked meals, picked flowers, and told stories before bed. As Posy drifted off each night, she felt safe and loved.

“Yes?” Keely says, glancing up at Sofia’s raised hand.

“A group of foxes is called a ‘skulk.’ And a girl fox is a ‘vixen’!”

“Awesome,” Keely says.

But one day, when Posy returned home from a walk in the forest, her parents were nowhere to be found. She waited and waited, until a neighboring hedgehog told her, sniffling, that there had been an accident. Her parents were gone—never to return.

Before long, Posy’s aunt arrived from a nearby forest to take her in. With the aunt was her husband, an uncle that Posy had never met—and the largest fox she’d ever seen. He had the pointy ears, the bushy tail, and the russet fur, but he was more than twice the size of Posy’s father.

Posy moved into her new den in June, and the summer sun beat down on the forest. Foxes like the snow, so Posy’s uncle was cranky from the heat. Posy made herself as small and quiet as possible, to not be in anyone’s way. She missed her parents terribly. At night, Posy recited a story her mother used to tell her. It was about a dreaming tree, which sprouted stars instead of leaves. Every moment she could get away, Posy strolled through the forest in search of such a tree.

Winter never came. The heat only increased, and Posy thought she might suffocate in the den with her silent aunt and the uncle who always seemed ready to burst with anger.

It wasn’t until late one night, in the third year of summer, that Posy realized the truth. Her uncle came home, and, enraged that Posy hadn’t finished cleaning the den, whispered, “You should know better.”

He sank his teeth into her arm.

This was no fox. He was a wolf in disguise. And it hurt, though Posy didn’t scream. When he saw the fear in Posy’s eyes, he whispered, “You brought this on yourself.”

In the morning, he was so kind to Posy. He brought her wildflowers and scones with clotted cream. But outside, the sun melted the world.

It went on like this for years. Posy tried her best, and the wolf bit her every once in a while, but he was always so nice after. Until one day, her teacher, Ms. Bunny, hopped over to Posy after class.

“That mark looks like it hurt,” she said softly. “How did you get it?”

Posy knew better than to tell about the wolf. He’d hurt her aunt! She would have no one left. She opened her mouth to give the usual line: that she’d tripped and run into a tree branch.

“Posy,” Ms. Bunny said, “I can help you if you tell me.”

“My uncle bit me,” Posy said. “He’s a wolf.”

In the months that followed, Posy found it in herself to repeat the simple truth: He bites me. He’s a wolf. The details were hard to talk about, but she tried her best.

This time, Posy was taken in by a pair of otters. They said she didn’t have to call them Mom and Dad unless she wanted to someday. They worked hard, held hands as they slept in the water, and always had time to play. Posy learned to swim, which she loved best of all.

And in the woods, Posy found it. The dreaming tree. It wasn’t what she’d expected—the stars weren’t silver. But the leaves were shaped in five points and, in the afternoon light, they glowed above her, yellow as they fell. Beneath that tree, Posy imagined what her life could be.

“A group of otters is called a ‘romp’!” Sofia cries out. “Or a raft of otters.”

“That’s a good one,” Keely agrees. “Let’s finish the book, okay?”

Under that dreaming tree, she saw herself as a grown-up fox someday. She would go to school. She would help people. She would love the otters more and more, and someday call them Mom and Dad. She would fall in love with someone kind. She would have a fox pup of her own. And someday in the future, when Posy curled around her baby, she would almost feel her own mother’s arm around her shoulder. She would almost hear her heart and her pup’s, beating: “Mama, Mama.” She would almost believe that some things are bigger than time and space and death.

After all, there was once a fox named Posy, who loved her family old and new.

It is not the type of love that ends.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN

At Friday lunch, I realize I haven’t seen Anna all day—not even in passing.

I’m behind Simmons in the buffet line, and I nudge her. “Have you seen Anna today?”

“She’s staying in. Bad anxiety day.”

“Oh, right.” Anna’s mentioned it, and I know she stops into Miss Suzette’s every day to take meds. But I’ve never really seen the effects. “Did something happen?”

“Nope. It just pops up sometimes.” Keely turns, considering me. “You should stop by, actually. She’s in her room. She may not want company, but sometimes she does.”

“Yeah?”

I don’t exactly know how to help someone with an anxiety disorder—or if I even can. But I know Anna would show up for me. “Okay. I’ll make us a plate of food and head over there. That okay?”