Looking at it now, I see how dirty and dingy I’ve let it get. There isn’t a trace of the rainbow glitter we used to sprinkle over the fortress grounds, and the polished stones and gems and pieces of discarded mosaic tile are all covered in a coat of dirt. The little ceramic unicorn figurine that we found at the dollar store has sunken sideways into the mud. I adjust its position and try to anchor it into the ground so that it is standing up straight again. I clear away some of the brown fall leaves and prop up a few of the pretty red and yellow ones. If there really are such things as fairies, they are probably not very happy with how I’ve been neglecting their fortress ever since Jude left.

Not that I still believe in fairies.

Maybe growing up is sort of like a mosaic too. Like putting together pieces of a puzzle, but the picture you’re trying to make keeps changing.

I hear barking coming from the woods beyond our backyard. There are old paths and trails that run through the woods, and sometimes people in the neighborhood hike them, and sometimes they bring their dogs with them, so it’s not that unusual. The part that is unusual is that the barking sounds like it’s getting closer, louder, and more insistent.

I take a few steps away from the fairy fortress and begin walking toward the back fence to see if I can get a better look. I reach the gate that leads out into the woods, and the barking gets louder.

Underneath all the other sounds—the barking, the rustle of dried leaves under my feet, the swish of the wind around me—I hear something else: a word, a feeling.

Help!

Looking all around, I can’t tell which direction it’s coming from. I cup my hands around my mouth and call, “Hello?”

Please help!

It’s like a voice in my head, but not my own. To the left, I see the leaves of the overgrown shrubbery moving and shaking. Even though I know Moms don’t like me going into the woods by myself, I lift the latch of the gate.

Can you hear me?

I glance back toward the house. There’s no time to get Noah; this is urgent.

The branches and brush tremble like there is an invisible wave moving through them. As I walk toward the bushes, everything suddenly gets very still and quiet. I squint, trying to see beneath the layers of leaves and branches. That’s when I see two eyes, one blue and one brown, watching me closely.

It’s a dog!

“Hey,” I whisper. The dog stands still, like maybe it's just as surprised to see me. I take a step closer. “Are you friendly?”

Are you?

“Me?” I say out loud, looking around for the source of this voice. “Hello? Is anybody here?”