“ Who?” Preston asked as they kept walking. The forest had looked the same for a while, trees with dark blackish bark, the way the leaves crackled under them as the sun filtered through, but Preston could see an end, as the light got brighter, seeming to envelop the scene before them, there were other colors and lights flashing and it reminded him of something he’d known before.
“Our leader,” Starky replied as if Preston should have known. “You didn’t think we were in charge, did you? Do we look like a bunch of leaders? We were just out in the woods hunting Indians and wildcats when we heard something moving. Oregano thought it was an Indian and Dilweed thought it was a wildcat but I’ve been Here a long time and I thought maybe you were one of those that came from the woods, like the other one did.”
“The other one?” Preston asked and Dilweed quickly socked Starky’s arm again.
“For someone who’s been Here a long time, you sure are stupid,” Dilweed complained.
“Anyway, so we decided to give up Indian hunting and go on an Explore and that’s when we found you. I don’t know how you’d find him if we hadn’t shown up.”
“Him? Him who?” Preston asked and something about all this made him remember. Not a real memory, not a picture or words, only a feeling, a bright, an excited feeling that swelled in his stomach before he realized he didn’t know what it was.
“The leader,” Clover replied as if it really were a very simple concept.
“What’s he like?” Preston asked.
“He’s a married man,” Starky stated as if he’d memorized a list of facts about him.
“He likes to draw and play the flute,” Dilweed explained.
“And he can’t read,” Starky went on. “He’s always trying though. Some of the boys brought books with them Here and he’s always trying to read them, in any language he can, but it never works.”
“He can’t tell time either,” Clover went on. “He’s always forgetting the time.”
“But he’s the best leader in the world. He can fight better than any of the Indians or the cowboys, he can shoot a gun and slash a sword and he crows and flies better, he can run faster and slay a tiger for dinner…. Besides,” Starky went on. “Only pirates need to know how to read.”
“Pirates?” Preston asked, intrigued.
“Shhhh,” Dilweed, Clover and Oregano hissed together as they wandered out of the forest. “We don’t talk about pirates.” Preston was about to ask why when the blanket of branches lifted and he saw more light.
The light was not the same as through the trees, there was something flashy, something artificial about it and it took him a second to realize that he hadn’t been seeing the sun; it was dark out and for all he knew it could have been the middle of the night here. What he saw were light bulbs, bright flashing orbs, neon lights, colorful bulbs like on a Christmas tree. And there were in fact Christmas trees all around, large, never-ending pines that crashed into the sky flashing with neon and ornaments, and inside a clearing a gigantic multi-colored Ferris wheel stood going around and around. Near that was a bright red and silver merry-go-round, also going forever. Preston walked up to the gate, watching the white horses with golden manes, the pink flamingos and tigers with bared teeth flashing their claws, each brightly painted animal turning to the beat of circus music. Off to the side there were red neon lights flashing the words “Toy Store” over a heap of toys that boys played with—new toys in bright boxes, motorized cars and intricate action figures, and old wooden toys with creaking wheels and pull strings on the ends. Each boy brought a new toy to the pile and picked up an old one as if it didn’t matter. There were movies playing on screens, pictures he’d never seen before about racecars and animals, submarines and giant trucks.
It was all the lights really, all the lights that made Preston forget. Maybe it was Mr. Hawthorne’s, or that last time playing with Peyton, or his family or school or before, but whatever it was it made it so that he didn’t even consider how many other boys there were. Behind the Ferris wheel and the merry-go-round stood a large tree, not like one of the trees in the forest, this one towered above the carnival equipment, its limbs reaching out on all sides, and Preston could see the outline of a roof in the middle, with little roofs scattered all around the branches.
“That’s where we live,” Clover said, pointing up. “I live in the house on the end, on the sixth branch up.”
“Is it like before?” Preston asked and Starky shook his head no.
“You don’t know about Before yet, but he’ll tell you. He’ll tell you everything. It’s not our job to show you around, we just found you in the woods. Usually he does all the talking and we meet you later.”
“Okay,” Preston replied, this seeming to make perfect sense. He watched the other boys still playing; they didn’t seem to know he was there, they didn’t notice Clover or Dilweed, Starky or Oregano either, they were off in their own worlds playing, some even playing together, but not in the same game.
They walked closer to the bottom of the tree house; its roots were as tall as Preston, reaching from the ground with their tough, wooden arms. Preston touched the tree and it was warm, he could feel it like a beating heart, it reminded him of his own body, his own self and he pulled his hand away, worried it might burn him.
“The tree’s not going to hurt you,” Dilweed explained. “Nothing is going to hurt you.”
“Not unless you meet a pirate. . .” Starky started and Dilweed hit him again.
“Shut up,” he cried and Oregano gave Starky an annoyed look.
More lights started flashing, flickering over and around in circles. They weren’t like the Christmas lights, or the flashing bulbs of the Ferris wheel, these lights were alive, a beating heart like the tree. One of the lights came closer to Preston, so close he had to close his eyes as something landed on his nose. It was cool and fresh like diving into a swimming pool, but blinding and it wasn’t until he felt a hand on his face swiping the light off him that he could open his eyes again. “Go on, shoo,” Dilweed cried, put out as if he were flicking a bug. “Leave him alone, he’s new. If you want to help go find him and tell him he’s here.”
“What was that?” Preston asked.
“Fairies,” Starky explained as if Preston should have naturally known. “There’s a ton of them, they wander around all the time causing trouble, bothering the boys when they’re trying to play. They do some good though; they help the kids who don’t have happy thoughts. And our leader is friends with them. But he’s friends with everyone except the pirates.”
“What about these pirates?” Preston inquired since they had been mentioned so many times. He could feel something, a flash of an instant appeared and he saw a room with light blue carpeting and a window that looked out to a sea green yard; he saw a sandy colored coffee table and a television set, a bowl of fluffy white food that he knew was called popcorn, and a man and a woman. “Wait, I know that. . .I. . . .”
“I hope he finds you quick, you’re starting to remember,” Oregano warned.
“Do you all remember?” Preston asked the boys as he leaned back on the tree, something about its heartbeat feeling safe and natural now.
“You don’t come to forget, you come to remember,” Starky explained. “And I’ve been Here the second longest so I remember the second most. It was in the middle of a great big war and they took me and my family from our home, they put us on a crowded train and threw us in a camp. They took my Mom and sent me off with my Dad. They lined us up and then there were a bunch of showers, they turned on the showers, someone said something about gas and I came Here. A bunch of kids from the showers came Here with me, but I’m the only one that’s left of them.”
“Why? Where else