Callie Leary
Like you guys, I have been pondering the question from last week. There are so many things that I could choose—like you guys did, AllieK’s stuffed wolf, Milana’s “summer,” Pipper’s bookshelf, Coupe’s crazy blonde curly hair—as metaphors, like my quilt or my planisphere, or even my annoying freckles and embarrassing blushing. They are mine, all mine.
As much as we agree with what you wrote LaurelQ, we do feel like we have to follow any leads we have about Amanda. So there I was following Susanna around Orion after school on my bike, like you guys said, to try to get to know her. It was my turn, Nia and Hal had other things to do that day. I saw Susanna coming out of a house with a flute tucked under her arm. It wasn’t in a case or anything, which I thought was kinda weird. I pulled up next to her on the sidewalk, bracing myself for accusations of being a stalker, but she actually looked happy to see me.
“Hey,” I said, smiling, hoping she would not wonder why I just happened to be standing outside this random house. Intent on distracting her, I nodded toward the instrument. “I didn’t know you were into the flute.”
I felt dumb as soon as I said it. I mean, of course I didn’t know Susanna was into the flute; I didn’t know much of anything about her. But she just shrugged and said, “Actually, I’m not. I pretty much hate the flute.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah? So why do you play?”
Susanna sighed. “It was my older sister’s,” she explained. “She got it at a garage sale or something. That’s why it doesn’t have a case. Anyway . . . she left it when she went to college. My folks want me to have an extracurricular that we could afford, so they make me play. Mrs. Shipley’s a friend of my mom’s, and she gives me lessons for free.” She pulled the flute out from under her arm and gave it a dirty look. “But I hate having to play this thing just because my sister did. I already have to wear her old clothes. Everything I own is hand-me-downs. I wish, just for once, I could do something because I wanted to.”
Her monologue surprised me, and not just because that was the most I’d ever heard her say. But because I suddenly understood Amanda’s plan.
“If you could do anything,” I said, “what would it be?”
Susanna didn’t miss a beat. “Ride horses,” she said. “But horses and stables are crazy expensive,” she sighed, pretty much glaring at the flute.
When she said that, I totally understood why she made up those stories about her horse and her big house. She was kinda like a kid with an imaginary friend.
“Plus, the flute sounds lame, especially lately. It never sounded crystal clear, but for the last couple of weeks, it almost sounds like it has a cold or something. Figures I would have the most pathetic of used instruments, too . . . ”
She was twisting the flute back and forth in her hand, in total disdain, and as she did I noticed that her key charm kept hitting the instrument in the same spot, right over a little hole that seemed bigger than the rest and oddly shaped—almost keyhole-shaped. I grabbed Susanna’s wrist—”hey, what’s up,” she complained—and used the little key to pry open a tiny compartment in the old flute.
Inside: a little horse shoe charm. Amanda strikes again, right?
We sat together on the curb, staring at the flute and the collection of charms. Pretty dumbstruck.
“I think I know why Amanda gave you these,” I said. “You already had the bracelet, but now you have to fill it up. Make it your own. Fill it up with wishes, dreams, everything you want in life . And when you look at your charms, you’ll be reminded of all the things you’re going to do some day. You’ll be reminded of all the little dreams that make you Susanna.”
Susanna, fingering the necklace and the new charm, looked at the flute with new affection and nodded.
And I think Amanda wanted me to tell her that. I think Amanda wants all of us, but especially her guides, to pay attention to the people here with us now, and not lose sight of them while we search for who she is and try to discover the journey she’s on, like RRRules said. Helping other people was what Amanda was all about. And we think it’s a huge key to who she is and why this whole mystery started…
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