My Diary from the Edge of the World (32 page)

We sat eating in silence, as usual, and the captain looked disappointed that even this special treat hadn't pulled us out of our shells. And then it got worse. The first huge drop of rain fell with a smack right in the center of the table where we could all see the wet spot it left. I felt another on my head, and another thwapped against a glass.

“It's just a drizzle,” the captain said, though it was clear our alfresco dinner was about to end in a soggy mess. We were all silent and awkward, not wanting to hurt the man's feelings by going in, but not wanting to stay outdoors, either.

And then it started to fall more steadily, and Dad was just about to take a sip of his iced tea, when a drop landed
in it and splashed some of the tea against his glasses.

He looked up at the sky, at the dark clouds, and then he said in a hopeful voice, “Maybe a tiny drop of Millie just fell into my cup.”

There was a moment of silence, and everyone looked at Mom tensely. She was going to say it was a horribly inappropriate thing to say—I was sure of it.

She seemed to be thinking for a minute, about to cry, when instead she let out a deep breath and turned her face up to the sky. She opened up her arms and the rain fell harder, and soon we all had our faces up to the sky. The captain laughed, turning his face up too, not getting the joke, or what it meant to us.

That was when I knew that even though we'd never get over Millie, we'd still be us. We'd still be a family. She was still with us.

Dad said one night, before we landed in New York, that it's very possible, according to the laws of physics, that things happen endlessly, over and over again even if we don't know it. I wonder if I like that idea. It would mean losing Millie all over again, and the Cloud chasing us across the earth—all the fear and uncertainty happening over and over again. But then it would also mean fighting with Millie over her hairbrush and laughing
with her, and the night she kissed Virgil, and our time together in the Winnebago as a family being endless too.

I'm not even sure it matters what physics says. In
this
time and place, there are Clouds and monsters, and in
this
time and place, we don't have Millie anymore. That's what we've been given, and we can only do our best with what we've got.

Still, life is full of surprises. I saw something on the news the other day—just a tiny two-minute segment buried between a story on a local policeman and an interview with the mayor of New York. An obscure circus in New Mexico, by the name of Big Tex's, was faced with an unusual problem on Tuesday when all of its animals—every single one, including the pygmy unicorn, somehow escaped from their locked pens. Big Tex is offering a big reward to anyone who knows their whereabouts, because apparently not one of the animals has been found. It's as if someone loaded them into a truck and drove them away to freer pastures.

Oliver has been on vacation in Georgia with his new foster parents, who happen to be hippies, and who only live in the next neighborhood over from us. (My mom wanted to adopt him in the worst way and tried to convince him. But he said it would be weird to be related to us,
instead of just our really good friend. And I have to agree with him.)

Anyway, it's suspicious, of course, and I'll have to see what he says about it all when he gets back. But it makes me think. . . . Maybe in the case of Big Tex's zoo, Oliver just wasn't willing to accept the world we've been given. Maybe he was trying to turn it into what he wants it to be, instead.

*  *  *

Anyway, back to our journey. The rest of the voyage is probably easy to guess. Soon New York was looming out at us through a fog. And soon we were on a bus home.

The last miles leading into Cliffden were some of the most exciting of my life. Every turn, every tree, every corner became more and more familiar. It might have been the best day of my life if Millie had been there too, but of course without her, it couldn't be. Still, it was a dream coming true, and I strained for the first glimpse of our house on the hill, and when I saw it up there perched like a familiar old face, I thought I might explode.

But to be honest, coming home wasn't what I expected at all.

Here is what I didn't expect. The stairs seemed to have
grown smaller. The yard was just a little square of grass, and the valley below didn't seem as deep as it used to. The house itself looked like a doll's house. Everything felt like it had shrunk.

It took me a moment to realize that it wasn't the house that was different, but me.

*  *  *

I'm running out of ink and will have to go find a pen. I'm not sure how much more I'm going to write. Arin Roland is coming over later, believe it or not. She still gets on my nerves, but I think we're both getting a little nicer.

What's changed the most, maybe, is that ever since we've been back, I've been spending more time with my dad. He doesn't spend nearly as many hours upstairs with his telescope like he used to, or writing calculations in his notebook. He pays more attention to real things now: the trees, the house, my mom, and me and Sam. Sometimes he even sits beside me near my church stone and watches the town and the sky with me—just enjoying the view. Sometimes we lie on our backs and look up at the sky and daydream. The other day he quoted to me from a book he's been reading recently: “ ‘Not only is the universe stranger than we think. It's stranger than we
can
think.' ” And that makes me look at things this
way: We don't know where Millie went, and we don't know if we'll see her again, but there's no reason not to hope. We just don't know the answers, and maybe that's a nice thing. Strangely enough, it's made me pay more attention to science, even the weather. All of it seems to mean more than I used to think it did. I guess Dad and I have rubbed off on each other. I think we both feel that the world is messy and getting messier, but that it's still our world, and we love being in it.

*  *  *

Okay, last thing. I've finally decided on the epigraph I'm going to put at the front of my first diary. It's from
Hamlet
, which Mom made us all read on our trip. I think it's fitting.

Who knows. Maybe out there someone somewhere will read this, maybe even in some other world; maybe someone's reading it right now. Anything is possible, I think. So if you're reading this in some other place: Hello. I was here. I spent time on this planet. And it was extraordinary.

And I love and miss Millie. Now that's really all.

For real.

Forever.

Bye.

Without my editor, Liesa Abrams, whose passion and patience for this project has been beyond measure, this story wouldn't exist. I'm very thankful to my agent, Rosemary Stimola, and deeply indebted to “Ukulele” Ben Katsuo Johnson for teaching me everything I know about clouds and lovable scientists. Many thanks go to Adam Smith for his keen eye.

Finally, this book wouldn't be what it is without the feedback, generosity, and unwavering support of my husband, Mark, who makes all of my days extraordinary.

ALSO BY

Jodi Lynn Anderson

May Bird, Book 1:

The Ever After

May Bird, Book 2:

Among the Stars

May Bird, Book 3:

Warrior Princess

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ALADDIN

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First Aladdin hardcover edition November 2015

Text copyright © 2015 by Jodi Lynn Anderson

Jacket illustration copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Bricking

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Anderson, Jodi Lynn.

My diary from the edge of the world / by Jodi Lynn Anderson.

pages cm

Summary: Spirited, restless Gracie Lockwood, twelve, of Cliffden, Maine, living in a world where sasquatches, dragons, giants, and mermaids are common, keeps a diary of her family's journey in a used Winnebago as they seek The Extraordinary World in hopes of keeping her little brother, Sam, safe against all odds.

ISBN 978-1-4424-8387-3 (hc)

[1. Family life—Fiction. 2. Automobile travel—Fiction. 3. Animals, Mythical—Fiction. 4. Supernatural—Fiction. 5. Death—Fiction. 6. Diaries—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.A53675My 2015

[Fic]—dc23

2014039910

ISBN 978-1-4424-8389-7 (eBook)