Into the Wildewood by Gillian Summers Page A

curlicues that swirled over the toes.
    Once dressed, Keelie gathered up the sweaty leotard and yoga pants she’d worn under the Plumpkin costume. Mona called out, “Wait a minute. Don’t forget your mail.” She pointed to the stack on a chair.
    “Thanks.”
    Keelie scooped up the untidy heap of envelopes and paper, then walked down the steps, treading carefully in the weird shoes. And she’d thought it was tough to negotiate the acorns in her regular shoes—she was going to break a leg. She made it past the path that skirted the woods and led to the campground, wondering if Elianard was hiding out in the forest, watching her.
    Thinking of the forest made her long for the green coolness of the deep woods. A sudden need surged through her—she had to find the unicorn. Right now. She glanced down at the envelopes and papers in her hands, tempted to ditch them and run into the woods. The top sheet was torn from a notebook and covered in handwritten phone messages.
    The pull of the unicorn faded as she saw Laurie’s name. She slowed down and read. Laurie said she couldn’t wait to see her on Friday! Keelie’s skip of joy ended abruptly as the flipped-up curlicues on her gold booties tangled together. She struggled to regain her footing, then looked around quickly. Luckily, no one seemed to notice.
    She hurried along, growing accustomed to walking in the funny footwear, her head spinning with plans. It suddenly occurred to her that with Laurie here, she couldn’t spend her free time helping Dad.
    Her happiness deflated as she thought of her overworked father. Just a while ago he’d looked pale and tired. She couldn’t say no to him, but she wanted to show Laurie a good time, and to prove to herself that her new life wasn’t the lame-fest she often accused it of being. She had a sinking feeling that her life would get insane in the coming days.
    A family passing by laughed as their toddler pointed at Keelie’s outfit and said something in baby talk. She gritted her teeth and shuffled on. This bites, she thought. Scott was at the California Faire, and she was stuck with a one-way ticket to Steak-on-a-Stake. But she couldn’t screw up this job. There was more to the Faire than food service and ridiculous costumes, and Steak-on-a-Stake was just a step toward good money and a fun gig—maybe even the Francesca job.
    To keep from looking at the Faire goers’ reactions to her garb, Keelie rummaged through the rest of the mail. Business envelopes addressed to Zeke Heartwood, although a couple of them looked as if they’d been made from homemade paper, the kind you buy at museum shops, and were addressed in faded-looking calligraphy.
    One of these was addressed to Zekeliel Heartwood, and the return address was the Dread Forest. She recognized the handwriting from a package she’d received earlier in the summer. Sadness seemed to seep into her fingers from the envelope. She knew that Grandmother Keliatiel, her dad’s mother, hadn’t written to her. Her elven grandmother didn’t feel for her the way Grandma Josephine had. Her maternal grandmother had liked to spend time with her, and had taken her shopping and sent her funny cards for no reason. She’d died before Mom did, and now it seemed like everything that remained of Keelie’s old life was dead—except for Laurie.
    She didn’t expect the same warm feelings from Grandmother Keliatiel. After all, Grandmother Keliatiel was an elf, and elves were very different from humans. She wondered if elven anatomy was different. She’d probably find out in the fall. As vain as most of them were, maybe they had mirrors where their hearts should be. She wasn’t like them. Like her rounded right ear, her heart was totally human. Too human, judging from the pain that had haunted her in the months since her mother’s death.
    Keelie tucked her grandmother’s letter into the back of the stack and headed toward Heartwood. At the shop, she was surprised to see no Dad and no