Of Delicate Pieces by A. Lynden Rolland Page B

words had new meaning now, and she missed him in spite of herself.
    But this wasn’t a children’s book. It was real life. So, how in the “real” world could a scrawled, crayoned tree stand taller than a ten-foot pine?
    Newburies rested among the undergrowth, waiting for the meeting to begin. Some talked, some read, others sprawled on the ground with their arms draped over their faces as though they were relaxing outside, not cooped up inside a meeting room. Others lounged in office chairs, their feet propped on a conference table sprouting from the shrubbery. She guessed with so many spirits depicting their own thoughts of this reality, the images were bound to be differentiated. Even if every person in the room thought “tree,” it didn’t mean they would picture the same thing. This was the result.
    Ellington would be proud of her. Last year, she wouldn’t have been willing to see half of this. She reminded herself to tell him later.
    Tess Darwin sidestepped away from her two brothers, who stood at the head of the table, deep in conversation. As she made her way to Alex, her smug expression clearly stated, I knew you’d come.
    “This is different.” Alex’s interest swooped around the room perfumed with cedar and emotion. The feelings here existed as living, breathing entities— kind of like Ellington’s classroom.
    Tess spun her finger in a circle. “Look closely.”
    “What?”
    “At the trees. Then you’ll understand.”
    Tess’s kindness clashed with her stiff and robotic persona, and Alex wondered if the trees leaked a relaxant into the air. She wandered off through the “woods” but didn’t see anything that would explain the purpose of the scenery or why this multigenerational group needed to meet here. It seemed like a waste of time she could be using to check on the three-year-old holed up in her room, but if she left now, she’d never know why she’d been invited. She recognized all the newburies, after all, it only took a glimpse for her mind to memorize a face, but she didn’t call any of them friends. She wondered if their lineage was documented here.
    Like a light bulb, she knew what she should be looking for. Her head whipped around to study the nearest tree, and there on the trunk a name was etched. Ondine.
    Family trees. Oh, how clever.
    The one marked Ondine stood proud as one of the largest. Beautiful and elegant, its large shell-like leaves sprang from branches and dripped with rain despite the dry ceiling. Names covered every inch of the bark. The thick boughs claimed larger names, and alongside them, smaller names etched the wood to indicate a marriage. More limbs stemmed from each couple, with more names. This family was huge.
    “This is an Alder tree,” said a smooth voice beside her.
    Alex had never heard Xavier Darwin speak before. She didn’t expect a boy with such hardened features to have a soft tone.
    “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
    She waited for him to swallow his congeniality and shove her into the wall.
    “The older families, they have the grandest trees.”
    Alex took in his jagged features. Sharp chin, sharp nose, which, for once, was not angled upward. “Why are some of the names brighter than others?”
    “The brighter names are souls who made it here.”
    Against the contrast of the bark, those names shimmered. “There are so many.”
    He nodded. “It’s hereditary. My relatives say we evolve like anything else, and this family has been around since the documented beginning.”
    Alex measured the crowd gathered in the room. “Everyone here has a name on one of these trees?” Xavier nodded, and Alex ran her fingertips along the etchings. “Why aren’t the Bonds here, then?”
    Xavier’s stare cut the air between them. The mention of the Bonds acted as a grindstone, and his sharpness returned. “After everything they put you through, you’re still concerned with them?” He didn’t wait for her response. “They’ve wronged a good many people