Prism's Paint by Emily Bliss

Author:Emily Bliss
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781681193397
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2017-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

“You are a human girl!” he called out, laughing. “I’m Trevor, by the way. Trevor the Tree.”

Cressida giggled again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Trevor. You don’t know, by any chance, where the missing rainbow might be, do you?” she asked.

“It’s the strangest thing,” Trevor said. “We trees saw it fly straight up into the air, right in front of us, not six feet away. But none of us saw where it landed. And believe me, we were looking.”

“I was sure it would land in my branches, and I was all ready to catch it,” the tree next to Trevor added. “But I haven’t seen a glimmer of it. I’m Trina, by the way. And this is my son, Tristan.” With one of her branches, Trina pointed to a shorter tree who looked much less gnarled.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all three of you,” Cressida said. Then she looked back at Trevor. “Would you mind if I climbed you?” she asked.

“Be my guest,” he said.

As Cressida hoisted herself up from one branch to another, she couldn’t help but ask, “Who are the Rainbow Cats?”

“The Rainbow Cats used to be our best friends,” Trevor explained, sounding angry. “They scratched our trunks, which was wonderful because we trees get itchy, and there are lots of places we can’t reach with our branches. In return, we let them perch and sleep on our branches.”

Trina scoffed and sighed. “That was before this morning,” she said, “when those silly cats had the nerve to claim that their paintings are more creative than ours. They kept meowing that ours are ‘boring.’ ”

“Can you believe it?” Tristan interrupted. “Those Rainbow Cats are terrible painters. They don’t have thumbs, so they can’t even hold paintbrushes! All they do is smear paint and make paw prints!”

“Exactly!” Trevor agreed. “That’s what I told them! And then I explained our paintings are better because not only do we have thumbs and fingers, but we each have several hands. I can hold fifteen paintbrushes at once! Trina can hold seventeen. Tristan can only hold eight, but he hasn’t grown all his branches yet.”

“I see,” Cressida said, pulling herself up onto Trevor’s highest branch. She wanted to be careful not to take sides. The argument between the cats and the trees sounded like fights she had with Corey about who was better at bike riding or soccer. They were arguments that neither she nor Corey ever won, but they put both of them in a bad mood.

Cressida squinted as she scanned the Valley of Light for even the slightest glimmer of color. But everything—every tree, every blade of grass, every flower, every turtle, every squirrel, every chipmunk, and every rock—looked clear and colorless. Where, she wondered, could the missing rainbow be? It seemed like it should be easy to spot. Worry that she might not be able to find the rainbow—and that Prism would be absolutely miserable without her ability to make art—swelled within Cressida. She took a deep breath. “It has to be somewhere,” she whispered to herself.

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