The Shape of Thunder by Jasmine Warga

Author:Jasmine Warga [Warga, Jasmine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Balzer + Bray
Published: 2021-03-09T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty

Quinn

Dear Parker,

Did you know I draw? I used to only draw pictures in my mind, but I’ve started to actually sketch things on paper.

I can’t tell if I’m any good at it yet, but I like it.

I keep thinking about what I would draw for you if I had the chance.

Your sister,

Quinn

The air today smells cold and stiff. It feels inflexible, which I don’t think is a good sign, but I try to push that thought away.

I shove my hands into the pocket of my coat as I head toward the giant oak tree. Cora won’t be there this afternoon, but I still want to pay it a visit on my walk home.

Most of the trees have lost all their leaves now, making it easier to see across the whole forest preserve. Maybe that’s how loss always is. It helps you better see what was already there. What was always there.

In the distance, I spot the thick trunk of the giant oak tree looming. Its branches are almost bare now, too. They curl out against the gray sky like they’re looking for a hug.

I carefully hop from large rock to large rock, crossing the creek. Cold water splashes against my ankles, soaking into my socks. I don’t mind it too much.

I walk right up to the giant oak tree. I stare hard at The Eyeball. The scale of the giant oak tree gets lost the closer I get to it. When I’m far away, I can see how much taller it is than almost every other tree. But when I get close to it, I lose all perspective.

As I approach, the air around me feels less frozen. It’s almost as though the magic of the giant oak tree melts some of the cold away. I reach my hand out, half expecting to touch something, but I don’t find anything.

The guilt inside me is tangled and twisted, like necklaces tossed together carelessly. The truth is probably the key, the secret that will make all of this work. I know I need to tell Cora, but that feels even more impossible than finding a wormhole.

Just show me I’m right about you, I beg the tree.

Its dark bark is slick with last night’s rain. The moss is slimy as I touch my palm to it. I’m begging so hard that I can feel my longing rattling around inside of me, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on the tree.

It just stands there. As still as ever.

The sky splits open, and a cold rain drizzles down. The rain drops on my head as I circle the tree, staring up at The Eyeball. The rain grows heavier, and finally, I shout, “So you’re really going to make me tell her? Is that what you want? If I tell her, will you show us the wormhole?”

My voice is drowned out by the rain. The tree doesn’t answer. A slice of lightning cracks overhead, and I jump, my skin goose-bumping all over. I stare at the cracks of light, fracturing across the sky.

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