Bethany glanced at the thin stand of trees separating her yard from the neighbor’s, and then toward the stout old oak, the only formidable one in the bunch. A small treehouse sat perched in its branches—always the perfect mission objective. Of course, even getting there involved its own peril.
She rubbed the back of her hand across her nose and cast a critical eye over the unicorn in front of her. A sturdy body that could take more punishment, hooves that could run a lot faster, and the horn… Lyra didn’t need to make preparations for battle. After all, a unicorn was never defenseless. But Bethany didn’t have quite as much faith in her own abilities.
“I’m gonna need flyin’ powers,” Bethany declared with a brief nod.
Lyra nodded as well, then swished her tail and frowned at the lawn. “Ooh!” she burst out, her eyes brightening. “I know just the thing!” Lyra dashed into the house and emerged a minute later with a towel. “Will this work?”
Bethany broke into a big grin. “Perfect!” she said. She tied her towel into a trusty cape around her neck and raced around the yard for a quick test flight past the swingset and picnic table, but something was still missing. A girl needed a proper cape to fly, of course, but that power alone wouldn’t strike any fear into evil hearts. As she gave it some thought, the few scrawny maples thickened and curled into a tangle of knotted, gnarled limbs that stretched wickedly toward her. Leaves rustled and strange animal noises sounded in the distance—growls, hoots, even a slither or two—but it would take more than that to scare her. “Be right back!”
She ran into the house and checked the kitchen first. The potato masher would look weird. And her mom would be mad if one of the wooden spoons got dirty. Bethany had already gotten in trouble for using her dad’s tennis racket once. Glancing down the hallway, she made a mental catalog of the contents of each room in turn. And for the third door on the left, a gleam shone in her eyes.
Moments later, Bethany shot back outside, brandishing her wand. “See, I need some magic, too. But it’s not as strong as yours, ’cause it’s, like, inborn or somethin’ for you, while mine’s just based on the wand, right?”
She waited a few seconds for an answer. It could create a serious breach of etiquette to overlap someone else’s superpowers, so she needed to tread carefully. Lyra studied her face with an agonizing slowness.
“Sure!” Lyra finally answered, beaming. “As long as you can’t shoot lasers or anything.”
“No,” Bethany said with a little slump of her shoulders, “that’s your thing.”
“Let’s go, then!” Lyra shouted, already galloping toward the forest path and the stronghold that certainly lay ahead.
Bethany followed, flying low with her arms outstretched to stay under the crooked branches and hanging carpets of moss. Endless mazes of roots and half-rotted bark streaked by, to the point that they could have sworn they’d passed the same ones multiple times. And through it all, the same beastly noises echoed through the trees, never from far away. They must have gone several miles into the woods when Lyra stopped short, forcing Bethany to loop around for a landing after she overshot her friend.
“There!” Lyra hissed, pointing through a gap in the black trunks. Past the edge of the shadowy forest, hints of sunlight glinted off snow-covered rock outcroppings. They stood in a small, shallow valley, but as they crept up the next rise, a tall castle loomed in the distance, the tips of its spires lost in the clouds. “That must be where the evil wizard lives.”
No trees stood near the castle, which sat on a pinnacle of rock surrounded by a deep chasm. The shiny, dark stone walls glared down at the heroes, and the drawbridge creaked and groaned its way open, inviting them, daring them to enter.
Bethany took a step forward, but then noticed that the birds had stopped singing, the wind had stopped hissing, the leaves had stopped scraping. There was a complete lack of sound, except one: a low, throaty growl behind them. Bethany slowly peered over her shoulder, and the yellowed eyes of a huge timber wolf surveyed her tastier tidbits. She squinted at Lyra and exchanged a faint nod with her.
Lyra immediately turned around and tore into the lead wolf with a beam from her horn. It blew apart easily, but its scattered body of branches and logs was already twitching—it wouldn’t take long for the beast to rebuild itself. Bethany swooped down and strained to pick up the bigger pieces with her magic wand, but she managed to get the wolf’s core and fling it across the river. A hero had to think quickly under pressure—now it would have to reassemble over there, where it couldn’t get to them.
By the time Bethany dove back into the battle, Lyra had demolished three more wolves, but two of them were already halfway back together. Gritting her teeth, Bethany tried to pick one of those up, but she hadn’t planned on needing super strength today. She’d have to settle for the one that was still in the most pieces, but she couldn’t keep this up for long. Lyra, either—the pack circling her grew by the minute, pressing in closer, and she was already panting. The time had come to see what this wand could really do.
Bethany closed her eyes and concentrated for a moment. She could see her wand glowing through her eyelids, and a rush of energy surged through her. Still not enough muscle to pick up a whole wolf, but—a smirk crept across her face—enough to carry Lyra.
Toward the ground she swooped, and she hoisted Lyra up on her shoulders. Her cape couldn’t billow that well with Lyra on it, but more important things than appearances required her attention at the moment. Together, they soared up to the high branches, where Lyra easily picked off four more wolves, one by one, now that she could take steady aim. The timber wolves bristled and snapped and snarled below, but ultimately, they could only slink off into the forest.
Through her laughter, Lyra said, “I guess we taught them a lesson! They won’t be back.”
Bethany touched down softly and lifted Lyra back to the ground. “Yeah. They’d better keep runnin’. Hey, let’s go check out the castle!” She took off on foot with Lyra in hot pursuit. They dodged stumps, leaped over rocks, and ducked through bushes until Bethany caught her foot on a tree root and went sprawling. She sat up and rubbed her knee; her hand came away with a deep-red smudge on it. Gaping at the sight, she held back tears—it didn’t even hurt that much, and superheroes shouldn’t get all weepy over a little scrape.
Only a few paces behind, Lyra trotted up to her and wrinkled her brow. “I-is it bleeding?”
Bethany just stared back for a minute, then finally nodded and sniffled. She wiped her eyes, coughed a few times, and smiled. “C’mon! I bet there’s a hydra over by the sandbox!” After a quick pull on the treehouse’s ladder to get herself standing, Bethany retied the towel’s loosened knot around her neck. On the other side of the fence, the neighbor’s beagle wagged its tail furiously as Bethany picked up her toilet brush and ran off with a barely noticeable limp toward their next battle.
Bethany stepped into the bedroom as quietly as possible with a hot bowl of vegetable broth and set it down on the nightstand. She glanced out the window at the tall maples and the old treehouse. Sure, they still played in the yard occasionally, but it seemed like a couple of years since they last went on some grand adventure. Grinning and pulling her mind back to the present, she was on her way back out when she heard Lyra stir. “Oh!” Bethany said, shaken from her thoughts. “You’re awake. Do you feel any better?”
Lyra scrounged up a weak smile and shrugged. She pushed the cold cloth off her forehead, then licked her lips as she glanced at the soup. “Can you hold that for me? I haven’t gotten the hang of levitation quite yet,” she croaked, wincing at the pain in her throat. “Just started that unit in magic school.”
“At least you’re gettin’ your appetite back,” Bethany said, leaving off the part where she’d give anything to go to magic school. She took a spoonful of broth, cupped her hand under it, and held it up for Lyra. “I wish you felt better. It’s not nice outside today, so it’d be a great time to sit around and talk.”
Lyra gave an apologetic frown and pushed Bethany back with a hoof. She took a sudden breath, then jerked forward with a giant sneeze. “Sorry,” she said, reaching for a tissue.
“Oh! I forgot!” Bethany jammed a hand into her pocket and pulled out a pack of lozenges. “Here. These’ll numb your throat so it won’t hurt to talk ’n’ stuff.” She set the soup down, then unwrapped one and popped it in Lyra’s mouth.
Stepping back to the door, Bethany reached out into the hallway for her backpack and brought it over to the bed. Unfortunately, school didn’t stop for an illness. “I’ve got your homework here, if you wanna get it over with. It’s not too bad except—”
“Can you help me with the spelling?”
“—spellin’. Lyra, you know I can’t spell.” Bethany stuck her tongue out at Lyra and rolled her eyes.
Lyra couldn’t help laughing, but it started her coughing again. Bethany moved to pat her on the back, but Lyra held up a hoof and took a moment to catch her breath. She swallowed hard and looked back up, her eyes wandering to a flash of color. “I’ll do homework later—hey, are those your new earrings?”
Bethany nodded and pulled her hair back from her ears. “They’re aquamarines.” No other color would do, of course.
After a glance down at her coat, Lyra broke into a big smile.
“They’re clips. I can’t wait ’til I’m old enough to get ’em pierced for real!”
Lyra’s face brightened, and she brushed a hoof against her own ear. “Me too. We should go and get them done together!”
Bethany gave Lyra a half-lidded stare and a slow, exaggerated head shake. “Well, duh!”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Lyra gritted her teeth. The faint glow of her magic hovered around the glass of water on the table as she flicked a few drops at Bethany.
Bethany squealed and shielded her face with an arm, but then fell silent as she glanced into the hallway. Still empty—nobody who might overhear. “Listen,” she said in a low voice, “I heard Mom and Dad talkin’ earlier today, but when I walked in, they stopped and just looked at me. You know what that was about?”
Lyra raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
Remaining silent for a minute, Bethany hurried over and flopped into a chair next to the bed. “Oh! Your birthday’s comin’ up soon, Lyra. Whatcha want this year?”
Lyra looked down at the quilt and frowned while tapping her hooves together.
Giving the room a quick survey, Bethany looked over their old toys. A real wand—well realer at least—she’d gotten for their backyard adventures a few years ago, now with the star broken off the tip and tossed in the corner. Her friend’s first lyre—but Bethany didn’t know a thing about music. Some dolls, their hair and manes now hopelessly tangled. “I dunno. I was thinking maybe another doll. Or…”
Lyra’s lip curled a little. “We haven’t really… played with those much lately.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh!” Lyra’s eyes brightened, and she broke into a broad grin. “Hey, how about a new saddle? I’d say a vest, but I’ll get a nice one for Winter Wrap Up anyway. I don’t have a good saddle, though.”
“Yeah. That’s a good idea! Some nice white fluff around the edges.” Bethany traced her hands around the fleece border of the object in her imagination. Yeah, wooly, or maybe lacy. “What color you want for the leather?”
Lyra’s eyes shot wide open, and she folded her ears back. “Leather?” She tried to sit up, but Bethany held a hand against her chest to keep her down.
“Sorry, bad joke.” Actually, a good, old-fashioned foot in the mouth, but Bethany didn’t want to admit to that. She waited until Lyra’s ears had perked back up, but the patient continued to scowl. “We’ll find some nice denim or canvas or somethin’.”
“Bethany! Time for dinner!” came a voice from downstairs.
“Comin’!” she shouted out the door. She shoved the bowl of broth to the nightstand’s edge so Lyra could at least lean over and drink some directly from it if she couldn’t manage the spoon. Then she ran into the hallway. “I’ll save you some dessert!” she called back over her shoulder.
“You seem to have hit it off with Bon Bon.”
“Yeah, we have a lot in common,” Lyra answered.
“Good.” Bethany made a few more pencil scratches at her homework, then returned to staring out the window. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lyra look at her from the bed, over the top of the magazine she was reading.
Lyra glanced back and forth between Bethany and the page before finally putting it down. “Is… something wrong?”
“No…” Bethany drummed her pencil against her cheek, never moving her gaze from the sky.
“You sure?”
“It’s not that. It’s just…” She turned in her chair and faced Lyra. “Well, you know that guy Jason? In our class?”
“I think so,” Lyra replied, holding a hoof to her chin. “The one with the black hair that sits in the second row?”
“Yeah.”
“What about him?” Lyra leaned forward. The blush on Bethany’s cheeks would be too good an opportunity to pass up. Lyra’d never let it go.
“Well… boys are gross, of course.” Bethany made a dismissive wave as she cocked her head.
“Of course.”
“I just… If you think about it, he’s not so bad.” Just how she’d always done for as long as she’d known Lyra, Bethany swung her legs in her chair, but unlike those old days of fighting dragons in the backyard or playing with dolls, her feet brushed the floor now. “He’s nice, and he’s got nice hair, and… he’s nice.”
“Yeah. You said that.”
Bethany returned to her textbook, her eyes scanning back and forth across the paragraphs, but after ten minutes, she still hadn’t turned a single page. “Do you… Do you think you could ask him if he likes me?”
“Really? Why?” Lyra’s cheeks looked like they might pop, but at least Bethany could duck behind that textbook.
“Nothin’. Just curious,” Bethany answered.
“You want to smooch him, don’t you?” She must have tried her best, but Lyra finally burst out giggling at Bethany’s horrified gape.
As much as Bethany tried to keep her face steady, form a frown, a scowl, something… she was still smiling. And blushing. Lyra’d never let her live this down.
“No! I mean—” Bethany exhaled sharply. “Look—are you gonna do it or not?”
Lyra rolled off the bed and gave her a hug. “You know I will.”
Her smile softening, Bethany hugged her back. “Thanks.” She sighed. “Listen—have you heard Mom and Dad talkin’ lately?”
“No. Maybe. I dunno.” Lyra’s eyes flicked between Bethany and the bedspread. “I guess I noticed Mom whispering a bit. Why?”
“Just… nothin’. I thought I might have heard them say somethin’.” Bethany pursed her lips. “About… you know.”
Lyra’s cheeks went pale. She levitated her teddy bear over and squeezed it to her chest.
Reaching an arm around Lyra’s neck, Bethany said, “Don’t worry. We’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.”
Lyra lay back in her favorite spot on her bed, her hind legs crossed and one hoof tapping to the beat that leaked from her headphones. Bethany could make out enough of the sound to follow along, and bobbed her head with the music.
“Isn’t that song great?” Bethany shouted so that Lyra would be sure to hear. “A couple of the girls at school told me about it.”
Lyra nodded and closed her eyes to concentrate on listening. So it was that Bethany heard first—a slow, soft thudding from the staircase. She froze and followed the noise’s progress down the hallway. When it reached the door, Bethany laid a hand lightly on Lyra’s shoulder.
A hesitant knock sounded. Slowly, Lyra removed her headphones and stared at Bethany, whose eyes had shot wide open. She blinked back a few tears and walked to the door as Lyra levitated the headphones onto the nightstand. “Y-yes, Mom?”
Their mother and father both came in. Mom sat on the bed next to Lyra, and Dad took a spot on the floor, patting the rug beside him to invite Bethany.
“I thought we’d have… more time…” Lyra said, hiding her eyes.
“You know we love you both very much,” Mom said as she stroked Lyra’s mane, “but you knew back when all this started, when you met because of that silly cartoon, how it would have to go. You were both little girls, and you said you understood, and you agreed.” She kept her voice soft and steady, each word carefully measured. “You knew what responsibility you were taking on. Your hearts were in the right place, and you’ve been wonderful friends for each other. Sisters, for all practical purposes.”
Lyra couldn’t tear her gaze away from the quilt. She must have thought that if she didn’t acknowledge it, then it wasn’t happening. Her own concentration focused on breathing steadily, Bethany picked at a loose thread on the edge of the rug.
“You’re both getting to an age where there are more demands on your time,” Dad said as he patted Bethany’s shoulder. “You’ve got much more homework, class projects, after-school activities.”
“Before long,” Mom chimed in, “you’ll be starting high school, dating”—Bethany and Lyra exchanged a weak grin—“maybe finding a professional-grade music tutor.” She tousled Lyra’s mane.
“And maybe joining the soccer team,” Dad finished.
Bethany glanced up at the pair of trophies on her shelf and could almost hear her classmates cheering. Yeah, they’d had a good season, undefeated except for that one game where the stupid ref didn’t know the difference between—
“Many children make friends, but not many actually, you know, make friends.” Dad reached over to Bethany and gave her a little squeeze. “The point is—you’re becoming young adults. And as much as we’d like to, we can’t support you both. It wouldn’t be fair to you, either. You have such different paths ahead. I’m afraid we just don’t have the resources to nurture an imaginary friend.”
It was barely noticeable, but Lyra’s body jerked at the use of that phrase. But it didn’t escape Bethany. For as long as they’d been friends, they really couldn’t hide anything from each other.
“Imaginary friends have—” Dad took a deep breath while waiting for the proper words to filter into his head “—special abilities that we can’t help them develop. And conversely, they can’t do some things that we take for granted.”
Bethany glanced at Lyra’s horn, then down at her hands. Yeah, it’d be nice to have a magical horn, but there’s a lot she can’t do without these…
“Girls, we discussed this long ago,” Mom said. “There is a place where imaginary friends can get the attention they need to grow up, if they choose, or stay as they are.”
She slid a brochure onto the nightstand. In multiple pastel colors, it proclaimed, “Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends.”
“The important thing is that you’re not children anymore, and you have to make adult decisions.” Mom gave a tight-lipped smile and looked Bethany in the eye, and Dad reached over the edge of the mattress to pat Lyra’s hoof.
“I… understand,” Bethany said and nodded slowly. “I guess I knew this day was comin’. I just hoped… But you’re right.” She glanced up at Lyra. Except for the one look they’d shared, Lyra had spent the whole time staring down at the covers. Her lower lip trembled, and shimmering teardrops danced in the corners of her eyes.
Dad kissed Bethany on top of her head. “I appreciate that you’re being very mature about this.”
Is this what it’s like to be an adult? It doesn’t feel much different. My adult eyes want to cry as much, my adult arms still want to wrap around Lyra’s neck, and my adult chest hurts just the same.
Bethany led the way up the front path to Foster’s Home. Right behind her walked Lyra, levitating a suitcase, then Mom and Dad brought up the rear.
Madame Foster met them on the porch. “Welcome, welcome!” she said, then gestured toward the large, well-dressed rabbit beside her. “This is Mr. Herriman. He will help get you situated.” She wore an immense, kind smile that took her entire face to display. “Oh, I just know you’re going to love it here. There’s never a dull moment, and there are so many interesting characters around.”
“We’ve enjoyed having both of you live with us,” Mom said. “I hope we’ve been good parents.”
Lyra’s lip quivered, but she managed a nod. “What happens now?”
“She’s welcome to stay as long as she needs,” Madame Foster interjected to Mom. “Another child may form a bond with her. If so, she’s free to go with them. She’s one of the unusual ones that’s capable of growing up. It could be that she finds her own place in the world. And if these two happen to reconnect as adults, so much the better.” She smiled in turn at Lyra and Bethany. “Of course, you can visit whenever you like.”
Their eyes wide, Bethany and Lyra both spun to cast a pleading glance at their parents, who immediately nodded back. “Certainly,” Dad said.
“Mr. Herriman, would you please help with her bag?” Madame Foster asked. Lyra let the suitcase float to the ground so that he could take charge of it.
“Of course. It will be waiting in your room, young lady.” He bowed smartly, twitched his nose, and hopped into the house.
With all immediate topics of conversation exhausted, everyone stood quietly for a moment, forcing smiles and scuffing feet against the pavement. Bethany rushed over to give Lyra one last hug, throwing her arms around the unicorn’s neck and feeling the soft mane against her cheek. Mom and Dad stooped down to hug them both as well, but as time dragged on, Bethany knew she would have to be the one to end it.
She pulled away from her family and stepped over to Madame Foster. “It’s… time. I’ll just get settled in—” she turned her head back toward her parents “—and maybe we can visit next weekend?”
Mom and Dad smiled and nodded, but Lyra just sniffled hard. She started to mouth “good-bye,” but her voice broke, and she hid her eyes behind her forelock as a few tears dotted the sidewalk. Dad reached a hoof around her shoulder and nudged her along to begin the long trot home.
“You’re going to fit in just fine, dear,” Madame Foster said as she patted Bethany on her back.
“But… you’re human, too. I don’t understand…” Bethany knit her brow and looked down at the short-statured old woman.
“Oh, I run the place,” she said, tittering, “because I’m good at it. But I’m Mr. Herriman’s imaginary friend.”
“Oh.” Bethany had to smile. Some things in the world just made too much sense. “No other humans here, though?”
Madame Foster shook her head. “No. But there’s one scheduled to arrive tomorrow. A boy by the name of Jason. Maybe you’ve met him before? He’s your age.”
Mr. Herriman certainly looked like the type who would appreciate fine music—and bug her about her own tastes. Just like Lyra did. Lyra herself would visit on weekends, and Jason was… nice. Bethany nodded. Maybe this would turn out okay. Maybe.
Time to be an adult, she reminded herself as she wiped something from her eye—dust, probably—and touched her aquamarine earrings. Time to be an adult.
