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attention.
    When the dragonfly nods again, I reach out and grab on to the back of an old black iron chair. My knees are shaking and I think my heart may permanently stop. I want to tell Aunt Edith that I need to get out of this room, but before I do, the Monster cricket slowly lifts one of his skinny legs up off of the mantel and holds it up to his mouth.
    “Ssshh,” he seems to say. “Ssshh.”

SAME DAY, FRIDAY, AUGUST 22
     
    Self-Reliance
     
    “Finally!” Aunt Edith exclaims from behind me. “I found it! Here,” she says. “It’s for you.”
    I turn shakily from the Monster cricket to Aunt Edith. She’s so excited that she doesn’t notice I’m freaked out. She hands me the book. It’s small, attached by a hard leather cover with some kind of stamp on it. “Self-Reliance,” Aunt Edith announces. “Ralph Waldo Emerson. Read it a hundred times, and then one time more.”
    I take the book and glance back to the table. The cricket is still holding his long black leg up against his mouth, telling me to keep them a secret.
    “Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string,” Aunt Edith continues. “That’s how I want you to approach the world, Polly.” She looks sad, kind of wistful. “I’m so glad I found it for you.”
    I turn the dusty book over in my hand. “Thank you,” I say. I can’t help glancing back at the window. The dragonfly is hovering over that same pile of books, as if waiting for me. Then Aunt Edith straightens up, stepping directly on the ivy and ignoring the crickets. When I look back, Monster cricket has leaped to the top of the pile of books underneath the dragonfly.
    “May we talk for a second?” Aunt Edith asks.
    “Sure,” I say.
    Aunt Edith leans against the bookshelves, her arms crossed over her chest.
    “I want you to know something.” She gestures around the room. “First of all, all of this— the bugs, the crickets, the ivy, the rhubarb—it’s wonderful . It is magic. Truly.”
    Relief floods through me. I was never sure what Aunt Edith believed. “I knew it! You thought so too! You think it’s magic!”
    “Yes but . . .” Aunt Edith steps over to me and lifts my chin. “But it’s beside the point.”
    “What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
    “I mean, it isn’t you .That’s why I’m giving you Emerson. Trust yourself. Not the crickets. Not the rhubarb. Not the ring—”
    “I lost my ring.”
    She ignores me. “I watch you, dear. I know how connected you are to this farm. But you are bigger, better than the magic. You might not know that now, but you will. I never want you to feel trapped on this farm, or beholden to it.”
    I don’t know what she’s talking about—I love our farm. I check out the Monster cricket. He’s got one leg up against his face as if he’s holding a violin. The other leg is moving back and forth across it like he’s playing a song. I almost giggle, but then I see the intense look Aunt Edith is giving me.
    “Things are going to change, Polly,” she says. Her voice is strong and hard, scaring me. “I want you to be prepared.”
    As she speaks, I feel something inside me rip, like a piece of fabric torn from my bones.
    “What do you mean, change ?” I grip the book tightly across my chest as the image of the green mist flashes through my mind. I must look terrified, because her voice shifts, and her eyes become reassuring.
    “I just meant . . . don’t worry, sweetheart. All of life is change. That’s all I’m talking about. Life.”
    I want her to explain, but she doesn’t. She’s just waiting for me to answer. I don’t think I have any choice but to say what she wants to hear.
    “Okay,” I say. My eyes dart over to the bugs. They’re behind Aunt Edith, just watching.
    Aunt Edith doesn’t notice. She’s still apologizing. “Sometimes, I forget you’re still a child. We can come back,” Aunt Edith says. “Would you like that?”
    Before I have a chance to nod, the ivy springs up behind Aunt Edith