Read Me, My Elf & I for Free Online Page A

Bramble is working on some healing incantations for a bunny with a broken leg, a one-eyed cat, and the three lame sparrows that he brought home in the first few days that we lived here. My mom had to put a limit on the number of ailing animals he can bring in the house because she realized we’d be living in a petting zoo if he was left to his own devices. Both Poppy and Bramble are wearing tunics and leggings with several amulets around their necks, but my youngest sister, Persimmon, who is only two years old, is running buck naked from room to room with a half-eaten apple in her grubby hands, while singing at the top of her lungs. My older brother Grove is on the road with my dad, but my older sister Willow is nowhere to be seen and I don’t blame her. After being around erdlers all day, I see how weird my family really is.
    Just as I’m about to push Ari and Mercedes back out the door, my mom races down the stairs in an old brown tunic and a soft green hat, phone pressed to her ear, in the middle of a conversation. She carries Persimmon’s tunic and shouts, “Yes, yes!” into the phone. “I certainly have experience with warts and other skin ailments.”
    Behind me, Mercedes says, “Warts?” and Ari shushes her.
    “There are some amazing herbs that can clear that right up,” Mom says.
    “My mom’s a naturopath,” I quickly explain to Ari and Mercedes, leaving out the part about elves being great healers and my mom being one of the best.
    “That’s so cool,” Ari says.
    I realize I can’t turn back now. “Come on,” I say as I pull them through the chaos of the living room toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry, aren’t you?”
    We carefully step over the cardboard boxes holding Bramble’s animals as Persimmon dodges between Ari’s legs. Poppy catches sight of us and leans over the edge of her nest, sticking the giant book in my path and letting out the ear-piercing shriek of an angry blue jay. “Who are you?” she shouts at Mercedes and Ari, making them both jump.
    I push the book out of my face. “Cut it out, Poppy!”
    “Shhhhh! ” my mother hisses with her hand pressed over the mouthpiece of the phone. She wrestles Persimmon to the ground and stuffs her into her clothes while Persimmon flops like a fish just plucked from a stream. Percy accidentally kicks the side of the sparrows’ box, which sends the birds into a flightless frenzy, desperately flapping their little bandaged wings. They chirp fiercely as Poppy tries to soothe them with an imitation of a mother sparrow cooing to her young.
    “Persimmon!” Bramble wails, but our little sister has squirmed away and dodged beneath the dining room table, where her stash of handmade baby dolls are arranged for a tea party.
    My mother retreats to a semiquiet corner to finish her conversation while I quickly cross my pinky over my ring finger and my pointer over my middle finger, then loop them in front of my mouth and point at Poppy before she has a chance to bug us again. I’ve just done the ol’ five-second silence hex—perfect for nosy little sisters. With Poppy momentarily on mute, I pull Ari and Mercedes into the relative calm of the kitchen.
    “Sorry,” I say. “Things are hectic around here sometimes.”
    Ari’s eyes are wide and blinking with disbelief. “My God. I thought Mercedes’s house was crazy.”
    I grab the first thing I find on the counter. “Dried boysenberries,” I offer, and shove a bowl of shriveled fruit at them.
    “Poison berries!” Mercedes nearly shouts, waving the snack away.
    “No, boysen berries,” I say.
    “What the heck is a boy senberry?” Mercedes asks.
    “It’s just a berry. A fruit,” I say, staring at the little wrinkly orbs in the bowl and wondering if even our food is strange.
    “Like a raisin.” Ari pops one in his mouth. “Only gross.” He spits it into his hand. Mercedes laughs as I give Ari a napkin.
    “How many people live here?” Mercedes asks.
    “Six kids, plus my mom and dad,