“I smell flowers,” said Kerka, sounding surprised. (I guess she’s not one to stop and smell the roses too often! Ha-ha.)

“That’s lilac,” I told her.

“So we must be coming to the Lilac Wall,” said Kerka.

We continued through the olive trees, the lilac scent growing stronger every moment. Finally, we came out of the Orchards of Allfruit. Right in front of us was a wall. It was the strangest wall I’d ever seen. It was eight or nine feet tall and looked like it was made of handblown glass—you know, the kind that’s not completely clear, with bubbles going through it? Right through the glass, we could see lilacs on the other side. So I guess that made it the Lilac Wall, right?

Kerka and I both touched the wall. It was cool and smooth. Kerka rapped on the wall with her knuckle. It sounded hard. I rapped on it, too: totally solid.

“Hmm,” I said. “How are we going to get through that?”

“Not through,” said Kerka. “Over.”

We turned back to the little olive trees. Kerka measured them with her eyes.

“No way,” I said. “They aren’t close enough to the wall, plus they aren’t strong enough at the top even if we found one that was close to the wall.”

“Then we just have to walk around the wall until we find a gate or something,” said Kerka.

I groaned. “Can’t we take a break, pleeeeease?”

“All right,” said Kerka. “But you wouldn’t survive if you lived with my sisters. Although you kind of remind me of Biba.”

I leaned on the wall and let myself slide down its cool side. “Ah,” I said. “That feels great. My poor feet!” I took off my sneakers, which had never hurt my feet before in my whole life, and my socks. I wiggled my bare toes.

Kerka put her backpack on the ground and got her Kalis stick out. She started doing the graceful dance with a few leaps thrown in. Where does she get the energy? I wondered.

The smell of lilacs filled the air. Bees buzzed around innocently. I sighed and enjoyed the moment of peace. In the relative silence, I looked closely at Kerka’s backpack for the first time. It was pretty, kind of a thick, lineny cream-colored fabric with blue and yellow embroidery of stags and mountains on it. “I love your bag,” I said.

“My mom made it for me,” said Kerka between leaps and stick swooshes. “I have it in the real world, too. But it didn’t have my usual stuff in it when I got to Aventurine, just my Kalis stick and the map.” She stopped the swooshing.

We looked at each other.

“The map!” we said at the same time.

Kerka and I scrambled for her bag, but I got there first and pulled it open and took out the map.

“Zally will know how to get in,” I said.

“I bet she will,” said Kerka. “Here, let me help you.”

Kerka got the red string off the map, and together we unrolled it. The sun was low, its light filtering through the glass wall. We watched the map take its time to show us Zally herself, and then it filled itself in. We both stepped back while we watched it, just in case a bunch of sparks flew out of the map again.

The pictures that appeared on the map were different from the last time. Now there was a walled area surrounded by rivers and forests and ringed with mountains. The map zoomed in to the place we were now, complete with a little drawing of Kerka and me!

“We already know where we are,” I told the map. “We need to get past the wall.”

A shower of sparks flew up from the map. This time they were brilliant green with copper and purple bits. Slowly they formed the shape of a tree with a very long branch. The image hung there for a moment, then burst into another silent firework, showering down onto the map.

“So there’s got to be a big tree along the wall,” Kerka said.

“Well, it wasn’t an apple tree,” I said, thinking about the image. “The branch was too straight and too long to be a fruit-tree branch.”

“It doesn’t really matter,” said Kerka. “As long as we can find it, climb it, and get over! At least we know it’s along the wall somewhere.” She rolled up the map and stowed it in her backpack along with the Kalis stick. “Did you learn tree stuff from your dad, too? What, was he a farmer in … what did you call it? Califa?”

“Nuh-uh,” I said, putting my socks and sneakers back on. “We just had a big backyard. And I read a lot. You know, books about nature, botany, plants, that sort of thing.”

Kerka shook her head. “Not something I’d ever read!”

“We’re different, all right!” I said.

“Yeah,” Kerka said. She glanced along the glass wall in either direction. “You have climbed trees before, haven’t you?” she asked, looking at me a little doubtfully.

“I’m not, like, super sport girl,” I said. “But I can climb trees!”

“Okay, tree lover, which direction should we look for this big tree that will get us over the wall?” Kerka asked with a grin.

Now it was my turn to glance to the right and the left along the length of the wall. It curved away from us in either direction, and I couldn’t see any sign of a big tree. I closed my eyes and tried to feel a big tree. I turned my head from side to side. The smell of lilacs was stronger in one direction. I didn’t know if that meant anything, but it was better than nothing.

I opened my eyes. “That way,” I said, pointing to the left.

“All right, then,” said Kerka. “We’re off to find a tree!”

As we walked, I told Kerka about all the kinds of trees I thought it might or might not be. I don’t usually talk so much, but Kerka seemed to be listening, and it was one of my favorite topics. The Orchards of Allfruit were on our left side (they really were big!), and the glass wall with the lilacs behind it was on our right side. Neither view changed, although the sun was sinking lower.

“I don’t think that was a willow tree,” I was saying when we saw the tree we were looking for. It was a Hybrid Oak, a cross between a Quercus (like the Glimmer Tree) and a hawkinsi. I’d just seen one like it with my mom at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, one of the few places I really loved in New York City. I shared my knowledge with Kerka, who listened with good humor. (I think she was really getting used to me!)

“That’s so cool, Birdie,” she said. “Now, can we climb it and get over the wall?”

I grinned and nodded. “Let’s do it.” The branches of the oak hung along the wall and stretched over a sea of lilac bushes—just like the image out of the map. Kerka bowed and waved her hand for me to go first. So I did, scrambling up the bottom branches. Kerka came behind me, climbing like a cat.

I got to the big branch that went out over the wall. I sat on it and inched myself forward bit by bit. It was a long way down! To give Kerka credit, she didn’t tell me to go faster. She walked along the branch behind me like a tightrope walker. The branch angled slightly down after it went over the glass wall, thankfully!

“Hold on to the branch and lower yourself down from there,” Kerka suggested.

So that’s what I did, a little clumsily and holding my breath. With a thump I dropped into the lilac bushes. Kerka landed beside me with no thump whatsoever.

We pushed our way through the tall lilacs and came out in a blue flower garden. Seriously—every plant was blue! There were blue spires, wisteria, blue irises, bluebonnets, blue chrysanthemums, delphiniums, and bluebells. I had never seen so many shades of blue all in one place!

“Is this the most beautiful, incredible, magical flower garden you’ve ever seen?” I said to Kerka. “It’s even more amazing than Mo’s garden.” I stood breathing in the scents. The sweet lilacs mixed with a cool smell of spearmint and hyacinth and blue rose.

Kerka was actually impressed, too. She gazed around. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Together we tiptoed through the flowers to a path of polished glass shards that twisted through the garden. I was suddenly hit by a memory of my mother—a good one.

Years ago she had taken me to a playground. She wore jeans and slid down the curlicue slide with me, over and over, as many times as I wanted. Then we lay on a blanket in the grass and watched the clouds. My mother pointed to a flower-shaped cloud in the sky. “See the flower?” she asked me. “It’s a daisy, turning toward the sun.”

“That cloud did look like a daisy, didn’t it?” said a voice.

Kerka and I spun around. What was it about this place and voices coming out of nowhere? I almost laughed, but the sight of the woman gliding down the glass path through the blue garden stopped the sound from coming up. Instead, I gave a little gulp.

Bees buzzed like banjo strings around the lady in the late-afternoon sunlight. Her dress was turquoise, and white spider lilies adorned the hem and dotted her upswept hair. “Put that away,” she said sternly.

I gaped, not knowing what she was talking about but wanting to do whatever she asked. I thought she looked like the spider lilies on her dress—Amaryillidaceae lycoris.

“Sorry, just a reflex,” Kerka said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her slowly putting the Kalis stick back in her pack. She must have whipped it out in surprise at the woman’s voice. I almost giggled again to see Kerka look so meek.

“You don’t need the Kalis stick here,” said the spider lily woman. “Not unless you are dancing.”

I pressed my lips together tightly to keep the giggles down. This woman was like the coolest, strictest teacher in my old school—but definitely stranger!

“When you visit the Willowood Fairies, you are under our protection,” the woman continued, with her sweet smile and steely tone. I finally looked past the buzzing bees and noticed her wings. How could I have missed them? They were huge, and the lightest iridescent blue.

“Come with me, Birdie,” she said, the huge wings folding like a butterfly’s as she walked away from us. “Kerka, too!”

“Okay, but who are you?” I asked, following, my eyes on her wings.

The fairy queen turned to answer; her gossamer wings and glistening dress made a swishing sound. “I’m Patchouli, the Queen of the Willowood Fairies. Come quickly, now.”

Queen Patchouli led us out of the blue garden onto a path of stones carved like leaves. This path went right into a weeping willow woods that I hadn’t even noticed because the blue garden was so awesome. We walked between the trees until the queen stopped and pulled aside layers of soft leaf-filled branches on a huge willow tree. She motioned for us to follow her inside.

Under the tree’s shelter was a cozy room draped with white gauzy curtains that let in the light. Music traveled on the breeze and rustled the streaming willow branches. “It’s time for you both to choose proper attire,” Queen Patchouli said.

I exchanged a look with Kerka, who did her usual shrug. Then I saw my very own suitcase sitting on the ground, but with one new detail. A shining gold A glistened on the front, in the same script as had been on Mo’s Aventurine violin case. I looked inquisitively at Queen Patchouli (who, in my head, I was now calling Queen P.).

“What is my suitcase doing here?” I asked.

“It has your clothes in it,” the fairy queen said. She flicked her hands toward the suitcase. Her fingers tinkled; she was wearing rings with tiny bells on them! “Go ahead. Open it!”

I opened the latches and felt a rumble as the entire bag began to shake. I stepped back. The suitcase turned inside out, rose up like a stretched accordion, and slowly became a ten-foot-tall wooden wardrobe. An old woman’s face was carved at the top, wreathed with flowers.

“I was only staying at Mo’s for three days,” I joked. “I certainly didn’t pack all that!”

I inched toward the large wardrobe. The sides were covered in the same stickers as my old suitcase. The fairy queen pulled open the wardrobe doors. It was packed with clothes, and mirrors hung on the inside of each door. Kerka came up beside me to look in as well.

“Go on,” the fairy queen urged. “Dress for adventure.” She looked from Kerka to me. “And don’t worry, the clothes are all fairy-made, so they will fit both of you.”

Kerka and I riffled through colorful dresses, silk saris, suede ponchos, satin kimonos, velvet jackets, and gypsy skirts hanging on the racks. My favorites were a cloak trimmed in golden beads like berries, a cotton sarong embroidered with fall leaves, and a skirt of peacock feathers. There was every fabric I’d ever seen hanging there, plus some that were unfamiliar and felt like water or cobwebs.

We opened a huge bottom drawer to find more: knobby-knit sweaters, patched jeans, woolly tights, and patterned leggings. On a top shelf was more footwear than it seemed possible to hold, everything from galoshes and glittered shoes to cowboy boots and tap shoes. The queen showed us one more drawer, which telescoped out to display masks, fairy wings, necklaces, tiaras, bangles and bracelets, paper fans, scarves of every shape and size, and hats with ribbons and feathers in every color of the rainbow.

“So, dress for adventure, right?” I said to the fairy queen.

“Adventure, danger, whatever you want to call it,” said the queen. “You’ll do wonderfully, but don’t take too long!” With that, she swept out of our dressing-room bower.

“Come on, Kerka, let’s do wonderfully!” I said.

We dug into the clothes like pirates dive into a treasure chest. I picked a pair of boots much like Mo’s but with glittery green laces.

“What do you think?” I asked, lacing them up.

“Definitely, yes!” said Kerka. “Fun but practical.”

“Well?” Kerka asked. I turned and saw that her eyes and nose were covered by a sequined bird mask.

“Absolutely not!” I declared. “Too much of a disguise.”

I chose a spring green tunic stitched with daisies that reminded me of Belle, and a long lacy white skirt. “How about this?” I asked, twirling so the lace of the skirt floated up.

Kerka frowned.

“No on the skirt, huh?” I said. I hung it back up and pulled on sky-blue velvet cargo pants instead. They had deep pockets into which I put my half of the Singing Stone. Then I tied an eggplant-purple kerchief on my head like a headband. When I saw the carved-wood wardrobe lady wink, I knew I looked good. But what I liked about the outfit was how the daisies on the shirt reminded me of Belle, how the color of the scarf reminded me of Mo’s house, and how the color of the pants reminded me of my old blue door back in Califa.

I checked myself out in the mirror. The purple scarf brought out the gold highlights in my hair. Redbird, looks like your hair’s on fire! I said to myself, remembering what my dad used to tell me when my hair shone in the sunlight. I smiled; even my braces didn’t bother me in this outfit. Finally, I threw a bright green velvet cloak over my shoulders.

Kerka came up beside me to look in the mirror. She had on nut-brown leggings and a tunic similar to the one I’d chosen except in a golden-brown color. Over the tunic, she had on a long medieval-looking brocade vest in night-sky blue, with a snow leopard embroidered on it in silver thread that wrapped from the front to the back. Her over-the-knee boots were dark blue suede with more stars.

“You look great!” I said. “Like a girl knight or something.”

“Why, thank you,” she answered, putting her nose in the air and holding her Kalis stick like it was a sword.

We heard a tiny bell ring.

“Are you ready?” Queen Patchouli called.

“We are!” Kerka and I replied together.

Kerka put on her backpack. Then we shut the wardrobe doors carefully. As soon as we did, the whole thing folded itself back up, one side at a time, bam ka-bam, until all that sat on the floor was my vintage suitcase. With a clip, clip, it snapped itself shut. Laughing at the wonderful magic show, Kerka and I walked out through the wispy willow branches.

The queen wasn’t there, but underfoot was a fresh path of yellow and orange flower petals that released their scent as we stepped on them. We walked over the petals through feathery willow trees toward the sound of voices and music. Finally, we pushed aside the branches of one last tree and stepped into a giant clearing that was a perfect circle. The sun was setting, spreading deep golden light across the whole amazing scene.

The place was filled with fairies. None of them was small, as I had imagined fairies would be. They were the size of humans—like Queen Patchouli. They all had gauzy wings and gorgeous outfits. Every one of them wore flowers, either tucked behind their ears, or woven into crowns, or as buttons up and down their clothes.

The fairies were busy, setting tables that were placed in concentric circles. The tables were piled with food and flowers. It was like being at a wedding for a movie star who was crazy about fairies.

Suddenly I felt eyes on me, and I noticed that many of the fairies were staring at me as they went past, carrying trays of food, or piles of silken napkins, or baskets of silverware.

Then Queen P. was beside us. “There you are!” she said. “Just in time. Come along.” As she walked through the fairy crowd, her people parted before her like waves.

I saw that Kerka had her own fan club of fairies watching her and whispering as we passed.

The queen led us to a small table in the center of the fairy ring that was on a raised circle of earth covered in growing grass. She went up the grassy steps to the round table, motioning for us to follow. There were only three chairs at the table, two woven of willow branches, for Kerka and myself, and a bigger willow chair festooned with roses that was clearly for the queen.

As we sat, Queen Patchouli rang a small glass bell. A delicate but piercing sound filled the air. The fairies went silent and all quickly found a seat at one of the tables around the circle.

“Now, this is Birdie Cramer Bright,” Queen Patchouli announced. “And Kerka Laine. This is the beginning of Birdie’s fairy godmother training and a little of Kerka’s, but her own quest is for another time.”

“Are you all fairy godmothers?” I blurted out, my curiosity having got the best of me.

“Heavens, no!” said the queen. “Fairy godmothers are human. We fairies have never been human and never can be.” Did I imagine it, or did a ripple of regret pass through the fairies? “We personally know all of the fairy godmothers, of course,” Queen P. went on. “And all of the fairy-godmothers-in-the-making.”

“So I’m going to be a fairy godmother?” I asked. “And Kerka?”

“Maybe you will be a fairy godmother, maybe not,” said Queen P. “We’ll see how you handle your first and most important quest. There are things you have to learn to become a fairy godmother. Things about yourself, other people, the way the world can be changed.”

I must have rolled my eyes, because the queen stopped and looked at me sternly. “I know that this sounds like lessons to you, but consider that anything you do, anything at all, makes you learn and discover. Do not underestimate the power of experience, Birdie Cramer Bright.”

The queen’s intensity was a little scary. I took a deep breath and nodded. It was so strange that I couldn’t quite believe it was happening to me. I hoped I was up for whatever was next.

“May I ask a question?” I asked.

“You just did,” said Queen P. “But yes, ask a question.”

“If I become a fairy godmother, what will I do? Do I have to, like, find someone like Cinderella and help her?”

The fairies all broke out in laughter. I could feel my cheeks getting red. Queen P. finally had to ring her bell again to get the fairies to stop. Then she said, “Birdie is not completely wrong. Fairy godmothers do help people.” She turned to me. “But the people you will help won’t always know what you are doing. You will have a magic in your world that can make a difference, not just to people but also to the world itself. And in your case, your family—those of the Arbor Lineage—has magic that helps the green world the most.”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t really know what to say. I hoped that Mo would be able to help me understand exactly what I was supposed to do back home, assuming I succeeded in this quest. I looked at Kerka; she shrugged at me (which seemed to be her answer to everything).

The queen put a hand on each of our heads for a moment and smiled down at us. Then she took her hands away and waved them at the fairies. “Now let us eat, fairies of Willowood and fairy-godmothers-to-be—the night is just beginning.”