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As Big as a Giant

Chapter 19

That evening, after a short, late supper, Herbert made his way upstairs to his room on the third floor. Dark and still, the room felt claustrophobic and unremarkable compared to the vast and lively forest he had spent his day in. He threw his stained, sweaty clothes on the floor and pulled a pair of Godzilla pajamas over his head. 

A dim green light was flickering like a lightning bug underneath the pile of clothing. Herbert, curious, pulled the shirt and pants back to reveal Noya sitting at the center of his bedroom; the faerie had waited for him since she fled his mother’s presence. 

Faerie’s do not like the human-world, and much less the presence of adults, who they find too sensible and careful. At the first sight of Mrs. Dolor, Noya had fled like a cottontail; but without a home to run to, she had aimed for the only thing she could think of: the Dolor house. She had flitted through the back door beside the garage and down the hall, past the study, guest bathroom, and nearly bumped right into Mr. Dolor, who had stepped out of his bedroom after a recent shower. 

She had jolted into the space below the stairwell where the kids hide their toys during the day, and waited for the coast to be clear. At once, she realized she had made a terrible mistake and had aimed to leave immediately, but heard Mrs. Dolor and the kids coming back inside. Not knowing if their were a better option, and already regretting the decision to leave Herbert and his sisters without saying goodbye, she decided to flutter upstairs. 

One…two…three! She spun round the stairway and up the stairwell to the second floor, assured that the kids hadn’t seen her as they gathered in the kitchen with their mother. Having peeked into room after room, she looked for what would be Herbert’s. After settling for Marian and Esther’s bedroom, she then noticed the small staircase leading up to the attic door. Success! She had seen what must have been his room through the space between the threshold. She had managed to wedge herself between and hid safely in Herbert’s bedroom until his return.

When once he recognized her, Herbert rushed forward and exclaimed! “Oh, Starlight! I’m so glad you are here!” 

She touched her chin and spread her palms out at him, gesturing playfully. He smiled and wished she were the same size as him so he could hug her; they settled for her hugging his forefinger. It was nice to not be alone in his room anymore.

He sat down at his writing desk in the corner, and she fluttered to the top of it. “I’m sorry we never found your home, Starlight,” he said. “But you can always live here.” 

She nodded and smiled, before looking around the room, and scrunching her face up like she smelled something bad. Noya wasn’t about to sign a deed, but she was happy to receive the gesture. She shrugged her shoulders, and walked around the top of the drawer. 

“The girls have a pet, so it’ll be nice to have someone of my own,” Herbert said, before looking down and making sure he didn’t offend the faerie. She didn’t seem to notice what he had implied. She, of course, was no pet. 

Instead, Noya was walking to the back of the writing desk and pointed at a small drawer.

“Oh, that,” Herbert said. 

He pulled the drawer open and removed the broken cougar figurine he had hidden away three weeks prior. His thumb brushed across the delicate sharp teeth on the white and gray soapstone figurine, before placing it on the desk in front of Noya; it was about the same size as her. She placed her hands on the head of the stone figurine and pet the stiff, delicate hair, like she were brushing it back.  

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Herbert asked.

She nodded and smiled at him. Her gentle hands ran down the back of it, where the tail should have been. The figurine didn’t have a back end, though. Herbert had assumed he’d broken it off the gate, but the faerie discovered the back end of the figurine wasn’t broken at all; eight sharp points were jutting out like a star. She glanced back-and-forth at Herbert and pointing to the figurine. 

He put his forehead on the desk, despondent. “But it’s not pretty,” he mumbled. “It’s all my fault, Starlight.” Something about the little green faerie’s presence, whether her inability to speak or her warm disposition, gave him the safety to talk about his sins. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to Dad, now. Mom’s mad at us. And monsters are gonna keep getting out all over town. And I did it, Starlight. I broke that stupid thing off the gate and the door opened. And then, I let Esther take the blame, too! And she almost died because of it! I suppose I could show you to Mom and Dad—but who knows what they would say or do if they saw a faerie? Good luck, if they don’t stick you in some science experiment instead of listening to us. Or handing you over to Professor Wolfgang.” 

He sighed and watched the emerald faerie dance on the desk. In his depressed delirium, he reached for the cougar figurine next to her. She lunged forward, pulling at his thumb, and tried to show him her discovery. He shook his hand free and wiped a tear from his eye before grabbing the thing with his other hand. Noya flew into the air, pointing feverishly at the cougar figurine. 

“Starlight, your light is too bright,” said he. “I can’t see what you are trying to say. Can’t you dim it?” 

Knock. Knock.

Herbert jerked his head at the bedroom door. He tossed the cougar figurine into the trash bin next to his desk. Noya flew behind a stuffed-bear on top of his bed. The door creaked open and Mr. Dolor entered. 

“Herbert?” He stuck his head in and flicked the light on. “Why are you sitting in the dark, son?” 

“Hi, Dad,” answered Herbert.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Mr. Dolor crossed the room and sat on Herbert’s bed, noticing the tears in his son’s eyes. He grabbed a stuffed raccoon and put in under his elbow, not noticing the little green faerie dashing across the bedspread behind him. 

“I missed you today, son,” said Mr. Dolor. 

“I know,” Herbert replied. “Mom said you made a treehouse for us. That’s really neat. I’m sorry we weren’t here—”

“No,” Mr. Dolor interrupted. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s my fault. I’ve been away at the office too much. And you have been trying to get used to a new town. It’s not your fault I’ve been gone and suddenly show up.”

Herbert frowned and looked down.

“But don’t worry,” Mr. Dolor continued, “I think some things are in the works, so I don’t have to be gone from the house as much.” 

The two sat in silence for what felt like half an hour, but was probably only thirty seconds.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Mr. Dolor asked. “Why are you so upset, sitting in the dark and not talking? You’re not acting like my adventurous young man, Herb.” 

“It’s nothing,” Herbert answered quickly, staring at the floor.

“Son…” Mr. Dolor dropped to the floor and knelt before Herbert. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

Herbert looked at his father. Dad always gave him strength. 

“I did something bad,” Herbert said. 

“Okay.”

“And I let someone else take the blame. It doesn’t matter anymore—I guess—what I did, but I just feel bad.” 

Mr. Dolor’s lips briefly curled. His eyes were caring. “That’s called integrity, Herbert.”

“Integrity?” 

“Integrity is when something you’ve done eats at you until you fix it. What do we always say Herbert: Quick to apologize—”

“—quick to forgive,” Herbert recited.

“If you done something wrong, you need to apologize, Herbert. Integrity is everything, son. It’s as big as a giant that you can never really get past. Be the same, whether someone is looking or not. Always remember that.” 

Herbert furrowed his brow and sucked his lips. 

“But Herbert, remember something else,” Mr. Dolor said. He lifted his arm to Herbert’s shoulder. 

Herbert looked up at him.

“Someone else took all the blame before, too. And He did it so that you don’t have to beat yourself up forever. Forgive yourself. And remember that your father is proud of you. Always.”

Herbert looked down at the trash bin next to him.

***

The next morning, Herbert felt awful. He had hoped that his sleep would take away all the feelings of guilt, and for a little while it did. He had dreamt about running through a field with friendly dinosaurs after wild turkeys while giant bumblebees soared overhead; he had dreamt about his name being cheered across the school after he slam-dunked a ball in class; he had dreamt about driving a race-car through the city and off a cliff before it turned into a jet that he flew across the ocean. But when he opened his eyes, and the world slowly passed over him, he remembered his mistake and his heart ached again. After breakfast, he decided what he must do to make sure that figurine never bothered him again. 

Later, the children met in the new tree-house to play. Herbert was coloring a picture next to Noya, while Esther read her book about a warren of adventurous rabbits. Marian held David Crockett’s journal tight against her chest, wishing she could figure out what they did wrong. All its contents still made little sense; brief words about the Pardo Stone; confusing descriptions of the Nunnehi and Chaneques. But none of these words ended up meaning anything on their journey. Why wasn’t there something about Spearfinger or Uktena, or even crossing the Pactolus. Why did they ever even waste their time on this book, and why did they ever waste their time on this journey? She noticed Aaron riding his bicycle in circles in front of the Dolor’s house. 

“Aaron!” She hollered from the tree. His bike turned and entered the yard. 

He threw the bike into the grass and grabbed the two-by-four nailed into the trunk of the tree. His elbows appeared over the floor of the treehouse and he lifted himself up. The Dolors smiled when they saw him. 

“An’body else get up athinkin’ they’n dreamt all a-that?” Aaron asked, catching his breath. He looked at the green faerie walking in the middle of the treehouse and smiled. 

“It’s funny,” Esther agreed. “Something about not being there anymore makes it feel like we never were.” 

“What should we do?” Marian asked the group.

Noya stood on Herbert’s sneakers and tugged at his coloring book. He looked at her, and she scolded him, pulling her wagging finger out. 

“Ess,” Herbert said.

“Yes?” She replied.

“I need to confess something.” Tears formed around his eyes, and his bottom lip quivered. “I let you take the blame for opening the gate. But it’s not true.”

“What do you mean?” Esther asked.

Herbert pulled the cougar figurine from his pocket. “I broke this off the gate,” he explained. “That’s when the ground started shaking. And when the gate swung open.  And when the Tsul ‘Kalu came out, and the unicorn, and black mist, and David Crockett. I don’t think you really did anything. You both said we shouldn’t touch it or try to get in, but I was climbing around the corner of the gate and I broke this off the wall.” 

He handed Esther the figurine, and a tear fell off his nose. Marian put her hand on his shoulder.

Aaron pursed his lips and sighed. “I bean hecka rotten to you-all sence ye’n a-moved heres,” he said. The siblings looked at him. “Ye’ns good-all friends. I jist—” He frowned and looked at the floorboards. “I ain’t got a-many friends lak you-all. I sory fer bean so nhasty to ya, Herbert, and a-fightin’ witcha, Marian.” 

“Friends fight.” Marian smiled at him. “We forgive you.” 

Noya fluttered up to Aaron’s cheek; her orange light shone in the sunshine while she kissed him. 

“‘ey!” He shouted. “I ai’nt knows abouten all a-that kinda stuff. I jist needs to say sory, twos.” 

“Herbert!” Esther seemed distracted from all the apologies and was far more interested in the cougar figurine. “Where did you say you got this?”

“I broke it off the wall next to the gate,” replied he.

“I don’t think it’s broken, Herb,” she said. “Look at this end—Herbert, I think you found the artifact that goes to David Crockett’s grave!”

“What?” Herbert asked.

“Look!” The children peered over Esther and looked at the piece of soapstone. The eight-point star looked identical to the missing piece from the gravesite. 

“We ready?” Marian begged.

“I’m ready!”

“Let’s do it!”

“Hawt dawg!” 

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