Where Sparrows Fly

Sandy beaches, salty air, a coin in the wishing well? Follow Maisie to a sleepy town called Majanicho where strange inhabitants buy and sell teeth. What will happen if Maisie finds out the truth of the ice cream? Will it bite her or lead her to her destiny?

You could spend the summer days in two ways: wearing bikinis or selling ice creams. But what if you could do both?

I tightened the ties of the white apron my Aunt Tia gave me yesterday. Its hems reached past my knees; the words Sweet Tooth Ice Cream were painted in front, each letter in assorted playful fonts. Picture this: a seventeen-year-old girl clad in a blue one-piece bikini and a white apron running on a narrow strip of the beach. Her dark wavy hair as gritty and unkempt as a crazy witch escaping her captors.

One might think it a loony move to stop in front of the fray. I ran as fast as I could. My lungs filled with air, my short legs kicking the porous sands beneath. A basketball court housed some boisterous groups of kids. To the left, you could hear the lapping of the Atlantic waves. On the other side sat an ice cream truck. People swarmed it like bees in a hive. Wailing kids threw tantrums; mothers wiped their tear-streaked faces. I climbed the short stairs of the ice cream truck one at a time.

“Maisie!” Savannah Shields cried from the counter. She wore the same white apron as mine; her gray ombre hair fell smoothly down her shoulders. “What in gods’ name are you wearing?”

I gave her a tight smile. “It’s called improvisation, Sav.”

Savannah punched the counter’s keyboard too hard while she served one customer after another. “We have a busy day ahead. Your shoes!” Her eyes widened at the sight of my bare feet. I scurried to the drawers lining the wall of the truck, searching its contents for any sign of footwear.

“Drat!” Savannah whirled to point a manicured finger to the cupboards above me. “There. Slippers. Bottom drawer on the left.”

I slipped on a pair of olive-green rubber slippers. They shaped my feet so perfectly.

“Stop staring, Cinderella,” Savannah said, one hand on the ice cream machine, “Take this petty cash bag to Aunt Tia.”

She handed me the cubic petty cash drawer. It jingled a little, the tinderbox sound prompting another kid to throw a tantrum outside. “Bring this coin to Auntie. I’m short in spare change over here.”

I studied the coin; it glinted under the morning sun. The strange symbol in the center caught me off guard, the spiral too large and intricate for it to have value.

“Is this a coin? It can’t buy anything, Sav. It’s real de plata.”

Sav groaned. “Just hand it back to Aunt, please?” Her eyes went back to the counter. “I’m busy out here.”

I exited the ice cream truck without another word. My bike was within walking distance, just beside the ladies’ comfort room. I changed out of my bikini-apron assemble. My camo shorts were a little past my thighs; my white shirt fitted snugly to my small chest. Thank the gods, I have no problems in that department. They certainly have their own perks.

I went outside to lecherous looks thrown my way. A group of middle-aged guys whistled; they all wore swimming trunks, their toothless grins inviting whatever lurid images they could conjure in their dirt-stricken minds. I soothed my nerves instead. No point in throwing your fists to a face more futile than any plankton in the sea.

I rode the bike to a narrow dirt road. The uphill climb was strenuous, even after a swim in the sea. Majanicho harbored a magical, serene air. Brick houses would greet you first. Neo-gothic churches as tiny as dioramas littered this tiny fishing community. Brown sands warm enough to tickle your feet would make you forget about footwear. The summer heat burned my skin to a fever pitch. A half-day soak under the sun had sloughed off my skin. Leave it to the sunburns to wreak havoc on my cheeks, or worse, on my back.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead as my bike climbed the hill to Aunt Tia’s home. She rarely went outside, her patio now overgrown with palm trees. A large dragon tree spiraled in one corner of her house as if nature had reclaimed it for itself.

“Aunt Tia, are you here?” I asked, pushing the bike in front of the patio. I knocked on the door twice. It creaked a little. Aunt Tia appeared with a glass jar on one hand and a stack of books on the other. She balanced the two weights as precisely as a bartender would. She wore a soft peony chiffon dress with ruffles on both forearms, her chestnut hair in a messy updo.

“Maisie,” she said, kissing me on the cheek, then pulling away to put the jar and the books on her desk. “Come in, come in.”

“Sit, darling,” she beckoned, “Would you like some tea?”

I shook my head. “Sav said to bring this petty box.” I handed her the metallic cube. “And this coin.” I pulled the coin out of my backpack’s pocket, squinting a little as light reflected it through the window.

“Dios mío!” Aunt Tia’s eyes widened at the sight of the coin. “Where did you get this?”

I pursed my lips. “Sav gave it to me. She said she needed a spare change.”

“Oh, that flimsy girl!” Aunt Tia exclaimed, her emerald eyes gleaming. “This is real de—”

“—plata, I know.”

“What do you wish for, dear Maisie?”

I shrugged. Is Auntie speaking in riddles? It made me cross whenever she did. Riddles were my pet peeves. How could you keep the truth in a question? Does it hold more meaning as a message in a bottle?

“Sav said the coin has a spare change.”

“What do you wish for, dear Maisie?” asked Auntie for the second time.

“I—”

She flipped the coin expertly between her fingers. An uncommon trait for Aunt Tia to harbor such flexibility of her limbs. She was a clever, inspiring woman. Aunt Tia supported me in my dream. An ice cream seller. I’m sure it would look lowly or insignificant for people my age. I meant, others dream of a career in engineering, biology, or aeronautics. But mine was an arbitrary summer dessert. Ice cream was my favorite of them all. It was sweeter than chocolate cake, colder than Oreo milkshake. Aunt Tia once said my mother used to crave ice cream when she was pregnant with me.

“What do you wish for, dear Maisie?”

“Auntie,” I said, “Are you speaking in riddles? I’m a tad slow in charades, if you know what I mean.”

“Darling. It’s a simple question.” She winked, her golden bracelet jingling as she led me to the kitchen. Jars of different spices lined the cupboards. The counter was empty save for a tiny teacup and a kettle. In the middle, however, was a peculiar sight. An open brick well stood in the center like a huge black eye of a hideous monster. Musty air as smelly as in the dungeons rose from its dark crevices. The distant gurgling of water cooled the summer air whipping through the window.

“Have you heard of the girl who throws a coin in a wishing well?”

I shook my head. If Auntie spoke more riddles, I would surely kilter out of confusion. I’d fall face first inside the open well, not caring how deep or dark it was inside.

“Some say throwing a coin in the wishing well grants a wish. One wish.” Aunt Tia approached the well, head down, her green eyes on the void threatening to engulf us both.

I ignored the fear inside me as I walked towards Aunt Tia, her hands opening to twine with mine.

“Dear Maisie, this is your chance. I want you to live your wish, no matter how fantastical or morbid that is. You have the light inside you, darling. Do not forget. Wish.”

Her melodic voice carried me through the arctic air blowing from the well. I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of Aunt Tia’s hand. She placed something warm and circular onto it. The real de plata. It had no value anymore, but why–

I threw the coin in the open well. My feet left the ground. My heart pounded in loud drumming noises.

Lub-dub.

Lub-dub.

Strong forces pulled my body. It folded my limbs, minced each organ to a hundred more pieces. I wanted to retch the seawater I gulped accidentally from my swim earlier.

I had no choice, but to allow the tides to consume me. Over and over again.