When I was younger, I thought the idea of making a wish on your birthday was pathetic. What was the point in making wishes? They didn't come true anyway, why would the universe magically align itself in your favour just because it happened to be the day of your birth?
And yet, the day before my fifteenth birthday, I wondered if it was too late to start subscribing to the idea.
It all started with the cake. Mum baked for the first time in years. Up until now, when it was a birthday or a special occasion, we had made do with whatever was cheapest from the bakery section (bonus points if it had a yellow "reduced price" label on it). It wasn't that her cooking was terrible - it was, but that wasn't the point – it was that the ingredients took too much out of the weekly budget. Fresh cream, strawberries, a large packet of eggs. Luxuries by our standards. She must have followed the exact recipe I had taken home from my bakery class last month. Only difference was, I had planned to try it only when we had a bit more disposable income.
I wanted to confront her about it, but she was home from work so late all she could do was collapse in a heap on the couch. Her Growlithe curled around her legs, whining softly, as she massaged her feet.
"Everything go alright today?"
"Yeah," she smiled. She could always manage a smile, even when the situation didn't call for it. "A few regulars. Mrs Fairchild-Lynsey came by again."
"Her with the eight Furfrou and the two husbands?"
"The very same."
"She didn't make you do all eight Furfrou, did she?"
"Thank goodness, no. It was just Saint Christopher today."
I spluttered with laughter. "What kind of a woman calls her Pokemon Saint Christopher? What are the others called?"
"Kensington, Carmichael, Timothy, Poinsettia, Persephone, Juliette… and Dave."
If I hadn't anchored myself in to my chair, I'm sure I would have fallen out of it. "Dave?!"
"Apparently her son named it when he was little and the name just stuck." Mum shrugged her shoulders and stretched her legs out. Growlithe got excited and clambered up onto the couch, plonking himself directly on her lap. He easily dwarfed her but Mum just laughed, ruffling the wild mane of fur around his neck. "I may love dog Pokemon, Sienna, but I don't think I could ever manage to see the appeal of a Furfrou. Constant maintenance and picky eaters. Four times daily brushing. You know those posh coats they can have? Outgrown in a week! No wonder only rich people get them. They're the only ones who have the time to deal with them!"
I let Mum rant on, pulling my knees up under my chin. I stared at her in the glimmer of the lamplight. She had always looked young for her age, but now, I could see the grooves in her face and the puffiness under her eyes. She was always tired now.
I hugged my knees. Working as a groomer and walker for the Pokemon Centre was always going to be a tiring job, even for Mum, who had been quite an accomplished trainer in her heyday. People always said you couldn't make a reliable wage out of Pokemon training, but anything would be better than the pitiful pay she got now. At least she never complained. And I supposed I had to be grateful too. Pallet Town was lucky to have its own Pokemon Centre now and a small town could never boast a huge number of clients. I just hated to see her working herself so hard.
I glanced out the window towards the dim outline of the dojo. "You know…" I tried to keep my tone conversational, as if I hadn't been building up to this for a lot longer. "You should really sell it. The dojo, I mean."
"Oh, Sienna." Mum groaned, stretching her legs out with an orchestra of clicks and a wince of pain. "God, what I wouldn't give to raise Chansey instead of dogs. Sorry, Growlithe." She added when Growlithe whined at her incredulously. She paused for a moment, sighing. "You know I can't do that."
"Why? It's sitting there doing nothing and we're still paying the rent on the land. Besides," I added darkly. "It's not like he's coming back..."
"Sienna." Mum's voice had an edge to it. "I'm not talking about this."
"Well, why not?" I dared to push her.
"That building took pretty much all of our life-savings. One of these days I'm going to turn it into something for me."
"Like a groomer's?" I wrinkled my nose. "With Mrs Fairchild-Lynsey and her Furfrou bothering you for the rest of your life?"
"If I wanted," she said, noncommittally. "Now, come on. I know you've seen that cake in the fridge. Go and cut it."
"But it's not my birthday for another…" I checked my watch. "Three hours, twenty-nine minutes and… thirty-three seconds."
"Who's counting? Girl, live a little. It's fresh cream and strawberries. It's your favourite." She said in a sing-song voice.
I couldn't help but laugh as I slowly eased myself out of the chair. "Alright, if you're really sure it's okay."
"Bring the whole cake through, I've got candles!" she called after me.
The cake really was impressive. So big that Mum had to take one of the shelves out of the fridge for it to fit. She must have spent hours on it, I thought with a skelf of guilt. Especially for it to turn out looking decent. She wasn't naturally skilled, but she did try hard. All the more reason I was grateful she let me do the majority of the cooking now.
The cake sustained only minor injuries to the cream as I wriggled it out. I licked splodges of it from my fingers, taking a moment to appreciate the sweet hint of vanilla. When I came back into the living room, she had produced three party hats, one sitting on her head, one, somehow, crammed onto Growlithe's head and one sitting in my empty chair. Placing the cake on the table and snapping the party hat onto my head, I couldn't keep the grin off my face. I felt it grow even bigger as Mum meticulously pressed fifteen candles into the cream.
"This all looks great, Mum." I smiled. "Hey, where's the lighter?"
"Don't need one. Growlithe, do the honours."
My brain caught up too slowly. "Wait, no!"
With a ready bark, Growlithe let out a soft burst of flame. The heat surged across my face making me squeal and cover my eyes. When I finally dared lower my hands, all fifteen candles were lit, blinking merrily in the darkness. I pretended that I didn't see the slightly charred edge closest to Mum. We could probably feed that bit to Growlithe.
"Make a wish!" she encouraged.
I groaned and rolled my eyes. "I'm not a kid, Mum,"
"You'll always be my little girl, Sienna."
For half a second, I thought I detected a catch in her voice. However, when I glanced at her face, she was smiling warmly. Feeling unsettled, I leaned in and blew out as much air as I could.
As the candles snuffed out, Mum immediately scooted towards me. "So… what'd you wish for?"
I didn't dare speak it out loud, feeling both strangely embarrassed and fiercely protective of it. "Well, I can't tell you." I said, shrugging aimlessly. "Or else it won't come true."
We ate the cake in great clumsy chunks. Mum gave me the strawberries from her piece and I took great delight in their sharp-yet-sweet flavour. They were plump and tart, a world away from the pithy watery things normally on sale in the supermarket. They turned into a big lump in my throat as I realised Mum must have gone to a market or a shop further afield than Pallet Town to get fruit of this quality. Even Growlithe seemed to appreciate it, licking bits of cream and crumbs that fell to the ground. By the time the ten o'clock news came on, we were both full and happy, feeling lethargy drip into our bones.
"That cake was so good." I moaned, rubbing my belly.
"You mean for something your Mum made?"
"Hey, you said it, not me!"
Mum flicked a bit of leftover cream at me which Growlithe immediately leapt for and licked off my face. I stroked him gently, losing my hands in his billowing fluff. Of all the Pokemon in the world, at least Mum's were good-natured, and I could trust them. They barely battled anymore since Mum had to change jobs, and only Growlithe was allowed outside of his Pokeball for any long periods of time. It was a pleasant change from how things used to be when Dad was still here.
Midnight ticked closer and closer. Mum dozed on the couch while reality TV shows I was only half watching flickered in the background. Growlithe had been relegated to the floor and was curled up in a ball, radiating warmth. I stretched my feet out towards him, feeling his warmth seep into my toes. It was times like this I was glad of Mum's Pokemon. April could be a cold month, especially at night, and the weekly budget didn't always stretch to heating.
The warmth was making me sleepy. I shimmied back into a sitting position and changed the channel. There was a rerun of Top of the Poffs on and I instantly perked up. They always had a great baking segment on, even if it was sandwiched in-between a lot of Pokemon-centric dishes and Pokemon food recipes. And as far as Pokemon assistants went, Chef Kohli's tiny Cherubi, Maraschino, was adorable enough to keep me watching.
Before I knew it, it was ten minutes to midnight. I couldn't focus on the television anymore and turned it down. I glanced around our living room. Mum had done her best to strip away all mention of my father when he left, three years ago, but even she couldn't bring herself to get rid of their wedding photo. It sat, too high for me to reach, on the top shelf of the bookcase, hidden behind baby photos of me. I knew the photo from memory though. Mum in her wedding dress, modest by today's standard. Dad standing tall and proud, sunlight reflecting in his unwrinkled face. They looked so stupidly happy back then. It made me wonder how things went so badly wrong.
Two minutes to midnight. I felt sadness creep inside me and try to settle. Mum stirred awake and we started the countdown together.
As the clock turned to zeros, Mum nuzzled into me, squeezing so hard that I felt all the air compress out of me. "Happy birthday, sweetheart."
"Thanks, Mum."
She was so thin. I could feel the ridge of her spine under my arms. I was afraid if I hugged her any harder, I could snap her like a twig. I closed my eyes again and the words of my wish wriggled around my brain. I wished it again and again as
"I wish all our problems would go away."
.-.-.
My room was the coldest in the house. Mum always tried to get Growlithe to sleep with me, to try to warm it up, in the months we couldn't afford much heating. I didn't like having him in there too long. I was always worried he'd set something on fire in his sleep or knock something over. He was particularly partial to lying across people in their sleep and I didn't fancy being smothered. But I didn't mind him nipping in and out. I couldn't protest, anyway. After going through a phase of headbutting doors open, Mum had to devise strategies. The easiest of the lot was keeping bedroom doors ajar so he could get in and out if he wanted.
That's why I didn't think it was strange when my door opened that night.
Sleep pooled on my eyelids when I heard the creak of the door. It must have been three, maybe four in the morning. I was drifting hazily between sleep and wakefulness when the door opened. The allure of my bed, silky soft and billowing like a cloud, won out and I groaned into my pillow.
"Alright, Growlithe, if you're coming in, get in."
He didn't jump up right away. My mind still drifting, I nestled further into my sheets and blankets, bracing myself for the inevitable bounce and groan of the springs. He often took his time to settle. I rolled over, curled into a ball, making space on the bed if he wanted it.
Moments passed. I snatched at fragments of a dream I wanted to go back to. I felt the indentation of a weight at the foot of the bed. Something wet touched my cheek. Warm breath crept across the rest of my face. It tickled and I squirmed away from it. "Growlithe, go away…!" I batted my hand away and it collided with something soft. A noise, like the soft expulsion of air, and doziness claimed me again.
The last thing I was aware of was the weight in the bed lifting and the noise of the door clicking closed. I sat up in a flurry of blankets, my eyes searching the inky blackness of the room. Darkness stared back at me.
There was nobody there.
Author's Notes
Hi, guys! Wow, this rewrite has been a long time coming. I can't believe we're approaching ten years since Spirited was first written.
One of the things I felt I was missing a lot of during the original was developing the relationship between Sienna and Suzanne, her mother. So this chapter I think is much a gentler introduction to the Spirited world and it makes Sienna's future motivations, and character, a lot clearer.
Next chapter will pick up on the action!
Mega thanks to those who reviewed this chapter: Chaison and wyldclaw who were with me through the original run of Spirited all those years ago and I am just thrilled to see you again!
Special thanks also go to Solnishka for reviewing the original Spirited chapters and being a huge part of my motivation to turn out these chapters.
Extra special thanks to The Neverending Meep for the beta-reading!
See you next time!