“Voilà,” I said.
Ziggy looked over at me and smiled. His teeth were crooked. The summer sun shone through the leaves and made his long red hair even more brilliant. Nana Jean sat on the wicker chair. She rocked back and forth the way a woman might do if she had a baby in her arms. She took a pin out of her bun and let the silver hair fall loose around her shoulders. Then she leaned her head against the back of the rocking chair and closed her eyes. The breeze blew her hair below and the leaves above.
“It’s so peaceful up here,” I said.
“It is,” agreed Ziggy. “But it’s nothing compared to the ninth dimension.”
“What’s the ninth dimension?”
“It’s a place you can only go if you are magical,” said Ziggy.
“Magical?”
“Like you and me.”
“I don’t know any magic.”
“Yes, you do. I can tell by the way you climbed up with your eyes closed. You’re not like other kids. You are like me. A nomad. Born to wander to the ninth dimension and then back to earth. But first we have to cast a spell on each other.”
“What kind of spell?”
“An inspiration spell. Inspiration means to breathe, and before we wander we have to weave our inspiration together so we don’t get separated. I will blow my air at you and you will inhale, and then you will blow your air at me and I will inhale, and this way our breath will be woven together and we will be ready to travel.”
Mother didn’t like the idea of accidentally inhaling other people’s air. Our own breath passes over our lips, which is close to the tongue and the inside of the mouth, a sure path to disgustingness. The mouth was off-limits. If I ever stuck my finger in there, bit off a hangnail, picked a piece of carrot from between my teeth, or, worse than that, if my thumb found my mouth, an old habit, Mother would tell me to disinfect with bleach. But now there was no bleach around. Mother was far away. All there was in the whole world was this copper beech tree and the ferret and this strange red-haired boy.
“In order for the spell to work correctly, we both have to inhale and exhale as deeply as possible. Here . . .” He took a strip of Wrigley’s Spearmint gum out of his shirt pocket, unwrapped it, broke it, and gave one half to me. “We should chew this until our breath feels minty. Minty breath is colder, and it will make the magic run faster.”
This sounded logical.
I took my half and chewed.
Ziggy chewed too.
Soon, the air around us smelled not only like ferret and bark and leaves, but like spearmint, and all we could hear was the sound of our chewing, and the ferret chattering from the top of Ziggy’s head, and then the birds chirping, and Nana Jean humming with her eyes closed, with the quiet backdrop of the neighborhood swirling around us.
We swung our feet back and forth and watched Nana Jean put one hand through her hair and across her forehead.
“Maybe we should wait until she goes inside,” I suggested. “Just in case she looks up or something.”
“Okay,” said Ziggy. “Nana Jean usually has to go in every hour or so. She says she can’t hold it like she used to. She wears special old lady diapers called Depends. This is what you call apropos, which is a Greek word meaning appropriate. Now here is a non sequitur, which means I am changing the subject. When you inspire me, you have to imagine the whole universe coming out of your mouth like a spiderweb shooting right into my mouth. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know,” I told him, after a long pause. “I’ve never imagined the universe coming out of my mouth like a spiderweb. I’m not even sure I can picture that. I guess I’m just going to have to give it a try and find out.”
“Yes,” said Ziggy. “I guess you will just have to try. I’m glad you’re imaginative and brave. Imagination and bravery are very good qualities to have in the ninth dimension. It helps with things like dragons and other mystical beasts.”
“I’ve never been afraid of dragons,” I said.
The ferret climbed from Ziggy Karlo’s head to his shoulder, and from his shoulder through his T-shirt and onto his lap.
“He’s cute,” I said. “How long have you had him?”
“Jenny gave him to me as a birthday present when I turned eight, and he has never left my side since then. His name is Matthew. He is an albino ferret. He’s also my vestigial twin. You can pet him if you want.”
I held out one hand, and the long white creature sniffed at me. Then he grabbed my finger with his claw and took a bite.
“Hey,” I said. “Stop it.”
I started to pull my finger away, but the ferret hung on tight. I scratched him behind his velvety ears, and he put his chin on Ziggy’s knee and closed his eyes like a puppy.
“He likes you,” Ziggy said.
“All animals like me.”
“That will be good for wandering in the ninth dimension. I didn’t tell you this, but I am part animal.”
“I’m part animal too,” I said.
“I knew it,” said Ziggy. “That’s why you’re so good at climbing trees. You’re probably part squirrel. Or possibly crow.”
“Maybe both,” I suggested.
“Maybe,” agreed Ziggy. He raised one eyebrow and looked at me thoughtfully.
Ziggy placed Matthew farther out on the branch. The creature circled a few times, curled up, and put his white tail over his nose. I petted him quietly for a while, and then I smelled my hand. It was musky. Not quite as strong as skunk but wild and sharp. Mother wouldn’t like it. I wiped my hand on my knees.
Nana Jean lifted her head from the back of the rocking chair, smoothed out her skirt, and rose to her feet.
“Look,” I said, happily. “Your nana is going inside to pee.”
“Huzzah,” said Ziggy. “Are you ready to do the inspiration spell?”
“I was born ready.”
It took some maneuvering, but I knew how to keep my balance. I swung one leg over the branch so that I was facing him. Then I put my two hands in front of me and opened my mouth.
Ziggy took a deep breath and leaned forward, just a little, just so he could get better aim. He closed his eyes, like he was gathering the universe inside himself, and then he blew a whooshing arrow of minty, ferrety air straight at me. I inhaled quickly, imagining the universe swirling into my lungs.
“Did you get any?”
“I think so,” I said.
“That’s good,” said Ziggy. “Now you inspire me.”
I took a deep breath, leaned forward, and blew as hard as I could toward Ziggy’s face. I imagined stars spiraling from my mouth and swirling into Ziggy. I imagined mothers and fathers and grandparents and all the people who had ever been born diving through the air in a silvery cloud of spirits.
Ziggy swallowed and swayed a little, his eyes fluttering.
“That was very good,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. “So what should we do next?”
“I guess I should ask your name,” said Ziggy. “If you and I are going to wander the universe together, I should know what to call you in case one of us gets lost.”
“People call me June Bug,” I told him. “But my real name is June Jordan.”