Feya had always wished for a perfect world: no war, strife, disease, etc., but after meeting Melody, she had come to appreciate how unexpected life was. She wouldn’t have met her or Maisie if the war never happened. While Feya was still devastated about Victoriya and her leg, Maisie had helped her so much. They were Team Maya, ship or not, and knowing Maisie, she would always give Feya another chance. They both had flaws they had to work through, and Summit 2023 was their first step to harmony. Sometimes moving on just takes a little bit of courage.

        Feya and Maisie dried off before looking for Melody. They slathered on more sunscreen and slipped their sundresses over their suits. Feya sat in her wheelchair because she couldn’t yet walk around the resort alone. One day, though.

        After leaving the pool, Maisie and Feya’s first stop was Melody’s bridge, but they didn’t see her.

        “Do you think she’s in Veracruz?” Feya inquired.

        “There’s only one way to find out,” Maisie chortled.

        So there was.

        A few people were in Veracruz that day, but none were Melody. Where on Earth was she? It wasn’t like her not to be there.

        “We should’ve asked her for her number,” Maisie joked.

        That was another thing Feya loved about Maisie—her sense of humor. After hearing stories about Matthew, she knew it came from him. Maisie’s sense of humor was something she could never lose.

        “I don’t think Melody has a phone anymore,” Feya giggled. “Why don’t we try the butterfly garden, May?”

        “The butterfly garden?”

        “Sure.” Feya shrugged. “After all, many spirits reside in butterflies.”

        “I had something else in mind, but sure.” Maisie nodded. “Let’s go to the butterfly garden first.”

        Feya wondered what she meant.

        The butterfly garden was between Casitas 5 and Ranchos 6A of Coronado. Like a bird’s nest, it was nestled behind a small bridge, a parking lot in the background. It wasn’t as large as Feya thought, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. The violet, dandelion, and pink flowers stole the show like a spotlight on stage. Nevertheless, Melody wasn’t there, either.

        “Where on Earth is she?” Maisie wondered, sniffing the flowers. “Since when does she like to play hide-and-seek?”

        “Maybe this is a test,” Feya guessed, pointing at the butterfly garden, where a group of monarchs sucked nectar. “She may be one of those butterflies, May.”

        A funny look crossed Maisie’s face. “A butterfly?”

        “Spirits take all shapes,” Feya explained. “They’re like shapeshifters.” Of course, though, Maisie didn’t believe in them. It looked like Feya had to take the lead.

        She rolled to the flowers and flicked her wrist. “Hi there, little butterflies. I’m Feya, and this is Maisie. We’re looking for a friend, Melody.”

        The butterflies continued their business, but one jumped off its flower and perched on Feya’s index finger.

        “Is that you, Melody?” Feya questioned, gently brushing the animal’s silky wing.

        “Wow, so cool,” Maisie squealed. She tossed her finger out—Feya guessed to try to have a butterfly land on it, too.

        None did, but Feya had an idea why. “You need to believe, May,” she mused. “Our loved ones are never gone.”

***

        Maisie wanted to believe, but how could she when there was no evidence? She heard Melody’s story but still didn’t believe in spirits. What was wrong with her? Maisie had failed Feya and Melody as a friend. She never knew it would be so hard without Milo.

        The butterfly moved to Feya’s head and seemed to stare at Maisie.

        She groaned and reached for hers. The trauma of the day she found Matthew, the PTSD, returned.

        “I will always be with you. You can count on it, May,” he told her the night he died. How was it that Maisie didn’t realize what he was talking about? She could’ve saved him if only she knew.

        “Maisie, please. Try.” Feya removed the butterfly from her head and set it on her outstretched finger. “What happened to Matthew wasn’t your fault.”

        A few tears dropped from Maisie’s eyes. “I miss him, Feya.”

        “I know.” Feya hugged her waist. “I miss Victoriya.”

        Maisie cried harder. “He was always there for me. He helped me come clean to Mom and Dad because I was too scared to tell them myself. And now he’s gone.” She buried her face with her free hand.

        Maisie saw the fort she and Matthew built when they were kids. Matthew constantly double-hacked her. He stole her Barbies and hid them but ensured she found them. He would playfully tap her and pretend nothing happened. Maisie wanted those days back.

        She felt the butterfly leave her finger and Feya releasing her. A gust of warm wind passed through the area and tickled her follicles, but she kept her face hidden.

        Maisie’s next memory was when she told Matthew she was queer. They were at Cleveland Park in Greenville, sitting on a bench in front of the sidewalk and behind a creek.

        “I don’t know how to tell Mom and Dad,” Maisie had said.

        “Don’t worry—I’ll help you.” Matthew ran his tan fingers through his black hair and held Maisie close. “Never be ashamed of who you are, May. Even if Mom and Dad disapprove, I won’t. After all, you’re my little sister, and I love you.”

        He was dead three months after that conversation.

        “Maisie, open your eyes,” Feya gently ordered. “There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

        What was she talking about?

        Maisie opened her eyes and unburied her face, gasping.

        The butterfly was no longer there. Instead, Melody stood in its place, wearing a flowing white dress and flats. Another gust of wind blew hers, Feya’s, and Maisie’s hair.

        “Hi, Maisie,” Melody chimed, placing her fists on her heart. “Congrats. You and Feya have passed my test.”

End of Act II: The Disney Renaissance!

Current Word Count: 12,000