In the months that followed the outing with Haruto, the wolf made good on her promise to the moon to figure out what was needed to reach it. She decided the best starting point would be to learn more about what others already knew about it, and so she decided her first project would be to research everything related to the moon in whatever books she could find.
Even before then, the wolf had already learned much about the night sky, which helped to provide a foundation for her research. However, this information had been limited to textbooks from school, both in her current grade and in future grades, and for some reason this information was limited to what could be observed in the night sky, nothing to do with what would be required to enter into the night sky. If these textbooks were to be believed, no one had ever actually been to the moon, and it wasn’t clear whether anyone had even tried.
But the books she found in the library told a different story. In these books, many people had been to the moon, even lived on the moon in certain cases. Most of these books were found in the “fiction” section, which she had some general understanding were stories that people made up just for fun; however, these books still contained some knowledge in them that she knew was true from both her school textbooks and her own personal experiences, and it made her wonder just how much of the rest of it might be true as well.
She was in the middle of one of these books when she was broken out of her thoughts from the opening of her home’s front door. Her uncle entered in, sweaty from the day’s work, already dropping his tool belt on the floor. “Hey there, fam,” he said. “How are things today?”
“Hello, Dan,” her mother replied, not looking up from the meal she was cooking on the stove. “Things are fine.”
Uncle Dan looked to the younger wolf and spotted the book she was reading. He walked over to her and ruffled her hair, which she hated. “Whatcha got there, Ganymede?” he said to her.
There was an audible “clank” as the wolf’s mother stiffened up in front of her cookware. “Please stop calling her that,” she said. “I think she’s going to think it’s her actual name.”
The wolf’s uncle stood back up. “Ah, c’mon, Sarah,” he said. “It’s normal to give a nickname to a kid. If we don’t do it, the kids at school are going to.”
“They already do,” her mother said. “And that’s part of the problem. I think it’s confusing her. And they aren’t kind nicknames, either.”
“All the more reason,” her uncle said. “The law of the playground is a harsh one, and it’d do her well to learn that. Kids only give you a nickname if they have a reason for it. If you don’t want the nickname, then you stop doing the thing that earned you the nickname, eh? Do something else and get a nickname for that instead.” He chuckled. “That’s what ‘making a name for yourself’ means.”
The wolf’s mother sighed, and she had an angry look on her face, but she silently went back to her cooking. The wolf noticed that, while her mother would sometimes voice her thoughts with family, in the end, she would never contradict a decision made by a man. Even if that man wasn’t technically the wolf’s father.
“This book is about someone who’s going to the moon to look for his loved one,” the wolf said, now that she had time to collect her thoughts enough to answer her uncle’s earlier question.
“Hah, see,” her uncle said. “Every time I ask this kid what she’s doing, it’s something to do with the moon. Sorry, so long as you’re doing that, far as I’m concerned, you’re gonna be our little Ganymede.”
“I’m really starting to think that it’s a problem,” her mother said. “She’s always loved the stars, but it used to be… just a standard child’s interest. The moon thing is new, and it’s an obsession. She won’t do anything else anymore.” She waved her spatula at her brother. “You know what I think? I think that damned rabbit messed her up somehow. This didn’t happen until after that whole ordeal.”
The wolf convulsed. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother swore. Her mother really seemed to hate Haruto; even before the night when the wolf broke her arm, her mother had never even called him by name, not John or Haruto, only as “that rabbit”.
Uncle Dan balked. “Sarah, you can’t blame everything on one other kid. You have to let the little star-mapper here take personal responsibility for herself at some point.” He rubbed the back of his head. “John doesn’t even live here anymore, right? Am I remembering that right?”
“That’s right,” the wolf’s mother said, returning to stirring the pot. “They found some other place for him to be. And good riddance, he didn’t belong here. He needs to be with his own kind.”
The wolf thought back to the last time she saw Haruto. It wasn’t more than a month after the night they tried to go to the moon together. At some point he just stopped coming to school, and she was told it was because he moved out, but she wasn’t given any other details.
She wasn’t sure why her mother always emphasized that Haruto needed to be with others like him. As far as she could tell, he was already with others like him, other kids at school. Some parts of him were different, sure, but some parts of everyone were different. The wolf had wanted to be friends with him, too, but she could tell that she had screwed that up somehow, so all she could do now was hope that he was happy wherever he ended up.
The wolf looked back to her book, which reminded her of something. “In a lot of the books I’m reading, the characters are seeking love,” she said. “Either their loved ones are trapped on the moon, or the moon helps them find someone new to love, or something like that.” She looked at her mother. “Mother, I’m wondering if something about the moon could help Father come home, or let us talk with him more often, or be with him. Something about the moon always seems to let people do that.”
Her mother stopped stirring the pot, and stood stock still, saying nothing.
“Aw. You’re reading up on the moon because you miss your father?” her uncle said. “Well, that’s not so bad, is it? You know, your mother misses him, too. Maybe you can help her with that.” He leaned closer to her. “And hey, if there’s anything in your books that can tell me how to find a wife, you let me know, too, eh?” He winked at her.
The wolf’s mother didn’t bother her daughter about her books after that.
“Ganymede, what are you working on there?”
Ganymede looked up. Jess was talking to her, but staring at the object in her paws.
As her uncle continued to call her Ganymede for as long as she was focused on the moon–which, as she had already decided, would be forever–it was inevitable that eventually one of the kids at school would overhear him using the name, understand that it had something to do with her obsession with the moon, and pick up on the fact that he was making fun of her with it. From there, it wasn’t long until everyone else was using it, too, especially once word got around that it was actually a boy’s name.
At first, the wolf was confused about the name, since even in her own studies, she didn’t remember running across the name “Ganymede”. Once she learned how to spell it and looked it up on her own, initially all she found was mention of mythic gods, but then she ran across the fact that “Ganymede” was also the name of another moon on a distant planet.
This stood out to her; it reinforced her idea that maybe moons were living beings, at least of a sort, enough to have unique names between themselves. She thought of how moons could have others “of their kind”, but be living far away from them, like Haruto. She thought of how there could be hundreds of moons in the same galaxy, but they would still be so far away from each other, just as she was a wolf among hundreds in her own town, but still didn’t feel like she was reaching them.
But more importantly, being given the name of a moon made her feel like she wasn’t actually so different from one, herself. That she belonged with the moon she knew. And so she embraced the name “Ganymede” wholeheartedly.
It had been a few years now since her class had started using the name, so although there were still a few using the name derisively as had been the original intention, a larger number of people just used it as though it was her given name. Some people even thought it was her given name, especially once she started using it on school forms.
“Ganymede,” Jess repeated again, when Ganymede didn’t answer her right away.
Ganymede coughed, unsure what direction this conversation was going to go once she explained it. “Well,” she said. “I’m carving an instrument. Though not one that’s commonly known.”
“Like a musical instrument?”
“Yeah.” Ganymede slid her finger around one of the curving pipes. “Eventually, I’m going to poke holes in here. This is where you place your fingers. Well, most of the time.” She pointed at a few other places jutting out of the unfinished wooden figure. “You can blow into it from here, here, or here, depending on what kind of sound you’re going for.”
“Does this even work?” Jess asked, eyebrows arched questioningly, but grinning what seemed to Ganymede to be a sincere grin.
Ganymede shrugged. “It’s hard for me to tell. It’s an old instrument, and it was used for religious ceremonies more often than it was used for making actual music. But the reason I wanted to make one and see how it worked was because it’s said to represent the movements of the moon, and meant to form some kind of connection with the moon.” She idly shaved off a small piece of the section she had been working on before. “I just wanted a better understanding of it.”
“That’s really cool,” Jess said, and after having spent years with her, Ganymede could tell she meant it. “I thought you were just working on some kind of art project, and… Well, I guess you are, but it’s art to make something to make other art.” She laughed. “Art through art. Kinda weird, huh?”
“Personally, I find most art is like that. It’s rarely just one type of art involved.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, but I’ll take your word for it.” She pointed at the same curved surface that Ganymede had. “Wouldn’t it hurt to run your fingers along this? I mean… you’re having to twist your paws from their position up here, all the way to down here. While putting your mouth over there?”
“Like I said, it’s more about symbolic significance than it is about making music easily. Like most things having to do with the moon, it has to do with… communicating over long distances, and the difficulties involved in doing that. It’s also about the complexities that are involved with communicating with a fundamentally different kind of being from yourself, and how you may have to bring more of your mind and body into it than you would ordinarily expect from a usual instrument. You may have to learn how to contort your mouth and fingers around it while still being able to concentrate on playing the song you want to play.”
“I know what you can contort your mouth and fingers around,” Jess said, giving Ganymede a sly look.
Now it was Ganymede’s turn to look at her with a questioning expression. “Huh?”
Jess waved her paw and shook her head. “It’s nothing. Anyway, this is pretty neat. I don’t usually think about what goes into music other than playing the notes, but you’re right, a lot of that kinda stuff happens subconsciously.”
“I was hoping you’d like it at least a little,” Ganymede admitted. “I can’t usually tell what you’ll like, but I know you like music, and… well, even then I felt like it was a tossup.”
“You did this for me?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Jess scratched her cheek and blushed a little.
“I would’ve done this eventually no matter what, but I did think of you when I originally thought of it. Pursuing the moon is about being able to reach as many people as possible, and one big way of doing that is through artistry. I figured that’s why you went into music, too, since you like being with as many people as possible. I thought maybe you would relate to this.”
“Oh,” Jess said, her voice becoming softer. “Yeah…”
“Hey, Jess. Hey, Ganymede,” said a voice behind them. It was the class valedictorian, James, a mutt. As he approached, he stood, adjusted his glasses, and squinted at Ganymede’s craftwork. “Is that a lunaliphon?”
“Yes,” said Ganymede, surprised that anyone other than her would know the term.
James shook his head. “Your obsession knows no bounds. The only reason I know about this is because I happened to stumble across a picture in some of my extracurricular textbooks about ancient cultures. It wasn’t even a big mention, I just remembered it because I thought it looked weird.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m tempted to call this cultural appropriation, but I don’t think any of those people are even alive anymore.”
“Oh, come on, James, this is really cool,” Jess said. “Ganymede put a lot of thought into this. And art is art, wherever its inspiration comes from.”
“The only reason this counts as ‘art’ is because it’s effectively a historical artifact at this point,” James retorted. “It wouldn’t have been called ‘art’ back when they were first made, any more than anyone would refer to a flute as ‘art’ today.”
“Actually, James, I was hoping you would like it because it’s a historical artifact,” Ganymede said. “Or would at least think it’s interesting. But I guess I must’ve missed something.”
James opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, looking conflicted about something. “I do,” he finally said. “I do think it’s kind of interesting, actually. I just don’t know what you expect to do with it. And I know you’re only interested in this because of the moon, it’s not like I’m going to assume this means you suddenly share my interest in history or anything.”
“You’re right,” Ganymede admitted. “But a small connection is still a connection. And as for what I plan to do with it, I’ll figure that out once it’s finished. Even if I don’t have any specific expectations, any experiment done in service of the moon brings me a little closer to that moon.” She turned the carving over in her paw, looking at it from different angles. “And part of reaching the moon means connecting to other people. With my interest in the moon, and your interest in history, and Jess’s interest in music, this instrument helps bring the three of us together.”
Jess rubbed her arm awkwardly. “Actually,” she said, “I’m thinking of quitting music class.”
Both James and Ganymede looked at her in surprise. “Why?” Ganymede asked. “You love it so much.”
“I don’t love it that much,” Jess lied, rolling her eyes. “I just don’t think it’s a realistic thing to pursue in the long run. I need to start planning for jobs where I’ll be taken more seriously. Maybe I’ll be a teacher or something.”
“That’s unfortunate to hear,” James said. “I think you play really well. But I understand where you’re coming from, and I think it’s a good idea. We can’t all play around forever.”
“Why not?” Ganymede asked. “Jess, I thought music was your passion as much as the moon is mine. We do what we have to do to live, but why wouldn’t you leave a place in your life for something that’s so important to you?”
“Ganymede, sweetie, some of us have it a little harder than you,” Jess said, shaking her head. “You can afford to keep to your moon stuff, but I can’t. Besides, I’m not giving up on what’s most important to me. Other people are what’s important to me.” She playfully brushed a finger under Ganymede’s chin. “People like you!”
“I love history, but there’s a reason that history is history,” James said. “We figure out new and better ways to handle things, and we move on from the past, like all children growing into adults. You’ve gotta grow up someday, too, Ganymede.”
“What are you losers all huddled around?” asked a new voice. It was Tyler, who, upon arrival, stepped back and scrunched up his face as soon as he saw what Ganymede was holding. “Is that a fucking sex toy?”
After Ganymede’s lunaliphon was banned from school for being a sex toy, and it started getting weird looks even from people who didn’t know her, she decided it was probably for the best to drop it and focus on her other potential methods for reaching the moon.
She didn’t think it was a sex toy, but she also wasn’t sure why it would be bad if it was a sex toy. Since everyone had been talking about how important it was to grow up, and based on what her parents told her, sex was the most grown-up thing a person could do. But something about sex in particular apparently made it too grown-up for just anyone to participate in it, which made her wonder what a “sex toy” even was, since toys were strictly the realm of young children.
In the following years, as she watched her friends grow up around her, she couldn’t help but wonder if growing up was even something she wanted to do. Jess did, in fact, drop her music class, and Ganymede felt that her life was only worse for it. It seemed that “growing up” meant giving up on many things that she had found were associated with her goal of reaching the moon: creating art, reaching to places beyond your hometown, making new friends. Little wonder it was that, the more adult her books were, the less likely it was that they would even consider the idea that reaching the moon was a possibility.
Though she and her friends were near graduation–some had even been through it already–she decided maybe she had more to learn from looking backwards, to see what younger people were holding onto that adults weren’t, before she lost whatever it was herself. This is why she decided to spend more time with her younger sister Anna and her sister’s jackal friend, Ashley. Not that they were that much younger than Ganymede, but Ashley in particular stood out to Ganymede as someone who expressed interest in growing up, but, somehow, had decided to do this mainly by moving on from her children’s toys to what seemed to Ganymede to be other kinds of children’s toys.
“This is called a Weegee Board,” Ashley explained to Anna and Ganymede, referring to the only object that could still be seen in the light of the candles. “With the proper rituals, this will allow us to commune with the spirits of the dead.”
“Yeah! Yeah!” Anna said, bouncing up and down in her seat. Ganymede considered her sister; ordinarily she wouldn’t be so keen on disobeying their mother’s orders–and by participating in anything that could be considered dark witchcraft, they almost certainly were–but Ganymede had decided that, if Anna wasn’t already aware that they were doing something their mother wouldn’t like, Ganymede wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.
“The exact ritual we use depends on the spirit being contacted,” Ashley continued to explain. “Who should we start with first? Are there, perhaps… any family members you wish to contact?”
“What, like grandpa?” Anna offered. “I dunno, we barely knew him.”
Ashley raised her eyebrows. “I was thinking maybe… you might want to contact your dad?”
“What!?” Anna laughed. “Father’s not dead!”
Ashley raised her eyebrows even further. “He’s not? But I’ve never even seen him.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. So what, does he just work the night shift or something?”
“Most of the time, he’s out of town,” Ganymede explained. “I never really understand the details, but there’s stuff he has to do in other towns. Secure business deals or something. It pays well, but it does mean he’s away from home most of the time.”
“It’s okay, we’ve got Uncle Dan,” Anna said.
Ganymede winced. Uncle Dan had basically invited himself into the home as sort of a replacement for their father; he said that she and Anna needed a “father figure”. From what she could tell, all this really meant was that he stuck around and ate the family’s food and offered his opinions on things whether they were asked for or not. Usually about whether Ganymede was acting like a “proper girl” or not (usually not).
“I see,” Ashley said. “Well, it doesn’t have to be family, sometimes people use this to communicate with… like… famous leaders and stuff.”
“Well, wait,” Ganymede said. “Are you sure we couldn’t use it to communicate with Father, anyway? He’s not dead, but I’d think communicating with someone who’s alive would be easier by default, even if he’s far away.”
“I don’t… think it works like that,” Ashley said. “I don’t think it communicates easily across great distances, I think part of the point is that we use the ritual to summon a spirit here with us, and then they talk to us, in this very roooom.” Ashley waved her arms around for emphasis.
“Feels like an arbitrary limitation,” Ganymede said. “What does a spirit care for anything related to the physical realm, distance included?
“I already talk to Grandpa in my prayers all the time,” Anna said. “The Alpha takes my prayers to him, so I don’t need a Weegee Board for that.”
Ashley sighed. “You’re kinda killing the buzz here, guys.”
“Wait”, Ganymede said. “Can we use it to talk with the moon?”
“The moon?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think it can talk with inanimate objects, but I’ll check the book just in case.”
“I don’t think the moon is an inanimate object,” Ganymede explained. “There’s just so much life to it, I can tell just by looking at it. And so many people have been inspired by it, to do so many different things. And so many of those things have to do with communication, I just think that the moon must be communicating with us, somehow.”
“Well, it’s not in here,” Ashley said, closing her instruction guide and putting it back on the table. “I think we gotta stick to dead people.”
“Is a guide even necessary? I thought the whole point of witchcraft was to go beyond the boundaries of science and reason. And guidelines.”
“Well there’s still an art to it,” Ashley said, exasperated. “I don’t expect you to understand, you’re not a goth girl like me.”
“I’m sure the Alpha will bring your messages to the moon if you let Him,” Anna said.
Ganymede sighed. “It’s not… so much that I have a message to send to the moon. I just… want to hear back from the moon. I want to know that I’m doing the right things.”
“Didn’t you just say the moon was already speaking with you? With everyone?”
Ganymede thought. “Yeah,” she said. “I just have trouble hearing it. Like I have trouble hearing anyone.”
“SHOULD WE TALK LOUDER?” Anna asked.
“No, no, that’s not what I mean. I just mean… I don’t know. I feel like I’m not on the same wavelength as other people, and I wish I understood anyone better.” Ganymede looked at the window. “But especially the moon. I feel like if I could understand it, I could understand anyone.”
Ashley also looked out the window. “Ganymede, I don’t think there’s that much to understand, the moon’s just a bright orb in the sky. And most people are just people, just whatever they seem to be. I think if you’re having trouble understanding anyone, it’s because you overcomplicate things, looking to the distance instead of just accepting what’s right in front of you. You can’t talk to the moon. But,” she clapped her paws together, “if you want to speak to the goddess of the moon, I have a different book for that.”
Ganymede shook her head. “Can I be real with you for a second?”
“Of course.”
Ganymede spread her arms. “Do you actually believe… any of this?”
Ashley sighed and tapped her fingers on the table, considering the question. “Well… I dunno. I know most of it’s just for fun. I don’t know how much of it I really believe. But I think there has to be some truth to it, right? Because some people do stuff like this for real. And sometimes it works. It’s just about waiting for the small moments that it does. Don’t you feel the same way about the moon?”
“I do, and that’s why I’m asking. It’s just… it seems like people drop this kinda stuff when they get older, and I don’t really understand why… or maybe I kinda do… but at the same time, they don’t drop the stuff about the Alpha, and…” She rubbed her palms to her eyes. “Gah, I don’t even know what I’m saying. Is any of this going anywhere? Is this getting us to where we need to be? I have no idea.”
Ashley looked at her sadly. “Do you want to give up on the moon?”
Ganymede looked out the window again. At that bright orb, the one that had always been there for her, every night. During all her doubt and times of trouble. The one that kept her hopes alive.
“No,” Ganymede said. “I will never abandon the moon. I don’t know who I’d even be, otherwise.”
“Then stick with it,” Ashley said. “We all have to be what makes us, us. If you want to understand other people, I think it starts with understanding that. I think it’s cool that you’re doing your own thing. And I’m gonna stick to doing my own thing. I’m my own girl, and so are you.” She spread her arms out. “We’re all our own girls!”
“And we are all the Alpha’s children,” Anna said solemnly.
“Anna, we gotta get you out of the house more often,” Ashley said.
“I’d like that!” Anna said.
Ganymede continued looking out the window. “I don’t know whose girl I am,” she said. “But if nothing else, I have always been, and will always be, the moon’s friend.” She smiled. “Even if I’m never anything more, I’ll be happy with that.”
