GENRE: YA Fantasy
The wide, grassy field was warm and cheerful and strangely familiar.
Why daisies I had no idea, but I could almost see them. That is, I could picture them; there weren’t any at the moment. It was as if I remembered them. Daisies. There – all across the field, white and green and yellow. Infinite daisies. I liked the mental image.
I collapsed back onto the sweet, spring-smelling grass with my knees in the air. The overhead sun was blindingly bright and the sky almost too blue with just a few pillowy clouds, soft as giant balls of cotton. A perfect cloud-watching kind of day, I decided. Like when I was little. My dad and I had loved that game, tracing out familiar shapes in the sky – painting cloud pictures, he’d called it – and inventing stories to fit our scenes. We’d played on Sunday afternoons at backyard picnics, on the swings in the park near our old house, and in August at the beach, all day.
This was when I realized I was wearing my favorite sundress from back then. The one I’d worn night and day for an entire summer the year I was seven. The one we had maybe a zillion pictures of me in: white-smocked with pink, purple, and blue-patterned hearts and – my favorite part – matching pink, purple, and blue ribbons that tied at the shoulders. I’d cried the day my mom had decided it was too small and donated it. Yet there I was, nine years later, wearing it.