A Snake Falls to Earth: Newbery Honor Award Winner

by Darcie Little Badger

Cuántos años tienes?”

Thing is, I didn’t realize the path was special until I’d already walked it. Where would I be now if I’d known?

“Do you have lucky genes, too?” she’d asked. “Do I?” “Only time will tell,” he’d say. Nina often wondered if she’d like the Earth one hundred years from now. The future could be a wondrous place of androids, cloned dinosaurs, and VR glasses. That’s what Nina wanted to believe. However, when the anxious hum of the evening news slipped into her bedroom, carrying prophesies of disease and pain, it seemed more likely that the future would be a place of nightmares. In her father’s words: only time would tell.

“Dad!” she shouted. “Daaaad!” His response, also shouted, came from the kitchen: “Whaaat?” “If I fail this project, it’s your fault!” “Why? I bought you green poster paper!”

He shrugged. “Just leave her birth date off the poster. If your teacher asks, explain that Rosita doesn’t got reliable records. It happens.” “It’s not the truth, though. We know our family history, and that’s more reliable than a birth certificate.”

Maybe, the wisdom of hindsight could extract secrets from that year.

The land under and around the three-bedroom house had been their family’s homeland for generations. Before Texas became a state, Nina’s ancestors had lived there, and they didn’t ever leave. Not really. When Federal Indian Removal became the law of the land, and bounties were put on Apache heads, her people resisted. In many ways, they still did.

“Lately, travel doesn’t sit well with me. I guess it’s part of aging. Some people cry when they’re homesick. I get terrible migraines and indigestion.

“On a different note,” Nina said, “I have a question about stories—” “Which ones?” Grandma sounded grateful for the change in subject. “The old ones from the joined era, when there were still animal people on Earth.”

“I’m surprised Aunt Peele let Jon mess with this. She says he can’t even know the Internet exists till he’s past kindergarten.” “It doesn’t get Internet,” Grandma explained. “Seriously?” Nina sat up so fast, she nearly bumped her head on the edge of the desk. How could she explain the phenomenon known as furries without access to their natural habitat?

“I was reluctant to entertain strangers. Sometimes, there’s venom behind a friendly smile.

“Nina, I doubt Rosita saw a fish girl in her well,” Grandma continued, “but it’s closed-minded to discount the possibility that there was something otherworldly about Odd Jobs Man and his bookish friends. Many claim that no animal people remain on Earth. That’s the price those spirits paid to survive us. But there must be exceptions to the rule. It’s not like they all went extinct after the joined era. So … perhaps brave ones still visit us now and then. In secret. I’d be reluctant to pester them. As the Odd Jobs Man said, discretion can be a matter of life and death.”

I met the twins after two months of independence. Thinking back, the day seems like a lifetime ago, and maybe it is. You know the way it feels to shed your skin and emerge bright and new? That’s the way I felt after meeting Risk and Reign.

Some even claimed that the water connected us with Earth. At the time, I assumed that only the strongest, bravest swimmers could confirm the truth.

Plus, access to a wealth of knowledge was somewhat more exciting than another nap, even on a warm day.

Lowering her phone, Nina again looked through her car window, but instead of staring upward, her eyes dropped to the land. Emaciated orange trees, their branches bare and dry, grew along the road. They were the fruitless stragglers of a long-abandoned orchard. The familiarity of its ruin comforted Nina. She’d never seen the orchard flourish, though it must have once, if only for a few sweet years. To her, the emptiness and silence were home. This wasn’t a ghost town. Not when the heart of her family still beat within the land.

“Please, can we help him? Please!” “We can try,” Grandma said. The nearest animal hospital, a twenty-four-hour critical care center, was thirty-one minutes away by car. Nina’s father drove, while Grandma sat in the passenger seat with the kitten bundled in her lap. He was still unconscious, but his breathing had become more regular. That gave Nina hope as they handed him to the critical care team. “If they can help,” her father said, settling onto a black waiting room chair, “he may need to stay the night. Shoot, I hope surgery isn’t in the cards.” “If money’s an issue, I’ll cover it,” Grandma said. “How are you going to cover a five-thousand-dollar bill, Mom?” “Yard sale.”

With the introduction of well-seasoned dishes into my schedule, it felt like I’d finally transitioned from simply surviving to living.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Nina continued. “I’m not one of those conspiracy theorists who believes the two worlds are still actively connected. The joined era is over.” A solemn shrug. “That said, I suspect that some spirits and monsters still conduct business on Earth.