The Wind in the Willows

The sun shone bright and warm over a lush green meadow studded with yellow and white wildflowers. A crystalline pond sparkled in the sunlight while willow trees dipped their long tendrils into its water. Around the meadow, all manner of trees rustled in a stiff, erratic breeze that seemed to originate from a single teenage girl standing near the pond. Her grandparents’ farm would have been the perfect place to spend spring break–if only Samira had wanted to be there.

“It isn’t fair!” Samira wailed, and a gust of wind whipped from her stamped foot across the pond, creating small waves. “I was supposed to be in Florida! I was supposed to be with my friends! But no, Mom and Dad decided to send me here instead, after that party….”

Her voice trailed off. Unreasonable as she was feeling in that moment, even Samira knew she was lucky that the only thing resembling a punishment she was getting for having a bunch of friends over without permission last Friday night was being sent to her grandparents’ farm for Spring Break. She ran a perfectly manicured hand through her long, dark brown hair and then paced back and forth along the edge of the pond, careful to keep her pristine white sneakers out of the mud. She still didn’t know how it all went wrong. Sure, none of her friends had stayed to clean up after the party like they’d promised they would, and there had definitely been too much work for Samira to handle alone. But she had been doing her best, working as quickly as she could, and she’d felt the panic rising in her chest but kept telling herself it was under control, that she could make it happen–

And then a whirlwind had sprung up in her living room. Artwork had flown off the walls. Papers and trash were blowing all over the place. Furniture had bumped and scudded across the floor. Pillows and cushions had tumbled about. The more she’d panicked and tried to fix it, the worse it got.

Samira’s parents had been surprisingly understanding about the whole thing when they got home from their date at the opera and a classy club downtown. They’d sat their daughter down and explained to her that the whirlwind was an outpouring of a family trait–the ability to manipulate air. They’d never told her before about their abilities because they wanted her to live a normal life. And until last Friday night, Samira had. She was a decent student, captain of the cheerleading team, a tennis player, a student council member, popular–her whole life had been perfect.

Until her latent air powers decided to pop up and ruin everything.

Her parents had told her in no uncertain terms that going on the spring break trip she’d been planning for months was out of the question. “You’ve only just discovered your powers and have no idea how to control them,” her mother had pointed out. “Letting you fly halfway across the country to an unfamiliar place is dangerous enough without worrying about that.”

“And there are rules about such things. Normal humans are never meant to know we exist,” her father had added ominously. Samira was powerless to argue, overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all. And thus she was driven to Grandpa Hakim’s farm in western Michigan, out in the middle of nowhere. The meadow with the pond had been her favorite place to play as a kid, and she still found it beautiful at age sixteen, but she wanted to be in Florida with her friends, parasailing and jet skiing and lying out on the beach in the sun. It was still too chilly for that in Michigan in April, and the winds that stung her skin and tangled her hair every time she thought about how much she wanted to be on the trip she’d planned don’t help at all.

“They’re having so much fun without me,” Samira whimpered, glancing at the notifications on her phone that heralded new Instagram posts and Snapchat messages. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. In a fit of frustration, she threw her phone across the field towards her grandparents’ well-kept farmhouse. A burst of wind from her palm propelled it further than she meant for it to go; it fell just short of the back porch steps. Under other circumstances, that would have been a near-cataclysmic tragedy, but Samira didn’t care. She wished she could turn back time, go back to being normal without these powers. But Grandma Layla had assured her that no one with superhuman powers could achieve such a thing, except perhaps the fae, who were not under any circumstances to be spoken to.

“The only way out is through. You have to learn to control your power,” Grandma Layla had said that morning over breakfast. Her swirling gray eyes exactly matched her granddaughter’s–the sign of her air elemental powers hidden within. “To do that, you’ll be spending the whole day outside. I’ll see you again for supper at sundown. Perhaps nature will teach you what you refuse to learn from us.”

“What are meditation and breath control going to do about–” Samira had protested, but Grandpa Hakim closed the door behind her, shutting her out of the house on the back porch. She’d already learned that pitching a fit wouldn’t help her at all and she’d end up having to repair whatever her errant winds damaged once she calmed down, so she’d bit back her screams and curses and gone to the pond instead. The serene meadow and the rustling willow trees should have been calming. Instead, Samira could hardly look at them. Her eyes scanned across her surroundings, but all she could see were memories of the time since the party. Every moment since the indoor whirlwind first whipped up had felt like a nightmare.

In some ways, the serenity around Samira was maddening. Everything looked so tranquil and perfect. Even when the gusts of wind generated by her outbursts whipped willow branches around or stirred up waves on the pond, everything settled back to normal soon after her gusts abated.

“How can you be this way?!” she demanded, throwing a rock at the pond. The rock splashed in and sank to the bottom. No answer was forthcoming. “My life is ruined! Nothing will ever be the same, and I never asked for these special powers! If I don’t get this under control, they’ll take me out of high school and everyone will think I’m some druggie who’s been sent to rehab or something…” Sobs choked out her words and tears streamed from her eyes, ruining her pristine makeup. The air around her turned cold despite the sunlight on her skin. She wraps her arms around herself and sinks to the ground, crouching on the balls of her feet to avoid getting grass stains or dirt on her clothes.

As she cried, a grasshopper jumped onto her knee, oblivious to her distress. Samira screamed and tumbled backward. A blast of wind ripped the grasshopper off her jeans and into the air, where it spread its wings and buzzed away from her, no doubt just as startled as Samira. She watched the grasshopper with a mixture of disgust and wonder. She’d always disliked bugs of all kinds, except for butterflies. But from a distance, the grasshopper almost looked like a butterfly, and it could fly, not just hop around and spit brown stains onto things.

She wiped her eyes and looked around her again. The meadow was still peaceful, completely unchanged by Samira’s wild emotions. A light breeze rustled the willow branches and created tiny ripples on the pond. A pair of birds chased each other through the air, twittering and scolding at one another as they performed effortless acrobatics.

“I wonder…” Samira murmured as she watched them fly. An idea was beginning to hatch in her brain. Maybe she was missing the parasailing in Florida, but that might not suck quite as much if she figured out how to use these new powers to fly. Was that even a thing she could do? Samira felt a new determination to try to find out. She settled into a more comfortable seat on the ground; thanks to the grasshopper, her clothes were probably already dirty and stained, so what was the point in continuing to try to keep clean? Instead, she tried to remember what Grandma Layla told her about breath control.

“To control your power, you must first control yourself,” Grandma Layla’s words echoed in Samira’s head. Samira had thought the idea ridiculous a few days ago. She’d always prided herself on her self-control, her ability to keep going and make things happen and not say whatever was on her mind. Many girls at school had wanted to be cheerleading captain, but Samira had succeeded because of her hard work, dedication, and self-control. But keeping her emotions under control, and keeping the wind under control, had been more challenging since that party.

Still, Samira resolved that she would try again. She breathed in slowly, counting to five, then held her breath for another count of five, then released her breath while counting to five. She repeated the breath cycle over and over, letting her gaze wander over the meadow. Her eyes focused on the wind in the willows, the way the air gently stirred the leaves. As she continued to count and breathe, she felt her heart rate slow and her body relax. The breeze in the willow branches and her breath fell into sync with one another. A bird landed on a rock near Samira’s seat and sang a short, sweet tune. A feeling of peace washed over her.

“Lift,” she whispered, still controlling her breath, as she willed the air around her to push between herself and the ground. To her surprise, it worked; she floated a few inches off the ground for a moment before losing focus due to surprise and delight and plopping back down with a thump. She grinned broadly, unbothered by the damp earth beneath her. Being able to control the air with intention was a game changer for her. She bounced to her feet and started back toward the farmhouse. Although it wasn’t dinnertime yet, she couldn’t wait to show her grandparents what she’s learned and find out what else she might be able to do.