Once upon a time there was a pretty red hen. She was young and happy and looked forward to laying her first egg. On Tuesday, she tried to lay an egg, but couldn’t. On Wednesday, she tried again. She tried all that day, but her effort was useless. Finally, on Friday, she laid a cream-colored egg. In excitement, she clucked and squawked and flapped her wings. Lil’ Red had laid an egg! She caressed her egg lovingly and tucked it under her belly. “I’ll name you Stewie,” she soothed. Suddenly, the wall beside her opened and a huge hand stuck in and grabbed Lil’ Red’s egg. Lil’ Red flapped in fury, but it was useless. Hen and Chicks For days, Lil’ Red’s eggs were stolen. Days melted into weeks, weeks into months, and months into almost a year. Two days before New Year’s Eve, Lil’ Red decided to stop laying eggs. She was tired of getting her eggs stolen by the children, Molly Mae and Jason Jon. On New Year’s Eve, Mrs. Tatianna, the farmer’s wife, wanted to make a cake. Since Lil’ Red had decided to stop laying eggs, she wasn’t able to bake it. To make up for it, her husband decided to make a special rotisserie chicken treat. He strolled over to the chicken coop. Who should he butcher? Not Pam, she was the best layer. Not Jane, Katie, or Molly—they also were good. Finally, he came to Lil’ Red. “Aha!” he cried. “You’ll be roasted before you know it.” So that’s the tale of Lil’ Red, who got a knife put in her head.

A therapist tries to convince Madeline her only friend isn’t real They tell me you’re not real. I know that’s wrong. If you weren’t real, I wouldn’t see you, hear you, feel you. I didn’t want to go at first. It’s pointless. I know you’re there, and it doesn’t matter if anyone else does. But you tell me it does matter. You need help, and I need to help you. On the first day, I have to mentally prepare myself for whatever is coming. My sister leads me into a room where a pretty lady in a pretty blue dress is waiting. “Hello there,” she says. “I’m Dr. Amber. What’s your name?” She asks the question, but not like she actually wants to know. Just like something she’s saying. I glance at Emma, and she smiles encouragingly. “Madeline,” I answer. She nods. “So Madeline, your sister tells me you have a friend, is that right?” Her words are pretty. Her tone isn’t. “Yeah.” Obviously. How is this woman supposed to help you if she doesn’t even know who you are? You look at me, Emma, and raise one eyebrow. I never had to tell you what I was thinking. You always just knew. So maybe this will or won’t get better. But I’ll try anyway. For you. Because if I don’t want to help you, I must need fixing too. “Can you fix us?” I ask the doctor, not knowing what the response will be, or what I want the response to be. “Oh, honey,” she says, smiling sadly. “Of course I can fix you.” I grin. “All I need is for you to want to be fixed, and then it’ll be easy. I promise.” My smile falters. That wasn’t quite the response I was looking for. “Now, Madeline, what’s your friend’s name?” The question takes me by surprise. “Oh, um, Emma.” “And how long have you known Emma?” “My entire life. She was there before my parents died.” Dr. Amber nods. “I understand you’ve been through some things, but I’m going to ask you some questions, alright? And I need you to answer them honestly.” “Okay,” I say in a small voice. You nod reassuringly. “Madeline, do you think Emma is real?” “When did they die?” “I was three. They got in a car crash while my sister and I were at home.” “Has anyone seen Emma before?” “Not that they’ve said.” “Who’s been taking care of you?” “My sister.” “Were you in any sort of foster program or home?” “No, our parents had a lot of money, so my sister raised me off of that until she could start working to provide for us.” At this Dr. Amber frowns but nods and continues. “How old is she?” “24.” “Is Emma here right now? Has she been listening to our conversation?” “Yes.” Dr. Amber stands up and leans across the table. “Madeline, do you think Emma is real?” The concern on her face worries me, but I brush it aside. “Of course she is.” *          *          * The next time I visit (my sister makes weekly appointments), I am greeted by Dr. Amber and a tall man with unusually long fingers that wrap around mine when we shake hands. “This is Dr. Smith. He’s more specialized in pediatric care.” We sit down on the couch, and you are there too, yet the doctors pay you no attention. Dr. Smith clears his throat. “Ms. Madeline, I want you to understand that imaginary fr—” “She’s real,” I argue. You’re here with me now, aren’t you, Emma? Dr. Amber takes out a clipboard and writes something down. “Yes, of course,” he says quickly as if to cover up a mistake. Don’t worry, you aren’t a mistake. They’re wrong. They don’t understand how to fix you yet. “However, for this purpose, we shall refer to them as imaginary.” I frown but say nothing. Arguing won’t get me anywhere. “Now, when you’re younger, imaginary friends are the use of your creativity, if you’re lonely or need someone to talk to or play with. And that’s perfectly normal. Sometimes, they’re also from the effect of traumatic experiences, a way of coping. And based on what Dr. Amber here has told me, you have experienced some of these . . . experiences.” “Madeline,” Dr. Amber butts in and looks up from her clipboard. “Do you want Emma to go away, or do you like talking with her?” “I like her,” I say, smiling at you. More clipboard writing and pursing of lips. “As I was saying,” Dr. Smith continues. “Imaginary friends are not a bad thing when you’re younger. In fact, it’s a great way of learning how to better socialize, especially for those who are shy. But as you start to get older, they tend to come in the way of things, and that’s not good. So I’m going to give you a task, Madeline. I want you to go out, leave your friend at home, and tell them you need some alone time. Then I want you to take a class, go to the park, or do things similar to that. I want you to make one new friend.” “I have a friend. Emma.” “I know, but I think it would be good for you to have two friends.” I smile and nod my head, even though I don’t understand. You told me that, Emma. That I should go to these sessions to help you, but if something strange happens or there’s something I can’t understand, just smile and nod and you’ll talk to me about it later. I don’t see how making a friend will help you, but I guess there’s no harm in trying. “Oh, and,” Dr. Amber adds, “I presume it was just you and your sister at home? No one else?” “Just us,” I say. “She raised me. Goodbye.” I stand up to leave, but Dr. Smith stops me. “Where are

This piece contains some additional resources for educators. Click here to read them. The moon invites the animals to help light up the night sky One night, on a tall mountain, a river ran through a rocky forest. Everyone was asleep on the mountain except a bear, a mountain lion, a fox, an eagle, and a mountain goat. They were all sitting together, talking quietly by the river. Suddenly, the river slowed and was covered by what looked like a liquified moon. A tall figure appeared at the top of it. They were hooded, with a dark green cloak and silver cuffs and lining. You could not see their face. “I am the Moon,” said the figure. “And I have come to ask you for help. I cannot light up the night sky by myself.” They gestured to the east. The Sun refuses to give me any of their light to help me. So, I have asked you to help me.” The animals looked around at each other. They did not know what they would turn into, or where they would go. After a few minutes of arguing, the Moon interrupted them, hearing that they did not know where they would go or what they would turn into. “You will become what I call stars—balls of light in the sky to light it up. Next to me and the Sun. And with all your friends.” The figure pointed to the sky. The animals decided to help the Moon and become stars. They nodded to the Moon. There were many uncountable dots of bright light on the surface the Moon was standing on. The bear stepped forward first, putting a paw on one dot of light. He turned into glittering ashes which floated into the sky and formed a beautiful ball of light. “The first star,” said the Moon quietly. Then the eagle flew forward, landing on another dot. Then the fox and the goat came forward. The whooshing noises of them turning into ashes woke all the other animals on the mountain. They all came to see what it was. The Moon explained it all to them. They all quickly rushed forward, stepping onto the dots of light and becoming stars. Some became constellations too. The Moon laughed and smiled to see all the help they were getting. But once all the other animals had become stars and constellations, there was not a single dot left for the mountain lion once it was his turn. But once all the other animals had become stars and constellations, there was not a single dot left for the mountain lion once it was his turn. He looked at the bright sky. The stars and constellations looked bright and powerful. He looked back at the river and stepped onto its surface. He jumped all around the river, looking for a dot. The Moon noticed after a few minutes the mountain lion jumping all around the river frantically. “What’s wrong?” they asked. The mountain lion sat down sadly and looked at them. “There are no more dots for me to become a star or a constellation. I cannot help light up the sky with my friends. All the other animals got them, but not me.” Rothko Mountain “It’s no matter. I have something better.” They stepped away from where they had been standing to reveal a large puddle of green, blue, and purple behind them. The mountain lion looked back at them before stepping onto the dot. “Thank you.” He was whisked away into the sky with an explosion of color. As he looked around him, he saw he was leading a ribbon of blue and green and purple into the sky and past the bright stars and constellations. He had also become that ribbon. His tail and hind legs and everything behind his front legs were no more, only the ribbon. He ran through the night sky, looking to the mountain he had been on just seconds before, leading the northern lights behind him.   Additional Resources Summary & Analysis Discussion Questions Summary & Analysis “How the Northern Lights Were Made” is an origin story (or etiological tale) written by Roxy Pilcher, age eight. Etiological tales have been used for thousands of years to help cultures explain the wonders of the world. When humans are surrounded by the earth’s natural beauty, it is appealing to imagine how it all began. Roxy Pilcher uses this story to help readers understand a possible explanation for the constellations in the sky, how they bring order and art to the night landscape. Pilcher also shares an explanation for the beauty of the Northern Lights. The piece is written in the third person omniscient perspective. In this perspective, the narrator has a knowledge of the characters’ actions and can explain them. We see the Moon invite the forest animals to become stars in the sky because the sun refuses to share its light with them. A bear, fox, mountain goat, and eagle step onto the Moon’s glowing dots and turn into ashes that become stars in the sky. Awakened by the noise of the Moon’s work, more animals emerge from the forest and volunteer to become stars. When it is the mountain lion’s turn, he finds there are no more glowing dots—he will not, he thinks, be able to join his friends in the night sky. But Moon has saved something special for the mountain lion: the mountain lion will become the Northern Lights, running ahead as the green lights trail after him like a ribbon across the sky. How does the writer paint a picture with words? Pilcher uses a lush, dark palette of color to introduce the moon and the setting of this story: “Suddenly, the river slowed and was covered by what looked like a liquified moon. A tall figure appeared at the top of it. They were hooded, with a dark green cloak and silver cuffs and lining. You could not see their face.”