That Was So Last Season

No way was Aru going down those stairs first. And Mini looked like she was about to faint.

“Age before beauty,” said Aru, grinning at Boo.

Sherrilyn, her babysitter, liked to say that line whenever the food trucks came to the museum and she wanted to order before Aru. Aru didn’t mind, though. At least it meant someone thought she was pretty. With a pang, Aru realized she hadn’t thought about Sherrilyn since the second she lit the lamp. She hoped she was okay.

Boo grumbled, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he flew into the darkness complaining about the “privilege of youth.” “In my day, we treated our elders with respect!” he huffed.

Aru and Mini walked down the steps. For the first time, Aru felt…hopeful. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like she’d done anything heroic beyond trying to save herself.

But she had two companions on her side, and so far, aside from lighting the lamp, she hadn’t made anything worse. Was she a heroine if all she did was fix a mistake she made? Or was it heroic because she was willing to fix it in the first place?

Aru wasn’t sure what to expect ahead. The category THINGS YOU NEED seemed to cover a wide range of possibilities. For example, she needed water, sleep, food, and air.

At the bottom of the staircase, wind rushed past her. But it felt like three different things one after the other. At first, it was a gust of hot desert air that left her throat parched. Then it became the kind of sticky, humid air that felt like summer in the South. Her pajama top clung to her back, damp with sweat. In the next second, frost spangled across her skin and Aru shuddered with cold.

Beside her, Mini inhaled sharply.

Aru looked up, her eyes widening. Here there were no shopping aisles, just forest.

Aru and Mini stood in the center, Boo circling overhead. Around them, the forest was divided into six pieces, like a pie. In one section, frost sleeved the tree branches and icicles dangled like ornaments. In the next, a heavy downpour of rain made the trunks difficult to see. The third section was a riot of blossoms, the rich earth bursting with flowers and perfume. The fourth section was bright and dry, sunlight dappling the leaves. In the fifth, the leaves had turned scarlet and gold. The sixth section was a rich dark green.

“Where are we?” asked Mini.

“It’s like we’re stuck in all the seasons,” said Aru, her voice soft with awe.

“We are,” said Boo. “We’re in the Court of the Ritus. The Six Seasons. Be on guard. They’re brilliant, but horrible.”

Aru’s heart raced. “Why? Do they eat people?”

“Worse,” said Boo, his feathers ruffling. “They’re artists.”

“I thought there were only four seasons?” asked Mini.

“Four?” repeated a voice from somewhere in the trees. “How boring! How bourgeois!”

“I don’t know about that,” said another voice, this time behind Aru. “I could make summer endless. Imagine that. An installation of infinite fire.”

“People would burn up,” said the first voice.

“Good! I don’t like people anyway.”

Figures from two different seasons made their way toward Aru, Mini, and Boo. A pale-skinned man with frosted hair and silver eyes sauntered forward first. He wore a shiny blazer and pants that looked as if they were made of glass. When he came closer, Aru saw that it wasn’t glass, but ice. Fortunately, it wasn’t see-through, but white.

“I’m Winter,” he said coldly. “I’m underwhelmed by your acquaintance.”

“Summer,” said the other, extending a warm hand.

As Summer turned, the light seemed to change the spirit’s facial features from feminine to masculine and back again.

Aru’s confusion must have showed, because Summer shrugged and said, “Hotness doesn’t belong to any one gender.” The spirit winked before flipping their bright gold hair over one shoulder. Summer wore a tunic of flames. Their skin was the color of a smoldering ember, red-veined with fire.

“Why are you here?” Winter asked the girls. “Did that wretched sign bring you? Because we’re not in the mood to design anything. Especially not for random people who haven’t made an appointment. Besides, the inspiration to create just isn’t there, is it?”

“It certainly is not.” Summer sighed. “We only make dresses for the most fabulous of beings.”

They glanced at Aru and Mini, making it clear that they did not consider the girls remotely fabulous.

“You’re…tailors?” asked Mini.

“Did that just call us tailors?” asked Winter, aghast. Winter bent down to Mini’s height. “My little sartorially challenged slip of a girl, we are ateliers. We dress the world itself. I embroider the earth with ice and frost, the most delicate silk in the world.”

“I make the earth the hottest thing out there,” said Summer with a blazing smile.

From the rainy section of the forest, a third figure appeared: a gray-skinned woman whose hair clung damply to her face. She looked soaked to the bone, and delighted about it.

“I am Monsoon. I make the world elegant with a dress of water.”

A fourth walked up. Vines crawled over her skin. There were flowers in her hair. Her mouth was a rose.

“I’m Spring. I dress the earth in jewels,” she said haughtily. “Show me a ruby darker than my roses. Show me a sapphire brighter than my skies. Impossible. Our other two siblings, Autumn and Pre-winter, would join, but they are in the outside world, attending to a number of designing needs. All celebrities need an entourage.” She looked down her nose at the three of them. “But you wouldn’t understand that.”

“Do you always travel in pairs whenever you go into the world?” asked Mini.

“I will ignore the fact that you addressed me directly and will now face the empty space next to you to answer your question,” said Spring.

Aru thought this was a bit much and wanted to roll her eyes, but she controlled the impulse.

“Of course!” said Summer, looking pointedly at the air next to Mini. “One for the incoming season, one for the outgoing. It’s important to keep up with the times. Don’t you know anything about fashion?”

Aru looked down at the Spider-Man pajamas she was still wearing.

“Apparently not,” said Summer drily.

“What do you children want, anyway?” asked Spring, breezily.

“Well, we were hoping you could tell us?” Mini turned redder with each word. “Because, um, we were led here, and um—”

“Um-um-um,” mocked Summer. “You were led here? By a pea-brained foul-looking fowl? I’d believe that.”

“Puns!” said Winter, clapping his hands. “How devastating. How delightful. Chic cruelty never goes out of style.”

“Watch yourself,” warned Boo.

“Or what? You’ll poop on us?” asked Monsoon.

The four Seasons started laughing. Aru felt as though someone had grabbed her heart in a tight fist. It was the same acidic feeling she got when she was called out for not arriving to a school in a fancy black car. This was just like Arielle and Poppy taunting and jeering, making her think she was small.

But they were wrong. She was Aru Shah. Daughter of Indra. And yeah, maybe she had made an epic mistake, but that didn’t make her any less epic.

Most important: she had a plan.

They needed additional armor to reach the Kingdom of Death safely. Some extra weapons wouldn’t hurt, either. That’s why the sign had led them to the Court of the Seasons. And she wasn’t leaving without what she needed.

Aru grabbed Mini’s hand. Then she squared her shoulders and tossed her hair. “Come on, Mini and Boo,” she said. “I’m sure we can find better.”

Mini shot her a questioning look. Boo cocked his head.

“They’re not good enough,” Aru said, glaring at the Seasons.

Aru started marching through the forest. The Court of the Seasons was the size of a football field, but she could see an EXIT sign glowing in the distance. Even without looking back, she could sense the shocked gazes of the Seasons. She would’ve bet all her pocket money that no one had ever walked away from them.

“Aru, what’re you doing?” hissed Mini. “We need their help!”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that,” said Aru. “Bring out your compact. Conjure us some big sunglasses. And ugly hats. Things celebrities would wear.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” huffed Boo. “I don’t like groveling any more than you do, but this is no time to be proud.”

“Oh, I know what I’m doing.”

Aru knew because she’d dealt with it every day in school, that flare of not knowing where you belonged. That craving to be seen and go unnoticed at the same time.

Mini handed her a hat and sunglasses before jamming on her own pair. Even Boo got a pair of bird shades.

“These are ridiculous,” he snapped.

“We’re Pandavas,” said Aru, loudly enough for the Otherworldly spirits to hear. “We can do better than the Seasons.”

Leaves crackled behind her.

“Did you say…Pandavas?”

Mini slowed down as if she was about to turn, but Aru yanked her arm. “Let’s not waste our breath,” she said.

“Excuse me,” said Summer, stepping in front of them. Their voice, which had been blistering before, had turned warm and languid. “Maybe there’s been some mistake. Pandavas, you say? As in actual Pandavas?”

“Obviously,” said Aru, lowering her sunglasses and speaking to the air next to Summer’s face. “I thought you were designers. Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell the difference between real and fake things? We’re as real as it gets.”

Monsoon stepped beside Summer and glared at her sibling. “I knew the whole time. Rain is cleansing, after all. It reveals the truth.”

“Liar!” shouted Spring, marching over to them.

“I spoke to them first,” said Winter. “I suspected right away.”

“How can we help you?” asked Summer.

“Well,” Mini started, “we need armor, or weapons—” Aru nudged her.

“You can’t help us,” said Aru, waving her hand. “Could you please move? Your shadow is touching mine.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Monsoon apologetically. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Whatever,” said Aru.

“We can make armor and protection! I make the best!” exclaimed Winter.

“Hmm…” said Aru. She drew out the silence just a beat longer. “Prove it.”

Winter, Summer, Spring, and Monsoon nodded as one.

“And if my friend here”—Aru jerked her chin in Mini’s direction, who merely adjusted her sunglasses—“approves, then I’ll accept your measly and puny offerings.”

Winter nodded enthusiastically. He opened his hands, and a cloak of delicate ice unraveled before Aru. With a twist of his wrist, it became a diamond bracelet. He presented it to Mini in a black velvet box. “Throw this on anything, and it will freeze an enemy in their tracks. Plus, it’s an excellent accessory. Perfectly understated. Very elegant. Timeless.”

“I have something better!” announced Spring. “You may be Pandavas, but you are children still.” Aru narrowed her eyes, and Spring hastily added, “I don’t mean that in an offensive way, of course!”

Spring spread her vine-covered arms, and a cube knitted from a thousand flowers floated in front of her. She snapped her fingers, and the cube transformed into a fancy bakery box. She opened it to reveal two little squares each covered in pink icing with a flower on top. Petit fours!

“Bites of rest and rejuvenation,” she said proudly. “That is what I am known for, after all. From winter’s slumber I create life anew. One bite and you will feel as if you have had several days of rest. Your stomach will be full, and you’ll have no bodily aches and pains. It’s good for your skin, too. Please do me the honor of eating one, Pandavas.”

Curious, Aru took one of the cakes and popped the whole thing in her mouth. Instantly, her feet stopped hurting. She felt as if she’d just woken up from the best nap ever and still had a whole lot of afternoon left before dinner. It tasted delicate and floral, like one of those expensive rose-flavored cakes her mom brought back from her Paris trips. Way better than an Oreo. Mini ate hers, too, and a moment later looked like she was glowing.

“Well?” asked Spring expectantly.

“They’re…edible,” said Aru, taking the bakery box. “They will do.”

Monsoon cast a waterfall in front of them, then whispered a few words that shrank the waterfall into a gray pendant. Monsoon presented it to Aru.

“This is my gift to you, Pandava. Just as water can go anywhere and reach anything, this pendant, when thrown, will be able to hit any target, no matter how far away. But be warned: regret will always follow. It is the price of aiming true. For sometimes, when we take the deadliest aim, we are nothing if not reckless.”

Aru didn’t think it was fair that only her magical item came with strings attached, but it wasn’t like she was in a position to refuse it. The necklace floated from Monsoon’s hands and gently encircled Aru’s neck. It was cold and a little damp against her skin.

Summer bowed before Mini. “Pandava, please accept our offering as well,” they said.

The air shimmered. Thin flames erupted from the ground. They spiraled into coils and then braided themselves, forming the prettiest headband Aru had ever seen. It looked like it was made of beaten gold, complete with delicate roses and a glittering butterfly whose wings reminded Aru of stained glass.

“My season is one of lazy heat and forgetfulness ripening under a burning sun,” said Summer theatrically. “Forget can be a powerful tool for distracting an adversary. It can leave them feeling scorched and barren. Whoever wears this will forget something important.”

“But, um, can—” Mini stammered as she stared yearningly at the headband.

“A Pandava may wear it without fear.”

Mini nodded slowly, and Aru thought she could see a neon sign flashing above Mini’s head that said MINE! IT’S ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA.

The headband was nice and all, but Aru wouldn’t be caught dead wearing one. Headbands made her chin-length hair fan out weirdly around her face so that she ended up looking like a frilled-neck lizard.

By now, they had arrived at the end of the Court of the Seasons. Boo was staring at Aru, stunned. Mini kept touching her new headband and grinning.

Aru patted her necklace. “These things will do,” she said rudely. “If we find them to our liking, we will—”

“Recommend you to everyone we know,” finished Mini, smiling, before she realized she wasn’t supposed to smile. “But only if we like them. Which we might not.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Winter. “Can we, perhaps, get a selfie…you know, for the Instagram?”

Do it for the Insta! Also known as the rallying cry of half of Aru’s classmates.

“I hope they haven’t changed the algorithm. Again. My likes are plummeting,” moaned Spring.

“Sorry,” said Aru. “No photos.”

Winter’s shoulders drooped. “Of course, of course. Thank you for accepting our gifts. You’re most kind.”

“Most generous,” said Spring.

“Most lovely,” said Summer.

“Most…clever,” said Monsoon.

Out of the four of them, only Monsoon held Aru’s eye for a moment longer than necessary. But when she smiled, it was with approval, not suspicion.

Aru waved her hand like a pageant queen—rotating it slowly at the wrist—before the three of them ducked through the large gateway marked EXIT. The moment they crossed the threshold, the entrance to the Court of the Seasons closed up behind them. They were left standing in a tunnel covered in vines. A crowd of people shuttled back and forth around them. On their right, an exasperated winged woman screamed into her phone and then incinerated it in her fist. At the end of the tunnel, a herd of wild grocery carts ambled past.

Boo ushered them to the side of the tunnel. A mechanical golden insect whirred to life above them, opening its stained-glass wings and hovering so they were lit as if standing under a Tiffany lamp.

“That was awesome, Aru!” squealed Mini. She held out her elbow and Aru bumped it, grinning.

Aru felt a little better, and it wasn’t just because of those Spring cakes. At least now she knew that if they had to see that starry-tailed monster anytime soon, they weren’t totally unprepared.

Boo fluttered to Mini’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not how the legendary Arjuna would have done it.”

“I’m not Arjuna,” said Aru, lifting her chin. “I’m Aru.”

Boo puffed out his chest. “I know.”