Drawing the X and Circle

Lillypad smoothed out a fresh sheet of paper on her desk, the afternoon sun casting a warm, golden glow across the smooth wood. She’d gathered her brightest crayons, the waxy scent filling the air with a comforting familiarity. The news reports had been so exciting, so full of wonder, and the idea of meeting a star cat named Cathy, a queen who could grant wishes, felt like the most wonderful fairy tale come to life. But first, she had to play the game, the peculiar ritual that the reporters had described with such curious detail.

Her heart thumped a little faster as she picked up a deep blue crayon, the color of the twilight sky. The first step was to draw an ‘X’. She held her breath, concentrating with all her might. Her hand moved, sketching a bold, confident line from one corner of the paper to the other. Then, with a slight shift, she drew another line, crossing the first to form a perfect ‘X’. It looked like two pointy triangles joined at the tips, or perhaps a tiny, sleepy butterfly.

Next came the circle. She chose a bright yellow crayon, like the sun on a summer day. She carefully guided the crayon around, creating a smooth, unbroken loop. It sat right in the center of the ‘X’, like a golden sun peeking out from behind two blue wings. It was simple, really, just a few lines on a piece of paper, but Lillypad felt a hum of anticipation building inside her. This wasn't just any drawing; this was the beginning of something magical.

Now came the part that made her giggle a little. She had to write the word "rainbow." She switched to a vibrant red crayon, the color of her favorite ladybug. Her handwriting wasn't the neatest, but she tried her very best, each letter forming slowly and deliberately. R-A-I-N-B-O-W. She imagined all the colors of a real rainbow swirling together as she wrote. She imagined them dancing within the lines of her drawing, filling the simple shapes with a secret magic. She even added a little sparkle with a silver crayon at the end of the word, just in case. The paper was now a cheerful mix of colors, a small, hopeful beacon on her desk.

She looked at her creation, a shy smile spreading across her face. It was beautiful, in its own special way. It was a promise, a secret handshake with the unknown. She imagined the Rainbow Friends, whoever or whatever they were, peeking at her drawing, nodding their approval. Were they made of light? Were they shy and quiet, like the whispers on the wind? The thought of them being real, of them being part of this game, sent a shiver of excitement down her spine.

Lillypad carefully placed the drawing on the edge of her desk, right by the window where the sunbeams still danced. She then went to the kitchen, her footsteps light and quick. She found a small plastic cup and filled it with cool, clear water from the tap. The water shimmered as she carried it back to her desk, her eyes fixed on the cup, determined not to spill a single drop.

She set the cup down next to the drawing. The next step was to mix the drawing with water. This felt like the most mysterious part. She dipped the tip of her finger into the water, then gently touched the paper, right in the middle of the yellow circle. A tiny, dark spot appeared where the water met the crayon. She traced the edges of the ‘X’ with her wet finger, watching as the colors began to soften and bleed, a little bit of the red and yellow swirling into the blue. It wasn’t a messy disaster, but a gentle transformation, as if the paper was sighing and letting go of its solid form, ready to become something else.

With the paper slightly damp, she carefully lifted it and, with a deep breath, placed it on the smooth surface of her desk. It lay there, a little wrinkled, a little faded, but still holding its form. Then came the part that felt like a secret whispered between friends. She had to bow down. Lillypad knelt beside her desk, her knees pressing into the carpet. She lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the damp paper.

And then, she had to say the words. The words that the news reporters had repeated, the words that held the key to unlocking the magic. She spoke them softly at first, her voice barely above a whisper, then a little louder, with more conviction.

"Oh, Rainbow Friends," she began, her voice clear and steady, "are you going to send your grant?"

She kept her head bowed for a moment longer, listening. The only sounds were the gentle ticking of the clock on her wall and the distant chirping of birds outside. There was no immediate answer, no grand display of magic. But Lillypad didn’t feel disappointed. She felt a quiet sense of accomplishment. She had done it. She had followed the steps. She had played the game.

She slowly rose from her knees, her eyes still fixed on the paper. It looked much the same, only now it held a new kind of significance. It was a bridge, a connection to something she couldn't quite see but could feel humming in the air. She carefully picked up the paper, the dampness making it feel fragile. Then, she walked to the trash can in her room and gently dropped it inside. It was a strange feeling, discarding something that felt so important, but she knew this was part of the ritual. The Rainbow Friends had been ‘fed.’

Now came the hardest part: trying to fall asleep. Lillypad climbed into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She closed her eyes, but her mind was buzzing with thoughts of Cathy, the star cat queen. She imagined Cathy’s fur shimmering like a thousand distant stars, her eyes like pools of moonlight. Would Cathy be kind? Would she be regal and grand? And the wishes! Twenty wishes! What would she even wish for? A magical treehouse? The ability to fly? The most beautiful collection of sparkly stickers in the whole world?

She tossed and turned, her imagination painting vivid pictures in the darkness behind her eyelids. She tried to relax, to let go of the excitement that made her feel all tingly. She thought about the tasks. Cathy would give her tasks, the news reporters had said. What kind of tasks would a star cat queen set for a ten-year-old girl? Would they be easy, like finding a lost button? Or would they be grand adventures, like crossing a sparkling river or talking to a grumpy old owl?

Slowly, as her body began to tire from the day’s anticipation and the effort of playing the game, her thoughts began to drift. The edges of her consciousness softened, and the world of wakefulness began to fade, replaced by the soft, hazy landscape of dreams. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of her pillow beneath her head and a whisper of hope that tonight, the fairy tale of the game would truly begin.