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It had been three days since Ninny had become fully visible again. She could look in the mirror and, at last, see her face. It seemed entirely new to her. Her small, upturned nose, her deep brown eyes, her mouth that was just a bit larger than most people’s- they all felt just right, even if it was strange to see them again after so long. When did she last have a face, she wondered? A year ago? Two years? Maybe more? She smiled, just to see what she looked like smiling.
As she gazed into the mirror, a snide voice rang in her head: “If you have nothing to smile about, it’s better not to subject people to those teeth of yours.”
Immediately, her smile fell. Her teeth were fine- weren’t they? Maybe they were a little crooked, and one front tooth was slightly bigger than the other- but who had perfect teeth, anyway?
You know what you need to do, she told herself. She balled her hands into fists. She scrunched up her brow, and gritted her imperfect teeth into a grimace. That wonderful, terrible, red-hot feeling came flaring up inside her, and she saw her pale cheeks flush- a dreadful shade of crimson, but the more important thing was, they were visible. She stomped her feet and trembled all over, summoning as much rage as she possibly could, until her hair was bristling.
“You can’t tell me what to do anymore!” she shouted. The angry face in the mirror shouted back. She stomped around her attic room, and tossed a pillow from her bed. She swept a coffee cup off the dresser, and it shattered. She screamed, and kicked the walls, and yelled every word her aunt would lock her up for saying. Finally, she opened the dresser drawer. Inside was a silver bell, on a black ribbon. She grabbed it, ready to fling it out the window, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She sat down on the floor and sobbed as loudly as she could.
Anger was very, very important. It had given her face back. She had to be angry, or joyful, or tremendously sad- or else she could very well disappear again. She couldn’t go back to feeling nothing. Or else, that’s what she would become, all over again- nothing.
And so, she had to be everything.
It was exhausting.
-
When she found she couldn’t cry anymore, Ninny stared at the broken cup. It was irreparable. She stared at her hands, and counted her fingers- one, two, three, four, five on each hand. Good.
Moominmamma wouldn’t mind if the cup was broken. One less to wash, she’d say. Still, Ninny felt horrible. The family gave her tea and coffee, and pancakes, and apples, and all sorts of things to eat and drink- and here she was, breaking all their things! She swept up the pieces into a pile, and counted all her fingers again. They were still there.
Just to be sure, she looked in the mirror again. Her face was still visible, thankfully- but it was red and blotchy and stained with tears. Who would want to see her like that?
She decided to talk to Little My. They’d become quite good friends recently; Ninny never had any friends before. Everything Little My did was loud and intense. She wasn’t afraid of anything. Little My was the sort of person who would never become invisible.
Forgetting the cup altogether, she headed down the stairs. It was strange not to hear the bell anymore. She decided she hated it- but the silence scared her a little. She ran back up the stairs to grab the bell, and fastened it around her neck. That should have made her angry again, she knew, but she was too tired to stomp about and break things. Perhaps it was the kind of anger she could hold onto, letting it spark and simmer, until it grew big enough to explode out of her again.
Little My was outside, sitting in the apple tree. She was humming to herself, in between noisy chomps of apple. When she’d finished, she tossed the core down, and reached for another one.
What I wouldn’t give to be like that! Ninny thought. She wanted to wave or shout hello, but felt a horrible pit in her stomach. The bell suddenly seemed very heavy, and she regretted wearing it. She wondered how long she’d have to stand beneath the tree- alone and unseen. Little My finished her apple, and Ninny counted her fingers again. All still there- but her right pinky was looking a little faint.
“Are you just going to stand there all day?” Little My called, tossing the core over her shoulder. “What do you want?”
“I…” Ninny hesitated. She wanted to be fearless, and confident, and perfectly visible- just like Little My. But one couldn’t just say things like that. It was embarrassing to tell someone you wanted to be just like them. Especially someone who hummed and ate apples at the same time. “Do you think we could…”
Just ask to play a game, she told herself. Little My liked games- and so did Moomintroll. They wanted to play games with her.
But I’m not good at games yet, Ninny thought. I was just a disappointment. And she thought of her aunt again. For so long, she was told that games were improper and foolish- and now, here were people telling her they were absolutely necessary for staying visible! Too-Ticky was nice enough, she remembered, but never said anything about games to Ninny. She didn’t seem the sort of person who liked them.
“Well?” Little My crossed her arms. “Spit it out.”
“I’d like to-” Ninny gulped- “play a game. If you’re not busy.”
“Too bad,” said Little My, and leaned back in the tree. She picked another apple- one that was as big as her head. “I’m very busy right now.”
Ninny crossed her arms, too. “Well, that makes me angry,” she said. Surely that would impress her new friend. She stomped her foot for good measure. The bell jingled. “Do you see how angry I am?”
“Sure I do,” Little My said.
“Then- why won’t you do anything about it?”
“Don’t feel like it. I’m eating apples right now. Want one?”
Ninny had to get louder. This must have been a test, she thought. “No!” she shouted as loud as she could. “I don’t want any apples! I want to play a game! I thought you liked games!” And she picked an apple core off the ground and tossed it at Little My. She missed, but felt a horrible twisting sensation inside. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and tried to make herself look smaller. Then, she grew dreadfully alarmed. “I mean, I’m not! I’m not sorry for anything! Should… should I be sorry?”
“Nah,” Little My shrugged. “Throw another one.”
Ninny picked up an apple from the ground. She didn’t want to throw it at Little My. She didn’t even want to be angry- not really. She shoved it in the pocket of her new dress. “I won’t,” she said. “If you don’t want to play with me, I won’t play with you.” And she turned her nose up, trying to look very important, or rather, important at all. It wasn’t something she had a lot of practice with. Little My didn’t have to try to look important, she thought enviously. Little My never had to try with anything. You couldn’t pretend to be angry at her, because she somehow knew the real reason why you were angry- even if you didn’t.
Little My swallowed another bite of apple. “Come on,” she said. “I just saw you throw one. Why won’t you throw another? You’ll have fun.”
“I won’t,” Ninny said. “I’m too angry at you.”
Little My raised her eyebrows. “Disobedience!” she said. “That’s good.”
Ninny remembered something about disobedience. She had already eaten that day, but for some reason, she felt very hungry. She took the apple out of her pocket and stared at it for a long time. “It’s good?” she said quietly. “You really think so?”
“Course I do,” said Little My. “You should always be disobedient.”
Ninny shook her head in confusion, trying to make sense of that statement. The bell jingled. “Then I’ll be disobedient,” she said. “If you say so. Or… I won’t. Because you said so, and I’m going to disobey you. I mean…”
“Just get rid of that bell,” Little My said. “It’s not doing you any good, now that everyone can see your face. People ought not to wear bells, especially if they’re visible.”
“You’re right,” Ninny agreed. “I should get rid of it. Somewhere I’ll never find it again.” She glanced off towards the treeline. The woods weren’t as frightening as the sea, she thought. Too-Ticky said it was good to spend time there. Ninny hoped she’d be back soon.
If one was visible, Ninny thought, one ought to be brave. There was no reason to fear getting lost if people could see you. She felt a twinge of worry- her aunt wouldn’t want her going in the woods, or throwing away the bell.
If I did, Ninny told herself, maybe she wouldn’t even know I was gone.
“I’m going,” she said aloud. Just to be on the safe side, she laughed. “I’m so happy to finally throw that awful thing away! I don’t need it anymore!”
“Darn right, you don’t!” grinned Little My from the tree. And she picked another apple.
“Thank you, Little My!” Ninny said. “Thank you!” She smiled as wide as she possibly could. It felt odd; she wasn’t used to smiling, even when nobody could see her. “You’re the best friend I could ever hope for!”
“Huh,” said Little My. “I thought you were angry with me.” She watched Ninny curiously from the branches of the tree.
“I don’t care what I feel,” Ninny said, “as long as it’s big. That’s all that matters.”
Little My’s apple had a bruise, so she threw it as hard as she could against the ground. It landed with a satisfying splat. She didn’t answer Ninny, and instead started to hum what she called the This Apple Is Full of Worms Song (the lyrics were a work in progress).
“Goodbye!” Ninny cried, skipping off towards the woods. It felt good to skip- she imagined that was what one ought to do when they were happy. “I’ll see you later! I’m off to throw away the bell now!” It jingled along with her skips, but she pretended not to notice. She was happy now, she decided. And if she was happy, she had to be as happy as she could possibly be. She spun on her heel, laughing all the way to the forest.
-
As she walked down the path, Ninny found she quickly grew tired of laughing. She wasn’t quite used to it, and it hurt her chest. Her eyes were burning, almost as much as they did when she’d cried earlier that day. She laughed as hard and as loudly as she could, but soon, it made her throat hurt. She needed a moment to breathe.
Ninny sat down on a rock to catch her breath. The bell jingled in its awful way. She counted her fingers- one, two, three, four, five on each hand. Still visible. So were her feet, and her legs in their stockings. She could see the new pink dress that Moominmamma had sewn for her. All that was left to check was her face.
She stood up, and the bell jingled again. The mirror! she realized. It hadn’t occurred to her that there was no mirror out here. And she was all alone, which meant there was nobody to tell her that her face was still visible.
I need to feel something big, she reminded herself. She was frightened, but she supposed that didn’t count. After all, she’d been frightened all the time when she was invisible. She could be angry, but there was nobody around to be angry with but herself- and that probably wouldn’t help. And without a mirror, or somebody else to let her know she was still there, how could she be happy at all?
Before living with the Moomins, Ninny didn’t mind being alone. Her aunt hardly paid attention to her, so she was used to it. Being invisible wasn’t so bad then- it was better than being blamed and mocked for everything. Too-Ticky was very kind, of course, but she wasn’t the coddling sort. With her, Ninny got a bowl of fish soup, a warm fire, and a roof over her head, and that was that. For a long time, Ninny felt it was better not to bother people with improper things like big feelings- and most of all, she didn’t want to bother the only person who had ever been kind to her.
Now, Ninny desperately wanted to be seen by someone. Someone kind, like Moominmamma, or even someone like Little My, who was always honest and direct. She turned around, trying to find her way back to Moomin House. But not long after, she found herself passing the exact same rock again- at least, she thought it was the same rock. With a dawning sense of worry, she found she wasn't sure.
How does Little My do it? she wondered. How can she be so glad or angry all the time? Ninny had done her best to be just like Little My, but all it had done was wear her out. And now, she was lost.
Out here, without anybody around to see her, and without any big emotions to feel, she could easily disappear again. Maybe that would be for the best. She always broke Moominmamma’s things, even though Moominmamma was always nice to her. She wasn’t sure if Moominpappa liked her- or if she liked him. And Moomintroll had plenty of friends; surely he’d forget someone like herself. And then there was Little My. Is she actually my friend at all? Ninny wondered. Or did I just attach myself to her, because I wanted to be like her so badly?
She stared down at her hands again.
One, two, three…
Her fingertips were fading.
Ninny didn’t cry. She didn’t feel like crying. She felt like giving up. The grass was soft, at least. She lay down on the ground, and thought for a long time about being quiet again. Back with her aunt, it wasn’t so bad, being quiet. Whenever she spoke, there would be some awful, cutting insult to follow. Or worse, nothing at all. Being quiet was safe. You could never say the wrong thing if you never spoke.
It had been nice, at least, living with Too-Ticky and the Moomins. And it had been nice, however briefly, to have had a face of her own again. But she couldn’t feel such big emotions forever; she wasn’t used to them. It was simply impossible.
I suppose I’ve gone and disappointed them all again, she thought. She curled in her legs, and the bell jingled around her neck.
-
Ninny woke to a peculiar sound, somewhere in the distance. She blinked, and rubbed her eyes. It was music! She liked music; Too-Ticky was fond of records, and would put them on in the summer. (Ninny’s aunt had a phonograph as well, but Ninny had not been allowed to go anywhere near it.) The important thing was, music meant people. Maybe she would be saved- and better yet, she wouldn’t be alone anymore.
She got up and followed the sound, her bell jingling with every step. She’d keep wearing it for now, just in case. As she walked, she wondered who could have been playing, and if they’d be nice enough to help her. What kind of person would be playing music, all the way out here? Maybe someone who doesn’t want to be bothered, she thought. Would it be better to be quiet or angry? Docile or assertive?
Whatever helps me stay visible, she determined as the noise grew closer.
She came to a clearing in the middle of the woods. Somebody had lit a fire, although now, it was just embers. The smell of something cooking hung in the air, along with burned cedar twigs and tobacco smoke. Ninny stepped forward, and discovered the source of the noise.
If not for the music, she wouldn’t have seen who was playing at all. Not that he was invisible, of course; his tattered green clothing just so happened to blend in with the trees. It was a snufkin, playing a tune on his harmonica. Ninny had never seen a snufkin before, but she’d heard plenty about a particular snufkin thanks to Moomintroll- and suspected this was the same one he’d often mentioned. She didn’t want to scare him, and carefully crept closer, hoping she wouldn’t interrupt his tune. He kept playing, and seemed to be completely unaware he was being watched.
Finally, he finished the melody. He set the harmonica down, and prodded at the embers with a stick. Ninny couldn’t wait any longer. Shyly, she crept into the clearing.
“Hello,” she said. “You can see me, can’t you?”
Snufkin (for it was indeed that particular snufkin) turned his head. He hadn’t been startled in the least. “Hello,” he answered. “Yes, I can see you. You’re wearing bright pink in the middle of the woods.”
“And my face? You can see my face, right?” Ninny asked breathlessly.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Ninny laughed with relief. Her face was still there! Somebody had seen it, which meant the rest of her was visible, too! “So I’m not invisible after all!” she said. “My face is still here!”
Snufkin sighed, and threw another branch onto his fire. “Can I help you?” he said.
Ninny felt her heart drop. She must have been acting bothersome again. But she couldn’t disappear- not now.
“Yes,” she said, as bravely as she could. “I want to get rid of this bell.”
“Get rid of it, then,” Snufkin answered. “You don’t need any help for that, do you?”
“Well…” Ninny began. He was right; she could simply drop the bell here, now that she was sure she was visible. She untied it from around her neck. Again, she held it in her hands, and felt the tears well up in her eyes. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not? It’s easy to get rid of things you don’t need, and I don’t know why anyone would have any use for a silly old bell. Just throw it somewhere far away, or better yet- there’s a little animal named Sniff who’d be happy to take it off your hands. You could give it to him, I suppose. He loves shiny things like that.”
“You don’t understand,” Ninny said, shaking her head.
“That’s what everyone says,” Snufkin replied confidently, “until they leave their old things behind and see how much better off they are for it. Good luck then. Farewell.” He leaned against a tree trunk, and pulled his hat over his eyes.
“I…” Ninny said, and clenched her fists. “I’m not leaving. You’re the only person I’ve seen around here, and I don’t want to be alone. I want to get rid of it- I really do- but I can’t do it by myself, because…” She couldn’t get out any more, and began to cry.
“Oh dear.” Snufkin lifted the brim of his hat, and tutted to himself. “I suppose you can sit here, at least for a moment. This isn’t just about the bell, is it? Did somebody important give it to you?”
“Important?” Ninny wiped her eyes. “Well, she certainly made me think she was important. But I wasn’t very important to her at all.”
“Oh dear,” Snufkin said again. Something in his eyes had changed. “Yes, you’d better sit down. Tell me who it was.”
“It’s my aunt,” Ninny explained. And before she knew it, she was telling him the whole story.
Snufkin turned out to be a very good listener. He remained quiet the entire time, only asking a question occasionally. He did not interrupt the story with his own opinions, nor did he make disinterested remarks. He did not cry, or laugh, or seethe, or express much at all. He took the whole thing very seriously- but not without a certain warmth that made him very nice to talk to. He listened as if Ninny were an old friend, although he’d never even met her before. Ninny was amazed; she wanted to talk to him. How could someone be so quiet and polite, and at the same time be so… visible?
“You see,” Ninny finished, “if I don’t feel something very strong all the time, I could disappear again. And I don’t think I’d be able to keep it up forever. That’s why I can’t get rid of the bell.”
“Hm,” Snufkin answered. “I wonder if there’s anyone who can keep that up forever.”
“Little My can,” Ninny said. “She’d never become invisible. She makes people see her. That’s why I want to be just like her.”
Snufkin looked directly at her. “Next time you see Little My,” he said, “try asking if there’s anybody she wants to be like.” He stood up, and doused his fire. “Maybe that will help you.”
A plume of smoke rose from the fire pit, and Ninny coughed. When it cleared, she could see the back of Snufkin’s hat as he walked away.
“Wait!” Ninny called. “Don’t leave me! I’m lost, and I don’t want to be alone!” She hurried after him. “Please don’t go!”
“It isn’t much of a walk back to the valley,” Snufkin answered calmly. “Just follow the path the way you came. When you come to a fork in the road, look for the blue pear trees.” He nodded. “Goodbye, then.”
Ninny felt a jolt of fear. “I told you not to leave!” she demanded. “You’d better come with me, or else I’ll… I’ll…I mean, you’ll be sorry! It isn’t right to leave people alone in the woods, you know! Especially people who could turn invisible!” She grabbed his sleeve, and dug her little nails into his arm. “If there’s nobody around to see me, how will I know I’m still here?”
“Please let go of my arm.”
“No!” Ninny tightened her grip. “I want you to see me!” She felt very proud of herself- that seemed to be something Little My would say.
“I can see you just as well if you let go.”
“Promise you’ll help me get rid of the bell first!”
He took a deep breath. “I thought I already had,” he said. “I told you how to get back to the valley, and I told you to ask Little My who she’d want to be like. That’s all you need to do.”
Reluctantly, Ninny let go. “I don’t understand how that’ll help,” she said sadly. “And you must go with me; if I’m alone for too long, I’m afraid I’ll lose my face again.”
Snufkin looked very serious. “I spend much of my time alone,” he said. “Do you think I’d ever become invisible?”
“I… I don’t know,” Ninny answered. “I haven’t known you for very long. But it’s not something you’re afraid could happen to you, is it?”
“Not at all.”
“I used to like being alone, too,” she said. “Well, I didn’t really like it. Choosing to be alone was better than being ignored by everyone. I’d be alone either way, you see.”
“Mm,” he said.
Ninny ran to keep up with him. She couldn’t deny she was a little jealous. It probably felt nice to be alone, if you weren’t afraid of disappearing. And it probably felt nice to have a break from big feelings sometimes. But I don’t know how to be alone, she thought. Not in that way.
“What do blue pear trees look like?” she asked.
“They’re quite easy to recognize. They're blue. You can’t miss them.”
“Oh,” Ninny said. “I suppose that makes sense.” She flushed, and looked down. “That was a stupid question, wasn’t it?”
“Of course not,” Snufkin said gently. “For all you know, it could have very well been the pears that were blue, and not the trees themselves. And if you looked for blue pears, you might find yourself even more lost than before.” He hummed to himself. “Come to think of it, the trees might not be so blue now; they're losing their leaves soon. And everyone knows what that means.”
Ninny blinked. “I don’t,” she said.
“Ah,” said Snufkin. “It means I’ll be going away. At first frost, I’ll be packing up and leaving for the winter. Or, you could say-” he smiled- “arriving for spring.”
“Leaving?” Ninny echoed. “On your own? All winter?”
“Yes,” he nodded.
Ninny thought of what it would be like to be outside and alone all winter, with no mirrors to look into, and nobody to tell her whether or not she was still there. It sounded miserable. She’d spent plenty of winters by herself, but that was back when nobody cared to know if she existed.
“Why would you want to do that?” she asked. “Spending so long all alone, without anyone to see you?”
“Oh, many reasons,” Snufkin answered. “Here, I’m a friend to some, a stranger to others, and an enemy to one very disagreeable Park Keeper. Depending on who I meet, I’m a poet, or a philosopher, or a musician, or a nuisance, or nobody of any importance whatsoever. That’s a lot of things for me to be, don’t you think? Almost too many.”
“Isn’t that nice, though?” Ninny asked. “For people to see you in so many different ways?”
“Sure,” he answered, “but when I’m alone, there’s nobody to determine who I am but myself. That’s the most important thing. And what about you? Have you figured out who you are to Ninny?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“I think you should try. If you do, you’ll never have to worry about being invisible again.”
“Oh,” Ninny said. She wondered if it was true. It sounded like a very simple thing from the way Snufkin said it, but the more she thought about it, the more difficult it seemed. She didn’t know who Ninny was. She’d been invisible to everyone for so long, even herself. She’d tried as hard as she could to be like Little My, but all that had done was tire her out. What if she found out who she was, and she didn’t like it? What if her aunt had been right all along, and she really was better off invisible?
She looked down to count her fingers again. “One, two, three…”
“All still there,” Snufkin said. “And your face too, and the rest of you as well. Remember, look for the blue pears. And don’t forget to talk to Little My.”
“And then I’ll be rid of the bell,” Ninny said quietly.
“Quite possibly,” Snufkin answered. “Goodbye now.”
He walked away. This time, Ninny didn’t try to follow him. She watched him disappear into the forest, wondering how to spot a blue pear.
-
Ninny walked back through the woods alone. She tried to hum- Little My always hummed- but nothing came of it.
What do I like to do? she wondered. She stared down at the ground, when something caught her eye. Mushrooms! There were chanterelles and puffballs- perfectly edible, and good for cooking, too. Ninny had learned to forage for herself (her aunt never cooked enough for her, and said that little girls ought not to eat too much), and had lots of favorite mushrooms. She picked them as fast as she could, shoving them into her pockets. It would be safe to bring the mushrooms to Moominmamma, she figured. Moominmamma would never tell anyone that they ate too much.
Ninny picked the last mushroom, and sighed. She didn’t feel any better. She was good at picking mushrooms, but that didn’t mean she liked to do it. If anything, it only reminded her of all the times she was so hungry, she had to sneak out and find food on her own.
“I guess I don’t like picking mushrooms very much,” she said aloud. For some reason, it felt good to say that. She didn’t remember the last time she really allowed herself to dislike anything.
That was something, at least. She continued on her way, her pockets full, and thought, I’m good at picking mushrooms, but I don’t like doing it. However small, it was something she knew about herself. What else did she know?
“My favorite color is red,” she said quietly as she walked, “and I like the Moomins and Little My. I also like candy, especially peppermints.” She came to a small stream, and skipped over it. “I’m good at playing hide and seek. I’ve always wanted a kitten.”
Ninny looked up. The sky was dimming, and she wondered how far she had to go. “I’m scared of the dark,” she whispered to herself, “and being locked in small spaces. I’m scared of lots of things, but I never cried until now. I try to make myself feel big emotions to keep from disappearing, even though it makes me very tired. I’d like to…” That part was hard. She tried to remember everything Snufkin had said, but she’d forgotten most of it, except for something about blue pears and a lot of “hms” and “oh dears.”
“I’d like to feel big things when the time is right for it,” she said. “That can’t be all the time, or else I’d just go back to feeling nothing at all.” If only she knew when the right time would be! She wished she had a mirror, to check if her face was still there- or that there was somebody around to help her. She listened for Snufkin’s harmonica, or for anyone else, but didn’t hear anything. There were still more things to know about herself; she suspected she’d never run out.
“I don’t like when people are mean to each other,” she continued. “That makes me angry. But I don’t get angry if people are mean to me-” she paused- “should I? Maybe I should. I don’t want to be invisible again, because I like being seen. If I think I’m disappearing again, I count my fingers...”
Ninny walked for what felt like a long time. She didn’t remember when she’d last walked this much, ever since Too-Ticky had taken her away from her aunt’s house. The whole way, she thought of new things she knew about herself- what she liked and disliked, what scared her and what made her happy. Most of all, she thought about being angry. There was still plenty for her to learn about that; it was a very new feeling.
I’ll have to ask Little My about that, she thought. But certainly Little My wasn’t the only person who got angry. Every visible person must have. That meant the Moomins, and Too-Ticky, and even Snufkin, she imagined. Of course they were able to get angry, but Ninny had a very hard time guessing what they’d get angry about.
She’d done a lot of thinking, so after a while, she felt she needed a break. Maybe that was okay. She looked around at the trees, which were turning all sorts of beautiful colors- red and orange and gold. There were more mushrooms sprouting from the ground, but these were the poisonous sort, and weren’t worth picking. Still, they were quite pretty. She could hear birds in the distance, and the crunch of leaves under her feet. She’d never thought about any of those things before.
Has the world always looked this way? Ninny wondered. She picked up a leaf, turning it in her hand. Maybe when you’re invisible, she thought, lots of things are invisible to you, too.
By the time she came to the fork in the road, the sun had almost set. She had spent a lot longer than she would have liked walking through the forest, lost in thoughts she’d never allowed herself to think before. On the path to the right, she saw the blue pear trees. She wondered if the pears were ready to harvest, and what they tasted like. For a moment, she thought about climbing the tree to pick one, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to tear the dress that Moominmamma had made for her.
The trees began to clear as Ninny walked down the path. Soon enough, Moomin House was visible- a tall silhouette against the sunset. Slowly, she came to the window, and looked inside.
There were the Moomins, sitting around their kitchen table. Little My was there too, and a furry brown animal with big ears and a long snout- that must have been Sniff. To her surprise, she saw Snufkin as well, looking just as relaxed as he did in the woods. Ninny couldn’t hear what any of them were saying, but they all seemed to be having a very nice time, talking and laughing over a home-cooked meal.
I hope they haven’t forgotten about me already, she thought. She stared at Little My, and remembered the question she was supposed to ask her. Who would Little My want to be like? Did she ever wish she could be less of herself, and more of somebody else? Ninny still didn’t understand how knowing the answer would help her get rid of the bell, but Snufkin’s advice about the blue pear trees had been correct. Maybe this would be correct, too.
Shyly, she knocked on the door (she hadn’t quite gotten used to the fact that it was always unlocked). A moment later, Moominmamma answered it.
“Hello Ninny,” she said. “We’ve just started dinner. If you’d like, I’ll make you a plate.”
“Yes, please,” Ninny said quietly. “I’d like that very much.”
She made her way inside, and sat down at the table. She’d forgotten how much her legs ached, from all the walking she’d done. Silently, she listened in on everyone’s conversation.
“All I’m saying is, Hattifatteners aren’t sentient,” said Little My. “So you could totally eat one if you wanted to.”
“I don’t know,” Moomintroll responded. “They always look like they’re watching you. And they make those boats. They have to be at least a little sentient.”
“What are Hattifatteners, anyway?” Sniff asked. “They aren’t plants, and they’re not animals, or trolls- and they’re electric, too.”
“They might be some sort of fungus,” Snufkin mused. “But they come from seeds, so I’m actually not sure.”
Little My smirked at him from across the table. “Would you eat a Hattifattener?” she asked.
Snufkin gave her a look. “No.”
“What about you, Moominpappa?” Little My demanded. “You spent a lot of time around Hattifatteners in your youth, didn’t you? Did you ever try to eat one?”
“I don’t like to talk about that part of my life,” said Moominpappa.
Ninny wasn’t sure what to contribute, or if she should contribute at all. She’d never even seen a Hattifattener before. She wondered if she could say something funny enough to make everyone laugh, or clever enough to make them admire her. Nothing came to mind, so she absently fiddled with the bell around her neck. She glanced at Snufkin, then Little My, but both of them seemed to be too absorbed in the conversation to notice her.
A moment later, Moominmamma came into the dining room, holding a plate of pancakes and jam.
“Here you are,” she said, and placed it in front of Ninny. “Do be careful, they’re still hot.”
“Thank you,” Ninny answered.
“Oh!” Moomintroll said. “When did you get here? You were so quiet, we didn’t even hear you come in!”
Suddenly, everyone stopped talking. Ninny looked down. Her fingertips were starting to fade again. “I…” she whispered. She hid her hands under the table, hoping nobody would notice them disappearing.
“I remember you,” Snufkin interjected. “We ran into each other in the woods.” He gave her a knowing smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too,” Ninny responded. She decided she liked Snufkin- almost as much as she liked Little My. She cut into her pancake slowly; it was still quite strange to have this much food every night.
“What a shiny bell you have!” Sniff exclaimed. “Can’t I- I mean, we- have a look at it? I’ll give it back; I just want to make it jingle! Just once!”
“She doesn’t want to give it to you,” Little My snapped. “Get your own bell.”
Ninny looked down. “Actually…” her voice trailed off. “Little My, can I ask you a question?”
Little My folded her arms. “You just did,” she said.
Ninny couldn’t help but marvel. Such confidence, she thought. I need to be confident too. The question was right there, on the tip of her tongue. But with everyone around, she found she just couldn’t ask. She knew that Little My would laugh at her, and Moominmamma would sigh, and Snufkin would hm with disapproval. Or worse yet, none of them would acknowledge her at all. That was what scared her the most.
“Well?” Little My said.
“I…” Suddenly, the question was gone. Ninny had forgotten it completely. She forgot everything, and it was just as likely that they would all forget her. All she could think of was her aunt’s voice in her head, the cold mockery and dismissal, the dark closet and the rubbery taste of half-cooked mushrooms.
“Hey!” Little My’s voice sounded far away. “You need to answer me, you know!”
Ninny could feel her heart pounding in her head. She knew she needed to get angry, or happy, or anything- but she could barely keep her thoughts together. They were scattering, drifting further and further apart like clouds. Everybody was talking, shouting over each other, but she couldn’t distinguish one voice from another. She looked down. Her hands were gone. And not only that, but her arms were fading too. So were her legs, and- she imagined- her face.
“It’s not my fault!” Sniff panicked. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Shut up!” Little My said. “It’s not all about you, you know!”
“Everyone, calm down!” Moomintroll insisted. “We can’t start fighting now; that’ll only make things worse!”
Snufkin was the only one who didn’t speak. He stared straight ahead at Ninny- or rather, at the bell. That was the only thing anybody could see now.
There was a bright red feather in his hat. It didn’t move. Ninny kept her eyes on it. My favorite color is red, she reminded herself. That was a good start. She decided to keep thinking: My favorite color is red, and I’m invisible right now. I want to get rid of my bell, but I’m scared. I’d like my new friends to see me again. I can become visible if I feel something big. Something that makes them see me.
Her hand floated to the bell. She kept her eyes on the feather in Snufkin’s hat.
I’d like to be just like Little My, she thought. Who does Little My want to be like? And why am I scared to ask her?
She was scared, she realized, because she already knew the answer. It was the reason why Little My would never become invisible.
Ninny took off the bell. She held it in her hand, and let it drop to the ground.
“She took it off!” Moomintroll gasped. “But then, how will we find her?”
“Does this mean I can have the bell?” Sniff asked.
“Maybe her head fell off,” Little My smirked.
“Just… fell off?” Moomintroll said. “How would that happen?”
“Don’t know.”
It was Moomintroll who picked up the bell. He held it in what he thought was Ninny’s direction. “Here,” he said. “Don’t you want it back?”
At last, Snufkin spoke. “Give her a moment,” he said. “I think that something is about to happen.”
Ninny breathed. Nobody could see her, or know where she was. She knew how to make herself visible again, but maybe that could wait. Slowly, she stepped away from the kitchen. She walked to the veranda. There were stars in the sky. Ninny reached her invisible hands up, and felt as if she were one of them.
She crept down the steps, and felt the grass under her bare feet. Then, she ran to the stream, picked up her invisible skirts as not to get them wet, and stepped in. The water was cold. She could feel it chilling her legs. It swirled around her, flowing off to places she could never imagine. Perhaps she could go with it, and nobody would have to know. It was dark, and she had no bell around her neck. She was free.
She laughed to the empty air, and splashed about. She ran onto the grass, her arms stretched on either side of her. There was an entire world to explore, and new feelings to discover, and songs to sing, and tears to cry, and games to play. And she could do it all, visible or not. As long as the bell was gone, she could do anything.
By the time she walked back to Moomin House, she felt every bit herself. I’m a person now, she thought. I’m really a person, even if nobody can see me.
Everybody was still there at the table. They’d gone back to eating their pancakes, which was just as well. Ninny could have a bit of fun.
Silently, she crept up behind Little My, and reached over her shoulder. Trying not to giggle too loudly, she stole a pancake from her plate.
“What in the-” Little My gasped. She looked up to see the floating pancake. “Hey! Give that back!” She leapt onto the table and snapped her teeth at it, then made a flying leap and crashed onto the floor.
“You get back here!” she yelled.
Ninny laughed. “You’ll have to catch me first!” she taunted, and waved the pancake about.
“You bet I will!” Little My said, and lunged for the pancake again. This time, she grabbed it. “See?” she crowed triumphantly, and took a big bite. “You can’t play tricks on me that easily!”
“But I did trick you, didn’t I?” Ninny said.
“I guess so,” Little My said, and smirked. “Not bad.”
“Look!” Moomintroll said. “She’s back!”
And it was true. Ninny was visible again, a proud look on her face. It had come as no surprise to her- she knew exactly what would happen.
“So she is,” Little My said, and took another bite out of the pancake. “You think you could teach me to do that?”
“Only if you teach me all of your pranks!”
“Never!” Little My said. “But we can team up if you want. I’d like to pay a visit to that aunt of yours. I already have lots of ideas on how we can get back at her.”
Ninny gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
Little My was grinning ear to ear. “You bet I would!” She gave Ninny a conspiratorial wink. "Tomorrow morning, I'll tell you the plan. By the time we're through, she's going to regret every single time she ever ignored you."
“Such dreadful young girls!” Moominpappa said, shaking his head.
Moominmamma poured him a cup of tea. “I think they’re darling,” she responded.
“He’s right, though!” Ninny cackled. ‘We are dreadful!” And this time, it was Little My who looked at her with admiration. By the window, Snufkin watched with a content smile on his face, as if he'd expected all of this to happen (and Ninny suspected he did).
Moomintroll held the bell in his hands. “You left this behind,” he said to Ninny. “Do you still want it, in case you become invisible again?”
“Not anymore,” Ninny said. “I think I’ll be okay without it.”
“I won’t!” Sniff exclaimed from his seat. “Can’t I have it? Please?”
Moomintroll tossed him the bell, and he jingled it happily. He admired himself in its shiny surface, and at last tied it around his own neck. Once Sniff had claimed something for his collection, it was his forever. And if he tired of a bauble, it would simply get lost amongst all his things, and never be seen by anyone again.