Half the Blanket, All the Warm

Round and round went the light. It swept over the water, over the rocks, over the low gray roofs of Lighthouse Island, and in at the little window where Nico sat. Nico was a sea fairy, no bigger than a teacup, with wings like clear leaves and a mop of seaweed-colored hair.

Every evening she climbed the stairs to the lamp room and polished the big lamp with a soft cloth until it shone. The room smelled of salt and rope and warm oil. Pop, went a bubble in the lamp oil. Shhh, went the sea, far down below the rocks.

"Sweep, sweep, sweep, goodnight, sea," said Nico, and the beam swung out over the water. She waited. Every evening, someone answered her.

"Goodnight, sea," said Priya. Priya was a puffin, round and black and white, with a beak like a small orange boat. She waddled up the last stair and flumped down on the cushion in the window.

Nico had a cuddly toy up there too, a small knitted star, soft as a sock, and it sat on the sill between them. She had had it since she was very small, and the yarn on one point had gone fuzzy from holding.

The cushion was Nico's blanket, folded small and soft. It was the only warm spot on the windowsill. Nico liked to sit on it. Priya liked to sit on it too.

"That's my cushion," said Nico. "I was here first," said Priya. They sat on it anyway, one at each end, and neither of them said the goodnight words.

The beam went round. The sea went shhh. The moon came up and sat in the window like a round yellow lamp. Nico looked at Priya. Priya looked at the wall. Their two backs were very straight, and they both felt a little bit too big to be sitting like that.

Nico said the goodnight words very quietly, all by herself. "Sweep, sweep, sweep, goodnight, sea." Nobody answered. The knitted star on the windowsill looked a little less shiny than before.

Nico wiggled her toes. They were cold. She thought about Priya's feet, orange and always colder. Then Nico picked up one corner of the blanket, the way you do when you want to say something without saying it, and held it out.

"Here," said Nico. "You can have half." Priya blinked one round eye and then the other. "I'm sorry I said I was here first," said Priya. "I'm sorry I said it was mine," said Nico. "It's ours."

So they sat on the blanket together, Priya's cold orange feet tucked underneath and Nico's clear wings folded up small, and Nico set the knitted star in the middle, where either of them could reach it. Then they said the goodnight words, both together, louder than they had said them all week. "Sweep, sweep, sweep, goodnight, sea." "Goodnight, sea."

Far out on the water the bell buoy rang. Ding, ding, ding, it went, all the way across the calm, glassy sea. The light swept over it, and the moon rode along beside it, round and silver.

Priya yawned. Yawwwn, went Priya, a big round puffin yawn. Nico yawned too, a tiny teacup yawn, and her wings went soft and slow.

"Do you hear the sea?" whispered Nico. "It's saying shhh." "That's the sea saying goodnight," whispered Priya.

The beam swept round again, slow and soft, over the water, over the rocks, over the two friends on the windowsill under one blanket. Nico's wings folded smaller and smaller. Priya tucked her beak down into her feathers. Between them, the little knitted star was warm. And the last goodnight words came out of them both, quiet as the moon in the window.

"Sweep, sweep, sweep, goodnight, sea." "Goodnight, sea."