Notebook for Fantastical Observations by Holly Black, Tony DiTerlizzi Page A

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The view from my window:

The view from my window with a seeing stone:

This is what I would look like if I were a sprite:

This would be my sprite family:

He recalled something about people losing their way, even really close to home. . . .
    FROM B OOK 3: L UCINDA’S S ECRET

STRAY SOD
    When I was about twelve, I stayed at my friend Rob’s place longer than I should have. We’d been reading comics and making up new superheroes, like Monkey Man and Booger Boy, until we laughed so hard that chocolate milk shot out my nose and made me choke. When I looked at my watch, I realized I’d completely lost track of time and was going to be way late for dinner no matter what I did, but I thought that maybe there was a way I could avoid getting seriously punished.
    There was this farm between Rob’s house and my house and it was supposed to be haunted. My grandma told me that back in her day the family was pretty prosperous, but during the Depression the people who lived there wouldn’t share any of their food, even with kids who came begging. A couple of years later, the whole family got sick and died, one right after another. For a while,after that, there was a guy who tried to keep horses on the farm, but they always got spooked, jumped over the fence, and galloped all around my backyard and the neighborhood. Seriously. I used to sink my hands in the prints their hooves made in the mud. But, by the time I was coming home from Rob’s, no one lived on the farm.
    I figured that our parents told us the property was haunted to keep us from playing there, because it was overgrown and split by a fastmoving river. Even though the place creeped me out and I usually avoided it, my plan was to cut through and run all the way home. If it worked, I would be late enough to get a lecture, but not so late that I’d get grounded.
    I climbed over the old post fence and took off across the field. Long weeds and maple seedlings whipped against my jeans. A wind blew through the patches of trees, making them rustle in a way that sounded like eerie laughter. I ran faster.
    Here’s the weird thing about running—it makes you feel like you’re being chased. The faster I ran, the more I felt like there was something on my heels. I glanced back automatically and at the same moment, my foot dropped into a groundhog burrow. I went down hard on the dirt, twisting my ankle, skinning my hands, and knocking the breath out of my body.
    Getting up slowly, I felt pretty stupid. There was nothing following me, nothing to be scared of except shadows. But as I looked around, I wasn’t really sure if I’d been running in the right direction. I could hear the river and I could see clumps of trees, but none of it looked familiar. I started walking the way I thought was toward my house, but the closer I got, the more convinced I was that I still wasn’t going the right way. Panic rose in me, making my heart beat as fast as if I were still running. My raw hands burned where I’d fallen on them. I turned around, walked a littleways, changed direction, and then changed direction again.
    Then, across the field, I saw a light. Relief flooded me. It had to be the street lamp that was at the end of my street. I started toward it, not running because of my stiffening ankle, but walking pretty fast. I didn’t care about getting in trouble anymore or