Shiny #4

Shiny #4 begins with “Being Bella Wang” by Bren MacDibble, narrated by Sienna, one of a set of clones of Bella Wang. To the clone-sisters she’s The Mother, and to the world she’s Bella Wang, Australia’s Sweetheart Golfer. Bella Wang had herself cloned for a single purpose: to raise golf champions. The girls’ interests mean no more to her than the girls’ names for themselves. To her, they are all Bella. And they live for golf. Period.

In their interminable rounds of competition golf, Bella and her clone-daughters have arrived in Bali where Juliet, the 16-year-old eldest clone, ran away to join a starvation cult in preference to the enforced life as a golf champion. Juliet briefly greets Sienna and is happy to see her, though she herself is much too thin, and quite anxious. She runs off. When Sienna returns to the hotel, she does not tell Bella that Juliet is there but whispers to their 11-year-old sister, Vivi, that Juliet asked about her, even though she didn’t. Of the sisters, only six-year-old Sassy seems to have the drive to be a sports star like Bella Senior.

Sienna later catches sight of Juliet at a walled compound. Because of her resemblance to Juliet, she is let past the gate. To her dismay, she discovers a dirty place full of thin, ill young people, then she meets Tjak, a manifestation of a Balinese mythological figure, and things turn both strange and tense. Sienna has no interest in golf; her passion is bringing the sisters together. But can she? In this short tale, MacDibble expertly evokes an exotic locale full of magic, as well as vivid, interesting characters with a strong bond.

Michael Merriam presents in “All the Leaves Your Bed” a dying tree and Danielle, a girl on the verge of adolescence who is experiencing physical difficulties that she fiercely rejects. Her mother wishes to be protective, but Danielle wants to climb trees. She finds her way to the dying tree, who wishes to hand off its experience and wisdom to a being with enough capacity to embrace its vision. And here, climbing up through its branches, is Danielle…who is not strong enough to stay in the top of a tree.

Merriam deftly skirts the well of sentiment that could so easily have drowned this story, and takes it to surprising places. There is an image near the end that is simply breathtaking. It might have been best to end there; the actual ending is more of a setup that one finds in the first chapter of a book, because the questions raised are so fascinating they just about overwhelm the story. Meanwhile, there is no resolution to one of the key emotional relationships, and the other is abruptly bridged. Despite this caveat, it is a strong story, and Merriam has a sure touch for the voice of young protagonists.

In Rhonda Parrish’s “Skitter Skitter,” Chloe and Melody are teens assigned to work on a report together. They are investigating a house where a terrible murder took place, and Chloe describes the experience as they make their way in. Parrish does a great job with teen exasperation as Chloe describes their progress, often talking in the purple clichés (“I feel a chill down my spine that touches my very soul”) of teen writing, in spite of Melody’s phlegmatic interruptions.

We learn through this dialogue that the house was built in 1923, and that a girl named Katie Cyr lived here with her parents, and died in such a horrible manner her mother committed suicide and her father was locked in an asylum. The house was turned into a museum. The girls are determined to get an A, so they’ve sneaked in rather than waiting for a tour. The girls reach Katie’s room, and we learn what horrible state Katie had been left in as the girls argue—Melody is certain Chloe can’t imagine Katie’s pain, because Chloe didn’t research pain like Melody did. Then Melody touches the mirror that has to have reflected the dreadfulness that occurred to Katie… nd that’s when things bend. The rest will please readers who like the illogic of go-for-the-grue horror.