Angel of the Battlefield by Ann Hood

and science fiction and
Harry Potter
.” He stopped when he saw that confused look cross her face again. “All kinds of stories,” he said.
    â€œIt’s your turn to tell me a story now,” Clara said. She adjusted her long dress and leaned back, her face expectant.
    â€œI can’t really think of any,” Felix said.
    â€œDo you know any war stories?” she asked. “You must.”
    â€œWell,” he said slowly, “once I read about a war where Americans fought other Americans.”
    â€œLike the Loyalists and the Rebels?” Clara said.
    â€œUh, I don’t think so,” Felix said. Was there still another war he’d never heard of? Here he was, an American, and all these soldiers had died, and he didn’t know what they had been fighting for.
    â€œSo, not a Revolutionary War story?”
    Bingo! He knew about
that
war. “No,” Felix said. “This isn’t a real war.”
Not yet, anyway
, he thought.
    â€œSo it’s just a story. Like
The Lady of the Lake
.”
    â€œSort of. In this story, people who live in the South want to start their own country. They want their own laws and their own president and everything.”
    â€œThat’s silly, isn’t it?”
    â€œNo, Clara,” Felix said. “It’s very serious. They call it the bloodiest war of all time. And states are forced to take sides, to be either Union or Confederates.” Like all historical facts, the details were a bit fuzzy to Felix. He hoped he was getting it mostly right.
    â€œWhich side does Massachusetts choose in this story?”
    â€œUnion,” Felix said. “They want to keep the country unified.”
    â€œGood old Massachusetts,” Clara said. “Then what?”
    â€œWell, one of the things they’re fighting over is whether it should be legal to have slaves—”
    â€œThey had a war over that?” Clara said, surprised. “Does it end happily?”
    Felix thought about that. “Yes, I think it does. Ultimately. But only after a lot of people die.”
    â€œThat’s what happens in war, though, isn’t it?” Clara said matter-of-factly. She sighed. “Even so, I wish I could be a soldier.”
    â€œNo, you don’t, Clara. You don’t want to be on a battlefield.”
    â€œDon’t look so worried,” she said, laughing at him. “Girls can’t be soldiers, either, can they?”
    She lifted the poultice from his arm. “How is your arm feeling now?”
    He moved it cautiously. The sharp pain had subsided to a dull ache. “A little better,” he said.
    Clara placed the poultice back on his arm.
    â€œThanks,” Felix said.
    â€œUgh! What’s that awful smell?” Maisie asked. She was standing in the doorway of the barn, scowling.
    â€œIt’s my poultice,” Felix said.
    â€œWhat’s it made out of? Onions?” Maisie said, holding her hand over her nose as she walked toward him.
    â€œDid you find your—?” Clara asked politely.
    â€œOh, no,” Maisie said, looking directly at Felix. “There are no phones here.”
    â€œNo kidding,” Felix said.
    â€œI mean, we traveled a long, long way from home,” Maisie said.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œNo, Felix, I mean a
long, long, long
way.”
    â€œMaisie?” Felix said. “You’d better sit down.” He’d always wanted to say that to somebody like they do in movies, and this seemed like the perfect time.
    â€œYou know, then?” she said, unable to hide her disappointment over not being the one to figure it out first.
    â€œMaisie,” Felix said, “it’s September fifth—”
    â€œOkay . . . ,” she said.
    â€œ1836.”
    Felix and Maisie looked at each other for a long time. They could feel Clara watching them.
    â€œ1836,” Maisie finally managed to say. “That’s, like, after the