In theory Lucy should probably be doing homework in her shiny new notebook; in practice she is, instead, doodling a flower in the left margin.
I like you being you too! When I finalize my choices, will I just vanish into thin air on the spot?
If you choose to go somewhere else, yes! Oh, do you mean to use that as proof to your family that you're telling the truth? That makes sense!
Yeah, that's what I was thinking! Oh, is there anything built in to cover, like, the...legal and social ramifications of my disappearance? I don't really want to take up space on, I dunno, a milk carton, that could go to some real missing kid.
It's not exactly a guarantee, but the Spirit does try to make sure that the response to your disappearance is more like what you would have wanted.
Ok, cool, thanks.
Lucy takes a moment to sit back and think. --Then she picks up her pencil again and writes,
I think I'm good, like, choices-wise, but I'm gonna wanna take a while to, like, explain things to my mom and brother, and make sure I don't leave anything unfinished that I'll feel foolish about when I arrive--like, I should clean my room before I go, then I can just leave it like that even if it takes me more than a year to come back, and everything will be where I left it. Do you get bored? Should I, like, copy poetry into you or something?
I don't get bored! I'm very patient. I do like poetry though! I would appreciate a poem if you have the time.
Sure!
She happens to have Jabberwocky memorized, so she does that one first, then goes to a bookshelf and pulls a book of poetry off it and--hm.
Oh hey actually--when I go, can I, like, bring stuff with me? If I can't that's fine but if I can I'll want to pack a small bag or something.
Oh, thank you! It's so pretty and fun!
You'll bring whatever you're wearing or carrying when you leave.
Lucy will copy out the poems from her book, then, and then go grab her backpack and empty it of most of the school stuff it was filled with.
She puts back in:
- Several ordinary pencils
- Two pencil sharpeners in case one breaks
- Several pens
- Several mechanical pencils
- Her least-used big pink eraser
- Three blank notebooks
- The book of poetry she was copying out of for the Notebook.
That's not everything she's going to want to bring but it's a good start and it's the items she has most immediately to hand.
Then she goes to find her mother and brother and explain that instead of finishing high school she's going to go be a magical heroine in a fantasy world.
When she finishes, Wilbur is making an extremely evocative face of, "I don't even know where to begin to address this."
"Lucy..." her mother says slowly.
"Look, if I literally vanish right in front of you, without passing behind a scarf or whatever else, will this be sufficient evidence to convince you that magic is real and this is actually happening," Lucy asks.
"Let us suppose for the moment that it will. Lucy, if you do this thing and you do not vanish, have you given any thought as to what you'll conclude about that?"
"...Nnnnno because I'm pretty convinced this is real. Uh. I guess I would...ask the magic notebook why it didn't work?"
"It's just, you understand, having hallucinations that your notebook is writing back to you is much more likely, on priors, than," Lavinia gestures helplessly, "this?"
"--Okay, yeah, granted, that's fair, but still."
"If you want to pack for a magical adventure I don't see any harm, and if you do, in fact, magically vanish in front of my eyes then I suppose I will worry about you only a Secrets of Droon amount and not a call-the-cops-my-child-has-been-abducted amount. But if you do not vanish, you have to do your homework, and if you are still experiencing your notebook writing back to you this time tomorrow without any externally confirmable magic to show for it then I'm taking you to see--I don't know, someone. A doctor. I will have to look up what kind of doctor is the most appropriate for if your child is hallucinating. Alright?"
Lucy puffs out her cheeks. "Fiiiiiiine." She can probably show Mom and Wilbur the notebook if things get to that point, they hadn't been dead set against it.
She packs some more stuff, cleans her room, packs a couple of things she thought of while cleaning her room, packs some stuff her mother and brother suggest, then changes into an outfit that (a) is clean, and (b) she'd like to bring with her, and sits down in the living room with her family looking directly (albeit somewhat skeptically) at her.
And then she opens the magic notebook to the last page they were talking on, and writes
I'm ready.
Good luck! I hope you have a wonderful time! ♡
The notebook shimmers with an ethereal light, and then so does Lucy, and then she ripples like a distant mirage as her powers begin to activate. It's less like she's merely vanishing, and more like someone is rolling up the canvas onto which her very being is painted and sliding it into a tube for transport. There is a sense, watching her, that you're seeing something that fundamentally wasn't meant to be seen; that you are witness to one of the deepest and most fundamental mysteries underlying the cosmos.
—and then the light winks out, and it's just an ordinary living room, filled with ordinary things; but no Lucy, and no notebook.