Chapter Eight: The Time Curtis Could Fly
Bea had wound up staying the night with Catherine that Saturday and they spent the following Sunday talking and walking around the shops by the Hall. Sunday night came and Bea reluctantly headed home. When she arrived she was met by her mother who had been clearly waiting for her daughter to return.
"Did you have fun at the Royce's?" she asked as she helped take Bea's bag that probably had clothes that needed to be cleaned. "Come and talk with me while I wash the clothes," she suggested as she headed towards the kitchen table. The table was nearly spilling over with clothes from a couple of weeks at least. Mrs. Featherstone didn't really like cleaning the clothes and she would often wait until there was no more room on the kitchen table. When Steven had been at home she had to do it more frequently, but lately she was able to hold off even longer. Bea smiled with pride at the proof of her mother's procrastination as her mother stuffed Bea's clothes from the day before into the pile leaving one side to lean precariously.
Mrs. Featherstone started separating the clothes by color and gestured to Bea to lend a hand as she started, "Bea, I know you have always been really good about telling me things. I know it is hard being young and having a mom who is always looking over your shoulder but . . ."
Bea laughed as she interrupted her mother, "Mom, you are so funny. Listen, I wanted to tell you what was really going on Friday, but it was about Catherine, you know? I had to talk to her first to make sure it was OK with her that I tell you. I meant to tell you though."
Mrs. Featherstone's face lit up as she listened to her daughter. "So you were going to tell me? Of course you were going to tell me. Did you talk with Catherine? Is she OK? What happened?"
"Which question do you want answered first, mom?" Bea joked as she moved on from the reds that she had heaped into a small pile on the table and began work on the oranges. Bea began telling her mother everything that had happened, everything she knew, and everything that Mrs. Royce had talked to her about. Mrs. Featherstone had obviously been a little surprised to hear that Mrs. Royce had been so upfront with Catherine about the tracking of kids by the patrol fairies.
"Not all the fairies know that much about that system. All the parents know that the children are being tracked for their safety and our peace-of-mind, but only a few know exactly how that all works. I only know because I am a flier and we use the same system during missions. Catherine's mom must really trust her and you as well to share that much information with you guys. Don't go telling everyone OK? Catherine's mom might even get called in by the Ancients because sharing that much information with any fairy that has not been certified yet is frowned upon." Mrs. Featherstone clearly thought Mrs. Royce had done something that while not usually allowed, was still very admirable.
Bea was surprised to hear that Mrs. Royce had done something she was not supposed to do. Mrs. Royce was always perfect and the first to follow directions to the T. Bea had not been completely blind to the fact that Catherine didn't seem to get along with her mother the way Bea got along with her own. Bea would definitely tell Catherine what her mother had just shared with her. She had a feeling it would make Catherine feel pretty good to know that her mother was risking so much for her.
Mrs. Featherstone was gathering together the greens as she leaned in a little. She didn't bother to look up as she quickly asked, "So, Veronica's the one who took Catherine's bag out leaving her with no marker?"
"Yeah!" Bea was ready to share some of her anger at Veronica with her mother. "She is always doing something stupid like this. She is really terrible mom, just a monster. "
Mrs. Featherstone still didn't look up as she quietly suggested, "Don't let it get to you. Just ignore her."
Bea was surprised at this low impact response. Usually Mrs. Featherstone was very lively in their discussions and quick to be very understanding of Bea's stress and frustration. Was she imagining things, or did it seem like Mrs. Featherstone thought that Veronica's actions weren't bad at all? Bea was confused and upset that she couldn't vent a little with her mother about things. She was determined though to get something out of their conversation so she decided to ask her about the strange boy. She was equally surprised to find how quick her mother was in now casually sharing information about him.
"That would be James, James Zephyr. His whole family is a strange bunch. Its him and his older brother, John and his mom and dad of course. Mr. Zephyr used to work with your dad. They both kind of bonded when John and Steven were born since they had similar stories to share. Steven is a year older than John so Mr. Zephyr would often talk to your dad about how things were and what to expect since your dad was the one with the experience. Things were great until John started basic. Mr. Zephyr kept telling your dad how frustrated he was with the way things were at the school and on the island."
"What do you mean frustrated?" Bea interrupted her mother.
Mrs. Featherstone shrugged and continued, "Well, he thought the way things were taught was wrong and that the things the kids were studying was wrong. I'm not sure I completely understood what it was that he didn't like about things. I think James maybe just attended the first few weeks of basic with you before his mom and dad decided that they had put up with things long enough. They had gone to talk with the Ancients many times and the teachers and staff at the school. It was a real big deal at the time because not many fairies had ever really had a problem with anything like this before. But, the Zephyrs got permission from the Ancients to take the boys out of school and teach them at home."
Bea couldn't believe her ears. What was it that the Zephyrs didn't like about the school? How could it have been enough to make them want to remove their children from classes and teach them at home?
"But they still live on the island?" Bea was eager to learn more.
Mrs. Featherstone had given up on sorting the laundry as she turned towards Bea to share what little she knew. "Yes. They asked about moving to the Main Island since that is where Mr. and Mrs. Zephyr work, but the Ancients made it clear that they were already breaking enough rules by not having their children attend school. It is incredibly rare to ever find any children on the other islands, except for visits to the Ancients. They like to keep the younger fairies, you know, those who haven't been certified yet, on family islands. The ancients wouldn't hear of letting the Zephyrs move their children to the Main Island. So they were asked to stay here and stay out of everyone's way."
Bea suddenly felt sorry for James and his brother. "It must have been hard for James and his brother to live here and not see anyone. Were they not allowed to play with anyone?"
Mrs. Featherstone shook her head. "Nope. It was very strange, but I suppose it was for the best. They stay at their house most of the time and take care to not let the children out much while you guys are all out. I have seen them a few times running around and playing while you guys were all in school. At least they have each other, I guess."
"So, why do they dress in robes?" Bea asked.
Mrs. Featherstone took a deep breath and continued, "Well, that is part of what they believe. I don't know if I really remember all of what Mr. Zephyr would always tell your dad. The Zephyrs think that the dream fairies should go back more to the way they were long ago. So part of that is in wearing the more traditional clothing, like the Ancients do."
Just then Mr. Featherstone entered the kitchen and casually asked, "What are you two talking about?"
"The Zephyrs," Bea blurted out. She immediately regretted her quick reply when she saw the look on her mother's face. Mrs. Featherstone had been trying to flash Bea an expression begging to not tell her father what they were talking about, but it was too late and Mrs. Featherstone's face now looked like one of a child about to be yelled at.
"The Zephyrs!" Mr. Featherstone's voice changed so fast Bea literally fell back in her chair. A few pieces of laundry tumbled to the floor as he began to pace back and forth in front of the table. His heavy repetitive steps creating a
miniature earth quake in the kitchen. Bea hadn't really ever seen her father this angry before. He had gotten angry when she and Steven would fight and at the time she thought that was the scariest thing she had ever seen. Her father's expression now brought new meaning to the word angry, as he tried to check himself. He took a deep breath through his nose and leaned towards Mrs. Featherstone as he hissed, "Why were you talking to her about the Zephyrs when we had agreed to never mention them in this house?"
Mrs. Featherstone had usually found a way to always bring a little light to her face even when she and Mr. Featherstone would occasionally argue. This moment was very serious and it showed in Mrs. Featherstone's face as she softly answered, "I'm so sorry. I know, I know how you feel about them and I know we had agreed to not talk about them after everything. I'm sorry." Mrs. Featherstone searched Mr. Featherstone's eyes waiting for signs of the passing storm. Slowly his body relaxed and he pulled out a chair at the table, causing more laundry to tumble to the floor. Mrs. Featherstone took his hand in hers and whispered, "I'm sorry."
Finally Mr. Featherstone brought his gaze to her as well as he said, "Sorry I lost my temper. I just, oh, I really don't like talking about them. But, how was it that they were even brought into your guys' conversation here?"
The tension in the room had completely dissipated and Bea felt it was safe to answer her father. "James helped me find Catherine on Friday."
Mr. Featherstone grunted in surprise. "Figures he was out. Just can never follow any of the rules," Mr. Featherstone said to himself before continuing, "So, did you talk to him?"
"Yeah, just a bit. I mean, he talked to me. All he said was that he had seen Veronica take Catherine's bag out of the Edge as her marker and that we should go and find Catherine because she was probably freaking out." Bea was curious to see what her father's reaction to the whole Edge thing might be as she waited for his response.
Instead, there was no reaction at all as Mr. Featherstone's eyes ran back and forth along the floor in thought. "Hmmm, OK. So, Veronica. Veronica Iverson?"
Bea noticed just at that moment the gentle squeeze her father had given her mother's hand as he had asked about Veronica. She was ready with a question on her tongue when her mother interrupted her by answering for her, "Yes, Veronica Iverson. Bea just has to try to ignore her, not let her get to her too much."
Mrs. Featherstone suddenly stood up. She started picking up the pieces of laundry that had fallen to the floor. She started with the pile of whites and began the process of cleaning each of the garments. With one hand outstretched holding a dirty balled-up sock she set aim with her other hand. A line of fairy dust shot out and hit the sock. The sock quickly unraveled itself and then a rather thick line of dust hit it square causing it the sock to sparkle. The sock gave itself a little shake and in a moment it was clean. Well, pretty clean. That thick line of dust had hit a little too strong just in one spot causing that area to be blaring white while some of the edges still had a small trace of dirt. Mr. Featherstone stood up too and offered to lend a hand and the two of them started working through the laundry. Mr. Featherstone was very good with magic and, without even suggesting it, the job of unraveling the clothes was left to Mrs. Featherstone while the actual cleaning was taken care of by her father. Bea hadn't seen her father help with house chores like this very often and took it as a sign of peace between her parents for any earlier ucomfortableness. Bea tried to lend a hand as well and finished what little sorting was left.
They had gotten a good system going before Mrs. Featherstone finally broke the silence, "So, Bea, why don't you tell your dad and I about what it was like when you went all the way inside the Edge?"
"Does she finally know we know about that day?" Mr. Featherstone asked with relief. "I've been wanting to talk to you about that for years. Your mother always said we had to wait until you shared your secret with us or we would seem like the meddling parents. How was it?"
Bea spent the rest of the evening talking with her parents about that day when she and her friends were eight-years-old and had gone on the biggest adventure of their lives. It was a wonderful end to the evening and all the fun discussion had caused Bea to temporarily forget half of what had been brought up. But that night, as she lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, all the things that had been said by her mother and her father came flooding back into her mind. She had strange dreams with James Zephyr washing socks in front of her house and Veronica and Mrs. Featherstone drinking tea in the kitchen.
The next morning, Bea awoke from a very restless night. She was not looking forward to going to school. She was most not looking forward to seeing Veronica. But she tried not to think about it as she got out of bed and picked something simple and easy to wear to match her lazy mood. She grabbed her brush and started tearing at the tangles that had taken over her blue hair. She couldn't help but feel a little frustrated every time she looked in the mirror as she would recall the numerous times that she had tried to ask her mother if she could curl her hair like Catherine did. The answer was always in the negative, yet Bea kept trying hoping against hope that her mother would someday change her mind. So far, Bea had had no such luck and was left with her straight silky hair that fell down her back right over her wings. Bea felt her mood worsen with each brush stroke.
Since the prep school was so close to Catherine's house, Bea would always take a pod to the school and meet up with her friend there. They would usually try to meet up a few minutes before the first class to have some time to chat. Bea, despite seeming to move through mud all morning, was at the school surprisingly early. As she drifted down from the pod she was wondering how long she would have to wait for her friend.
As she landed with a thud she caught a glimpse of blazing color flash behind the red brick school building. She knew those colors and quickly ran around toward the back of the school. No one was there, not even the teachers, and the school seemed eerily quiet. She found what she was expecting when she turned the corner. There, huddled next to his sister, was Curtis. Curtis with wings!
"Don't say anything," Curtis pleaded. He motioned to be quiet as he gently rose into the air and whispered, "They are about to go away."
Catherine and Bea were left below to watch in wonder as Curtis fluttered around above their heads. The two girls could have easily joined him in his morning flight but it was an unspoken understanding that these last few moments of flying were for Curtis alone. Curtis brought himself lower to the ground, learning from his mistakes in the past, and with nearly perfect timing the wings sparkled and flashed and disappeared just as he brought his feet to the cement.
Bea remembered the first time she had seen Curtis with wings. That day was certainly one that the three of them would remember forever, just like their trip to the Edge. It was a few years ago, when Curtis had turned twelve. Turning twelve for male fairies was just as big a deal as when female fairies turned eight. On this day Curtis had made the same trip to see the Ancients as had Bea's brother. It had been a Saturday and he went and had some of his fairy dust drawn and examined. Bea had heard all about the adventures the following day when Catherine and Bea had gotten together. Catherine had told her excitedly how Curtis had tested with high high-grade dust. Bea couldn't believe her ears when she heard the news. She had never met anyone with such a high level of dust before. Both Mr. Featherstone and brother were only medium regular-grade. Regular-grade was common. To be even in the high-grade was incredibly impressive. Catherine had laughed over how surprised her father had looked, since he was low high-grade. Apparently it was rare for a child to have a higher dust grade than his father. Bea was so excited and happy for Curtis and had pleaded with Catherine to see him that day after his birthday, but she was told that even Catherine wasn't allowed to see him. Curtis had locked himself in his room since the day before and had only appeared for brief moments to grab food from the kitchen. Catherine had explained that her mother assumed he was enjoying the freedom of being able to finally do magic now that he wa
s of the legal age and to just give him some time. Bea couldn't understand why he wouldn't want to do magic in front of them and have fun together. Her own brother, Steven, had paraded around the house incessantly teasing Bea and doing little magic here and there. Bea reveled in the moments when his skill didn't match the magic and he would accidentally break something or disfigure it. It drove Bea crazy wondering why she couldn't see Curtis that day and she was jumping off the walls the next morning as she rode the pod to the prep school to meet up with her friends. Her heart sank when she saw only Catherine waiting in the school yard for her that morning. She rushed towards Catherine and asked her why Curtis wasn't with her this morning. Catherine hadn't said a word in reply but simply nudged her friend in the other direction as more and more students were taking notice of something brilliant flying in the sky. It was getting closer and closer and as the object neared it was obvious that it was not an object at all, but a fairy. Most of the other students didn't give the fairy a second glance. Everyone assumed it was a female fairy flying into school to show off. But attention was soon drawn because it was obvious that the wings were not normal dream fairy wings. This fairy had brilliant, rainbow colored wings that sparkled and glistened. Students started buzzing in excitement to see who the fairy was and how she had made her wings so pretty. An explosion of realization hit Bea as she saw that the fairy was Curtis. Catherine had clutched Bea's hand in her own and Bea could tell that Catherine was not only excited but worried about her brother. Bea wanted to shout out at him. He drew closer and it became clear to all the fairies gathered below who it was and the excitement and cheerful mood changed dramatically. Bea felt like she was standing by watching just as an accident was about to happen. It was like when she had ran through the house too fast and knocked the glass bowl full of pod bubbles off the counter when she younger. She had stood there, frozen to the floor, staring in awe as in slow-motion the glass shattered to the ground and the bubbles rolled in every direction. Even if there was something that Bea could have done to stop those bubbles, she was unable to move, just stuck in immobility and amazement at the scene before her. The same feeling came over Bea that morning watching Curtis fly over his classmates with his magic crafted wings. Bea wanted to help, wanted to do something to stop what was coming next, but she just couldn't move. Bea knew her friend felt the same, as Catherine's grip on Bea's hand had gotten harder with each second that had passed. Curtis had come to flutter just over the school and was eager to find a place to land. Most students had cleared the way for him and a small circle had formed by the fountains. Curtis was ready to come down when all of a sudden Veronica and her gang rushed into the empty space. Veronica waved her hands in a ridiculously large circle and started chanting, "Can't land here freak! Whatcha gonna do now? Can't land here freak! Whatcha gonna do now?” Quickly her minions mimicked her motions. Bea had simply stared at how terribly mean Veronica was. But she was more surprised as the flood of students that had been watching in amazement slowly began to join Veronica in her chant. The mass of young fairies grew until nearly everyone had gathered into a collection of bodies so thick that there was no place to land. Curtis had found himself fluttering over the fountain and he had flashed his sister and Bea a look of pure agony as a snap and sparkle left Curtis, for only a fraction of a second, midair with no wings. Bea couldn't breathe. Curtis fell. He fell harder and faster than anyone was expecting him too as a giant splash of fountain water showered the gathered crowd. Guilt spread over the students, knowing they were all partly to blame for the accident and everyone scattered into the school without a second glance at the scene. Bea could hear one thing clearly amongst the chattering voices of her classmates as they fled,Veronica's laugh. Bea was sure she could pick it out anytime anywhere. And while she had felt compelled to rush towards that sound and rip Veronica's hair out, she was instead drawn towards her friend who now lay limp in the fountain in front of the school. Catherine leapt into the fountain and put her arm around her brother. Bea hopped in too and waded towards them.
"Are you hurt?" Catherine had whispered into her brother's ear.
"Just bruised I think," Bea could hear Curtis mumble in reply.
Suddenly Mr. Butterfield, the fifth-year class' nature teacher, came out of the building. Bea's heart jumped as she saw Mr. Butterfield's face. Of all the teachers that could catch them this morning, he was not nearly as annoying as some others.
"Mr. Butterfield . . ." Bea began to speak. She was interrupted though as Mr. Butterfield had raised his hand, silencing her. He stepped into the fountain and put an arm around Curtis on the other side of him.
"Curtis, are you all right?" Mr. Butterfield asked as he and Catherine helped Curtis to his feet and out of the fountain.
It was obvious that Curtis was not all right. He winced in pain and all of his weight fell onto Mr. Butterfield and Catherine. Mr. Butterfield was a short, thin, elderly fairy and it was clear that he and Catherine would not be able to hold Curtis up much longer. Bea jumped over to lend a hand and the three of them were able to gently drag Curtis out of the fountain and had him rest on the short wall surrounding the shallow pool.
"I know I should take you to Miss White. Did you know that I too am certified in first aid? I couldn't make up my mind when I was young, like you kids, and so I certified in, now, let's see here, almost ten different careers, no, to be exact nine. I tell you, the exam time was terrible. But now, when I get tired of something I can switch my path with just a snap. Let me fix you up Curtis. Try to straighten your leg as much as you can. You two," Mr. Butterfield gestured to Bea and Catherine. "You two, on either side of his leg now. He has broken it, in a couple of places at least so I will need you to help keep it straight as I run the magic over it."
Bea and Catherine did as they were instructed and watched in awe as a thick line of dust came from Mr. Butterfield's fingertips and hovered over Curtis' exposed leg. In a flash the dust seeped down into his leg leaving a slight glowing trace before it disappeared completely. Curtis' face had been winced up ready for the pain, but relaxed quickly when there was none. He slowly bent his knee and was relieved to find that it moved normally and with just the slightest ache.
"That might be a little sore for the next few days. Try to walk on it as normally as you can. Now, Veronica informed me that you were trying to fly to school with magic wings and that your magic had failed you, causing you to plummet into the school fountain," Mr. Butterfield said with a knowing glance and small smirk covering his lips.
Curtis hadn't taken notice of Mr. Butterfield's expression and jumped into an apology, "I'm so sorry Mr. Butterflied, I . . ."
"Curtis! It is OK. I won't make a big deal out of this. I dare say that some others will say things and so word will get out anyway, but it won't be heard from me. How did you do it young man? In all my years I have seen a few male fairies try to fly. Usually they hover awkwardly for brief moments before tripping to the ground face first. Wings. I would have never thought. I wish I could have seen them." Mr. Butterfield sat down right next to Curtis and leaned in and continued, "Any chance you could whip up some more to show me? Oh, no! What am I saying? Of course that won't do." Mr. Butterfield then cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter as he declared, "Now, Mr. Royce, you understand that playing with such magic is not allowed, especially on school grounds. I hope that we can trust to never find you committing such tomfoolery again in the future."
Curtis gingerly stood up and replied in a clear voice, "Yes, sir. It was foolish and I will not do it again."
"Good, now, let's get into class you three. I imagine the rest of your classmates are going crazy. Be strong, they WILL be relentless," Mr. Butterfield advised with a firm pat on Curtis' shoulder. Mr. Butterfield then turned and waited for the three to go in front of him as he guided them to his classroom for the first class of the day.
That day had been terrible for Curtis. Bea could still see it all in her mind as though it had just happened yesterday. Veronica and her
gang of followers had seen to it to taunt and tease Curtis all day. She spoke loudly of the mornings events in each class so that the teacher's attention was always drawn to the story. If a teacher had not yet heard the details it was made known to them through Veronica's retelling. Each teacher then seemed to take it upon himself/herself to have a little talk with Curtis about what he had done. By the end of the day Curtis looked more tired and frazzled than Bea had ever seen him. Bea knew that his day was not nearly finished as he still had to deal with his mother and father when he got home.
It turned out that Mr. and Mrs. Royce took the events fairly well. They had both received phone calls while at work from the principal, Mr. Attwell. He had told them of the events as he understood them and advised them to keep a keen eye on Curtis and his actions from now on. Mr. and Mrs. Royce had a long talk with him that night and had just told him to focus his amazing magic abilities on something more useful and less dangerous. In fact, Mr. Royce had somewhat begrudgingly given him one of his old spell books from training school as something to keep him busy. Bea remembered that Catherine seemed almost angry with Curtis for getting away with no punishment as she was sure that if she had tried to pull off something like that she would have been locked in a dungeon under their home.
Since that day, despite being told to stop making wings and flying, Curtis had successfully recreated his wings on three other occasions. Three other occasions that Bea knew of at least. She always imagined that he must make them more often than that, but he had reassured her and his sister that it took difficult magic and time to bring everything together just right and so he had few opportunities to make them. Clearly today was one of the times when everything had come together as Curtis had just finished flying with his magic wings behind the school.
"Wow, Curtis. Those were beautiful. Did you do something different this time? The colors seemed even more brilliant." Bea asked after Curtis had made his gentle landing.
"No, I didn't really do anything different. They just seem to appear different with each go. Maybe my dust changes," suggested Curtis with a shrug.
Some pods started to arrive and the three took that as their cue to get around to the front of the school and head in to class. Two pods had arrived together and almost simultaneously two patrol fairies came out and marched towards them. Before Bea or Catherine could even register what was going on, Curtis had been taken by the two patrol fairies back towards the pod line.
Two new pods bubbles were tossed into the air as one patrol fairy spoke, "Mr. Curtis Royce, we have been instructed by the Ancients to bring you in for questioning. Please cooperate."
The True Stories of Dream Fairies: Bloom Page 8
