Fairy Metal Thunder (Songs of Magic, Book 1)

by JL Bryan

  Chapter Two

  Jason sat at the dinner table, where his father read the newspaper, and his six-year-old sister Katie was sculpting what looked like a hippopotamus out of her mashed potatoes.

  “George, stop reading at the table,” Jason's mom said as she placed a platter of bratwurst and sauerkraut on the table. “Katie, stop playing with your food. Can't we have a nice family dinner here?”

  Jason helped himself to a brat and spooned mustard onto his plate.

  “What's wrong with you, Jason?” his mom asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look so sad.”

  “I'm okay.” Jason shrugged and poked listlessly at the bratwurst. On the inside, he was beating himself up for not showing Erin the song, for being stupid enough to actually put her name on it, and for letting Mitch embarrass him in front of her. The song was still folded in his pocket, unseen by anyone.

  “You know—George, would you please stop reading that paper?—we talked about you at the Lutheran Ladies meeting yesterday.”

  “Me or Dad?” Jason asked.

  “You, Jason. Do you know Mrs. Dullahan, over on the east end of town?”

  “The witch?” Katie asked.

  “Katie! She is not a witch. She's just a very lonely old woman with nobody to help her. I can't believe you would say that.”

  “Everybody knows Mrs. Dullahan's a witch!” Katie said. “If you trick-or-treat at her house, she'll turn you into a toad.”

  “That is not true, Katie,” Jason's mom said. “Don't say such awful things about people.”

  “She is scary,” Jason said. “Kip Ericson threw a football over her wall one time, and it came back all flat and burned up.”

  “Kip Ericson shouldn't be harassing old ladies,” Jason's mom said. “Anyway. Jason. She lives all alone in that big house of hers, and she's so elderly. It's obvious she's having trouble keeping up her yard.”

  “Good thing most of it's hidden behind that wall,” Jason's dad commented, without looking up from the paper. “What you can see is an eyesore.”

  “She can hardly be expected to do yard work at her age,” Jason's mom said.

  “How old is she, anyway?” Jason asked.

  “A hundred and fifty!” Katie volunteered.

  “Nobody's a hundred and fifty, Katie,” Jason's mom said. “But she's very elderly, and she clearly can't do for herself. That's why I decided to volunteer my capable yet unemployed son to go and help her around the house.”

  “You said what?” Jason asked, startled.

  “Just little things,” his mom told him. “Mow the lawn, trim those wild shrubs, maybe do something about all that moss on her wall.”

  “Those don't sound like little things,” Jason said.

  “She'll turn you into a toad!” Katie said.

  “Katie, enough! Jason, it would be nice if you would do a few things to help out your elders. It builds character. The poor woman's completely cut off from everyone.”

  “Maybe she likes being cut off,” Jason said. “How do we even know she wants help?”

  “Why wouldn't she?” his mom asked.

  “Anyway, I’m busy with school.” Jason hated the idea of going to Mrs. Dullahan's house. Every kid in town learned to fear her. Terrible stories were whispered about her. Jason was old enough to know that she wasn't really a witch or anything supernatural, but he couldn't help feeling scared of her anyway.

  “School didn't stop you from working at the car wash,” his dad said. “Might as well find something useful to do with yourself, now that you quit your job.”

  “Dad, I told you, I only got that job so I could save up for my guitar. Now I don't need to work anymore.”

  “Must be nice,” his dad said, returning his attention to the paper.

  “I don't know what's gotten into you with that guitar,” his mom said. “You hardly ever practice your clarinet anymore. You'll have to work a lot harder if you want to be first chair in the school band next year.”

  “I'm not too worried about that,” Jason said.

  “You'd better worry about it. That Laura Wu is going to be serious competition for you,” his mom said. “I want to see you working hard.”

  “I don't really like the clarinet. I like the guitar.”

  “What's not to like about the clarinet?” His mom looked scandalized. “You used to love your clarinet.”

  “I wouldn't say I loved it.”

  “Well, I was first chair clarinet in my high school band,” his mom said. “If I can manage it, you can, too. And your father's right, we can't just let you loaf around with your friends all summer.”

  “We're not loafing, we're rehearsing.”

  “What you're not doing is working,” his dad said. “You know, at a job? If you want to come to Bill's House of Tractor with me, Bill might be able to find work for you.” Jason's dad sold farm equipment at Bill's, a large retailer in Eau Claire.

  “Um...” Jason said. The idea of having his dad for his boss wasn't quite as terrifying as the thought of going to Mrs. Dullahan's house, but it was up there.

  “Why don't you drop by Mrs. Dullahan's tomorrow afternoon?” his mom said. “Introduce yourself and volunteer to help out? That would be so nice.”

  “She'll probably think I'm trying to scam her.”

  “A nice young man like you?” his mom asked. “Besides, you'll be bringing one of Dotty Schuler's famous muffin baskets. That should settle any of her concerns.”

  “I can't tomorrow,” Jason said. “We have rehearsal. There's an audition at The Patch in Minneapolis next week.”

  “Oh, I don't know,” his mother said. “I don't like the idea of you going into the Cities with you friends. That's a rough area. You could get into trouble.”

  “There aren't any rough areas in Minneapolis,” Jason said. “You make it sound like Las Vegas.”

  “Don't smartmouth your mother,” his dad said.

  “I'm not, Dad!”

  “Don't yell at your father,” his mom said. “I don't want to hear any more nonsense about this. You're going to Mrs. Dullahan's tomorrow, and you're going to be pleasant and useful.”

  Jason sighed and stirred his mashed potatoes.