by Sarah Peters
“I’m just me,” he continued. He’d forgone his usual band t-shirt today and had excavated a charming, wholesome fall sweater from the depths of his wardrobe. It made him look like boy who didn’t pick his nose when he thought no one was looking. (someone was ALWAYS watching him. Always. Normally, me. I’d seen his fingers up his nose far more times than anyone needs to witness). “If there were seven or eight fairies from Silveridge who put the curse on her, nothing I do will counteract it.”
“Anna said you could give Becca a glamor.” I didn’t know what was wrong with my Finnibun, but I would not be satisfied until he felt the same discomfort and desperation that I felt regarding Becca’s sheep head. “Y’know, like you did for me. Just split yours and make her look like a human instead of an… Ovis.” Saying the word involuntarily made me snicker, and I attempted to restore my dignity. “She needs all our help.” I sniffed. “Even Anna’s.”
Finn made a noncommittal noise, and we rounded a corner. To my dismay and to speak of the devil, Jake and Anna were walking towards us, hand in hand, their eyes only on each other.
I gagged.
Finn muffled a curse under his breath, swiveled, and sprinted back the way we’d come from without so much as an explanation.
I stared after him. Apparently, he’d taken Jake’s new romance hard. Hard enough to turn him into a complete weenie, based off the speed in which he’d skedaddled.
The second the bell rang announcing the end of school, I didn’t even bother asking Anna for more fairy help. Instead I leapt to my feet, ran to the school buses and jumped on Becca’s usual bus before the driver could realize I didn’t belong.
I got off close-ish to Becca’s house, wishing the bus driver a cheery “thanks bro!” even as she demanded to know what I was doing hitching rides on her bus.
I got to Becca’s house and rang the doorbell a few times.
Becca’s dad, looking like he’d just risen from the grave and intended to return there once done with me, gave me a long, baleful stare. I’ve been best friends with Becca since we were nine and I am pretty sure Mr. Beecham still has no idea what my name is.
“Hello good afternoon,” I said cheerfully. “I have homework and notes for Becca. Can I see her?”
“She’s highly contagious,” her dad grunted. He scraped his bristly jaw with one hand and held out the other. “Pass it over and I’ll get it to her.”
I reluctantly did so and asked in my most polite voice if I could see her but was shot down yet again. Apparently, Jake and Anna’s persuasion was sticking… which was good, all things considering, but bad at the moment for me who wanted to hang.
After he closed the door on me, I grumbled under my breath and then climbed over their fence to get to the backyard. They lived in a one-story house and Becca’s room faced the backyard, but she had one of those stupid outward opening windows instead of upward opening windows, which meant I couldn’t climb in.
This didn’t stop me from knocking on the window until a sheep’s head loomed into view, and Becca pushed it open.
“Hey girl,” I said. “Still a sheep, I see.”
“Did you see Finn today??” Becca apparently did not have time for pleasantries. “He’s still not responding to any of my calls or texts and I tried reaching out to him on like 5 different social medias but he’s ignoring me.”
“Reportedly he lost his phone,” I advised. “And apparently is now shunning the internet. He was real weird again during lunch and from the sounds of it he’s not even going to give you a glamor.” I sighed. “Want me to go beat him up?”
“Would you?”
We chatted for a while (I shared the story of how Clemmings tried to trick me into messing up again in class but I’d actually finished the assigned reading and was thusly prepared to counter her attack) before I patted her sheep nose and told her we’d figure it out.
Becca grumbled that we’d better. By we, I understood she meant me.
And yes, I blamed myself fully for this too.
It’s not really a short walk from Becca’s house to mine, so I had plenty of time to let my mind wander, which is likely why I didn’t realize until I was striding down a street that my path would take me past Tobias’ swanky house.
I crossed to the other side of street and eyed the house as I approached. The garden, as ever, bloomed prettily underneath some artfully planted trees, the low afternoon light hit the upper windows Just So, and in the driveway, a woman stepped out of a white SUV.
She was the kind of middle-aged woman I have an instinctive fear of. Her hairstyle hadn’t been updated since the 90s, and she wore denim pants, a large brown belt, and a slightly different colored denim top.
I tried my best not to stare as she swept herself up to the front door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. I distinctly heard her yodel, “HONEEYYY!!! ToBIIAAASS I’m hoooOOMME,” before the door shut.
I pressed a hand to my heart. Was that his MOTHER?! Was she a fairy too?! So far the only fairy adults I’d seen had all looked cool as ice, impeccable and put together. She looked like the sort of woman that harassed retail workers when she couldn’t return an item for a full refund that’d been purchased six years ago.
“Fascinating,” I decided, staring at the house until I had to turn the corner. With any luck Tobias was looking out and had noticed I didn’t have a sheep head. Let him mull on that one.
I’d decided, quite firmly, that I would NOT ask Tobias Monday for help regarding Becca.
I even managed to stick to my decision all the way through Friday morning.
The stick broke (straw broke? What does this phrase even reference???) Friday during lunch. Normally Finn and I get along like cold feet and slippers, but he’d been off all week, and something between us had changed. With Becca out, it’d been a contest between Not-Normal-Finn and me to see who could make the other one the most weirded out and uncomfortable. I don’t think either of us actually enjoyed this competition but I’m stupid and competitive and Finn is stupid and competitive, so we went at it.
I kept asking him for help and he kept avoiding the question and I was fully prepared to tie him up and drag him to Becca’s house, despite whatever lame excuses he could come up with.
On Friday though!
Friday.
I sat down, ready to deliver some misery, and saw Finn walk out of the cafeteria.
And he kept walking.
And walked all the way to an actual table where people who were NOT ME sat.
My jaw dropped and the freshmen who normally sat near me all heard my GASP and gave me sympathetic looks when they realized the cause of my ABSOLUTE HORROR.
I spent the entire lunch glaring at Finn’s turned back, but he didn’t look around once, and I trudged into Calculus with an unpleasant, hollow feeling between my ribs.
Jake Wildern, Butt Hat Supreme, was no help. He went about class (had been going about class, for that matter) as if nothing was wrong and we’d solve the problem of Becca’s livestock head in no time. She’d already missed four days of school though, and people were beginning to notice. Plus, she still had a sheep head. Problematic to say the least.
“That’s it,” I decided halfway through US History. “I’m asking Tobias!”
The teacher paused his lecture, and everyone turned to stare at me.
“Small seizure, don’t worry about it,” I said to the long silence. The teacher didn’t resume his lecture and I cleared my throat. “Sorry,” I added. “Won’t happen again.”
I didn’t bother texting Finn about my plans to force Tobias Monday to help me, instead scampering onto Becca’s bus after school and sitting in the back, ignoring the affronted looking sophomores who informed me I’d taken their spots.
“You don’t even ride this bus,” one muttered, dropping into the bench in front of me.
“I’m on a quest, deal with it,” I retorted.
Two hours later, my quest found us standing on the sidewalk in front of Tobias Monday’s McMansion house.
Us, in this particular situation = me and Becca
I hadn’t told her about Finn’s betrayal during lunch, and she’d stopped asking why I looked like I was about to be sick, but neither of us brought him up now.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Her head was wrapped in two scarves, and we’d found her dad’s baggiest sweatshirt to cover the rest of her head. I’d placed sunglasses on her nose (they didn’t actually cover her eyes, but it made her look more human from the front). As she could barely see, I’d spent most of the walk holding her hand and only letting her trip over the curb once.
“This is an excellent idea. Tobias goes to Silveridge so he probably knows those jerks who cursed you, and I’m exceedingly confident I can otherwise guilt him into finding us more powerful fairies who can help you out.”
“Oook,” Becca replied, sounding as if she had very little faith in my plan.
“Plus,” I added, “I need to kick him in the butt.”
“In the butt or on the butt?”
I decided this did not deserve an answer, and took her hand, pulling her up to the front door.
“Imagine,” I whispered, “fairies needing doorbells! What is this world coming to?” I reached out and rang it.
“Honestly,” Becca whispered back, “I expected them to be a lot more… wild? You think about the fairies in classic literature and legends and they’re always getting humans into trouble or tricking them with bad deals—” this reminded me of my bad deal with Tobias and I scowled, “—or luring them into parties and never letting them go. Their magic must be greatly reduced if so many of them, even with glamor, are passably human.”
“Agreed, these American fairies are just lazy as heck. And now they need doorbells,” I concluded philosophically.
“We still don’t know if Tobias’ parents are fairies,” Becca reminded me.
The patter of feet sounded on the other side of the door, and we fell silent.
The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman I could’ve sworn was the same one I saw step out of the SUV the other day… only everything about her was different.
Before, her hair had been cut and fluffed within an inch of its life around her head, but it now hung honey-blonde down her back, all the way to her waist. Instead of the hideous denim-on-denim combo she now sported a crocheted sweater which draped over a patchwork long skirt that brushed the top of her bare feet. Enormous necklaces and earrings dangled. But her face (without the over exaggerated blush and blue eyeshadow) was definitely the same one I’d seen from across the street.
It had to be.
“Why hello,” she said, voice airy and mellow, as if she’d just consumed a whole batch of edibles. “How can I help you dear children?”
Becca and I looked at each other. Or, I thought we did. Hard to tell with Becca’s head wrapped under scarves and the hood.
“We are friends of Tobias’,” I boldly declared. “We are here to see him.”
She blinked down at us. Her eyes were the same honey color as her hair, and wide enough to make her appear rather deer-in-the-headlights. “You?” She looked from me to Becca, and her eyebrows furrowed the longer she looked at my friend. “My child, what on Earth happened to you?”
“She was born deformed,” I invented. I was also not to be distracted. “Is Tobias home?”
The woman smiled, slow and friendly. “He’s not home but is on his way and should be here any minute. Come inside. Sit down and make yourselves comfortable while you wait.”
She stepped to the side and motioned inside.
Despite having just discussed fairies of legends and their pleasure in luring humans off the path, Becca and I eagerly stepped inside.
Really, we should’ve known better.
Overstaying Our Visit
“Are you Tobias’ mom?” I asked as she led us from the expansive entryway into an equally expansive living room. My home was a hodge-podge of furniture and décor gathered over the years, but the interior of this house had been planned. Everything matched, nothing clashed, and the furniture all complimented the wallpaper.
It didn’t look like the sort of house where a lady who wore denim shirts in conjunction with jeans would live.
Even less did it look like the sort of house where a hippie like the one gesturing us to sit would live.
She gave us her easy smile. “One of his mothers, yes. What did you say your names were, dears?”
Distantly, I had a memory of Tobias being pissed that I hadn’t told him my full name. Did full names mean something to fairies? I didn’t want to test it. Especially since I had no idea if she was actually a fairy or not.
“Becca and Cat,” I said, not offering her any indication of which one of us was which.
“You can take off your scarf, dear,” Mrs. Monday said, her eyes on Becca, giving no indication that she’d cared about the lack of surnames.
“I’m quite hideous,” Becca declared, sounding like she was trying to channel some of my outrageousness.
“Quite hideous,” I agreed. I looked around the room. Everything was gauzy and white and reminded me of a New England seaside mansion, not suburban Minnesota. The walls were covered in artfully arranged branches and mirrors and photographs of waves. No pictures of the family, nothing personal. It icked me out, and it took me a few seconds to realize it was because it didn’t feel like the sort of home where people actually lived. It was like one of those sample rooms at Ikea. Everything placed to maximize aesthetics, but wholly soulless.
“Still.” Mrs. Monday’s placid smile never wavered. “I want you to be comfortable.” An idea seemed to come to her, and she perked up. “How about this? I’ll go bring some lemonade and cookies and you two ladies make yourselves comfortable while you wait for Tobias.” She tapped the side of her face, “you’re inside, love. Sunglasses are quite unnecessary.”
I watched her sashay out of the room.
“This place is creepy,” I decided, whispering.
“She’s creepy,” Becca whispered back.
“Oh, she’s just earnest,” someone said behind us.
I swore and Becca jumped and we twirled around to look up at Mrs. Monday.
Only… not.
She wasn’t 90s-Soccer-Mom and she wasn’t Lifelong-Hippie-Mom.
She was the sort of woman I expected to see in this soulless, vast house.
Think Stepford Wives on steroids. She smiled and it nearly blinded me. She glided around the couch (in heels! High heels inside!) and stood in front of us, one graceful hand with its French manicure near her face (not touching, just hovering), the other wrapped around her trim waist and pastel blue dress. She wore makeup like a pro, but her face and her eyes were the same as the hippie’s. Were they twins?? Triplets?! “My,” she cooed, “what are two lovely girls like yourselves doing here?”
How… how many mothers did Tobias Monday have?
“We’re here to visit Tobias,” I said. My head felt heavy and I tried to steady my thoughts. “Are you one of his moms?”
“Mrs. Monday,” she introduced, not extending a hand for us to shake. Like the other Mrs. Monday, her focus seemed caught on Becca. “My sweet girl, whatever are you doing all bundled up?” Her smile, if anything, grew sunnier. “Come, take off your hood.” With a cheerful wink, she added, “we’re all just girls here.”
