With a Kiss

by Stephanie Fowers

  Chapter Six

  Listen to the fairy history of Snowbell, the most fair.

  A little babe, who, on a winter's night,

  Snow-white and softly falling as new snow,

  On her queen mother's pillow did alight;

  There lying rare, And spotless fair, All fairy-wise bedight.

  —Eliza Keary, Snowbell

  "What did you say your name was?"

  The blond smiled at me. The baby's hand wrapped around one of his rough fingers. "I didn't."

  I couldn't even give him a proper set-down—I was too tired. I pushed the shopping cart through the aisles of the grocery store, using it like a walker. Was this how all new moms felt? The aisle wouldn't stay still, and the florescent lights blurred my vision yellow. As soon as my eyes drooped, the world played tricks on me. A creature crouched behind a cereal box. It was a green slimy lizard thing with a human face. It pushed a can of soup over. Just the image of it, and then it was gone. I shook my head and forced my eyes to open wider. I didn't know what was happening to me.

  My shadow brought a hand to its mouth in a wide yawn. It lingered behind in the candy section when it shouldn't, stopped to read headlines on the fashion magazines, pawed at the most expensive make-up. But that was the least of my worries. Apparently faery babies wet like human babies. At least I wasn't the one to figure that out the hard way.

  We headed for the diaper section. My nameless companion threw everything stupid he could into the cart: honey, ice cream, candy bars. He read the back of a cake box. "Good. It's got sugar." He threw it on top of everything else.

  "Stop it." I tried to block him from the next aisle.

  His hand went to my waist. Before I could register that he was touching me, he moved me out of the way. He found some cereal boxes. "Should we get the frost tipped sugar plops or the chocolate-puff yummies?"

  "Neither."

  He threw them both in. "She doesn't seem to be growing. We think you know who had a hand in it."

  "If you were feeding her this stuff where you live, then I'd say it was your fault she's not growing. We need some milk."

  "Does it have sugar in it?"

  "No . . . I don't think so."

  "Well, forget it. Sugar is mother's milk to faeries. When we can't find saffron, that is."

  "I gathered that." At least there was milk at home. Then I'd show this guy how fast a baby could grow with some proper nutrients. I left him and steered my girl to the baby cereal and pulled some off the shelf. It was for six-month-old babies—I didn't know her age for sure. "How old are you?" The baby stared gravely back at me. I couldn't really tell, especially with that wise look she gave me with those hazel eyes. I tried not to laugh at how serious she looked.

  A lady in a power suit pawed expertly through the cereals next to me. I briefly toyed with asking her how old she thought our baby was, but decided against it. She had a very no-nonsense air and would probably think we kidnapped the kid or something. And if someone tried to take her away? I shivered. Most likely, it would kill me. Or maybe, I'd end up killing them. I didn't want to think about it.

  "I don't know how old she is," I kept my voice down, turning to my mischievous partner in crime.

  He leaned over to get a good look at the baby through his thick lashes. The freckle under his eye was the only thing marring his perfect complexion. Yeah, definitely faery material. He smoothed the baby's fuzz of hair back, almost getting a smile out of her. He glanced over at me. "How old are you?" he asked.

  "What does that have to do with anything?" I sputtered, but I tried to keep it down. The stiff lady glared at me anyway.

  He laughed. "I was asking the kid." After an intense staring contest, he shrugged. "She doesn't know. I'd say she looks to be about your age." The baby shouted out in indignation. Apparently I wasn't the only one he liked to tease. "Yep, about seventeen."

  If I had more energy, I'd stomp my foot. He wouldn't take anything seriously, and he wasn't being discreet at all. You would think the faery queen would've sent someone a little more sensible. "Would you, I don't know, grow up or something!" I raged at him. The lady scorched me with her eyes. I felt my cheeks go red.

  "You want me to grow up? Really? How old do you want me to be?" He guffawed at my angry expression and pushed the cart away from the boring section.

  I grunted in pain, feeling the tiara tighten around my head the farther he pushed the baby. I ran after him and tried to hang onto the cart with all my might, but he just kept wheeling it down the aisle. "Where do you think you're going?"

  Another shopper dodged out of the way. She pressed annoyed lips together. She should be giving the real troublemaker those looks. I straightened, seeing that he was getting into the children books at the end of the aisle. We didn't have time for this. I tugged Cinderella from him, but he nonchalantly picked up another. This one was a compilation of faerytales.

  "Hey look, it's about your people." He gave the book to the baby and she stored it in her mouth.

  "You paying for that?" I asked him.

  He frowned sternly at me. "Babies can't pay. Are you crazy or something?"

  And that was beside the point. I wasn't talking to the baby, and he knew it. My hand went to my aching head. I was torn between laughing and strangling him. "So . . . is there anything in this store that breaks curses, like four leaf clovers? You know about those kinds of things, right, or are you just annoying and that's all you do?"

  "Sure, I know." He gave me a challenging look. "Frog's breath, St. John's wort, English daisies . . . got any of those here?"

  "Well, let me check the aisle where they keep the ingredients for spells. What do you think this is—a witch's shop?" I pushed the shopping cart to the closest register. To my dismay, the cashier was one of my frenemy acquaintances. She barely knew me, and yet she still seemed threatened by me. Valerie wore a horrible blue polyester number, her bleached blonde hair squashed in the front and big in the back and squeezed into a tight ponytail. It was the newest style about three years ago, I think. I, on the other hand, knew I looked odd.

  Valerie gave me a tight smile. "What's with the hair thing?" She pointed to the tiara and popped her gum. "Wait, I get it. It's from the play, isn't it? Why are you wearing it in public?"

  "Um, yeah." I patted it gingerly. "I still have it on? That's weird." I avoided her eyes, watching the black sky outside the glass windows.

  Her hands were busily sliding groceries across the belt. The price reader beeped rhythmically, and I tried not to look too guilty as every sort of junk food imaginable passed over the scanner. It took me back to the days when I had scrounged for change under the couch cushions and used my plunder to score about ten candy bars at once—about two months ago?

  Valerie brought the book of faerytales through. I glanced over at the tabloids on the shelf, my attention caught by the strange headlines, the ones that were way too embarrassing to buy. I read one of the titles: "Suspected Skinwalker. Guy Peels Off His Face at Golf Course."

  The blond ripped the tabloid from its holder and threw it on the conveyer belt. After an intense staring contest, I gave in with a roll of my eyes. "I'll take this too," I said, feeling even dumber.

  "Fifty-two dollars," Valerie announced with a smug voice. Though I had to give it to her, she didn't even lift an eyebrow at my sweet tooth and choice of reading material. Probably part of the job description.

  I turned to the real culprit. He leaned against the cart, playing with the baby. He glanced my way, and she tugged on the silver medallion hanging from his necklace. He choked and gave her his leather wristband from his watch to chew on instead. "You're gonna help pay for this, right?" I asked.

  He looked confused. Of course he'd act oblivious when it came to money. Valerie laughed and took that as an opportunity to pop her gum again. "You'll have to do it, nut job. You have the money."

  What? Did she just call me nut job? And why was I expected to pay for everything? But the blond just grinned. When he turned to the pr
etty little grocery clerk, the grin got even wider, and I groaned when he turned his charm on her. The flirt. "Hey, why don't you introduce us?"

  Well, maybe if I knew his name for starters? I tried to shame him with a heavy stare, but he wouldn't break, so I introduced him the best way I knew how. "Don't mind the imbecile," I told the cashier.

  Valerie looked scandalized. "The . . . baby?"

  The imbecile swallowed a laugh behind me and that's when I felt a shock spread from my toes and explode out my head. It all made sense now—the glaring customers, my disapproving family. No one but me could see this jerk, could they? Everyone thought I was yelling at this poor . . . this poor . . . baby? How real was she anyway? What if I was dragging around some doll? "Um," I met Valerie's eyes. "What do you think of the uh . . . the kid?" I winced at the question, but still waited for the answer.

  Valerie snapped her gum. "You babysitting?"

  I sagged in relief. There was no way she'd think I was babysitting a doll. "No . . . I mean, yeah, I am." My head was spinning. I dug through my purse and laid the money down before I could faint and make her duty bound to tell the senior class I was on drugs or pregnant or something. Valerie counted out all my change while I tried to drag the baby out from her cart seat. It wouldn't do for her to be floating across the parking lot in this invisible guy's arms or falling on the cement because he wasn't really there. I was having a hard time getting the kid out. She grunted, her small fingers digging into my arms. Was she getting bigger or was I getting weaker?

  Mr. Hot-But-Not tried to brush me out of the way. "I'll get her."

  "Get away from me," I hissed. "You're not real." I met the baby's eyes. They were so solemn, and I broke into a smile in response. I wish I could make her smile. Wow, what was I thinking? I couldn't make anyone smile. I was stuck with a baby and had invisible friends—well, enemies anyway. I messed up her fuzzy hair, and with my last remaining strength pushed the cart to the automatic doors. Hot air from a typical Omak summer night rushed inside to greet us. The doors swished shut behind us, almost smacking my shadow in the head.

  "I should've known I was crazy." I kept my voice down so it didn't look like I was talking to myself. "The fact that I actually thought you were cute should've tipped me off that you weren't real. How unoriginal can I get? I couldn't even come up with a name for you."

  He looked pleased, and too late, I realized I had called him cute. Even invisible guys had inflated heads. He let me walk ahead, and after messing with the candy machine in the entryway, he caught up to me in the parking lot, throwing some mints into his mouth. "Oh, c'mon, don't be like that. I can't give my name out to just anybody. That's how you call faeries. You say a name and poof, they have to go wherever you are, just like a genie. Except if you call them, they won't feel like granting you any wishes--not that you'd want them to. They might even curse you for it . . . it's really that annoying to be ripped from place to place."

  I headed for my car, having every intention of ditching him, except it was impossible since he was in my mind. I wondered if I was glad about that.

  Studying my resolute face, he sighed. "Why don't you call me Hobs, then? It's short for hobgoblin, and since that's what I am . . ."

  I unlocked my trunk and threw the completely weird and unsuitable groceries in. Besides the diapers, I felt like an idiot for buying them. "Aren't hobgoblins supposed to have horns or something?"

  "I've chiseled mine down." Apparently he was matching my sarcasm with some of his own. "Hey, I'm the real thing. Heard of RobGoblin? Robin Goodfellow?"

  I blanched, recognizing the reference. So, it was the rascal of Midsummer Night's Dream himself? I should've known. He was that naughty. Shakespeare really knew what he was talking about. "Puck?" I asked.

  Hobs gave me a wry look. "Don't! Don't even think about using that name. I'd give you my real name over letting you use that one."

  "Why? Is it a swear word?" He snickered, and I slammed the trunk shut. "Hobs, it is," I said. He was right—it was better than Puck. Or jerk. Because of him I had to do some major damage control. I tried to remember everyone I’d talked to when Hobs was around. I had looked like a raving lunatic, and he knew exactly what he was doing to me. I looked from him to the baby. She was sucking on her fingers, staring up at me with huge, worried eyes. How was I going to get rid of these two? The problem was that I actually liked them. And anyone who knew me would know that was weirder than any faery sighting.