Evil Fairies Love Hair

by Mary G. Thompson

  Crista let out one of her long, exasperated sighs. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

  “I’m—hello?” All Ali heard was the dial tone. Crista had hung up. Of course. Tell Ali she wasn’t stupid, then order her around like she was stupid, and then, when Ali didn’t do exactly what she wanted, get mad and hang up. Well, when Ali finished growing her flock (and got another person to grow a flock),

  she wouldn’t have to listen to Crista or anyone else.

  She flipped Michael’s paper over. On the back was what was really important—the rules about what you could wish for.

  IMPROVEMENT IN:

  health

  appearance

  talent

  mental acuity

  happiness

  likability

  athletic ability

  dreams

  YOU MAY PICK ONE ASPECT, DON’T BE GREEDY!

  HEXES:

  illness

  ridicule

  clumsiness

  ugliness

  nightmares

  fat

  YOU MAY ONLY HEX PEOPLE WHO DESERVE IT!

  They did make “likability” look good. And there had to be someone she’d like to see get ridiculed. Funny how you could change someone else but not in a good way—only by hexing them. Well, she definitely wasn’t going to waste her wish on a hex. She was going to pick “mental acuity.” If she were really smart, surely she could figure out how to make people like her without magic. Maybe she could be a soccer star, too, because brains were a huge part of winning at sports. Michael wasn’t thinking his wish through—“mental acuity” was the way to go. Carefully, she folded the paper up again and put it back into her pocket. It was still only 7:00, but it wasn’t too early to start collecting the hair. Two tablespoons would be a piece of cake.

  “I have good news, Grand Miss Coiffure!”

  “Has another flock come to the fold while I was away?”

  “Yes, Grand Miss—three. Three hundred more heads have joined the Kingdome.”

  “And those three children have all passed on their starter kits?”

  “Yes, Miss, all three.”

  “And have the previous growers made their wishes?”

  “Yes, Miss. One beauty, one singing voice, and one hex.”

  “Which hex was it?”

  “Ugliness, Miss. A fine batch of acne and a bulbous nose.”

  Grand Miss Coiffure chuckled in her hearty squeak.

  “Will that be all, Miss?”

  “Yes, Lockner. Very good work. Very good work indeed.”

  Three

  Ali and Hannah walked along in silence. It was a cruel twist of fate that the middle school was a block away from the high school, so Ali had to deal with Hannah for an extra fifteen minutes every day. Weren’t evenings and weekends enough?

  “I love the way you’ve done your bun today,” Hannah said.

  “Shut up.”

  “No, really. It says, ‘Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not dating.’”

  “A lot of girls do it this way,” said Ali, and she immediately hated herself. Since when did she care what anyone thought?

  “Uh-huh.” Hannah casually patted her painstakingly coiffed waves. The blond highlights cost so much that Hannah had to do all the yard work to get an extra allowance.

  “Good morning, Ali.” Jennifer Jackson tripped into the street to go around them. Her hair was up in the exact same bun that Ali had, only she looked like a screen goddess instead of a seventh-grader. There was no way she’d had those boobs before the magic.

  “Hi, Jennifer,” said Ali. “Bye, Hannah.” She split off down the sidewalk toward the middle school with Jennifer so she’d avoid Hannah’s inevitable comment, but it floated toward her.

  “Bye, Tweedledum. Say hello to Tweedledee!”

  “Idiot,” Ali muttered. She cast a sidelong glance at the siren walking next to her. “Why are you still wearing the bun, anyway? You aren’t going near any fairies anymore, right?”

  “I like it,” said Jennifer. “Now that I look like this, I can do whatever I want.”

  Ali had to laugh. Jennifer was probably right. She could come to school in a potato sack and people would copy her. And the best part about the fairies’ magic was that if you didn’t know about the fairies, you’d never be able to tell the difference—everyone else thought that Jennifer had always been gorgeous. Still, even magic beauty probably faded when you got old. Ali wanted something that would last forever.

  Without saying goodbye, Jennifer strode off toward her gaggle of other pretty girls. Before, she’d been the richest, but now she was totally on top.

  Ali turned away. She was not interested in that.

  Something was poking the back of her neck.

  She scratched it with her right hand.

  “Hey, stop that!” The voice was coming from the base of her skull—from her hairline.

  She reached back and grabbed the fairy, keeping her fist tight. She held her hand right up to her mouth and whispered. “What are you doing here?” She opened a tiny space between her thumb and forefinger to let the evil little thing explain.

  Its head popped out. The head was the size of a large pencil eraser, and it basically looked like the head of a tiny woman. Except that regular women not only weren’t two and a half inches tall, but they also didn’t have bulging, bright blue eyes that filled up half their faces. Plus, the fairy’s head was bald. “Hair,” it said.

  “I just fed you last night. I’ll get you more as soon as it gets dark.”

  “Now.”

  “The directions say—”

  “That’s only the first day,” it interrupted. “You have to feed us in the morning, too. Feed us now.”

  “Okay, I’ll find some, just—” There was Crista. “Stay put.” She shoved the fairy into her jacket pocket and zipped it up.

  Crista eyed the bulging pocket. “Trouble?”

  “No.” Oh great, here came Michael, too. Just what she needed. But he rushed past them. A whiff of cigarette odor wafted off him. “Blech. What a loser,” said Ali, laying it on thick so Crista wouldn’t think she was friends with him.

  “Yeah. How did last night go?”

  “It went fine. No prob—Ow!”

  “What?”

  The fairy had burrowed right through Ali’s coat pocket and was now digging her nails into Ali’s hip. “I feel sick.” Ali turned and ran back down the sidewalk.

  “Ali!” Crista yelled.

  Ali ignored her and kept running. As she ran, the fairy climbed up the side of her body. “Stop! I’m going to get you some. That hurts!” She raced by a pair of straggling sixth graders who burst into giggles. Where was she going to get more hair? She could check the drains, but how much would be there from just one morning? Instead of heading toward home, she took a right and ran toward Fifth Street. There was a hair salon. She’d just run in and grab some and run out.

  “Oooow!” The fairy was up to her armpit, and that really hurt. She stopped, ripped her jacket open, stuck her hand under her shirt, and pulled the fairy off her body. Some of her skin came with it. “Why are you hurting me? I’m trying to help you. Just calm down!”

  “I’m sorry, Alison,” said the fairy. “It’s just that I’m so hungry when I’ve started a new flock. I can’t control myself.”

  “All right, it’s all right,” Ali said. “You’re just a baby, aren’t you? What’s your name?”

  “Not a baby, one of the flock starters. My name is Pilose.” She blinked her large eyes and pulled her arms out of Ali’s fist. She stroked Ali’s fingers with her tiny hands. “I’ll be calm.”

  “Okay. Stay in the pocket this time.” Ali zipped Pilose in and started moving again. She could already see the salon. There was Mrs. Hopper sweeping the hair along the floor. Ali walked up to the door.

  Mrs. Hopper put the broom down and went to answer the phone. Ali ran in, picked up as much hair as she could grab in her fists, and ran back out, and she didn’t stop running u
ntil she was home and had collapsed on her knees in front of the mound. She dropped the hair on the ground and pulled Pilose out of her pocket.

  The second fairy jumped out of the mound and was on top of the hair in an instant. Then a third and fourth fairy jumped out. All four fairies devoured the hair. Apparently it didn’t matter one bit that Ali hadn’t carefully arranged it around the mound. In less than a minute, they’d devoured every last strand. Then they all stood in a row and looked up at her with those enormous eyes.

  Ali was still gasping for breath after her wild run. “What? Is that not enough?” How had they multiplied so quickly? She knew she was supposed to make a hundred, but it had only been one night.

  Three of the fairies looked to Pilose, who stepped forward.“Before midnight,” she said.

  “Where am I supposed to get all this hair?”

  “Heads,” said Pilose.

  “Heads,” the others echoed. They all smiled in unison, big pink smiles that filled the whole rest of their faces that weren’t eyes.

  “Okay. Okay, I got it. You’re going to stay here, right?” But before she’d finished speaking, the fairies had all disappeared into their mound. It was as still and silent as if it were just a regular pile of dirt.

  Heads. This was going to be more difficult than she had thought. She checked her bun, picked herself up off the ground, and headed in the opposite direction from school—back toward Mrs. Hopper’s hair salon.

  Four

  Ali peered through the glass door of the hair salon. There were no customers, and Mrs. Hopper was nowhere to be seen. Right in the middle of the floor was a nice pile of hair clippings. This was perfect. She pushed the door open and rushed over to the pile of hair. But how was she going to carry it all home? She looked around for some kind of bag to put it in.

  “Well, hello, dearie.” Mrs. Hopper was standing in the doorway at the back of the salon. She was holding a large, full black garbage bag and she had a broad smile on her face.

  “Um . . . hi,” said Ali. “Um . . . do you mind if I take this pile of hair clippings?” For a school project? To make a wig? Why should Mrs. Hopper care anyway?

  “Oh, but you can’t, dearie,” said Mrs. Hopper. Her long, gray hair was partly piled on her head in an unstable, off-center bun, but quite a bit of it flowed down her back, swinging as she walked toward Ali. “You see, this is my hair.”

  “Um . . .” Ali wanted to turn around and run, but that was ridiculous. She’d had her hair cut by Mrs. Hopper since she was a baby. The nice old lady wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  “Did you think I didn’t see you, running in here and stealing my hair?” Mrs. Hopper was right over Ali now. She smiled her big smile and opened the top of her garbage bag.

  “I’m sorry,” Ali stammered. “I didn’t think . . . I thought you were going to throw it out.”

  “You didn’t think at all, did you, dearie? Your job is to get the hair we can’t get for ourselves. You get more hair, the Kingdome gives you your heart’s desire.”

  “The Kingdome? You mean . . .” Ali took a step backward.

  “Little tiny harmless fairies,” said Mrs. Hopper. The tiny voice squeaked from her large, smiling mouth. Her light blue old-lady eyes suddenly seemed three times larger.

  “That’s not what I think,” said Ali. “I just didn’t know.”

  “Don’t worry, dearie,” said Mrs. Hopper, speaking in Mrs. Hopper’s voice again. She reached out and stroked Ali’s shoulder.

  Ali shivered.

  “You’re perfectly safe as long as you get us what we need. Now run along and find some nice hirsute human heads.” Mrs. Hopper turned the garbage bag over. A large mass of hair clippings dropped out, dwarfing the pile that had Ali had been about to steal. As the hair whooshed down, some of it landed on Ali.

  “Hair.”

  “Hair.”

  “Hair.”

  “Hair.”

  “Ahh! Get off me!” Ali frantically tried to brush the hair off her clothes, but it was too late. Fairies were already crawling on her. Their little hands and feet dug into her clothes. They crawled under her shirt, onto her stomach and back. She brushed harder and shook her body.

  “Ow!”

  “Stop it!”

  “Human wretch!”

  “Hair.”

  Ali ran for the door, slapping her hands against her body, wiggling her arms and legs, swinging her head. She burst out, not paying attention to which way she was running. All she could think about was getting away. She ran until she realized that she was only a block away from school, then stopped and brushed and brushed herself. Finally, she thought she had brushed all the hair off.

  “Hello? Are any of you on me?”

  Nobody answered.

  She sat down on the curb and put her head in her hands. Strands were falling out of her bun. She’d have to go home and fix it before she went back to school. What did school matter, anyway? Mrs. Hopper was an evil fairy! How could that be? And what were all those other fairies doing in the salon? Were those the ones that other kids grew?

  “Ali.”

  Oh no, I’m in trouble. She looked up, but it was only Michael.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. What’s wrong?”

  She was at eye level with his knees—really his knees, because his jeans were old and full of holes. “I went to Mrs. Hopper’s—”

  “The salon?” Michael sat down next to her with a thump. “That’s genius! Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Mrs. Hopper is a fairy!”

  “What? You mean she got tiny?”

  “No, she’s . . . I think she’s been replaced! By a big giant human-looking fairy!” She told him the whole story. “So there are a whole bunch of them living in the hair salon. And they call themselves the ‘Kingdome.’ Please, can you check my back for any hair I missed?”

  Michael roughly brushed the back of her T-shirt. “I don’t see any.”

  “Oh, thank goodness.” She squirmed, remembering all those little hands and feet touching her body. “I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

  “You have to,” said Michael.

  “I know. Tyler. And you want your wish. I want my wish too. But you didn’t see her. She was so weird. It wasn’t Mrs. Hopper. Michael, what happened to Mrs. Hopper?” That poor, sweet old lady. Was she dead? Done in by fairies grown by the kids whose hair she’d been cutting her whole life? She didn’t deserve that.

  Michael pulled out a cigarette. With his large hands and his shaved head, he looked a lot older than fourteen. But his hand was shaking. “I don’t know. I never should’ve gotten you into this.”

  “You warned me. I’m just stupid. That’s why I need a wish. I’m going to pick ‘mental acuity.’”

  “You’re not stupid,” said Michael. “You thought of going to the hair salon. And remember when me and Deacon locked you in your playhouse? You got out in fifteen minutes.” He lit his cigarette. “It took Hannah an hour when we did it to her.” He smiled and blew smoke away from her.

  “Then how come she’s the one who gets straight As? And everyone thinks she’s perfect.” Ali put her head in her hands again. Why was she even talking to the kid who used to do all that mean stuff to her, anyway? Because she’d seen him walking around with his shaved head, and she’d known he had the fairies, and she’d asked him to give her some, and now she was stuck with him.

  “Any idiot can get straight As,” said Michael. “If you want to waste all your time doing homework.”

  “I don’t want to do any homework. If I have ‘mental acuity’ I won’t have to,” said Ali. That was why she had to do it. Not because of what might have happened to Tyler and Molly, or because of some agreement she signed, or so Michael could get his wish. Because she deserved it. She was going to be the smartest kid ever. She lifted her head out of her hands.

  “It’s going to be fine,” said Michael. “I’m going to tell you what I did to get my hair. You don’t have to go anywhere near the salon
again. We can worry about Mrs. Hopper once your flock is grown.”

  “Yeah,” Ali said. “I can get my wish first.” She would still help Mrs. Hopper, just not yet. After all, if she didn’t grow her fairies, something bad would happen to her, too.

  “Cool,” Michael said. “Now here’s what I did.”

  “You gave yourself away, Follica!” Grand Miss Coiffure perched on the back of the salon chair, overseeing the floor full of her subjects. She wore a dress made of bright green wrapping paper tied at the waist with a white ribbon. Her bulging, matching green eyes glared at the Mrs. Hopper–shaped fairy. Lockner stood next to the Grand Miss in a wrapping-paper pantsuit (Happy Birthday type), carrying a tiny scroll and pen.

  “I was caught in the moment, Miss,” said Follica/Mrs. Hopper. “I made a mistake.” She kneeled on the ground, her head nearly touching the floor. Other subjects of the Kingdome perched on her back, still with anticipation.

  “To think we wasted all those seashells making you big!” the Grand Miss fumed.

  “It’s not like I asked for it,” said Follica. “This body is too hot. It doesn’t breathe.”

  “Silence!” the Grand Miss cried. “Now the children think we can grow big—they don’t know that body isn’t human, or how hard it was for us to make. What if they refuse to grow our flocks? It takes children to grow us. Children!” She hopped on her chairback, waving her hairpin scepter at the crowd.

  “But the wishes, Miss,” said Mrs. Hopper. “Surely the wishes—”

  “Silence! You will remain silent!” The Grand Miss pointed her scepter at the prostrate woman.

  Mrs. Hopper’s lips slammed shut. “MM . . . mmmf.”

  “A fit punishment for overspeaking. Now, the rest of you. Fix this! The girl must not ruin our plans. You will FIX THIS!” She jumped and jumped, waving both her arms this way and that.