Evil Fairies Love Hair

by Mary G. Thompson

  “Help!” Ali pounded on the inside of Michael’s fist. She was choking on the odor and not getting enough air.

  “Michael, open your hand. She’s suffocating!”

  Michael opened his hand flat. Both giants peered down at Ali.

  Ali gasped for breath. She wanted to collapse into the hand, but the fear of the smell and getting even more sweat on her kept her standing.

  “Did I hurt you?” asked Michael.

  “No,” said Ali. “Thanks for rescuing me.” She was now covered in sweat and leftover cigarette juice, and her organs had all been rearranged by the run, but at least she was alive and she wasn’t a fairy slave. It could have been worse, she told herself. Not much worse, but still. She wasn’t ready to give up. Giving up is not Alison E. B. Butler’s style, she thought.

  “What are we going to do now?” asked Michael.

  “I still have to feed my fairies,” said Ali.

  “Are you serious?” Crista asked. A storm of spit landed half an inch from Ali. Crista’s giant, contorted features hung in front of her. “What else can they do to you? We should let those little monsters starve!”

  “What about our wishes?” said Ali. “I’m not going to go through all this and then lose my wish. After what happened today, can’t you see I need it?”

  “Yeah,” said Michael.

  “Hey!”

  “I mean . . . I didn’t mean . . .” Michael’s giant lips turned down, and his giant eyes widened into an oversized expression of terror.

  Crista groaned.

  “And what if there is something else they can do to us?” Ali said. “I don’t know. I promised them I’d come back with the rest of their breakfast.”

  “Well, how are you going to do it like that?”

  “I guess I need your help,” said Ali. “Michael can’t help me because it’s against the rules.”

  “Of course,” said Crista, raising both arms. “He can get you into all this trouble, but he can’t help!”

  “I wish I could,” said Michael.

  Crista set her hand next to Michael’s. “Come on, Ali, we’ll let Michael go back to hanging around outside the school.”

  Ali climbed onto Crista’s hand. It was sweaty, but at least it didn’t stink as much.

  “I go to class,” said Michael quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

  “Well, go then,” said Crista. She carefully cupped her hands around Ali and began walking, leaving Michael standing on the sidewalk.

  Twelve

  “You have to come home with me,” said Crista. She was sitting in the backyard with her back against the maple tree. They’d fed the fairies some more of Crista’s hair, then argued about how to get hair for that night, and then begun arguing about where Ali was going to live.

  “But what will my parents do? I have to let them know I’m okay.” Ali was sitting on Crista’s shoulder. Crista’s hair, which was still below shoulder length, was just hanging there. It was covered in hairspray from having been in the bun before, but that just made it crispy and even more appetizing. Not that Ali had ever tasted hair. She just knew it was delicious. She swallowed hard, trying to block out the seductive scent.

  “They’ll step on you, is what. They can’t see fairies, remember? They can’t even hear anything about feeding them, apparently.” Crista shook her head just a little while she spoke. A strand of hair flew in front of Ali’s nose.

  “Then . . .” It smelled so wonderful. Chocolate and gummy bears and pizza and pork chops and angel food cake . . . “Then . . . we have to come up with a story, something so they won’t worry.”

  “Like what?” asked Crista.

  “I don’t know. I . . . I . . .” Three hairs swung by Ali’s face. She reached out for one, but missed. It was hanging right there, but her hand wouldn’t touch it. She walked right up to it and held out her arms, and the strand wouldn’t connect with her body. But she could smell the hairs, so much that she could almost taste them.

  “Ali, are you listening to me?”

  “What?”

  “I said, your mom and Hannah are coming up the driveway.”

  Ali held her breath and turned to look. Despite her change in size, the distance she could see had actually increased. There were her mom and Hannah, walking from the driveway to the kitchen door.

  “Mom!” Ali yelled. She knew they wouldn’t be able to hear her, but she had to try.

  “Mrs. Butler!” Crista called. She stood up, knocking Ali off balance, and headed toward Ali’s mom.

  Ali grabbed on to Crista’s shirt with both hands as she fell, ending up dangling on Crista’s chest. And there it was, right on the front of Crista’s collar, only three body lengths up. A stray, gleaming, no-longer-attached-to-the-head hair. She could get to it if she jumped—she knew she could. She dug her feet into the fabric of the shirt. These fairies must be super-strong—she wasn’t even breaking a sweat.

  “Hello, Crista,” said Mrs. Butler. “Did you leave something in Ali’s room?”

  “No, Mrs. Butler,” said Crista, “It’s about Ali. See, she, uh . . .”

  Ali jumped. She overshot the hair and fell back, grabbing onto Crista’s shirt just in time.

  “Eee!” Crista twitched.

  Ali swung beneath Crista’s collar. The hair was so close. If she could just climb up half an inch . . .

  “Are you all right?” asked Hannah, in a tone of voice that said she hoped not.

  “I’m trying to help Ali,” Crista snapped.

  “Did she leave something behind at school?” Mrs. Butler asked.

  Ali lifted her left foot as far as she could and set it down in a loose spot on Crista’s shirt. She pushed herself up and grabbed farther up on the shirt, right over the piece of hair. She pulled herself up one more step. Holding on with her right hand, she used her left hand to stuff the hair into her mouth.

  It was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

  “At school? No, she, um, I hoped she could stay at my house tonight. We have a project we need to finish,” said Crista.

  “Tonight? You mean she didn’t say goodbye?” asked Mrs. Butler.

  “Goodbye?”

  “Ali was accepted to the Divvy School for Gifted Children,” said Mrs. Butler.

  Ali slurped the hair down. It went down easily, like a noodle.

  “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you,” her mother continued. “She won’t be back before high school graduation.”

  “She’s not at school,” said Crista. “She’s been turned into a Divvy-imp. The Divvy School is a trick. Can’t you tell what’s magic from what’s real?” Crista’s voice rose.

  “My goodness, what a shock,” said Ali’s mother. “I’m sorry you had to hear this way. Would you like to come in for a snack?” She unlocked the door and went inside, leaving the door open behind her.

  “Hannah, can’t you tell that something’s wrong here?” Crista tried.

  Ali searched for more stray hairs near her, but there weren’t any. Suddenly she became fully aware of what Crista was saying. Pressed against Crista’s shirt, she managed to turn her head just enough to see part of Hannah’s face out of one eye.

  “She went to some fancy boarding school for gifted children,” said Hannah.

  “She gets Bs and Cs,” said Crista.

  “She tested in or something,” said Hannah.

  “And she’s not coming back until after high school graduation?” Crista said. “She’s not coming back for any breaks?”

  “That’s the way the school works,” said Hannah. “Sorry.” She followed her mother inside the house, leaving Crista standing in the backyard.

  Ali wanted more hair. There was bound to be hair inside the house. There was always hair in random places with three women around. She had to get inside. Without thinking, she jumped off Crista’s shirt and landed on the grass. It didn’t hurt at all to drop that far. She ran through the stalks, bounded up the steps, and had almost reached the kitchen door wh
en it slammed shut. She screeched to a stop and looked up at the humongous flaps of peeling paint. Then the enormity of what she’d just heard hit her.

  “Mom?”

  On Ali’s desk, a crumpled-up piece of paper slowly unrolled itself and smoothed itself out on top of a stack of schoolbooks.

  Ali’s mother fiddled with the window, making sure it was closed and locked now that her daughter was gone and no one would be coming into this room much. She didn’t see the paper, or the books, or the clothes still hanging in the closet and peeking out of Ali’s drawers.

  You must never attempt to tell anyone who has graduated from 8th grade that fairies exist.

  You must never attempt to harm a fairy.

  You must treat hair products with respect.

  Ali’s mother hummed to herself as she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

  Thirteen

  “I’m not late,” Crista whispered, kneeling on the ground in front of the fifth mound, which she had just finished building. “It’s only eleven o’clock.”

  “We were afraid you had abandoned us,” said Ringlet.

  “Your friends should have thought of that before they turned my friends into fairies,” said Crista. “You’re lucky we’re here at all.”

  Ali stood on Crista’s shoulder. She had convinced Crista to put her hair up in the bun again, thank goodness. When the hair was on top of her head and all held up by spray, it was just a bit less tempting. Crista had given her a little hair earlier, after Ali’s behavior in front of her mother and Hannah, but Ali was already ravenous again. She did not want any other food. Without even trying, she knew she would not be able to eat anything else. She needed hair.

  Crista wiped her hands on her jean skirt and reached into her backpack.

  “Hair. Hair,” the fairies whispered.

  Crista pulled out a plastic bag with the giant words ANNIE’S HIGH QUALITY WIGS on the front of it. “You owe me a lot of money,” said Crista. “But it was either this or go sit in the movie theater with scissors.” She pulled a wig out, a beautiful head of thick, black locks. “The lady said it was real human hair from India.”

  From the dirt where their mounds stood, fairies seeped into the grass, more and more of them. Pilose had said there were now forty-two, but Ali was losing count.

  Crista put a paper towel down on the grass, then held the wig in her left hand and began cutting pieces of hair off it with her right.

  The fairies swarmed onto the paper towel. “Hair. Hair. Hair.”

  Ali was supposed to wait until Crista fed her. She was not supposed to go anywhere near the other fairies, because didn’t they want to capture and enslave her? But the hair was falling and the fairies were eating it, and it smelled like hair, and before she could stop herself, she had jumped down to the paper towel and begun gobbling the hair up.

  It was not good hair. It was old and stale and rubbery tasting. But she was so hungry that it didn’t matter. The hair kept falling, and she kept eating and eating, until she reached out for another strand and grabbed on to nothing. She stood with the others, in the middle of the crowd, all looking up at Crista, who stood over them with the now short-haired wig in one hand and giant, menacing scissors in the other.

  “Ali, where are you?” Crista’s eyes flitted over the group.

  Fairy eyes turned toward her, but no one made a move. They stared, some of them with their mouths open. The ones nearest her pressed back into the others, leaving a space around her.

  They’re babies, thought Ali. They’re more afraid of me than I am of them.

  Pilose climbed onto Ringlet’s shoulders and raised her arms.

  “Ali?”

  “No, it’s not Ali,” said Pilose. “It’s Pilose. I’m one of the flock starters. You might be able to pass this stuff off on my poor infant charges, but you can’t fool me. You gave us old, stale hair. Barely better than cat hair, you well know.”

  “I don’t know anything,” said Crista. “How can you complain about getting free meals twice a day? My parents pay for the food I eat. Do you know how much real human hair wigs cost?”

  “The babies won’t thrive!” Pilose cried.

  “It’s what you’ll get,” said Crista. “Come on, Ali, let’s go.”

  Pilose jumped down off Ringlet’s shoulders and pushed through the crowd toward Ali. The others moved aside for her, but they kept watching Ali. The paper towel was a sea of fairy eyes.

  “So, you invaded the Kingdome,” said Pilose.

  “Ali!” Crista peered down at them.

  “Wait a minute,” said Ali. She knew it would be smart to run away, but here was Pilose coming toward her. This little fairy was now taller than she was, and she now had her own facial features, distinguishing marks that Ali had never noticed before.

  Pilose’s face was long for a fairy’s. Her narrow cheeks met in a sharply pointed chin. Her nose was also sharply pointed, and it hung, beaklike, over her small, delicate mouth. The starlight reflected off her bulging bright blue eyes, and combined with the shine on her bald head, the effect was strangely beautiful. She wore loose canvas pants with a simple three-quarter sleeve T-shirt, causing her long wrists and fingers to stick out as she held a hand out toward Ali.

  Ali hesitated for a second, then reached out and shook Pilose’s hand. The fairy’s grip was firm, neither too loose nor too tight.

  Pilose smiled, showing a little row of perfectly white teeth.

  “Hello,” said Ali.

  “Hello, Alison,” said Pilose. “Welcome to our flock.”

  “I don’t want to be part of any flock,” said Ali. “I plan to become big again.”

  “You are still our child,” said Pilose, “even though you’ve lost your size.”

  “Why do I like hair, then?” Ali asked.

  “A child can take on attributes of fairies, just like fairies can take on attributes of humans,” said Pilose. “Size matters quite a lot, you know.”

  “Not fairies, Divvy-imps,” said Ali.

  Pilose grimaced.

  “Yes, I know,” said Ali. “Your Grand Miss basically admitted it.”

  “Ali, stop talking to that fairy,” said Crista. “We need to go home.”

  “Just a minute,” said Ali.

  “Would you like to come inside and see what you’ve built?” asked Pilose. “I can answer all your questions.”

  This was not a good idea. She shouldn’t even be standing here with them. It was a miracle they hadn’t carted her off to Mrs. Hopper’s salon already. But now that she was down here among them and not in the middle of a fight, they didn’t seem so scary. She only had to turn a little to see the five mounds that rose majestically above their heads. There was something warm and inviting about them. For the first time, she noticed little holes all up and down the sides of the mounds. Light was coming out of them, as if from windows.

  “I’m going to go inside,” she called out.

  “You are not going in there!” said Crista. She reached down with her finger and thumb to pick Ali up, but Ali dodged.

  “We will not hurt her,” said Pilose.

  “Really,” said Crista.

  “Yes, really,” said Pilose. “And if we say we won’t, we can’t. It’s one of the rules.”

  “Is that one of the rules you read, Ali?”

  “No,” Ali admitted. “Going inside just feels right. I know I’m going to be fine.”

  Crista let out a giant sigh. “Whatever you want, Ali. You have five seconds to change your mind.” She folded her humongous arms and glared down. “Five, four, three, two—” She paused and glared. “Fine. See you tomorrow morning, Your Idiocy.” She bowed her enormous head over her immense chest in the most sarcastic manner possible, then snatched her backpack off the ground and stomped away, shaking the fairies’ little patch of ground.

  Jared peeked over the fence, just enough to see Crista storming away. He ran his hand through his thin, wispy hair, letting the dandruff flakes fall around his sho
ulders. What exactly had Ali done to get shrunk by the evil fairies? Would she still be able to grow one hundred? Nothing could get in the way of his getting his looks back—and getting his revenge on his treacherous cousin Jonathan. He’d have to keep a close watch on Ali and her friend to make sure it all went as planned.

  Jared grabbed his bike from where he’d leaned it against the fence. It was late enough that he could sneak into his house without running into his parents and seeing them try to hide the disgust in their eyes. He could handle a few more nights. But he couldn’t wait forever. Jonathan was going to pay, just like anyone—kid or fairy—who tried to stop him. Smiling grimly to himself, Jared rode off into the night.

  Bunny sat on the back of the salon chair, her dainty legs hanging over the edge, comfortably barefoot. She held her hairpin scepter in her left hand and surveyed her subjects. They stood silently at attention, waiting for her to speak. This was the way things were supposed to be.

  “Subjects!” she cried regally. “I have good news to share. Lockner!”

  The back door opened an inch, and Lockner marched through, holding his own hairpin and standing up straight and tall. Following him, fairies marched single file into the room. Sixty-one, sixty-two . . . Bunny counted them silently as they lined up. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.

  Bunny smiled down benevolently. “One more flock for the Kingdome!” she announced.

  The fairies cheered.

  “We are so close to being big, I can taste the chocolate and roast beef we’ll eat!”

  The fairies cheered louder.

  “Lockner, bring the child.”

  Lockner bowed to Bunny, then headed back for the door. He pushed it open, using both hands and straining mightily against its weight. A boy stood behind the door. He shifted nervously from foot to foot.

  “You may enter, child.”

  The boy walked in slowly, all the time staring at the multitude of fairies standing before him. He glanced at Follica/Mrs. Hopper, who was kneeling in back of the group. Then he quickly glanced away.