Evil Fairies Love Hair

by Mary G. Thompson

  “Something majestic!” Pilose cried. “Something dangerous. Something that might lure you away to another world and trap you there forever, or worse. No ‘imp’ ever scared anyone. Who wants to grow a hundred imps?”

  “I didn’t think fairies were scary until people said you guys were fairies,” said Ali.

  “Really?” Pilose smiled.

  “Really,” said Ali. “Besides, kids aren’t growing you because you’re fairies, they’re growing you because they get wishes.”

  “I guess,” said Pilose, folding her arms. “It’s just embarrassing—being something nobody ever heard of. Nobody ever tells stories about Divvy-imps. ‘Fairies’ sounds more impressive. And yes, if you must know, they do have more magic.”

  Another worm slithered out of the wormhole. The first worm had reached the edge of the mound and was burrowing its way through, while the second one wriggled along, its pink skin writhing so that its veins showed.

  “So you want me to feel sorry for you or something?” asked Ali, pulling the scrap of rag around her shoulders. “You’ve made me small like you. You’ve made my parents forget about me.” In the dismal, dirty mound, it was hard to hold back the feelings Ali didn’t want to feel. Her parents didn’t miss her. She turned away from Pilose so the fairy wouldn’t see her trying to hold back her tears.

  “That’s not my fault,” said Pilose. “Grownups can’t know about any magical creatures. That’s a law of nature. What would happen if grownups could know about us?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ali.

  “Life would be no fun for anyone, that’s what,” said Pilose.

  “Life is no fun right now,” said Ali. “I guess you’re going to send me to the hair salon to be a slave like my friends. That’ll be great.” Ali was dimly aware that she should be jumping out of bed and running, but she didn’t want to. She just wanted to lie there in the filthy rags forever.

  “The Grand Miss can find her children somewhere else,” said Pilose. “If you stop feeding us, the babies will starve. They’ll wink out of existence as if they’d never been.” There was a great sadness in Pilose’s voice, and this time Ali thought it was real. “The babies are only copies now. They eat and they shiver with the cold, and they speak and feel as we do, but when the flock is complete, they truly become whole imps. There is nothing in the world like seeing their eyes light up with the full magic of life. If you become a slave, that will never happen for these babies. They will die.”

  Ali rolled over to look at Pilose. The imp’s eyes were filling with water. “I never thought about that before,” she said. “I thought that making us grow a hundred was just a stupid rule.”

  “It’s not stupid to me,” said Pilose. She turned to watch her babies, who were stirring in their bunks now.

  “What happens to you if I don’t finish growing them?”

  “I’ll have to start another flock,” said Pilose. “I’ll always start another flock.” The fairy’s eyes squeezed shut.

  “Do you not like being a flock starter?” asked Ali.

  “It takes so much energy,” said Pilose. “We get as ravenous as the babies—more. You saw how we behaved—banging against the jar, screaming. I hate degenerating that way.”

  As Pilose spoke, one of the baby fairies walked over to Pilose and Ali’s bed of rags. He was wearing ragged pajamas now, full of holes and too short for his arms and legs. “Hair,” said the baby. His bald head glistened with dew.

  “Soon,” said Pilose. Her voice was soft, and she smiled at the baby imp. The expression changed the fairy’s whole face from somber to gentle.

  Ali hoped Crista would come back. They fought all the time, and Crista would storm out, and then the next day everything would be fine. But what if this was different? What if Ali had finally pushed Crista too far? Then she’d really have no one. Just as Ali had convinced herself that Crista wasn’t coming back, that she was all alone and about to starve besides, she smelled it. Before she’d gotten shrunk, she would never have had any idea that hair smelled like anything except shampoo. But now it smelled almost exactly like roast beef.

  “Hair,” Ali whispered.

  Bunny and Lockner stood in the closet, watching the three slaves polishing the giant seashells with mousse. Bunny was perched on a cardboard box so she’d stand above her subjects. Lockner stood at the foot of the box, holding the Grand Miss’s hairpin scepter.

  “You—the new one—quit your whimpering and get back to work.”

  Standing in front of a shell that was only half crusted, Jennifer wiped tears from her eyes.

  Bunny pointed with one finger, raising her arm so that her green wrapping-paper dress crinkled dramatically. “There’s no crying in the Kingdome!”

  Jennifer sniffed and picked up her rag again. Silently, she began to rub the rest of the mousse into the shell.

  Lockner, still holding the scepter in one hand, climbed awkwardly up the back of the box, where the imps had cut out pieces of cardboard to form a makeshift ladder. “Miss,” he whispered when he reached her, “we are closer than ever to our goal. We need only two more flocks to have enough power for the Replacement.”

  Bunny smiled and took her scepter from Lockner. “Soon we’ll be able to put mousse in our wigs.” She patted her bald head with her free hand.

  “Yes, Miss,” said Lockner. “But we have only three children.” He inclined his head toward the three slaves.

  “We’ll have Alison Butler,” said Bunny, “but first she needs to finish her flock. I won’t go losing another crop so far along.” She stared down her nose at Lockner, despite their being the same height. “If you think she’ll run off, you forget the greedy nature of children. She thinks she’ll get her wish and be big again.”

  “We still need a fifth,” said Lockner.

  “Michael Landis has already broken the rules,” said Bunny. “By the time the Kingdome is complete, we’ll have enough children for the spell.”

  Lockner smiled. He shifted inside his Happy Birthday wrapping-paper pantsuit. “Do you think we’ll need wigs, Miss? Isn’t it possible we’ll grow our own hair back once we’re big?”

  “Everything is possible, Lockner.” Bunny and Lockner exchanged thin, bald-headed grins.

  Sixteen

  Pilose grabbed Ali’s arm, and before Ali understood what was happening, they were on top of the mound along with all ten of the babies. On the other four mounds, babies were spilling toward Crista’s large form. There seemed to be more than last night’s forty-two.

  Ringlet ran up the mound toward them. “Only six more imps this morning,” said Ringlet, his face red. “That hair was useless except for making us sick.”

  As Ringlet fumed, Crista pulled another wig out of her backpack. Pilose groaned, but the babies rushed forward toward it.

  Ringlet ran down the mound. “Stop, stop—don’t eat that!”

  The babies slowed their run and looked back at him, their eyes bulging with hunger.

  “Don’t you remember how sick you were? Babies . . .” he muttered. Then he looked up at Crista. “You made the whole flock sick with that old wig!” His voice sounded deep and real to Ali now, not high and squeaky. And his anger made perfect sense. The hair had been bad.

  “You said you ate hair, so you got hair,” Crista’s giant voice boomed. “The great Alison E. B. Butler may be willing to cut her own mother’s hair, but I’m not.” Oh no. The full name. Crista was still mad.

  “I’m sorry, Crista,” said Ali. Her voice sounded tiny in her own ears. “We appreciate your help, but the hair did make us sick.”

  Crista shoved the wig back into her bag. “Fine! I’ll just get my money back.” She stood up.

  “Wait! Crista, don’t go!” Ali shouted.

  “Oh, do you want to get away now? Didn’t you have a nice night with your new friends?”

  Ali glanced at Pilose. She was pretty sure that Pilose wasn’t going to drag her to the Kingdome and make her a slave, but she also wasn’t eager to spe
nd the rest of the day with the worms. Plus, it would be hard to come up with a new plan to save Tyler and Molly and Jennifer—and herself—with the fairies right there.

  A large clump of hair dropped in front of the mounds. The sky above Ali darkened as giant legs stepped over her and landed next to Crista.

  The babies ran for the hair. Ali couldn’t help it. She ran after them. She heard the voices in the background, but nothing was going to stop her from devouring her fair share.

  Pilose spoke with her mouth full. “You aren’t supposed to help.”

  “I know that, no thanks to your too-late directions,” said Michael. “But I already went along with Ali’s scheme to rescue Tyler and Molly. Your friends are coming after me no matter what I do now. And I want my wish. If Ali grows her flock, you still have to give it to me, don’t you?” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was so loud that Ali would have put her hands over her ears if she weren’t stuffing her face with hair. She was dimly aware that the hair she was eating was wet, obviously drain hair, while some of the babies were picking apart clumps that looked like they’d come out from under a sofa along with enough dust to choke a vacuum. But coming from a disgusting place didn’t make the hair any less delicious. This morning it was like gummy bears. Sweet and tender gummy bears that exercised your teeth but never stuck. Mmmm.

  Pilose stuffed a clump of hair into her mouth and considered. “It’s never happened,” she said. “When the children break the rules, the Grand Miss is able to take them. No one has ever broken the rules and then grown a flock.”

  “So we can do it,” said Michael.

  “I’m surprised you’re still big,” said Pilose. “They probably couldn’t stand your smoke stench. But it won’t last—Bunny will take you.”

  “Let her try it,” said Michael. “Hey, Ali!”

  Ali slurped up her last strand of hair. The fairies had done away with the rest and were now staring up at Michael and Crista, their eyes begging for more.

  “Are you all right down there?” Michael asked.

  “I’m fine,” said Ali. Except for being a fairy.

  Michael reached down and grabbed Ali between two fingers. Fortunately, he used the hand he hadn’t been holding his cigarette with. It was almost clean. She wanted to be mad, but she was glad he’d made the decision for her. There was some strange force trying to tie her to those fairy mounds.

  Michael dropped her into the front pocket of his shirt. The pocket was too deep for her to reach the top, but she jumped and was just able to catch the flap of fabric. She pulled her head over the edge and caught a view of Crista’s receding back. Her above-the- shoulders hair fluttered unevenly as she stalked off.

  “Crista!” Ali yelled. But Crista didn’t stop. Maybe she hadn’t heard Ali yelling, but Ali bet she had. “Thank you for bringing the hair!”

  Crista still didn’t stop.

  “Forget her,” said Michael. “She never made any agreement with the fairies, so she’s probably safe. We need to worry about us.”

  “Pilose didn’t try to enslave me,” said Ali. She told Michael what she’d seen in the fairy mound. How the fairies were miserable waiting for the flock to grow.

  “That’s just because you haven’t finished growing the flock yet,” said Michael. “That little imp won’t care about you then.”

  Ali had to admit that he was right. “So what are we going to do about it? The directions said—”

  “Don’t tell me!”

  “What does it matter now? You’ve tried to hurt them, and you’ve given hair to my flock. You’re screwed unless we use everything we’ve got.”

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” Michael thudded down the sidewalk, ignoring a man who stared at him and stepped into the street to get out of his way.

  “Anyway, it’s not what the directions said, it’s what they didn’t say. Like the fact that the ‘full-sized human’ becomes a fairy slave to replace the kid you rescue. We need to ask the directions again—how to make a kid big again without making someone small. I think it’s all in how you ask the question.”

  “We have to stop them from making me small, too,” said Michael. “And how do we know that if we make you big, they can’t just make you small again because of all the rules you’ve broken?”

  Michael left the sidewalk and headed in toward the school. Crista was standing in front of the main doors, waiting for them.

  “What’s wrong?” Ali asked.

  This time, Crista didn’t pretend she hadn’t heard. “Look.”

  “Look at what?” Michael passed Crista and pushed through the front doors. It was unnaturally quiet inside. Kids were just standing around, glancing nervously at one another. No lockers slammed, no voices shouted. No one ran down the hall. It seemed like everyone was scared silent. And all the boys had their heads shaved. All the girls were wearing the fairy-approved bun.

  Seventeen

  All the kids stared at Michael.

  “He’s got one in his pocket!” someone cried.

  Girls started screaming and running away down the main hall.

  Four boys surrounded Michael. They were mean kids—the type of guys Ali had thought Michael was friends with. But they glared at him like he was an ant. One of the boys was Jonathan Yeager, the guy who had hexed his own cousin. He was about a foot shorter than Michael, but he got right in Michael’s face.

  “Why’re you bringing them in here?” he said.

  “Why is everyone suddenly afraid now?” asked Michael. “Plus, it’s just Ali Butler.” He pulled Ali out of his pocket and held her in front of Jonathan’s face. His fingers pinched Ali’s ribs so she could barely breathe.

  “Put me back in your pocket, you moron!” Ali squeaked.

  Michael dunked her back in.

  “I’m not afraid,” said Jonathan. “I just don’t want everyone in the whole school trying to get them. This one screwed it all up.” He poked the pocket Ali crouched in, narrowly missing her.

  Ali jumped up and held on to the edge of the pocket again. “Stop that!”

  “You better give her fairies to me,” Jonathan continued. “Why’d you give yours to her anyway? I thought we were friends, man.” Jonathan was the one eighth-grader in the school who was older than Michael, since he’d been held back twice. He was also one of the kids who tended to hang around across the street instead of actually coming to school. Ali wouldn’t have been surprised if he was still around and able to grow his flock into next year.

  “But that’s not fair,” Ali squeaked. “You already got a wish. It’s not my fault you wasted it on a hex.”

  “Shut up, tiny,” said Jonathan. “I’m getting an improvement too. I didn’t see anything in the rules that says I can’t grow two flocks.”

  “Who are you calling tiny? What are you going to wish for anyway, the IQ of an ostrich?” Ali squeaked.

  “You stinky little—” Jonathan reached for Ali, but Michael stepped backward, and at the same time, the bell rang.

  Vice Principal Johnson walked by. “To class, boys.”

  “You better have them for me after school,” Jonathan said, leading his pack off. The crowd of kids who’d been watching the scene slowly dissipated, and Michael, to Ali’s surprise, headed to class.

  Ali crouched in Michael’s pocket for the slow three hours until lunch. The voices of the kids were strangely subdued. Every time she peeked out, she saw kids glancing sideways at them, whispering, then turning away. But the scene in the cafeteria was a whole different story.

  A group of kids stood right inside the doors, holding signs that read, STOP FEEDING EVIL FAIRIES!, DOWN WITH FAIRIES!, and SAVE OUR HAIR! They glared at Ali as she rode by.

  “Doesn’t anyone feel sorry for me?” Ali asked. “I only got shrunk because I was trying to help people.”

  “Oh, crap,” said Michael. As he turned away from the kids with the signs, Ali saw what he was talking about. There was another group with signs, but these signs said things like, EQUAL FAIRIES FOR ALL!, STOP HO
ARDING WISHES!, and DONATE HAIR HERE—the last one above a large wicker basket lined with a garbage bag. As far as Ali could tell, no one had put any hair in the basket. What had happened to the hair that the boys had shaved off their heads? She could almost taste the gravy on the roast beef, and somehow she could also taste gummy bears. She leaned over the edge of Michael’s pocket.

  Crista came from behind them, brushing by without saying anything. She walked right up to the girl behind the basket, who was holding the DONATE HAIR HERE sign. “Have you lost your mind?” Crista yelled. “These fairies are evil! How could you possibly want them?”

  “Shut up, Crista,” said a girl holding a sign that said, BE FAIR, GIVE HAIR! “We know you have some. Otherwise, why do you have short hair all of a sudden?”

  “I can’t get my hair cut?” Crista shouted. “You guys are idiots. You should be listening to them.” She pointed to the anti-fairy protesters.

  “Give it up,” said the girl. “We know you’re best friends with Ali Butler. Obviously she helped you get some.”

  Crista turned around and glared at Ali. “Tell them how dangerous the fairies are.” She waited. “Tell them!”

  “I—Michael, can you move closer?” Ali waited for Michael to approach the pro-fairy kids. She cleared her throat. “They don’t play fair,” she said. “They promise you a wish, but if you break any of their rules, which they don’t tell you, then . . .” She wasn’t sure how much she could say without getting into more trouble, but she was already shrunk, and Michael was helping her. What more could they do? “Then they shrink you and make you slaves. I only just barely escaped, and I might never get big again. They’ve turned Tyler and Molly and Jennifer into slaves, and done something to Mrs. Hopper and replaced her with a giant fairy.” She cleared her throat again. The girls holding the signs were staring at her like she was a spider they were about to stomp on.

  “They made Jennifer beautiful,” said one girl.

  “And they made Barney Schmitt popular,” said another.

  “And now Natalie Buckmaster can sing,” said a third.