Evil Fairies Love Hair

by Mary G. Thompson

  “I could always sing,” said Natalie, sliding between Michael and the girls. She sashayed through the cafeteria and into the food line.

  “They’re pretty much evil,” said Michael.

  “Tell us how you got them!”

  “Give me some!”

  “It’s not fair!” the girls yelled. Other kids started crowding around them.

  From behind, the anti-fairy kids weighed in. “Don’t feed fairies! Don’t feed fairies!” they chanted.

  “Goodness gracious,” said Vice Principal Johnson, pushing between the two groups. He ignored Michael and almost backed up into Ali’s pocket.

  She dropped inside.

  “I’ve never seen kids with such strong opinions about library funding. Maybe we can buy both fantasy epics and an encyclopedia set. I’ll take it up with the librarian this afternoon. Now please, let’s have a nice quiet lunch!”

  The kids grumbled a bit, but the situation outside the pocket gradually quieted.

  “What are you doing?” Ali whispered.

  “I’m getting some lunch,” said Michael. “It sucks but I get it free.”

  “Can you find me some hair?” Ali asked.

  “You really like hair as much as they do?”

  “Yes! I don’t understand it, but I’m starved all the time.”

  “Eee! Get your hands off me!” said a girl’s voice.

  “Sorry, he bumped into me,” said Michael.

  “I didn’t!” a boy protested. From his trembling voice, Ali guessed he was a sixth-grader who’d heard about the terrible, scary Michael Landis.

  Two smoke-stinking fingers appeared above the pocket, and four strands of long blond hair rained down.

  “Back of the sweater,” Michael whispered.

  “FFanks,” Ali said, mouth full.

  Lockner pounded on the salon door with his tiny fist. As Mrs. Hopper opened the door, he raced to the back of the chair on which the Grand Miss perched. Huffing and puffing, he climbed the upholstery to her side.

  “Well, what is it?” she asked, dipping her hand into the pile of clippings next to her and stuffing a clump into her mouth.

  “The children are revolting!” said Lockner.

  “Dirty creatures, but we’re stuck with them. What’s your point, Lockner?”

  “Not that kind of revolting, Miss—” Lockner gasped. “They’re rebelling against the Kingdome. Some are agitating for the end of flocks!”

  “The end of flocks!” Bunny exclaimed. “Those rugrats must not have heard about the wishes. You must do a better job of spreading the word.”

  Lockner began to sweat. “They know, Miss. They say the wishes aren’t worth the risk of reduction in size. Not to mention . . .”

  “What is it, Lockner?” Bunny snapped, stuffing another clump of hair into her mouth. “Spit it out.”

  “Well, Miss, they’ve also heard about the slavery part . . . and they know that the Kingdome is located here in the salon.”

  Bunny jumped to her feet and hopped in anger, her dress crinkling. “I told you to FIX THAT!”

  “We can’t erase memories, Grand Miss,” said Lockner, stepping backward, pulling his head into his shoulders.

  “WHO SAYS WE CAN’T!!” Bunny hopped and hopped, her face growing bright red.

  “The magic!” Lockner cried. “It changes memories only when it suits the rules.”

  “I’M TIRED OF ALL THESE SILLY RULES!”

  Eighteen

  Ali sat on her bed, now a vast expanse of purple flowers and smiley faces, a combination that had seemed hilarious only a few short days ago. Now the black smiley-face eyes were only blotches, their meaning erased by their immense size. She leaned against her pink unicorn, now bigger than a real horse. Its fake hair scratched her back, but she tried to ignore that and remember holding on to it when it had been a good friend and not a giant monster. It felt good to relax for a minute after the mad dash they’d made home from school in an effort to avoid Jonathan Yeager.

  Pilose sat on top of the unicorn, her legs dangling over the side Ali was leaning against. Ringlet lay on his back near the unicorn’s bottom, staring straight up at the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Michael sat on Ali’s desk chair, while Crista paced up and down.

  “Are you sure no one’s going to hear us?” Crista asked.

  “They all went to a movie,” said Michael. “We have plenty of time.”

  “Going to movies like nobody’s missing,” said Ali. “I bet they wonder why they’re suddenly so happy.”

  “It’s just magic,” said Crista. “In their real brains, they remember.”

  “Magic is perfectly real,” said Pilose. “Why do humans make silly distinctions? It has rules and ingredients just like science.”

  “So their brains have really been erased?” Ali asked.

  “Well, yes,” said Pilose. “But magic can change their brains back, if the rules allow it.”

  “Whatever,” said Crista. “Ali, your parents are going to remember you again.”

  “Yes, yes,” said Pilose. “But first things first. We are all bound together now. You three have been feeding us together. That makes all of you our children.”

  “What do you mean by ‘our children’?” asked Crista, stopping in mid-pace.

  “Each flock must have one child,” said Pilose. “That’s the way it’s always been. You three have mixed everything up. I can’t be sure what the result will be.”

  “I’m not your child,” said Crista. “I never signed one of your agreements. All I did was help my friend after you shrank her.”

  “I’m not a child,” said Michael. “I’m fourteen.” He slouched in his chair and tossed Ali’s pink-haired troll pencil back and forth between his giant hands.

  “You can see me, can’t you?” Pilose scoffed.

  Michael broke the pencil in two and slammed it down on the desk. “Just tell us whatever your big news is. We still need to get your hair for tonight.”

  “I’m trying to tell you,” said Pilose. “Ali, where did you put your agreement?”

  “It’s in the desk drawer on the left,” said Ali.

  Michael opened the desk drawer and pulled it out. “She agrees to grow her fairies, pass on the flock starters, follow the rules. We know this already. So what?”

  “Flip the paper over,” said Pilose.

  Michael did. He blinked.

  “What?” Crista demanded, grabbing for the paper.

  “I’m not sure you want to—”

  “Just give it to me!” Crista ripped the paper from Michael’s hands. “WHAT?” Her face turned an abnormally bright shade of red.

  “What does it say?” Ali asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

  “It says:

  ‘**And I also agree on behalf of anyone who might help me collect my hair that if any child feeds hair to my flock, that child shall also be bound by this Agreement.’

  “Ali, did you know about this?”

  “No, of course not!” Ali cried. “I only saw the front side. There wasn’t any back side!”

  “There’s always a back side,” said Pilose. “I guess you didn’t ask to see it.”

  “I have to ask to see it?” Ali fumed. “I never agreed—”

  “There are two stars on the front,” said Crista.

  “What?” asked Ali.

  “After the line that says ‘I will follow all the rules,’ there are two stars. Did you ever stop to think about what those two stars meant?”

  “I . . . um . . .”

  “Didn’t it ever occur to you to read the fine print?” Crista balled the agreement up in her fist and scrunched it until her knuckles turned white. She looked like she wanted to throw something, or hit something, or scream, or like her head was about to explode in a puff of smoke.

  “Now you’ll want to read your directions,” said Pilose. “What have you done with them, Alison?”

  “They’re on top of the desk,” said Ali. Her heart
sank into her stomach. Something else that was not good was about to happen. So much for relaxing.

  “You can’t read someone else’s directions,” said Michael, but he picked up the sheet of paper anyway. “See, there’s nothing . . . oh, crap.” Michael brought the paper over to the bed and set it down next to Ali. Crista leaned in next to him. Ali thought she could feel steam rising off of her. Pilose and Ringlet peered over Ali’s head.

  Where the directions had been, there was now a picture. It showed a crudely drawn head with large eyes labeled ALISON BUTLER. But as soon as the group started looking at it, two other heads began to fade in. They were labeled CRISTA TRAYNOR and MICHAEL LANDIS. After only a few moments, the pictures of Michael and Crista were just as solid as the one of Ali.

  “I don’t have curly hair,” said Crista. “And why is my tongue sticking out?”

  “Why do I look crazy?” asked Michael.

  “My eyes!” Ali exclaimed. She put both hands to her head. “Why am I bald?”

  “Is that all you care about?” asked Pilose. “It’s not the faces that matter, it’s the names. Your names are all here. And more important than that, you’re all tied to my flock by the Hair of the Eternal Imp!”

  “The Eternal Imp?” said Crista. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “This is very serious,” said Pilose. “You cannot cut the Hair of the Eternal Imp except by seeing the flock grown—and maybe not even then.”

  “Who’s the Eternal Imp?” asked Ali. “Impoliptus?”

  “No,” said Pilose. “Impoliptus is the Great Imp, the one who first tied imps to children, but he is only an imp. The Hair of the Eternal Imp is the magic that ties imps to children and children to imps, magic that Impoliptus only harnessed. Before we un-enslaved ourselves, it tied us to rewards and punishments. Now it ties children and their flocks.”

  “So let’s say I’m tied to your flock somehow,” said Crista. “So what? We’ll finish growing your stupid fairies and be done with you.”

  “But you’ve broken the rules,” said Pilose.

  “I didn’t break any rules,” said Crista. “I’ve done nothing but help you.”

  “Turn the paper over,” said Pilose.

  Crista grabbed the paper, flipped it over, and dropped it back onto the bed. Carefully, Ali inched forward.

  RULES BROKEN

  1. Helping another child gather hair. (Crista Traynor, Michael Landis)

  2. Feeding your flock your own hair. (Crista Traynor)

  3. Attempting to harm a Divvy-imp. (Ali Butler, Crista Traynor, Michael Landis)

  As they read, the word Divvy-imp disappeared and was replaced by the word fairy.

  “Oh, shut up,” said Ali. “We know already.” After a second, Divvy-imp reappeared.

  4. Attempting to tell an older person about fair Divvy-imps. (Ali Butler, Crista Traynor, Michael Landis)

  “No way!” said Crista. “I fed Ali’s flock my hair.”

  “We became your flock when you started feeding us,” said Pilose.

  “There wasn’t anything about attempting to harm a Divvy-imp,” said Ali. “I read all the directions, so I know.”

  “Did you read anything since you were shrunk?” asked Pilose.

  “Well, no, but that wouldn’t be . . . fair,” Ali said. She closed her eyes.

  “It was on the directions I read,” said Michael. He glared down at Pilose. “And don’t tell me I can’t talk about what’s on them, because we’re all supposed to be tied to the flock now and we’re all reading the same directions, right?”

  “That’s right,” said Pilose.

  “I know what to do,” said Ali, opening her eyes again. She stepped onto the paper. “These directions have to answer my direct questions. And I know they’re just going to try to trick me again, but I’m not going to let them. I’m going to get them to fix everything, starting with me.” She looked down at the paper. “How can I make myself big again without causing any consequences? That means no making someone else small, and no hurting me or my friends in any way.”

  The directions page went blank. Everyone waited.

  “Well?” said Ali, folding her tiny arms across her tiny chest.

  Touch your fingernails together.

  Touch your toenails together.

  Think big.

  “Think big?” Crista asked. “That’s it?”

  Ali sat down on top of the directions and pulled off her shoes and socks. “That’s it,” she said. “They had to tell me! I’ve got it all figured out!” She sat cross-legged, contorting herself in an attempt to get her left toenails to touch her right toenails. “It’s not that easy to . . .” She huffed and puffed. As soon as this was over, she was going to start doing yoga. Finally, her toenails were touching. She pressed her right-hand and left-hand fingernails together. Big, she thought. Big. Big big big big big!

  Suddenly her whole body began to itch. She squirmed and scratched her stomach. The itch was worst right in the middle of her body and radiated out into her arms and legs. Then her eyes began to itch, too. She squeezed them shut and rubbed them with one hand, still scratching her stomach with the other.

  “Run!” Ringlet screamed.

  Ali’s right leg, suddenly giant, popped out from her body. Her left eye popped into her still tiny head. Then her head popped out, knocking into the unicorn. The unicorn fell away from her. She was a giant head and a giant leg on a teeny-tiny body. Her right eye popped in and stopped itching. She opened both her eyes. All she saw was her leg, dwarfing everything around it. “Are you guys okay?” she asked. What if she’d crushed them?

  “We’re fine,” said Pilose. The imp’s voice was tiny again. That was wonderful. Now if only the rest of her could get big, too. Pop. That was her right arm. Pop. There went her left. Pop. There was her—

  “Aaaa!” The weight of her newly grown midsection was too much for the edge of the bed she’d been sitting on. She fell with a thump onto the floor, face-down.

  “Ali!” Michael and Crista each grabbed an arm and pulled her up.

  Ali made it to her feet and pressed each foot gingerly against the floor. They seemed to be the right size. She looked down at her hands. They were the right size, too. Everything was in order. She breathed in deeply. She’d never been so happy to see her own body in her whole life. She was never going to take being a normal-sized human being for granted ever again.

  Crista and Michael stared at her.

  “What?” Ali asked.

  Crista slowly patted the top of her head.

  Ali reached up to feel her hair. Where was it? There was something right in the middle of her head, but—she raced to the full-length mirror on her closet door. There she was, exactly the way she used to be, except for one very important, very big thing. She was almost completely bald. In the middle of her head, at the very top, there was a teeny-tiny little bun, just exactly like the one she’d worn when she was fairy-size.

  She marched over to the directions. “Why do I still have fairy hair?”

  You asked to be big. Now you are.

  “You . . .” Ali resisted the urge to ball the directions up. There was still something she needed to know. “Never mind that for now. You listed a whole bunch of things we all supposedly did. And now Pilose says we’re all tied together and it’s a big deal. So just tell us what the consequences are.”

  Nineteen

  CONSEQUENCES

  For attempting to harm a Divvy-imp or attempting to tell an older person about fairies: slavery and increased proportional size of eyes or equal-level punishment (Divvy-imp choice).

  For helping another child gather hair: entanglement in Hair of the Eternal Imp.

  For feeding your flock your own hair: Just don’t do it. The Great Imp is not responsible for the results.

  “The Great Imp is not responsible?” asked Ali. “Who is this guy, a vacuum cleaner salesman?”

  “He is the great Impoliptus, founder of the Divvy-imp line—” Pilose began.

  “I k
now, I know,” said Ali, “but this doesn’t tell us anything. What’s going to happen?”

  “I’ve never seen these consequences myself,” said Pilose. “Crista is the first child to feed a flock her own hair.”

  “Well, I never tried to harm any Divvy-imps,” said Ali.

  “You sprayed Follica with hairspray!” Ringlet said.

  “Follica? You mean the fake Mrs. Hopper? It wasn’t supposed to hurt,” said Ali. Though she hadn’t even thought to wonder if it would.

  “And he shook a whole mound of us with his carcinogenic monster hands.” Ringlet glared up at Michael.

  “Get over it,” said Michael. “All they had to do was turn Tyler and Molly back. They’re lucky I didn’t rip their little arms—urgh.” Michael stopped mid-rant and clutched his head with both hands. “AAAAH!”

  Ali stared at him. His hands seemed even larger than they used to be. Were they growing, or was his head shrinking? The hands might have been growing larger, but they were closer to Ali now. He was getting shorter. Definitely shrinking.

  “Stop this!” Ali said. She grabbed Pilose and shook the imp. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it!”

  Michael’s hands suddenly popped into a smaller copy of themselves. He was now no taller than Crista, who had stepped back from him and was looking from side to side like she was searching for a weapon.

  Ali shook Pilose.

  “Stop shaking her! We aren’t doing it,” Ringlet said. “The magic is bigger than us. You’ve created an imbalance by having three of you and breaking so many rules. It’s happening whether we want it to or not.”

  Ali dropped Pilose on the bed. Her tiny tuft of hair was burning. She felt stronger. A power flowed through her whole body. “I took on attributes of an imp,” she whispered.

  “What?” Crista asked. “What did you say?”