Clara’s eyes widened. She wanted to reply, but she wasn’t sure what to say. Rowan must have thought that meant she didn’t remember who he was, because he added quickly, “I didn’t win. I’m sure you remember that.”
“You came in fourth,” said Clara. “That’s a pretty big honor.”
“Not if you ask my big brother Alasdair.”
“Alasdair’s your big brother?” asked Clara.
“Yes, and he never lets me forget it,” said Rowan. “He took first prize last year. As usual. But I’m going to beat him this year. I’ve been training all fall.”
“Training? What have you been doing?”
Rowan told Clara all about how he’d been practicing for the Games—running up his own island’s steepest hill, lifting boulders, swimming around the Outer Islands.
“But I’m talking too much!” said Rowan. “I’m sorry. Tell me about you, Clara.”
Clara hesitated. But she felt Rowan would be very easy to talk to. Maybe it was because she knew he’d soon go back to the Outer Islands and she’d never see him again. Maybe it was the friendly twinkle in his dark eyes. “I’ve been training, too,” she said.
“For the Games?” asked Rowan.
“No, my sister Sylva has been training for the Games. I’ve been training . . .” Clara stopped herself. She wished she had not brought it up. “Um, did you know we have a baby dolphin in Sheepskerry Bay?”
“Are you changing the subject? Because I have a feeling I know what you’ve been training for,” said Rowan. “I think you’re coming into your magic powers.”
Clara was startled. How did he know?
“Gnomes can do one or two tricks when they’re my age, but they don’t get their full powers till they’re much older,” said Rowan. “Tell me what it’s like.”
Rowan was so friendly, and Clara was so eager to talk about what was happening to her, that she found herself telling him all about her newfound magical powers. She even related the story of the grasshopper . . . and what Queen Mab had said so many years ago.
“‘A very great fairy,’” said Rowan. “Now that is an honor.”
“Maybe she says that to every fairy, just to build confidence.”
“But that wouldn’t be true. Not every fairy becomes a truly great fairy. So I don’t think it would be very queenly of her, would it?”
“I suppose not,” said Clara. “But how did you guess that my powers were coming? Does it show somehow?”
Rowan busied himself stirring the soup Clara had made, though it didn’t really need stirring. “You just look more grown-up than you did last year,” he said. “Even prettier.”
They heard a clatter behind them, and Rosy burst through the door. “Clara! Julia Jellicoe told me what went on with the banquet. Do you need some help?”
“We’re almost all set, Rosy. Rowan here has been helping out.” And guessing things about me I thought nobody knew. “If you two just finish up, I’ll decorate the banqueting hall.”
“There’s not a lot of time,” said Rosy. “Everyone will be arriving in a minute.”
“I’ve got a plan,” said Clara.
Clara flew into the banqueting hall. The pine tables were scrubbed, the napkins were pressed, and the tables were set for the welcoming banquet. It looked very simple and very plain.
“That’s all very well for a colony of gnomes,” said Clara to herself. “But for fairies . . . it lacks a certain sparkle.”
Then she recited her charm.
Turn thrice around.
Fling wide your arm.
Sparkle now!
Obey my charm!
She spun around carefully and opened her eyes, hoping for anything but soot. “Oh my!” she cried.
The sparkle charm was different in the palace than it had been on the hill, but the effect was just as beautiful. Where there had been bare floors and empty vases, there were carpets of flowers and pots of blossoms. The tables were covered with spun gold. Balloons and ribbons streamed from the ceiling, and tiny glowing fairy lights sparkled like stars.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous!” said Rosy when she flew in to see it. “How did you get all this done so quickly?”
“She works fast,” said Rowan. Then he smiled at Clara. “Though it looks a wee bit like magic to me.”
seven
“Tug! TUG! T—U—G!”
Alasdair’s team was winning the tug-of-war, and Goldie was almost out of her seat with excitement.
It was the morning after the welcoming banquet. Clara had saved the day.
“You were very smart to make us all some real food,” Julia Jellicoe had told her. “Sorry we didn’t bring the tomatoes.”
Clara smiled. The banquet had worked out perfectly, even if it did wear her out more than she thought it would. There was piping-hot food (helped along by Rosy and Rowan), and everybody was thrilled with all the desserts. The dining hall itself was as magnificent as it had ever been—thanks to Clara’s magic. Queen Mab had given Clara a warm smile when she saw the decorations. Maybe she knows? Clara thought.
Fairies and gnomes alike had enjoyed themselves enormously. They’d all had a good night’s rest, and now the Games were in full swing.
“Come on, Alasdair! Win it for me!” Goldie cried.
With an enormous last PULL, Alasdair’s team of gnomes yanked the other team across the centerline and won the contest. “Hooray!” Goldie cheered. Alasdair waved at Goldie in the stands. “I’m fainting!” said Goldie.
“You are such a goose!” said Sylva. “He doesn’t really care about you. Look—now he’s waving at Iris Flower.”
Poppy, in the seat next to Sylva, beamed. “I think he likes Iris too,” she said.
“Alasdair is a little show-offy,” said Rosy.
“He’s not show-offy. He’s just the best.”
“We’ll see about that, Goldie,” said Clara. “Alasdair is doing well, but the other gnomes are right behind him.” She looked at the scoreboard. Alasdair was in first place; Rowan was a distant fifth. Come on, Rowan, she thought. You can do it.
eight
All that day, gnomes and fairies played in the Valentine’s Games together. The fairies laughed and laughed as the gnomes tried to sprint against them (of course flying is faster than running!), but the gnomes got their own back when they competed in Tossing the Branch. Twelve gnomes and fairies each balanced a huge branch on the palms of their hands, and then tossed it as high and far as they could. Alasdair was the winner of that contest, too, but Rowan was a close second.
The most fun was the three-legged race. Queen Mab enchanted the leaves on the trees so that each one magically displayed the names of a pair of fairies or gnomes. When the queen said, “Leaves, fall upon us!” the green leaves on the enchanted trees of Lady’s Slipper Field cascaded down.
“I’m teaming up with . . . Poppy!” said Sylva. “Queen Mab really knows what to do with her magic. I bet she thinks we’ll win!”
“Don’t be so sure, Poppy,” said Clara. “These gnomes are awfully good.”
“Look,” said Goldie, with a frown on her face, “my leaf says I’m with . . . Ethelrood.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked at the scoreboard. “Ethelrood? What kind of a name is that? And he’s in tenth place!”
“Ethelrood is a very old and respected gnomish name,” said Clara.
“Humph!” said Golden.
Clara didn’t want to look at the enchanted leaf that had fallen in her lap. Maybe I’ll be paired with Ro—
“Clara!” Iris Flower exclaimed. “We’re a team!”
She looked at her leaf. Sure enough, it bore the names Clara and Iris. “We’ll be a great team,” she told her friend, and she meant it.
“Rosy got Squeakie!” cried Sylva. “They’re racing in the baby-stroller lanes with the other baby fairies and their big sisters. And Alasdair is partners with his brother.” Sylva paused. “What’s his name—Owen.”
“His name is Rowan,” said Clara.
Queen Mab’s
clear voice rang out over Lady’s Slipper Field. “Racers, prepare!”
“Come on, Sylva!” called Poppy.
And with that, the meadow was festooned with velvet ribbons to tie the racers’ legs together.
“Grab a couple of ribbons, Poppy. We’ll show those gnomes who can win a three-legged race!”
Queen Mab had changed the rules this year and paired some gnomes and fairies together, so the three-legged races, usually a competition of practiced skill and coordination, turned into a bit of a dog’s dinner. A mess, in other words.
There were three races and three prizes in all. In the first race, several fairy-and-gnome pairs ended up laughing so hard they never made it to the finish line. Including Goldie and Ethelrood.
“He’s kind of cute!” Avery whispered to Goldie as they’d passed her on the sidelines.
In the second race, Rosy and Squeakie didn’t even know whether they’d crossed the finish line, but they had such fun in the stroller lane that they didn’t care. And Clara and Iris, who had been friends for such a long time, ran swiftly together and came in a very respectable fourth, beating Andy and Hamish, two of the more popular gnomes.
Soon it was time for the last race.
“Line up!” cried Sylva. “Line up, everybody!”
Rowan and Alasdair clomped down to the starting line. Sylva and Poppy took their place next to them.
“Bet we beat you!” said Sylva with a broad smile.
“May the best pair win!” said Rowan, smiling back. “And no flying!”
“We’ll see who’s best,” said Alasdair. And with that, Lady Courtney, the queen’s attendant, called “Ready . . . steady . . . GO!” and they were off.
Clara watched, holding her breath, as the race started. She wanted to root for Rowan, but she had to cheer for her sister, too. Poppy and Sylva ran well together. Their legs were the same length; their stride was long; they even breathed together (and they didn’t use their wings!). They pulled ahead early, and it was clear they were going to win until—
“No!” cried Clara. A branch caught Poppy’s foot, and she tumbled down, taking Sylva with her.
Rowan and Alasdair raced ahead as Poppy and Sylva sprang to their feet. They were just five yards from the finish line.
The meadow rang with cheers. “Go, Alasdair!” cried the gnomes.
“Go, Sylva! Go, Poppy, go!” cried the fairies.
As if they were one fairy, Sylva and Poppy got back on track, hit their stride, and raced toward the finish line.
The roar from the crowd was tremendous. “You can do it, fairies! You can do it!” With one last surge of strength, Sylva and Poppy crossed the finish line . . . just one wing’s width in front of Alasdair and Rowan.
“Hooray!” cried the fairies, and they flapped their wings for joy.
“Well done, Poppy,” said Rowan, when he caught his breath. “And you, too, Sylva. Are you all right? That was quite a fall you took.”
“Ha!” said Sylva. “That was nothing.”
“We still got fifteen points!” said Alasdair.
“But you beat us fair and square,” said Rowan. Then he looked around at the crowd. “You’re . . . um, Clara’s sister, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said Sylva. “I’m the youngest Bell sister, except for baby Squeak.”
“You sisters really get along well together, don’t you?”
“Of course we do!” Sylva laughed. “Except when Goldie teases me too much. Then we’re glad to have Clara there—she takes care of us all.”
nine
Later that afternoon, as the other gnomes and fairies enjoyed an enchanted snack (fairy doughnut holes!), Clara flew away from the sunny meadow. The competitions were over for the day, and there’d be just enough time for her to try out some more magic.
Clara set her wings eastward and made the long flight up to Sunrise Hill. It was very cold out, but she loved the sting of the wind on her cheeks. It made her feel so alive—as if there was nothing she couldn’t do.
An elegant mother deer crossed Clara’s path and looked at her curiously with its big brown eyes. Clara walked over to her and gently touched the tip of her nose. Deer are very friendly on Sheepskerry, and Clara knew this doe from last year’s harsh winter, when she had helped the finicky mother deer find delicious beechnuts to eat. “Do you need some more food to eat, Doe-deer?” asked Clara. “I wish I could magic some up for you.”
The sound of trampling startled them both, and the mother deer bounded away. Clara turned quickly. Maybe it was a bear!
But it wasn’t a bear at all.
“Rowan!” Clara said.
Rowan Gnome stood in front of Clara. Gnomes cannot fly, of course, so Rowan had clamped on his ice shoes and taken the slippery path to the top of the hill. Fairies don’t mind if the paths are slippery and slick, because they don’t need to use them much. (You wouldn’t walk on ice, either, if you had wings.)
“What are you doing up here?” asked Clara. She always thought of Sunrise Hill as her own special place, especially when fluffy snowflakes were falling, as they were that afternoon.
“The other gnomes told me about Sunrise Hill. They say it’s the highest place on Sheepskerry. That’s why I brought my toboggan.”
“Ooh, that’s a beautiful one,” said Clara, “and we hardly ever do any sledding on Sheepskerry. Most fairies prefer to fly.”
“This hill is perfect for a toboggan ride,” said Rowan. “And this snow is perfect . . . for snowballs.”
“Don’t you dare,” said Clara.
“Oh, I wouldn’t think of it,” said Rowan. He whistled innocently. “But I may pile up a little snow here, just in case.”
Clara beat him to it. She scooped up a handful of snow, smushed it into a ball, took aim—and threw! Ploop! Clara’s snowball landed on Rowan’s shoulder.
“Why, you . . . ,” said Rowan. He grinned. “I knew I couldn’t trust you.” He made an armful of white powder into a big ball. “Watch out, Miss Fairy.”
“Can’t catch me!” said Clara. “I can fly!”
“No fair!” said Rowan.
Clara had speed and grace, but Rowan could boast an excellent throwing arm. After Clara dodged several well-aimed tosses and Rowan’s cap got knocked off a third time (amid a lot of laughing), they called a truce.
“Want to build a snow gnome?” asked Rowan.
“No thanks!” said Clara, her eyes merry. “I’ll build a snow fairy.”
The two of them got to work rolling snow and sculpting faces. Rowan went off looking for a pinecone for a pipe. “You have lots of interesting stones on Sheepskerry,” he said, picking one up and putting it in his pocket.
“And sea glass, too,” said Clara. “Just ask Goldie about her collection. Have you found the right pinecone yet? I’m using twigs for fairy wings.”
They worked for a while longer as the snow fell. Soon there was a sturdy snow gnome and a beautiful snow fairy on the top of Sunrise Hill.
“She needs a scarf to keep her warm,” said Clara, looking at her fairy. “I’ll give her mine.” She unwound her purple scarf from her neck and wrapped it around her snow fairy. “Much better,” she said.
“My gnome needs a cap, but he’s not getting mine, not after I had to rescue it from your snowballs so many times.” Rowan looked around him. “Plus, the snow is coming down harder now.”
All at once, Clara realized she’d been having so much fun that she hadn’t even thought about Rosy and Goldie, Sylva and Squeak. “I’d better get home,” said Clara. “What if my sisters need me? They won’t even know where I am!”
“We’ll send them word, to let them know you’re all right,” said Rowan. He whistled a low whistle, and the doe Clara had seen earlier came bounding through the snow.
“You can talk to deer?” asked Clara in wonder.
“Och, it’s not much of a skill. All of us gnomes can talk to woodland creatures,” said Rowan. He cradled the deer’s neck in his arms, very gently, and whispered in her e
ar. The doe bounded off again. “She’ll tell Queen Mab. Your sisters will be fine.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Clara. “I worry about them.” And she started to fly away.
“Wait, Clara,” said Rowan. “Your wings might get bogged down in this squall. Come on the toboggan with me. It’ll be the quickest way.”
Much as she wanted to fly, Clara knew Rowan was right. She climbed onto the long, slender sled behind him. Suddenly cold, she shivered.
“Here,” said Rowan. “Take my scarf.”
Clara was too chilled to turn him down. He knotted his old brown plaid knit scarf around her neck.
“Thanks, Rowan,” she said.
“Och,” he said, “it’s nothing.” He paused for a moment. “Will you be all right?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Then hold on tight!” he said. “Let’s go!”
ten
Swiftly, they raced down Sunrise Hill. Clara laughed as they bumped and slipped and slid their way down the hill. “I’ve never gone this fast on land before!” she called, her eyes bright. She would have enjoyed the ride even more if she hadn’t been so worried about her sisters. When they reached the deep snow at the bottom of the hill, Clara said a hasty good-bye to Rowan. Then she flew toward home.
Under the cover of trees, Clara did not need to worry about snow on her wings. She flew straight to the Bell fairy house. All the way home, she fretted about what she would find there: Rosy overwhelmed, Goldie in tears, Sylva frozen in a snowbank, and Squeak crying her eyes out, frightened and alone. Why couldn’t she fly any faster?
Finally, panting and out of breath, she arrived at her beloved fairy house. She burst through the door. “Oh, sisters, sisters, where are you? Are you safe? Are you all right?”
She looked around. She didn’t see anyone. Not even Rosy. Not even Squeak!
“Goldie, Sylva—where are you?” she cried. “Rosy! Squeakie! Have I lost you forever?” Then Clara heard a very familiar sound.
Clara and the Magical Charms Page 2
