by Gail Herman
Cadence inched away from Trill.
In a flash, Trill dropped the leaves.
The last thing she wanted was a rash. She scratched her arm. Already, she felt itchy.
“Itchy ivy? Oh, no! There may be more!” a garden-talent fairy named Rosetta shouted in a panic. “It grows like crazy!”
Fairies fluttered in confusion. A baking talent carrying a tray of Arrival Day cupcakes bumped into Tinker Bell. Pink and yellow cupcakes flew everywhere.
“Hold on!” Lily called. “Calm down. It’s not itchy ivy. It’s only clover.”
“It’s not itchy ivy?” Beck repeated.
“Did you hear?” Cadence asked Jango. “Lily said it’s okay.”
“It’s only clover! It’s only clover!” Ariette and Lyra said together.
One by one, the fairies and sparrow men quieted down. They settled back on the ground.
“Pluck!” a sparrow man muttered. “What were you thinking?”
“Clover looks a lot like itchy ivy,” Lily said, putting her arm around Pluck. “Anyone could make a mistake like that.”
Cadence flitted over to Trill. “That clover made an amazing whistle.”
Ariette, Jango, and a few others crowded closer, agreeing.
Trill sneaked a look at Cleff. He was standing off to the side, shaking his head.
“Whistles are a fairy tradition,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear. “They’re made from blades of grass. It’s just plain crazy to try to improve them. In fact, Never Land music doesn’t need any improvements. Change can only cause trouble.” He pointed at the ruined cupcakes on the ground.
Lyra flew next to Cleff. “I agree with Cleff.”
Ariette flew next to Trill. “Well, I agree with Trill.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No, you’re wrong.”
Other musicians chimed in. Their voices rose, louder and louder.
Trill hadn’t meant to start an argument. She’d just wanted to join the song. But the way she’d felt at breakfast…and the way she felt now…were important. Music shouldn’t be stale. It should be alive. Changing.
Music expressed so many feelings! She couldn’t bear for even the smallest bit to be stifled.
Trill listened to the others. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Sure, she’d spoken out in the tearoom. But now, Cleff had voiced his disapproval for everyone to hear. What if she couldn’t speak clearly? What if she stammered? And blushed?
Trill straightened her shoulders and wings. She stood tall, her head above the others.
Soon most of the fairies went their separate ways. But the music talents kept arguing. They argued as they left Lily’s garden. They argued as they did chores.
They argued as they sat in the tearoom, eating lunch.
As the day wore on, the bickering only got worse. No one could agree when to meet for a rehearsal. So they didn’t.
Ariette wanted to help Beck train crickets for their symphony piece. But so did Lyra. When the twins saw each other, they both left. And the job went undone.
Some trumpet players finally did get together. But one made a face when another hit a sour note. The second musician stuffed an acorn into the first fairy’s trumpet flower so she couldn’t play.
The Oceanside Symphony would be the next night. A few fairies refused to perform if the music wasn’t played the old way. Others vowed they’d play however they wanted.
“What do you think, Trill?” Jango came up to her in the late afternoon. “How about using spiderweb silk for harps, instead of silkworm silk?”
“Sounds good!” Trill said. “If the web is really sticky, the strings can stay right on the wooden frame. They won’t even need sap!”
Trill flew off. But she was stopped a moment later by Ariette.
“I found these washed up on the beach!” Ariette held up two smooth pebbles. “We can string them together to make castanets. They’d sound different from the shells we always use!”
For hours, fairies had been seeking out Trill. They wanted her opinion on so many things! It was scary and exciting all at once. And she’d talked more than she ever had before.
She was needed in so many places, to answer so many questions! Trill didn’t have time to check on her own panpipes.
Finally, in the early evening, Trill flew to Strad’s workshop.
Strad was working busily, her head bent low as she sanded the bamboo panpipes. She looked up when she heard Trill come in.
“I’m still trying to fix your instrument,” Strad told her. A frown crossed her face. “And I’m not sure I can finish in time.” Not waiting for an answer, Strad went back to work.
Trill’s heart sank, but she tiptoed out, not saying a word. Suddenly, Lyra and Ariette swept past Trill, quarreling loudly.
“Traditional!”
“New!”
“Traditional!”
“New!”
Trill groaned in dismay. Everyone is arguing so much! she thought. And I still don’t have an instrument!
How would the musicians play together? And how would she play at all?
TRILL FLEW UP the Home Tree stairway to her room. Right by the door, she skidded to a stop.
“I’ve got it!” she almost shouted.
Trill had figured out one problem—what to do about her panpipes. She would make her own instrument again, this time for the Oceanside Symphony!
But she wouldn’t use bamboo shoots. That would be boring! She’d use something new and different. Why, it might be even better than her old instrument!
What could it be? Trill wondered. Reeds? They’d be hard to find on short notice. Plant stems? No, they’d wilt.
“Think, Trill!” she told herself. “Think!”
Twigs? No, they wouldn’t work. Rolled-up flower petals? No again.
As she got ready for bed, Trill was still thinking. Maybe something that came from an animal. An eggshell? No, too fragile. But what about quills? From a porcupine!
The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Quills were hollow.
She’d just get the quills in the morning. Then she’d be all set.
Trill slipped into bed and pulled the pussy-willow blanket over her shoulders.
But she couldn’t rest quite yet. What about the other problem—the musicians fighting, old music versus new? Cadence and Ariette and many of the others were counting on her. Her! Shy, awkward Trill, who just wanted to play music and be left alone. How would she lead them? What should she do?
Trill tossed and turned for hours.
It wasn’t until the sun rose over the meadow that she made a decision. She’d have to talk to Cleff. It would be difficult. And she’d really rather stay quiet. But somehow, she’d convince him that her way was the right way. Then he’d convince Lyra and the other musicians.
Ariette, Jango, and Cadence would have bushels of unique instruments in time for the symphony. The concert would feature these, and all-new, all-different music. It would be the most exciting symphony ever.
Trill drifted off to sleep. Just a few hours later, she woke. Hurriedly, she got dressed. Then she opened her door.
“Oh!” she gasped. Cleff stood right in front of her. His hand was raised, ready to knock on her door.
“You missed breakfast, Trill,” he said. “And I wanted to talk to you.”
“I—I—I wanted to talk to you, too,” Trill told him.
Cleff nodded but went right on speaking. “I finally put two and two together. Your…ah…fascination with new music? It’s all because you don’t have your panpipes! You want to try something new because you don’t have anything old! So I asked Strad to work all night on your panpipes. And she did it. She fixed them!”
Cleff held out Trill’s instrument. “They’re as good as ever. Ready to be used in the symphony tonight. You don’t need any crazy drums or whistles! It will be music as it’s meant to be played. Our tried-and-true program.”
“My panpipes!” Trill’s heart filled with joy
. She reached for the instrument. As always, the pipes fit her hands perfectly. It felt so right to have them back. How would they sound?
Tootle-whoo. Whooo-toot. Lovely! Trill grinned, and she kept playing. For a moment she forgot about the concert. She forgot everything but the sweet, familiar sounds of her panpipes. Tootle, whooooooo…
“So, what do you think?” Cleff interrupted Trill’s playing.
Thoughts of the concert came back to her.
“This is wonderful!” she told Cleff. “Just wonderful! But I still—”
“Cleff! Cleff!” Lyra raced down the hall. “Here you are! There’s an emergency at the beach, right at the site of the symphony! Come quick!”
Before Trill could continue, Cleff took off. “See you tonight!” he called over his shoulder.
Trill was left alone, holding her panpipes. “Traditional,” she said slowly. “Tried-and-true.”
She felt very happy to have her panpipes back. But this symphony was an opportunity. A chance for all fairies and sparrow men to hear new music.
I’ll still play the quill pipes, Trill decided. Cadence and the others will still play their new instruments.
And Cleff still needed to know.
Trill flew quickly to the shore. “Oh!” She came to a stop so suddenly, her heels dug into the sand.
Dozens of hermit crabs swarmed the beach. The decorating-talent fairies had already set up the concert spot. But the crabs were turning over chairs and knocking over tables put out for the feast. It looked as if a hurricane had swept across the sand.
Rani, a water-talent fairy, was there, and so was Beck, along with Cleff.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Rani said, tears streaming down her face. “I was helping the decoration talents by diving for pretty shells.”
Trill nodded. Rani didn’t have wings, so she was the only fairy who could swim.
“But now all these hermit crabs are here!” Rani sobbed.
“They’re shell shopping,” Beck explained. “They want to see if any of these snail shells can replace the ones they’re outgrowing.”
Trill heard the fluttering of wings. She looked up. Baking talents were delivering food now. As soon as a fairy set down a tray, hermit crabs scuttled over and rooted through the treats.
“They’ll never leave now!” Cleff wrung his hands. “It’s only a few hours to the concert!”
“I’ll lead them away,” Beck promised. “But we need to cover the food. And we’ll have to move the shells, too.”
Rani nodded. Decoration talents began sprinkling fairy dust on the shells so they’d be easier to carry. Cleff placed leaves over the trays, and Trill hurried to help. Meanwhile, Beck was herding the crabs to a large pile of driftwood.
It took a couple of hours, but everything was finally done. Cleff sighed. “Well, that’s taken care of,” he said. “The concert can go on as planned.”
Trill stood at her full height. “Umm, maybe not quite as planned.” Her voice quavered a bit. But she didn’t stammer.
She quickly explained her idea for the porcupine quills and all the new instruments.
“The symphony can be special—unique!” she finished.
“Special?” Cliff scoffed. “I think it’s special just the way it is. And as for porcupine quills…” Cleff’s voice trailed off. “Why use something that’s un-tested when you have perfectly good panpipes already? The whole thing is ridiculous, Trill. Listen to me. You can’t do it.”
“How can you say I can’t do it?” asked Trill. Her voice held steady. “It’s never even been tried.”
Beck flew over to join them. “You’re thinking of using porcupine quills?” she asked. “It’s true, the quills are hollow, like pipes. But I don’t think it’s a good idea, either. Getting the quills would be hard. Porcupines are prickly creatures. They can be very grouchy. It might be dangerous.”
Trill didn’t care.
Cleff and Beck kept talking. They were saying it wouldn’t work. They were saying Trill could get hurt. But they were talking to one another. No one was paying attention to Trill.
She took one step away from them, then another. Beck and Cleff were caught up in their conversation. They didn’t notice her leaving.
She’d sneak away right now. She’d ask Cadence to organize the musicians, the ones who believed in new music. Then she’d find those porcupine quills.
Trill flew away from the beach…quickly, quietly, and unseen.
TRILL FOUND CADENCE and explained. Then she took off for the forest.
First things first, Trill thought. I have to find a porcupine.
Staying close to the ground, Trill flew from tree to tree. She searched in holes. She poked her head into dark places. She hunted under hanging branches.
Dusk was falling. It was getting hard to see. Trill knew she didn’t have much time. The concert would start soon.
But the darkness could be helpful. A porcupine might be going to sleep right about now. She could sneak up and take some quills without even waking him.
The sky turned darker. Shafts of moonlight filtered through the trees. Bits of music drifted on the breeze. Trill knew it was the music talents tuning up their instruments.
Maybe I should turn around, Trill thought as she peeked into a hollow log, and—
She stopped in midthought. There, all curled up, a porcupine slept. She flitted closer. Zzzzzz. He was snoring. Perfect!
Trill flew into the log. She hovered in the air. As quick as a wink, she plucked one quill. Then she heaved it out of the log.
The porcupine twitched his nose.
Trill waited a moment. Then she pulled out another.
This is easy! she thought. I’ll do just one more.…
Feeling a little too sure of herself, she hastily yanked out a third.
“Eeee!” The porcupine jerked awake. His quills bristled. Sensing danger, he twisted around. His back quills—the longest and sharpest ones—pointed right at Trill.
“Oh!” Trill gasped. Quills pressed closely on either side of her. She was pinned.
Too late, Trill realized that the porcupine hadn’t been falling asleep at all. He’d been waking up!
Why, oh, why hadn’t she listened to Beck? The animal talent had said lots of things about porcupines while she was talking to Cleff. Hadn’t she said something about the animals being…nocturnal, was it? Did that mean they slept during the day and woke at night? It must!
Trill froze in fear. Moments passed. She felt the porcupine relax. Now she could see around his large body to his head. He was gnawing on a twig that was lying inside the log.
What would happen when he finished eating? He’d want to leave his den, of course.
He’d squeeze out of the hollow log. He’d press against the sides of the log to climb out. His quills would prick her wings!
“Help!” she cried. “Mr. Porcupine! There’s a fairy here! I’m here!”
Trill shouted loud and strong, without any stutter at all. But the porcupine kept chewing as if he didn’t hear.
Trill called out again and again. Then she fell silent. In the quiet, she heard a small noise. It sounded like the flutter of fairy wings. Could it be? Had a fairy heard her shouts? Was help on the way?
TRILL SQUINTED IN the darkness. Her glow had never been very bright. She could hardly see her own wings. But she sensed someone flying close. Was it Beck coming to her rescue?
“Is anyone there?” she called. She twisted around, hoping for a better view.
“Stop squirming! You’ll make it more difficult.”
Trill caught her breath. It was Cleff!
“O-o-okay,” she said.
Trill held herself steady as Cleff lifted one quill. He did it so gently, the porcupine didn’t notice. Then, still holding that quill in place, Cleff pushed down the one next to it.
“There’s enough space for you to fly!” Cleff’s voice was strained with effort.
Trill slipped out unharmed. She darted up and away.
/> Free! she thought. I’m free!
She landed on top of the rock. A second later, Cleff flew over to stand next to her.
Trill smiled at Cleff. “I really appreciate—”
“How could you be so reckless?” he said angrily.
“What?” Trill stepped back.
“You risked your life!”
Trill ducked her head. “You didn’t listen to me!” Cleff went on. “I’m in charge. And I told you not to do this.”
Trill’s glow blazed. She thought of all the fairies who had asked her for advice. “You’re in charge of the concert. But you’re not in charge of me,” she told Cleff.
A trumpet blared, and then the beat of drums echoed through the forest. The musicians were ready.
“I don’t have time for this,” Cleff said. “I have a symphony to lead!” In a flash, he was gone.
Trill gathered the quills. The new panpipes would have to wait. She needed to get to the concert, too.
Trill raced to the beach. She flew faster than she ever had before. She got there out of breath, with her curly hair in knots from the wind. But Cleff had beaten her. He stood on a rock, his back to the musicians. He was smiling at the audience.
“And so,” he was saying, “the Oceanside Symphony begins!”
Trill eyed the musicians. Cadence had followed her instructions. She sat off to one side, along with Ariette and some others. They all held new instruments. But where was Jango? He was supposed to be playing his harp, with new spiderweb string.
Trill couldn’t waste a minute wondering about Jango. She turned her attention to the other side of the orchestra. The music-talent fairies who agreed with Cleff were grouped together. They looked at Cleff, their traditional instruments ready.
Cleff faced his musicians and raised his twig-baton.
It was now or never. Trill had to act. She had to lead her orchestra! She might not have an instrument, but she did have a baton. She broke off a piece of quill.
She jumped onto the rock next to Cleff. Looking straight at him, she raised her baton.
