A Fairy's Gift

by Kiki Thorpe

  “It’s going to be so much fun to see her again,” Kate said. “Remember when we built the snow fort?”

  “How could I forget?” Mia said, laughing. “We couldn’t figure out how to make a roof, so we used the blankets from our beds. Mami was so mad when she found them in the snow.”

  Kate and Lainey laughed, too. “We should have told her it was a snow-pillow fort!” Lainey said.

  “How come I don’t remember that?” Gabby asked.

  “Mami kept you inside because you had an earache,” Mia said. “Also, it was two years ago. Maybe you were too little to remember.”

  “Was that the time Angie saw the fairy?” Gabby said.

  “What fairy?” Kate and Lainey asked in unison.

  “Oh my gosh!” Mia exclaimed. “I forgot about that!”

  “Angie saw a fairy right here in this room,” Mia explained. “She said it flew around and knocked an ornament off the Christmas tree. When my aunt came in, it flew out the window—that’s what Angie said. But Aunt Lara thought she made it up so she wouldn’t get in trouble for breaking the ornament.”

  “How come you never told us that before?” Kate asked.

  Mia shrugged. “It happened so long ago, I guess I forgot. Anyway, I never saw the fairy. I only heard about her from Angie.”

  “Angie said she had a pretty smile and a yellow glow,” Gabby added.

  Mia looked at her in amazement. “I can’t believe you remember that. You must have been only two or three.”

  “Angie told me that if I always believed in fairies and kept my eyes open, I would see them,” Gabby said. “And she was right!”

  “Do you think the fairy could have been Prilla?” Lainey asked.

  “I wonder,” Mia said thoughtfully. There was something she’d been wondering about, but she’d been afraid to bring it up until now. “You guys, do you think maybe we could bring Angie with us? To Pixie Hollow, I mean?”

  The other girls stared at her. They’d never taken anyone else to Never Land with them. It had always been their secret.

  “Angie loves fairies,” Mia went on quickly, before her friends could say no. “And she’d never tell anyone. She’s good at keeping secrets.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Kate said.

  “So do I,” agreed Lainey.

  “Yay!” Gabby clapped her hands. “The fairies are going to love her!”

  “I knew you’d think so.” Mia grinned. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever!”

  Outside, a car door slammed. Gabby leaped up and ran to the window again. “They’re here!” she shouted.

  The girls scrambled to their feet. Mia ran for the front door, but Gabby got there first. She threw it open, shouting, “Merry Christmas!”

  “Ho, ho, ho!” Uncle Jack boomed, scooping Gabby into a bear hug. “Merry Christmas yourself!”

  Aunt Lara came through the door behind him, smiling her big smile. And finally…was that Angie? Mia stared. The girl who stood in the doorway stamping the snow from her boots looked nothing like the cousin she remembered. Angie had always been small, with short, messy hair. But now she was almost as tall as Aunt Lara. Snowflakes were melting into her shiny black hair, which fell past her shoulders. She wore a trim wool coat and leather boots and…was that lip gloss?

  She looks so sophisticated, Mia thought. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious standing there in her old rainbow socks with the hole in one toe.

  But then Angie grinned, and her smile looked exactly the same as it always had. She threw her arms around Mia, exclaiming, “I missed you!” and Mia’s self-consciousness vanished.

  Angie hugged Gabby, too, admiring her costume fairy wings. “They’re perfect,” she said. “They look just right on you.” Gabby turned pink with delight.

  When Mia and Gabby’s parents came into the room, there was another round of hugs.

  “My gosh. Look at you, Angie. You’re all grown up!” Mia’s mother said.

  Angie smiled and tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear. “I go by Angelica now,” she replied.

  Angelica! Mia thought. Even her name sounded sophisticated.

  “Well, Angelica is a beautiful name. I can see why you want to use it,” Mrs. Vasquez replied.

  Gabby grabbed her cousin’s hand and began to pull her toward the stairs. “You have to come to my room right now!” she exclaimed. “We have something to show you.”

  Their parents laughed. “She just got here, Gabby,” her father said. “At least give her a chance to take off her coat.”

  Gabby danced impatiently as Angelica removed her coat. “Now can she come to my room?” she asked as soon as the coat was hanging in the closet.

  “All right, all right,” Mr. Vasquez said. “You girls go have fun.”

  “Come on!” Gabby yanked Angelica upstairs. Mia, Kate, and Lainey followed on their heels.

  “What do you want to show me, Gabby?” Angelica asked as they entered her room. “Is it a new toy?”

  “You’ll see.” Gabby hurried over to the closet. But as she was about to open the door, Mia stopped her.

  “Wait! Angie—I mean, Angelica should go first,” Mia said. It would be even better that way.

  “Into the closet?” Angelica asked with a little laugh.

  “You have to,” Gabby told her. “It’s the only way to get to the fairies.”

  Angelica sighed. “Oh, Gabby. I’m not really in the mood to play make-believe right now.”

  The other girls looked at each other. Who said anything about make-believe? Mia thought. “Just trust us,” she said.

  Angelica glanced from one girl to the other. “All right.” She shrugged, and stepped into the closet. The others crowded in behind her—first Gabby, then Kate, followed by Lainey. Mia went in last, pulling the door closed behind her.

  In the darkness, Mia smiled to herself. Any second now she’d hear her cousin’s cry of surprise as she stepped out into—

  “What now?” Angelica’s voice was close in the dark. “What’s the big surprise?”

  “Ow! Gabby, you’re standing on my feet!” Kate exclaimed.

  “Someone’s pushing!” Gabby cried back. Mia heard scuffling. The closet seemed stuffy and crowded. Where’s the breeze? she wondered.

  “Go forward!” Mia cried.

  “There’s nowhere to go,” Angelica said. “I’m right up against the wall.”

  “The wall?” Mia said, confused. What was going on? Where was Never Land? She opened the closet door and they all spilled out, back into Gabby’s room.

  “Phew!” Angelica said as she exited, smoothing her hair. “I don’t get it. Was that the game?”

  Mia didn’t answer. Through the open door of the closet, she could see beyond Gabby’s hanging clothes to the smooth blank wall. There was no warm breeze, no window of light. The hole to Pixie Hollow was gone.

  “What happened?” Gabby cried. She squeezed past the others, into the closet. When she reached the wall, she gave it a hard push, half expecting it to melt away. But it remained solidly a wall.

  “Something must have gone wrong. Let me try,” Kate said. Gabby stepped out of the closet, and Kate went in. She opened and closed the door—once, twice, three times. But nothing happened.

  “Gabby, what did you do to the closet?” Mia asked.

  “Nothing!” Gabby wailed. Why did Mia always think things were her fault?

  Angelica put an arm around her. “It’s okay, Gabby. Isn’t there some other game we can play?” She sounded very patient and grown-up, which somehow made Gabby feel even worse.

  “No!” she exclaimed. “That’s the only way to get there!”

  “Get where?” Angelica asked, looking confused.

  “To Pixie Hollow!” cried Gabby. “We went there when Prilla blinked us, and then we found the hole and we can visit anytime we want now just by going through my closet—except today. Stupid closet!” She gave the door a kick.

  “Never mind, Gabby,” Mia said. “Just forget it.
”

  Forget it? Gabby looked at her sister in surprise. Didn’t Mia want to go anymore?

  “We were just fooling around,” Mia told Angelica. “That’s all.”

  Now Kate and Lainey looked startled, too. Before they could say anything, though, the bedroom door opened. Gabby’s mother poked her head into the room.

  “Lainey, your mom’s on the phone,” she said. “She expected you to be home a half hour ago.”

  “Oops!” Lainey rushed to find her coat.

  “Mia, Gabby, I need you to come set the table,” said their mother. “We’re having dinner soon.”

  “I can help, too,” Angelica said, following her aunt out the door.

  Mia started after her, but Kate caught her arm. “Why did you tell Angelica we were just fooling around?” she whispered. “It was your idea to bring her.”

  “But she looked at us like we were crazy,” Mia replied. “And it sounded crazy the way Gabby was telling it.”

  “It did not!” Gabby said.

  “Listen,” Mia said. “The important thing is that we figure out what happened to the portal. Then Angelica can see Pixie Hollow for herself.”

  “Do you think the fairies might have closed it?” Lainey asked.

  “Why would they do that?” Kate said. “We saw them yesterday. They would have said something.” She chewed her lip, thinking. “Maybe it moved again.”

  The first time they’d discovered the portal to Never Land, it had been behind a loose fence board in Mia and Gabby’s backyard. When their father fixed the fence, the portal had reappeared in Gabby’s closet.

  “That must be it,” Mia said. “Did Papi fix something in your closet, Gabby?”

  “No,” said Gabby. “Nobody’s been in the closet but us.”

  “Girls!” their mother called up the stairs.

  “I’d better go,” Lainey said.

  Kate followed her to the door. “We’re going to figure this out tomorrow.”

  When the others were gone, Gabby lagged behind in her room. She had been so excited to show Angelica her special place—for Gabby often thought of Pixie Hollow as hers, even though it didn’t really belong to any of them.

  Maybe there was a mistake, Gabby thought. Maybe if I wait long enough, the hole will come back.

  She stood there for a long time, staring into the dark closet. “Hello?” she whispered. “Anyone there?” But there was no answer.

  Lainey stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the street. Snow had fallen all night long. It covered the roofs and sidewalks, transforming her neighborhood into a gingerbread village frosted in white.

  “Ready, kiddo?” her dad asked.

  Lainey turned from the window. “Ready.”

  “Then let’s get going. That sidewalk isn’t going to shovel itself.” Mr. Winters whistled as he zipped up his coat and pulled on a bright red ski hat. Lainey’s dad was the only dad she knew who liked shoveling snow. “It’s good, honest work,” he always said.

  Lainey wasn’t as crazy about shoveling, but she enjoyed helping her dad. He sang and cracked jokes, and always made big mugs of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows when they were done.

  She pulled on her mittens and her hat and followed her dad out the door. The snow had stopped falling, but heavy clouds sat low in the sky. With each step, her boots sank into the fresh new snow.

  Her dad was bringing shovels out from the garage. “Looks like more snow soon,” he said, eyeing the sky.

  He dug in his shovel and began to whistle “Frosty the Snowman.” Lainey’s dad was the best whistler she knew. He could sound like three people whistling at once. As she joined in, she thought of her birdsong orchestra in Pixie Hollow. How her dad would have liked that! Sometimes, Lainey thought it was a real shame that grown-ups couldn’t see fairy magic.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something yellow floating down from the sky. At first she thought it was a leaf, a last straggler from autumn, finally blown loose from a tree. But something about it made her look up.

  Lainey stopped whistling. It wasn’t a leaf. It was a butterfly.

  The butterfly landed on her father’s hat. He went right on shoveling, unaware of the insect perched on his head like a bright yellow bow. After a moment, he noticed Lainey staring.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “There’s a…um…”

  Just then, the butterfly took off. It hovered for a second, a bright spot of gold against the snow. Then it fluttered around the side of the house and disappeared.

  “I saw a butterfly,” Lainey said.

  “Really?” her dad said. “I think it’s too cold out for butterflies. Maybe it was a leaf.”

  He went back to shoveling again, and after a moment, so did Lainey. She wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  “Oh!” she gasped suddenly. Now two blue butterflies were sitting on the back of her dad’s coat.

  “Dad,” Lainey began, then thought better of it. One butterfly in winter might just be a fluke. But three…

  Three is magic, Lainey thought. It has to be Never Land.

  She looked up and down the street. But there was nothing out of the ordinary. When she turned around again, the butterflies were gone.

  Her dad suddenly stopped whistling. “I forgot the salt for the ice. Lainey, will you run around back to the shed and find the bag of rock salt?”

  “Okay,” Lainey said with a sigh. If Never Land was close by, she didn’t want to miss any more signs. But her dad needed her help.

  Behind Lainey’s house was an old wooden toolshed. As she hurried toward it across the snowy yard, the wind picked up. She heard the sound of rustling leaves.

  Leaves? How could she hear leaves when the trees were all bare?

  Something is happening, Lainey thought. As she reached for the latch on the toolshed, her fingertips tingled with excitement. Or was it only the cold? She opened the door—

  “Ahh!” Lainey screamed. There was a storm inside the shed! Butterflies swirled through the air like snowflakes, filling the tiny room. A pink one grazed her cheek, and she jumped back, startled. Now Lainey knew for sure—Never Land was trying to reach them again.

  “Lainey?” her father shouted from the front yard.

  Lainey slammed the door. “Yes?”

  “Is everything okay?” he asked. “I heard you scream.”

  “It’s nothing. I just tripped, that’s all,” Lainey fibbed.

  “Did you find the salt?” he asked.

  “Nuh-uh.” Lainey shook her head, leaning hard against the door. If her dad saw the butterflies—well, Lainey didn’t know what he’d do. But there’d be a big commotion for sure. And Never Land might disappear again.

  “I’m sure it’s in there. I’ll take a look.” As her dad reached for the handle, Lainey wished for something—anything—to distract him.

  Suddenly, as if in answer, a fat white snowflake floated down from the sky. More snowflakes followed. Lainey’s dad looked up and sighed. “You know, maybe we should finish tomorrow. No use shoveling in a snowstorm,” he said. “Why don’t I go inside and whip up some hot chocolate for us?”

  “Great!” Lainey almost shouted. “I’ll be there in a minute. I just want to…play in the snow a little.”

  “Would you put the shovels away? And don’t stay out too long. It’s getting cold,” her dad said. He turned and went into the house.

  As soon as he was gone, Lainey slipped into the toolshed. It was so warm inside that her glasses fogged over. She had to stop and clear them with her mitten. The portal must be close by, she thought.

  The butterflies were still swirling, buoyed by a gentle breeze that was coming from—where? Lainey looked around, but all she saw were rakes, garden tools, old mud boots, and empty flowerpots.

  At the back of the shed, a large bag of potting soil leaned against the wall. A crack of light shone from behind it.

  Lainey moved the bag out of the way and saw a small door. She’d never
noticed it before. There was no reason for a door to be there. There was nothing behind the shed except the fence.

  Lainey’s hand trembled as she reached for the knob. When she opened the door, sunlight flooded in. Not pale winter light, but the warm yellow of summertime. She could see moss and smell flowers and hear the merry burble of a little stream.

  Lainey felt a gentle gust behind her as the flight of butterflies shot past her. When they reached Never Land, they fanned out until they were just colorful dots against the blue sky. She longed to follow them through the door. But she and her friends had a rule—they all went to Pixie Hollow together. Always.

  She closed the door and replaced the bag of soil. She felt tingly all over. She needed to tell the other girls right away.

  Lainey stepped out of the shed, remembering to latch the door behind her. Then she raced into the house to call her friends.

  “Just cut the paper, Kate. Don’t rip it to shreds,” her mother said.

  Kate looked up from the roll of wrapping paper. “I’m trying to cut it,” she said. “It won’t hold still.”

  With a sigh, her mother took the scissors from her hand and sliced through the paper in a single clean line. She makes it look so easy, Kate thought. She picked up a toy puzzle and began to wrap it. But the paper was too big. Kate wrapped it around twice and taped it down. The she wadded up the loose ends and stuck those down, too. She tossed the package onto a pile.

  “You’re not even trying,” her mother said with a frown.

  “Yes, I am,” Kate said. “I just don’t have gift-wrapping talent.”

  Every year, Kate’s mother helped run a toy drive for their neighborhood community center. At Christmastime, dozens of toys arrived at their house to be donated. Kate liked that part. It always made her feel like one of Santa’s elves, getting presents ready for kids.