As soon as we’re close enough, I take a peek. The hoarders resemble scruffy kids with messy, grubby hair. They’re wearing torn clothes of faded colors, and their voices sound hoarse, as if they have colds. Their filthy hands dig into the red bucket and pull out beautiful jewels that sparkle in the sunlight.
“You have no claim on my treasure,” the leprechaun says in a weak voice.
“Yes, we do,” a hoarder snarls. “What we want we take.”
The others break into a chant. “We take what we want. We take what we want.”
“Once he’s paralyzed from the neck down, the leprechaun will have no will of his own,” Sara whispers. “He’ll tell the hoarders everything they want to know, even the location of the leprechaun fortresses.”
“And the Dream Stone.” I whisper.
“Yes. But if we can get his jewels back to him, he’ll heal and use the magic to protect himself.”
“How do we do that?”
My wing feathers flutter and I catch a whiff of jasmine. A memory of mocking voices. La, la, la, la, la, you can’t catch me. Kids at school playing tag, while I watch on.
Oh, wow. I just got the craziest idea. My stomach goes all queasy thinking about it.
“Sara, wh-when the way is clear, grab the gold.”
“Why? What are you planning?”
I don’t answer and fly up on a rock before I change my mind. With my best prim and proper teacher’s voice I shout, “Ahem, hoarders! Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to take what does not belong to you?” I can’t believe my voice isn’t trembling because my entire body is.
The five hoarders spin around, faces twisted into ugly scowls. They have teeth missing, and their fingernails and toenails are long and black with dirt.
“A flier,” the biggest hoarder says. “I’ve always wanted wings. What luck!”
I nearly lose my nerve, but the leprechaun’s eyes fix on me, wide, pleading, hopeful; sort of the way Dad looks at his legs when he doesn’t know I’m watching. Once he told me that if he kept fit, he’d be able to walk when a cure was found.
The hoarders shuffle toward me, dragging the red bucket filled with shining jewels and stones. That’s no good. Sara won’t know where it is.
“Hoarders,” I chant in a singsong voice. “You can’t catch me, la la la la la. You’re slower than the slowest snail, uglier than a bullfrog’s face.”
“Let’s get her,” they shout, and drop the pot.
They’re fast. I barely have time to fly off before they reach the rock I was on. Blobs of spit sail into the air. If any so much as touches me, I’m a goner, like the leprechaun. I dodge and twist as my wings strain to lift me up. We escape the hoarders’ spittle by inches.
After a few quick breaths, I pick another landing spot, and when they follow, scuttling on all fours over the rocks, I take off again.
Sara reaches the leprechaun, but when she notices the gold isn’t there, she looks up at me. I ignore her so as not to give away her position. If only we hadn’t put our earphones in our knapsacks; now we can’t communicate. Go left, I scream in my mind. Left. She shrugs and goes right. Nooooooooooooo! When she reaches a rock shaped like a frog, she looks up again.
I have to help her, but how? Think, Melody! Think!
Bingo!
I give the hoarders a big grin to soften them up, then do the zombie. They break into fits of hoarse laughter. I should have known they wouldn’t be turned off by my zombie face, but at least I distracted them. While they’re busy bending over and stamping their feet, I point at the spot where the pot of gold is.
“It’s a trick,” a hoarder shouts.
They scamper back to where they left the gold. Nooooooooo!
As fast as they move, I know they’ll reach it before Sara. I double over and groan as loudly as I can. It’s like my wings can read my mind because they start to flap wildly, swinging me up and down, side to side. The hoarders take the bait and rush back.
Dum bra dum bra dum, dum bra dum bra dum, go my wings.
The humming sounds urgent, but it’s okay. I know what I’m doing. I settle on a rock and drop to my knees, ready to soar away when the four hoarders get too close.
Four? Where’s the fifth—
Dum bra dum bra dum, dum bra dum bra dum.
My neck goes numb. My right wing burns like it’s on fire.
I’m going down.
13
Patrick O’Hara
I tumble with a dull thud to the ground. My forehead scrapes against stones. Something sharp digs into my right cheek and, despite the searing pain, I have one clear thought: Finally, I’ll get a scar on my face like Dad.
“She’s ours now,” a hoarder cackles.
Stinky feet land inches from me. I reach to cover my nose but my arms flap against the hard ground, trembling, out of control. My body is a pulsing mass of pins and needles.
“Help,” I shout. “Sara, help.”
A hoarder kicks me in the side and I roll over onto my back. My wings crumple beneath me, quivering. They seem so helpless, I long to hug and comfort them.
It’s strange, I think, as I watch the five grinning hoarders. If it wasn’t for their hair or those awful scowls and cruel grins, they wouldn’t look so ugly. One of them has huge green eyes, but I can’t tell whether it’s a boy or a girl.
“Touch her again and I’ll use me red ruby,” a deep voice roars.
The hoarders back away from me fast. I try to sit up, but it’s like my bones have turned to water. All I can do is stare at the sky and wish I could soar with the wind.
“Another flier gave our jewels to the leprechaun,” a hoarder hisses. “Revenge!”
“Leave her alone,” the leprechaun shouts in a voice so loud it sounds as though he is speaking through a loudspeaker. “I give you two seconds and then I throw my ruby.”
A hoarder shoves his stinky face close to mine. “We’ll get you for tricking us, you ugly flier.”
With shrieks and curses, he and the others shamble away. Then, the leprechaun is at my side. He rubs something warm over my neck, cheeks, and wings. The stinging stops right away and I can move.
“You’re all right.” Sara helps me stand, blinking back tears.
The leprechaun bows until his hat touches the ground. “I am in your debt, my young lady. That was the bravest thing I ever saw. And the most foolish.”
“You healed me.” My voice wavers.
“With this.” The leprechaun shows me a blue jewel as smooth and round as a marble. On the back of his left wrist is a silver tattoo in the shape of a stone. Vivian had a silver tattoo on her wrist as well. “I’ve healed the injuries caused by the hoarders, my young lady. Give me a few minutes, and I will get rid of all your other bruises, too.”
“No.” I flinch and touch my right cheek. Not a scratch is left and I want to cry. Sara looks at me in surprise. She doesn’t understand. No one does.
The more bruises I have, the more like Dad I can be.
“As you wish,” the leprechaun says. “However, this jewel is yours to keep. If you change your mind, simply rub it on your injuries and they will heal. And if you need help during your stay here, toss it in the air, shout me name, which is Patrick O’Hara by the by, and I’ll be at your side.”
My head is reeling. If I’m in a jam, a leprechaun will come and rescue me. He places the jewel in my hand. Warmth spreads with a tingly sensation up my right arm. Magical warmth. My heart races. This will heal Dad, I just know it.
“One word of caution.” Patrick O’Hara gives me a look that makes me wonder if he knew what I was thinking. “Summoning me will use up the magic.”
My excitement flickers out. I can never ask for his help because Dad needs the magic of the jewel.
Patrick faces Sara. “There’s only one reason why the hoarders are here.”
She nods. He glances at me. My heart sinks. I’m responsible for all this. So much for my bringing good luck.
“Take care then,” Patrick says. “Now y
ou should both leave. My ruby is the only thing keeping those nasty creatures away.” He heads for the rainbow, tugging his pot of gold behind him.
I slip the blue jewel into the right pocket of my tights, then Sara and I hurry to put on our flying paraphernalia. My goggles are in my hand when the rainbow retreats.
Stones rattle.
“Fly!” Sara yells.
My wings launch me up.
Hoarders leap into the air. Blobs of spittle head straight for us, but our wings sweep us away.
“That was very brave of you,” Sara says.
“Um, it was nothing.”
“It was a big deal, so don’t be modest. Do you realize you received a gift most long for and never get? Part of a leprechaun’s treasure and his word.”
It only now sinks in. I helped save a leprechaun’s life and almost got captured. It is a big deal. “Why were the hoarders afraid of the ruby?”
“A leprechaun’s treasure is not like the jewels on Earth. It’s not valued for financial reasons but magical ones. If Patrick O’Hara had thrown the ruby at the hoarders, whatever he wished against them would have happened.”
“Wow.”
“Some say leprechaun magic is even more powerful than witch magic,” Sara says. “But once their gold and precious stones are used up, that’s it. Leprechauns have no more magic left.”
“And he gave me a jewel?”
“You have received a tremendous gift. Guard it well.”
“Can I keep the jewel even if I don’t need his help?”
“It would be an insult to return it,” Sara says. “His gift is yours forever.”
“Great.” In my mind I see my parents laughing. Mom is slim and beautiful, Dad handsome and strong, dancing before large audiences as they were meant to. “Sara, was it because of me the hoarders came?”
“In a sense, yes. You heard what Kevin said last night?”
“Yes.”
“Kevin’s Guided ran into all kinds of adventures until he conquered his fear of vampires.”
I shrug. “So?”
“Once you face your fear, you’ll no longer attract things like hoarders.”
“Sara, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop being afraid of snakes. Just the thought of how they slide on the ground and how slimy and gross they are makes me freak out. Yuck.”
“I wasn’t talking about snakes, Melody. There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”
“Of course, not.” Is she crazy? There’s nothing worse than snakes. Unless she means . . . “I heard you tell Kevin that I deliberately hurt myself. Well, you’re wrong. I’m accident prone, that’s all.”
“I see. Remember, I’m your guide and I’m here to help you.”
“Yeah.”
We travel without talking for a while, but the silence bugs me. I have to know something.
“Sara, do you forgive me for eavesdropping?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
That’s it? No saying not to do it again? No hard feelings?
I’m stunned and have no idea what to think. Or feel. Or say. So I fly in silence next to Sara, my guide. Maybe even
. . . a friend?
14
Unicorns
The forest of the elves fills the horizon. Sara and I still have a long way to go. Even though we’d be much closer if we hadn’t bumped into the hoarders, I’m glad we did. Because I have a magic leprechaun jewel.
We pass about ten Exit Points. Most are on the ground, but several hang from trees like the Snake Dream Exit Point.
“Can you tell they’re shaped like the dreams they represent?” Sara asks.
“No.”
“See the trunk of that tree down there?” Sara points below. “The dark area in the middle is the form of an angel.”
“That’s the Angel Dream?” Wow!
“And over there, you see that patch of mud?”
“Yes. What’s the bright red dot?”
“It’s actually as big as a lemon,” Sara says. “That’s the Exit Point for the land of little people.”
“So how can anyone get in?”
“Put your hand through and your body will follow.”
“But why would anyone choose to be so small? Or to be hoarders? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Melody, why do you choose to fly?” Sara asks after a slight pause.
“I’ve always wanted to.” Even before the accident. Long before the first flying dream I ever had. “I drove my mom crazy leaping across the kitchen chairs, pretending to be a bird.” And since the accident, every time I see the pain in Dad’s eyes when he looks at his old albums, I picture myself soaring over the ocean and never coming back.
“It’s similar for hoarders,” Sara says. “For them the greatest thing in the world is to take what they want without regard for anyone or anything.”
“That is sick.”
“Yes. But people choose how they want to be; we can’t do it for them. As a child, I used to pinch stuff from stores.”
“No way.” I don’t believe it.
“I’d stash makeup and candy in my pocket. One day, at Walmart, the security guard caught me and arrested my mom. He said I was too young to go to jail and my mom had to take my place. I was so scared I promised I’d never steal again if they let her go. When I was thirteen, Mom told me it was a setup. For months, I couldn’t forgive her. But now I believe that if she hadn’t done that, I might have ended up a hoarder.”
“Do you still feel tempted to take things?”
“Sometimes, but I’ll lose much more if I steal something than if I earn it.”
I don’t know what to say. It’s not so much what Sara did, but that she confided in me. I inhale the scent of roses from my wings, and before I know it, words I’d sworn never to say spill from my mouth. “Sara, do you remember you told me how Guided can’t choose their wings?”
“Of course.”
“You were wrong; I chose mine.” I wait for the explosion. She’ll be disappointed. Angry.
Sara laughs. “That’s what we all think. I bet yours didn’t even try to get you, right?”
“Yes.” She’s not upset. My wings continue to beat steadily.
“Like I said, they chose you long before you arrived on Chimeroan.”
“But all the other wings were trying to get my attention.”
“They wouldn’t have attached to you if you had chosen them,” Sara says. “Wings can be somewhat egoistical. They want to know if their wearers will pick them, too.”
I glance back at my wings, a big grin on my face. They’re meant for me. I didn’t break the rules.
“And they’re intelligent,” Sara adds. “At least, as intelligent as their wearers allow them to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you know the answer already.”
And like the last piece of a puzzle, it all fits together. My wings humming when I wasn’t sure which direction to go. The stench of rotting flowers when I lied about them. And they tried to warn me about the hoarder that spat on me.
“Thanks for trusting me, Melody,” Sara says.
“I—yeah, sure.” Through my confusion, I’m bursting with happiness. Is it always this easy to confess? Will everyone be as understanding as Sara, even Mom and Dad? Especially Dad?
By the time we pass the first set of trees, my wings and I are exhausted. The distance between the sun and treetops is about the length of my little finger. Soon the sun will set and I still have no idea where to go.
Even if unicorns are in the forest, I can’t cover the entire area in the next few minutes. And if they aren’t, there definitely won’t be time to search anywhere else. I’ll lose my wings.
Hmmmmmmmm hmmmmmmmmm hmmmmmmmmm.
A flock of birds launches into the air and scatters in all directions. Did unicorns frighten them? My wings make a familiar drrrrraaaaa drrrrraaarrraaaa hum. Does that mean, “yes?”
I swerve left. But when I reach the spot where I saw
the birds, trees block my view of the ground. What now? Land or fly? Where to go? Land or fly?
“I don’t know what to do.” Sweat drips down my face, even though it’s not hot now.
“You’re doing it,” Sara says.
I spoke aloud again. I have to be more careful.
The lower part of the sun is hidden by the trees. What if I’ve already flown over the unicorns and don’t know? What if they aren’t even here? My stomach heaves. I shove my hand inside the pocket of my tights and touch the leprechaun jewel.
Patrick O’Hara can help.
I think of Dad hobbling along on crutches. If I use my wish to find the unicorns, I won’t be able to heal him. But if I don’t find the unicorns, I won’t be able to keep my wings. Besides, it’s not one hundred percent certain the jewel will heal Dad. Is it? My wings are silent, and I realize I’ve been waiting for some kind of sign from them about what to do.
I let go of the jewel and notice a gap in the trees a few yards away. Is it large enough for unicorns to fly through? Is it an Exit Point?
I speed ahead and my wings hum louder.
Let the unicorns be there. Please. Please.
Bingo. There’s a herd grazing in a large clearing: eight adults and one baby. “Sara, I chose right.”
Oh, no. I can’t believe it. The mean boy, Sean, and the guide with pigeon wings are here, too.
Sean’s money-green wings hang stiff as he steps closer to two unicorns. They back away and toss their heads. His guide, who is stroking one with a brown mane, doesn’t pay any attention to him.
I land and remove my flying paraphernalia.
Sara smiles. “I knew you could do it, Melody. Excuse me, but I need to talk to Timothy.” She walks over to Sean’s guide.
Sean frowns at me. “I beat you, slow poke.”
I ignore him and approach the closest unicorn to stroke it. The fur on its neck is warm and soft.
“Not fair,” Sean shouts. “How come you can touch them and I can’t?”
“Because I’m nice and you’re not.” Why do I flare up like this with him? “Look, if you relax, I’m sure they’ll let you pet them.”
Up in the Air Page 7
