Zydeco Queen and the Creole Fairy Courts

by Cutter, Leah

  “She was threatening me!” Billy exclaimed, turning to Mrs. Beaumont, his eyes wide.

  Billy should get an Oscar for the act he put on.

  “She was going cut me up and feed me to the gators!” His voice even trembled.

  “Is that true, Francine?”

  “Naw. Gators wouldn’t touch his slimy hide,” Francine said.

  When Mrs. Beaumont held out her hand, Francine reluctantly put the scissors into it. Now both Mama and Aunt Noella were going to be angry with her.

  “I think you both should come with me down to Principal Martin’s office,” Mrs. Beaumont said. “And the rest of you should get to your classes.”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” Francine complained as she slammed her locker closed. The principal would call Papa, which meant everyone was going to be against her at dinner that night.

  “Whether or not that’s the case, you know better than to threaten another student, Francine,” Mrs. Beaumont said. “Unless, of course, it was self-defense,” she added when Billy started smirking.

  Francine shrugged. It wouldn’t matter to Papa or anyone else in her family. They’d all blame her for fighting. Again.

  * * *

  Francine paused on the trail, listening again.

  None of her cousins followed her.

  None of them could.

  Still, she waited another few moments in the deep woods, listening to the trees and wind whisper around her, before she lifted the fallen branch, slipped under it, and stepped into the fern house.

  A nest of leaves and weather grass waited for Francine in the back of the space. Moving quickly, Francine made herself comfortable there, knowing the ferns, trees, and bushes would hide her from all eyes. Only then did she close her eyes and rest her head against the trees that made up the back of the fern house.

  She wasn’t looking forward to going back to school come Monday. But she’d survived a whole year at the academy, and she’d be a sophomore now. Soon enough she’d graduate. It was the only thing she could focus on. It seemed a lifetime away, but somehow, she had to get through it.

  The summer had helped, hanging out with her friends and her cousins every day, making music and laughing far into the night.

  Finally, the peace of the woods seeped under Francine’s skin and she felt herself relax, forgetting the fights at school to come and the homework that would be piled on. She opened her eyes and looked around, seeing the damage the last storm had caused. Some of the younger, more frail trees had tilted over, while the older trunks remained untouched.

  The fern house wasn’t really a house overgrown with ferns and moss, but Francine always thought of it that way. Ages ago two trees had fallen in on each other, their trunks and branches forming an A-frame entrance. Sweet shrubs with their fragrant red flowers still blooming ran along one side, while creeping figs and hollies made up the other. Once Francine was inside, she could easily pretend all the greenery formed walls.

  None of Francine’s cousins or friends knew about this place.

  She kept it from them by running faster through the trees, as well as going much farther into the woods behind Uncle Rene’s walled backyard than they dared.

  When she’d been younger, she’d assumed they were scared, and it bolstered her pride. It wasn’t until she was older that she realized they couldn’t see the trails through the woods that she could. They blundered when they walked, snagging their jeans on briars and thorns Francine would never have walked into.

  The paths obvious to her were hidden to others.

  The woods seemed still in the soft afternoon light, a golden-green moment that stretched on and on. Francine wished she could always stay here, safe and secure, the trees her only companions.

  Music to fit the scene drifted through her mind, a sweet, quiet tune that danced with the green light filtering through the leaves. The droning insects made a steady rhythm for the piece coming alive in her head. Her fingers moved on imaginary strings, already feeling the buzzing notes.

  “Francine!”

  Without conscious thought Francine rolled to her side and crawled out of her haven. She sprinted a few yards away, then stopped, waiting for Papa, to see how close he was.

  Francine hadn’t seen Papa walking through the woods before. However, it didn’t surprise her that while her cousins couldn’t find a path even if they tripped over it, Papa walked confidently between the trees. He gave her a big smile when he saw her.

  “Don’t have to worry about you sneaking off with some boy, do I? You still have notes dancing around your head.”

  He looked beyond her, over her shoulder, obviously curious where she’d been.

  Francine refused to turn around and even glance at the fern house. That was hers and hers alone.

  “Papa, I do like boys,” she protested, just not the awful ones at school.

  Papa chuckled and shook his head, turning to go back to Uncle Rene’s house, taking the path that was most direct, that no one knew except Francine.

  “You really didn’t notice your cousin Zeke’s friend, did you?”

  “Who, Petie? Why would I notice Petie?” Francine asked, wrinkling her nose at the thought. Petie was her age, true, but he had horrible acne and was so shy he couldn’t even look her in the face.

  “Oh, no reason,” Papa said in that irritating manner that adults sometimes had.

  “I swear you are worse than Aunt Lavine trying to match me up with boys,” Francine grumbled.

  Papa’s laughter rang through the trees.

  Francine paused. She could almost see it, those happy notes sliding through the soft sunlight shining through the trees.

  “We gotta get going,” Papa said, cutting through Francine’s thoughts. Though he smiled, he seemed as tense as when Reverend Steeps came by, asking for a donation when it was the end of the month and payday was still half a week off.

  “Your kin won’t hold back, you know. All of Uncle Rene’s hush puppies will be gone by the time we get there.”

  “Hush puppies? Why didn’t you say that earlier?” Francine teased. She walked up to Papa and he slung one arm over her shoulders.

  “That’s my girl,” Papa said, relaxing more, giving her a brief hug before insisting Francine walk ahead of him. Every time she glanced back at him, he was looking around. Once, he made a warding motion with his hand, the kind Grandma Guiscard used to make to keep evil away.

  When Papa glanced up, he smiled at Francine.

  “Old habit,” he said.

  But his smile seemed brittle, and more than anything else, Francine didn’t want Papa to be unhappy.

  * * *

  That night, when Francine came to say goodnight to her papa, he took her hand and asked her, “You go into those woods by yourself often, don’t you?”

  Francine nodded, not wanting to lie.

  “You know they’re not safe. I worry about you walking through them all on your own.”

  “Papa, I’m not three.”

  She knew about the gators, snakes, and everything else in the woods. As far as she was concerned, they were safer than the halls at the academy.

  “I know you’re not. That’s the problem.” He sighed.

  Francine looked down at her hands in his. Though her hands were strong from playing the fiddle, and big because Francine was tall, they still looked small and frail in Papa’s palms.

  “I’m not going to ask you to promise me not to go back in the woods alone, or not go as deep. I wouldn’t ask that of you. I know it means too much.”

  Francine nodded, a strange lump forming in her throat. What had Papa so scared? He seemed so sad, too, as if he’d lost something important.

  “You just have to be careful. Watch yourself, and you come running back home if you ever see something strange out there.”

  Francine winced at the tremor in his beautiful, deep voice.

  “Can you promise me that, darling?”

  “Of course, Papa,” Francine said. “I’ll be extra careful.�
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  “That’s my girl.”

  Papa kissed Francine’s forehead goodnight and he let her go.

  It took Francine a long time to fall asleep that night. For the first time in Francine’s life, Papa looked scared. And that scared Francine more than any warnings about the woods.

  * * *

  Francine started cursing under her breath as she drew closer to her gym locker. Old women used fox urine to keep critters out of their gardens. It smelled like someone had dumped a whole bottle against her locker. It stank worse than swamp gas, making Francine’s eyes water.

  Before Francine could touch her locker, she had to get a towel to wipe off the sticky surface. She had to stop cleaning more than once in order to step back and take a couple of deep breaths before she could continue. The anger coiled deep in her stomach, making her keep on.

  “What happened?” Coach Beaker asked as Francine opened the locker.

  “Someone did something they thought was funny,” Francine told her. Her books were in her other locker, so at least they hadn’t been doused. Her fiddle was always in the music room. However, her street clothes were ruined.

  “Do you have something to change into?”

  “No,” Francine said with gritted teeth. She was going to have to wear her sweaty, stained gym clothes for the rest of the day. No wonder Karyn had knocked her down, making sure she’d be muddy.

  “Who did this?” Coach Beaker asked as Francine reached in with the towel and picked up her favorite jeans.

  “What does it matter?” Francine asked, scowling at the ruins.

  “We’re supposed to report all incidents of bullying,” the coach said softly.

  The coach was new, hired only that spring. Still, Francine was angry enough to ask, “Why? So you can feel good and tell each other you’ve done all you can? If only that poor girl would help herself?”

  She slammed her jeans into the garbage can and went back for her shirt.

  “You can’t help.”

  “I still need to report it—”

  “Blame it on me, then,” Francine said as she tossed her shirt. Even her sandals were ruined.

  “I’ll get the janitor to clean up the rest,” Coach Beaker said. “I can also write you a note, excuse you for the rest of the day.”

  Francine paused, tempted. But she had a test in history last hour, and no one who could pick her up, even though Cousin Franklin did get his permit recently. She shook her head. “But thanks,” she said.

  When Francine got back to her locker, Billy and Laura stood near by, camera in hand. “For the yearbook,” Billy told her as he snapped a shot.

  Francine just rolled her eyes. She knew that for people like Billy and Laura, high school was supposed to be the best years of their lives. For her it was just hard time. She was counting the days before she left this academy in her dust.

  When Francine opened her locker she saw a bag that she’d forgotten about. Aunt Lavine had given her more clothes from her tourist shop. The jeans weren’t her style, but they were decent enough, and would cover the mud on her shins.

  The shirt…Francine looked down at her stained gym shirt. It would be better than what she was wearing. Maybe. Had Billy known she had extra clothes with her? Francine shook her head. He wasn’t that clever.

  Francine went into the restroom and quickly changed. When she walked out of the stall Laura stood there, waiting for her. She whistled when she saw Francine. “That’s some mighty fine sparkle.”

  Francine glanced down at the shirt. It was charcoal gray, with the words “Zydeco Queen” emblazoned across it in purple, green, and gold rhinestones—Mardi Gras colors.

  “Just letting my swamp flag fly,” Francine told her proudly.

  Laura giggled, and for a second they were just two girls sharing a joke.

  Then Laura snapped another picture and said, “Definitely going into the yearbook.”

  Francine had to laugh.

  “Oh honey. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  * * *

  For the Junior-Senior prom at the end of the school year, the gym had been decorated with banners and streamers, and a silver disco ball threw squares of light across the floor. The usual gym smells of waxed wood and sweat mingled with the scents of hairspray and cheap cologne. A band played up on stage, trying to please everyone with the range of music, from country to rock, even some hip-hop.

  Francine had gone to Aunt Lavine for her dress. She planned to outshine everyone else there, literally.

  She got her wish.

  The bodice had blue, pink, and gold rhinestones across the bust. The hem held a good three inches of silver sparkle. A rich hunter-green satin made up the rest of the gown. It had an iridescent glow to it, and changed colors subtly to a lighter blue-green as Francine walked.

  Francine hoped that the sparkle of the dress would distract people from noticing that it was sleeveless. It mostly covered her birthmark, but she knew if she reached forward for something, the scarred skin would show. She had a shawl she draped across her shoulders, but it kept sliding off as she danced. People stared, but people always stared. She’d gotten used to ignoring them.

  Francine’s shoes hurt her feet early so she took them off, ignoring her mama’s voice in her head about what people would think.

  She only had one more year to go, then she wouldn’t have to think about high school ever again.

  Finally, the band took a break and Principal Martin picked up the microphone. The spotlight made his pale face ghostly.

  Francine rolled her eyes as he talked about how proud he was of the graduating class, knowing he was glad to get rid of some of the troublemakers. She clapped politely when Billy and Laura were announced the Junior king and queen, completely unsurprised. Laura had done her hair up perfectly so the tiara would fit.

  “I want to thank everyone who voted for us,” Billy started off once he had the mike.

  Francine snorted softly. Billy sounded like a sleazy politician running for re-election. He’d never get her vote.

  “Now, as some of you already know, we added a special title for tonight, for another lucky lady who’s about to be queened.”

  A shiver of fear ran down Francine’s spine when Billy called her name, asking her to come up on stage. Francine dragged her feet, dreading what was about to happen.

  They weren’t clever enough to dump pig’s blood on her, like in that movie, were they?

  Up on the stage, the spotlights struck her rhinestones. Flashes of light bounced into the audience, and more than one person covered their eyes and called out that she was blinding them. Francine kept her chin up and head held high. She’d chosen to wear the dress. No way to make a different choice—or as Mama would say, to push the rain back into the sky.

  She wished, though, that she could really blind the kids staring up at her, sniggering.

  “As ya’ll know, Francine here plays a pretty mean fiddle,” Billy said. “So we’d like to present her with a special title that we made just for her. Please give a big round of applause to our new Zydeco Queen!”

  One of Billy’s cohorts came onto the stage bearing a crown bigger than the tiara Laura wore. A toy violin stood on its end in the front. Lines of white rhinestones swooped down from it. Cheap plastic crawfish decorated the sides.

  If Francine’s cousins had made this crown, she would have been proud to wear it. But Billy, Laura, and the others had come up with the idea in the spirit of meanness.

  Francine still easily bowed her head to be crowned, enjoying her height and how Billy had to reach up to place it on her head.

  She knew it would be the only title she’d ever receive.

  The crowd whooped and Billy stepped back, asking for Francine to take a bow, saying how proud everyone at school was with her. Angry tears suddenly came to her eyes. The title didn’t mark her as special to them—just different—other.

  However, Francine couldn’t escape. The entire court had to stay on the stage as Principal Martin annou
nced the Senior king and queen, then have pictures taken. Francine was certain her cheeks must have glowed redder than Uncle Otis’ nose after he’d been dipping in the Sidel moonshine. She just wanted to die, for the earth to open and swallow her whole. Not only had she been embarrassed in front of the entire school, this picture would live forever with the framed pictures of the court.

  Francine wished all of them to Hell a dozen times. She couldn’t quit school as much as she might want. She didn’t know what she could do for revenge. Some day, though, she’d get back at all of them.

  * * *

  Francine felt like her insides were all wiggly, more so then when she auditioned for the new jazz band at the academy. It was the first real gig for the band she and her friends had formed that summer. They hadn’t gotten it themselves—they were opening for Uncle Rene’s band, playing at Slim’s as a favor to him.

  Still. It was the first time Francine had ever played live with a band made up of her friends and not at school. It was their music, the music they’d written together, though Francine had made up most of the tunes.

  A few tables still sat open when Francine and her band got on the stage. Not many, though. Once Uncle Rene’s band started the place would be filled, and the dance floor packed. Still, it was a decent crowd for a brand new, unknown band.

  Of course, they weren’t completely unknown. Relatives of all three band members sat in the crowd, as well as their friends. A frisson of fear coursed through Francine. Her relations might say she did fine, but she knew them well enough to tell if they were lying. It would be worse than if she messed up at school, because she’d have to see these people for the rest of her life.

  Francine lifted her chin. She wasn’t about to mess this up. None of them were.

  The microphone squealed when Francine picked it up, the feedback instantly killing all the conversation.

  “Wow,” Francine said into the microphone. “I think that was a C-sharp.”

  A quiet chuckle passed through the crowd.

  “We’re The Zydeco Chicks,” Francine announced. “And it’s time to dance.”

  They started into their first number, a fast piece called “The Gator Waltz.” Francine at first kept her gaze on her fingers, or the floor, scared of the people in front of her. Finally, though, she glanced up.