by A W Hartoin
“So why are you here?” asked Dad.
“We heard you needed help,” said J.
“Help? We don’t need any help.”
J pointed to a broken light above the workbench. “You didn’t fix it.”
I left Judd’s finger and just caught his astonished expression.
“Why would we fix it? We’re wood fairies,” said Dad.
“Exactly. You need help. You can’t take care of business.”
Dad extended his wings, not a good sign. “I can take care of any business that needs taking care of.”
“Clearly, you can’t.” J pointed to the van’s right taillight. Judd’s mom had been complaining about it flickering for months.
“I can fix that,” said Dad.
“If you could, you would’ve already done it. We have a lot to do around here. It’s a real mess.”
“This house is not a mess.” Dad raised his voice, a rarer occurrence than good metalworking.
J rubbed his hands together. “There were many fairies wanting this job. It’s a good thing we got here first.”
Dad spread his wings even wider. “You’re not first. We’re here.”
J’s eyes roamed around the garage. “A lot of work. Let’s get started.”
The Home Depot fairies marched past Dad toward Evan’s tool chests. Dad flew in front of them and landed hard with his wings completely spread. “We don’t need your help.”
Judd tapped me on the back and I turned around. “Don’t you think you should help your dad?”
“I don’t think so. If I don’t do anything and Dad can’t get rid of them, maybe his club friends will help.” It hurt me to call anyone in the club Dad’s friends, but that was what he still considered them.
Judd grinned at me. “That’s a great idea. They’ll come over to help and they’ll realize you’re not going to set their butts on fire.”
“Maybe. They are pretty stupid to think I can’t control myself. This whole house is wood and it’s still here. I know what I’m doing.”
“It kind of makes you want to set their butts on fire, doesn’t it?”
I patted his finger. “It really does.”
We turned back to Dad arguing with the Home Depot fairies. Dad’s neck got red like it did when the rest of the Whipplethorn fairies announced that they would make their homes in the other houses on Judd’s street, not with us, even though there was plenty of room. Whipplethorn fairies had lived together inside Whipplethorn Manor for generations. Nobody ever thought they had to live in another house until I got fire. Only my friend Gerald’s family, the Zamoras, and our teacher, Miss Penrose Whipplethorn, had elected to stay with us. Dad got so mad and Mom cried. That was the only other time that I’d seen Dad’s neck go red.
“We don’t need any help!” he yelled.
J directed another Home Depot fairy, W, to go back to the hole in the dishwasher. W got several beat-up brown bags out of the hole and handed them to the others in the group. Dad grabbed one of the bags, ran over and tossed it back into the dishwasher.
“This doesn’t look good,” said Judd. “I think I’ll go down to Devon’s house and have a little talk with his fireplace mantel.”
Several members of Dad’s club had settled in Judd’s friend’s mantel. Devon still couldn’t see them living in their burrowed-out homes next to the firebox. I’d hung around Devon a few times, exploding fireballs and whatnot, but he hadn’t blinked. He needed a reason to see and Judd and I hadn’t thought of one to give him yet. There was no way Judd was going to tell his best friend that he could see fairies. His status would never recover.
“Good idea,” I said. “I’ll stay here and make sure they don’t beat up Dad.”
Judd went out the garage door, but then did an about-face and beckoned me. “Come here, Matilda.”
I zipped over and he pointed down the tree-lined street to a glowing blue dot. It was my sister, Iris, and she was traveling at top speed.
CHAPTER TWO
IRIS BOBBED AND weaved. A couple of times she looked like she might run into a tree. Iris wasn’t built for speed or for athletics of any kind. I started to go to save her from passing out when I caught sight of a smaller dot coming up behind her. My hearing might’ve been terrible, but my eyesight rocked, as Judd would say.
The dot was blue and grey with no glow at all.
“Hey, there’s Gerald,” said Judd.
“I see him.”
Judd groaned. “And his mother.”
Right behind Gerald flew his mother, Eunice Whipplethorn. It wasn’t a surprise. Ever since the humans came to Whipplethorn and thrust us into their world and right into danger, Eunice had watched Gerald as closely as a sickly newborn. In the six months since, Gerald spent most of his time trying, unsuccessfully, to shake her, which only made her more nervous that something terrible was going to happen to her only child.
I decided to wait for Iris to get to me and savor the last few minutes Eunice-free. Iris flew around the big oak in the neighbor’s yard, dipped down and almost hit the dirt before she recovered to fly just above the ground with her toes scraping the tips of the pale green grass.
She arrived at the garage door, gasping and clutching her chest. “Matilda.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “I haven’t seen you fly like that since we were in the antique mall, trying to save Gerald.”
“Miss...”
“Breathe, Iris,” I said.
Judd put out his finger and Iris collapsed on it. I landed next to her and rubbed her back. “You have to get it out. Eunice is almost here.”
“Miss...Penrose...sick,” she choked out.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
Iris pushed a sweaty blond curl out of her face and took a deep breath. “She can’t get up.”
“I’ll get Grandma Vi’s bag.” I was the closest thing we had to a healer since my Grandma Vi had died the year before. She said I had the gift and I was supposed to follow in her profession, but she died before I could complete my training.
“Eunice will stop you,” said Iris. “She keeps saying you’re not a real healer yet.”
“She can try,” said Judd. “Nobody stops Matilda.”
I looked at poor Gerald struggling to outpace his mother. He was a small nine-year-old and didn’t have good speed yet. It didn’t help that Eunice was grabbing his foot and trying to pull him back. She probably would’ve carried him everywhere, if he would’ve allowed it.
“She makes my mom look cool,” said Judd.
Iris and I nodded. Eunice made all other moms look good.
“Go,” said Iris.
Just then Eunice saw us and narrowed her eyes. She put on a burst of speed, passed Gerald, and skidded to a halt in front of me. Tendrils of pale hair framed her face, having escaped from the tight bun she always wore. They made her look angrier than usual. “Don’t get any ideas, Matilda Grace Whipplethorn.”
“I’m not getting ideas,” I said. “I already have them.”
“Well, don’t,” said Eunice. “Miss Penrose is fine. It’s just a little fatigue. She doesn’t need you buzzing around, acting like she’s an invalid.”
Gerald flew up, his face resentful as ever, but it wasn’t me and Iris that irritated him that time. “Mom, Miss Penrose is sick. Matilda can help.”
“Matilda is fourteen and completely untrained.”
“That’s not true,” said Iris. “Grandma Vi taught her a lot.”
“Not enough. Besides, if Miss Penrose wants a healer—a real one—she’ll ask for one. Come along, Gerald. Let’s get you home for a nap.” She tugged on his wing and he slapped at her hand.
“Stop it, Mom. I don’t need a nap. I’m not two.”
“It’s been a hard morning. You don’t realize your own limitations.”
Iris stood and put her hands on her hips. “Gerald doesn’t have any limitations.”
“Gerald’s gifts lie in his intelligence. It must be nurtured,” said Eunice.
“And smothered,�
�� I said under my breath.
Eunice glared at me. She’d agreed to live in the same human house with me, but that was as far as it went. I’d taken a vow not to irritate her for Gerald’s sake, but sometimes things just popped out.
“Hey, Miss Eunice,” said Judd. “Did you know we’ve been invaded?”
“Invaded?” Eunice trembled.
“Yeah. Some fairies came from Home Depot and Matilda’s dad is fighting with them right now. They look pretty...tough.”
Eunice went pale and looked where I pointed at the garage floor. Dad stood toe-to-toe with J, who didn’t look remotely tough or, frankly, very interested in what Dad was going on about.
“My dad is really scared,” I said. “He’s terrified they’ll take over.” I pointed at their bags. “I think they have weapons.”
Eunice grabbed Gerald by the shoulders. “Stay with Judd.” She looked up at Judd. “Take Gerald to the mantel and make sure he locks himself in. Can I trust you?”
Judd shrugged his shoulders. “Sure. Why not?”
Eunice dove off Judd’s finger to back up Dad.
“She trusts you more than me,” I said. “I can’t believe it.”
“She thinks you’ll get Gerald into trouble,” he said. “She’s not wrong.”
“I guess not,” I said. “Where’s Miss Penrose?”
“At the creek near the drainage pipe,” said Gerald. “And I don’t need anyone to get me into trouble. I can do it myself.”
I laughed. “Lead the way then. Iris, get Grandma Vi’s bag and follow us.”
“I’ll block for you, Iris,” said Judd.
We leapt off his finger and hovered. Judd went back into the garage and squatted in front of Dad and Eunice, extending his arms around them to block their view. He crooked a finger at us.
“Go, Iris,” I said.
Iris zipped behind Judd to the house door and flew through a crack in the cat door. On the workbench, Horc was jumping up and down with his arms outstretched. Not much got by Horc. He knew we were making a run for it and wanted me to carry him. I shook my head no. Besides resembling a boulder, Horc weighed as much as one. And there was the chance that Eunice would see me getting him, so Gerald and I went down the street, flying around human toddlers, their adoring mothers, and multiple minivans. I looked back. Eunice wasn’t following. Gerald grinned at me and did a fist pump.
At the end of the street, we flew past Mom’s favorite tree, a Japanese maple, and put on more speed. We didn’t have much time before Eunice discovered we’d ditched her. The creek was just over a mile away, according to Judd, and in the middle of an open space where humans biked and walked their dogs. Gerald led me past a pair of slobbery Labrador retrievers and down the muddy embankment to a drainage pipe almost as large as a human’s front door.
Miss Penrose lay on a patch of spring grass, surrounded by her students. My friends, Ursula and Sadie, were among them and, for a moment, I hesitated. Like Dad’s club, Ursula and Sadie had distanced themselves from us. Iris kept telling me that their parents made them do it, but it stung just the same. They’d been my friends since we were babies. I’d seen them break practically every rule their parents made, but suddenly when it came to me, they obeyed.
I took a deep breath and landed at the edge of the circle. Ursula and Sadie looked at me and then averted their eyes. So now they couldn’t even look at me. I missed them so much, I had a twisting pain in my chest that never quite went away. How was it that they didn’t miss me? We used to be so close, especially me and Ursula. Now she didn’t even look like the same person I’d known six months ago. We’d once made a pact not to ever cut our waist-length hair, but Ursula had, and she didn’t even tell me about it. Her blond hair was short and jagged, framing her face, while my hair remained long. Why didn’t she understand that she was the one who changed, not me?
Gerald tugged on my hand, his expression fierce. He glanced at Miss Penrose’s students, daring them to protest my being there as we threaded our way between them. None of them did. They, too, averted their eyes.
We got to Miss Penrose and knelt at her side. Her eyes were closed and her breathing rapid. Miss Penrose was always pale, her skin milky and her hair nearly white. But on that day, she’d lost what little color she had and her lips were blue.
I took her hand. “Miss Penrose?”
She opened her eyes to slits and smiled. “Matilda. How are you?”
“How am I? I’m fine. How long have you been like this?”
“Not long—”
“It started an hour ago,” interrupted Gerald. “And this isn’t the first time.”
“It always passes. Don’t worry yourself.” Miss Penrose closed her eyes.
“What is it?” asked Gerald and suddenly everyone was looking at me with fear in their eyes, but for once it wasn’t fear of me, but of what I might say.
“I don’t know yet,” I said.
“You really don’t know?” asked Ursula, her brown eyes looking straight into mine for the first time since she found out I was a kindler.
“I don’t,” I said. “But I’ll find out. I have all Grandma Vi’s books.”
I took Miss Penrose’s pulse. It should’ve been so rapid one could hardly make out the individual beats, but Miss Penrose’s was so slow it startled me. A slow heartbeat in a winged fairy was a terrible sign. Our hearts beat at over one thousand beats a minute when flying and about two hundred and fifty the rest of the time. Miss Penrose’s heart was at seventy-five beats per minute.
“What is it?” asked Gerald.
“I told you I don’t know.” I put my hand on Miss Penrose’s chest. I couldn’t feel the flutter of her heart and I should’ve been able to. If my hearing had been anywhere near normal, I would’ve put my head on her chest to listen to the chambers, but since it wasn’t, I’d have to rely on someone else. Gerald’s hearing was superior. But not as good as Iris, who was phenomenal.
“Gerald, put your head on her chest and tell me what her heart sounds like.”
Gerald looked down at Miss Penrose’s chest, or more to the point, he looked at her breasts underneath her tight bodice.
“Gerald! You know I can’t do it,” I said.
“But...”
“Gerald!”
Ursula crawled over to Miss Penrose’s other side. “I’ll do it.”
She put her ear on Miss Penrose’s chest and closed her eyes. “What’s it supposed to sound like?”
“It should have a distinctive thump thump. Each beat should be sharp and short. Of course, I’ve never heard it, but that’s what Grandma Vi said.”
Ursula listened for another moment and then sat up. “It doesn’t sound like that at all. The beats are slow and kind of squishy-sounding.”
I sat back on my heels. There was no denying Miss Penrose looked terrible. Super pale and thin. Of course she always looked that way, just not so bad. Miss Penrose never looked like the rest of the Whipplethorn fairies to begin with. Her whole family had a distinctive look with silver wings and all that paleness. Grandma Vi said they came to Whipplethorn Manor late, so they weren’t original to the wood. That’s a big thing to wood fairies; we stay with our wood unless something terrible happens, like when the humans came and tore down Whipplethorn Manor. I didn’t know why Miss Penrose’s family left their original wood. It never seemed important to ask.
As I looked down at the length of her body, I realized her style was different than usual, too. She was always more formal with ornate fabrics and a different kind of fit. The fabric was the same, but she wore an ankle-length skirt that was loose and not fitted at all.
“When did she start wearing this skirt?” I asked.
“Skirt?” Gerald looked confused. He probably didn’t know what she wore period.
Ursula touched the fabric and said, “It’s been a couple of months. I thought it was weird. She’s usually so particular with her clothes, you know. This skirt is kind of ugly.”
I stood up. “Okay. This is what
we’re going to do. Gerald, fly home and tell my dad how sick Miss Penrose is. We need a litter to carry her home. Sadie, you’re the oldest here. You take the other kids home.”
Sadie stood up and gathered the smaller fairies. Gerald took off, followed by the rest of the group.
Ursula picked up Miss Penrose’s hand and asked, “Why did they have to leave?”
I crawled down to Miss Penrose’s thighs and pulled up her skirt. “Because I didn’t want them to see this.”
Ursula gasped. Miss Penrose’s legs, that used to be so well-shaped and pale, were huge and distorted with a reddish-purple haze under the skin.
Ursula clutched Miss Penrose’s hand and looked at me. “How did you know?”
I swallowed and touched Miss Penrose’s thigh. The flesh pushed in like I was touching an unbaked loaf of bread and then puffed right back out. “I didn’t know. But she had to be hiding something. She’d never wear this skirt normally.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Ursula. “You’re not fully trained yet and we don’t have another healer.”
“I’ll have to figure it out.”
Just then, Iris landed, red-faced and sweating with Grandma Vi’s bag in her arms. She stumbled and sank to her knees next to me. “I made it.” Then she saw Miss Penrose’s legs and she recoiled.
I opened Grandma’s bag with a tiny silver key I’d taken to wearing around my neck. Grandma designed her bag to open like a portable tool chest. Sections telescoped out to reveal more sections beneath. The top part was filled with diagnostic tools, her stethoscope, magnifying glasses, tongue depressors, tweezers, and the like. Beneath them were a multitude of dried herbs in pouches with their names embroidered on the side. Beneath the dried cures were the most valuable contents, the liquid remedies, balms, and tinctures. They’d come from as far away as Pakistan and Romania. Tucked in with little glass vials and screw-top containers was her quick reference, a guide to the thirty most common illnesses. It included my own illness, snail pox, and less harmful problems such as slug cough, and infectious wing mange.
I thumbed through each of the illnesses with Ursula and Iris crowding in and looking over my shoulders. I already knew I wouldn’t find Miss Penrose’s illness in there. I’d read everything in the quick reference a million times under the critical eye of Grandma and she loved to give me bizarre quizzes to make sure I’d absorbed the information properly. Her quizzes were something like: If Sadie has a fever for three days, there were gnats in her room on Tuesday, and her favorite color is orange, what do you treat her with? I hated those quizzes, but I knew my common illnesses. What Miss Penrose had definitely wasn’t common, but the thumbing through gave me time to think.
