A Fairy's Guide to Disaster (30 page)

“Can’t you use the biting sticks Dad made for you?” I asked, pointing to a basket filled with strips of hickory.

“I could, but this is more satisfying, wouldn’t you agree?” Horc fished a swan foot from between his two front teeth and examined it.

“I don’t gnaw on wood, so I wouldn’t know.”

“You should try it. Good for the jaws and hence the biting.”

“I don’t bite that much, so no.”

Horc looked back at the hole in the dishwasher. “Whatever it is, there are several. I hope they’re tasty.”

“They’re alive,” I said.

Horc showed me his teeth again. “And you consider this important because...”

“Because wood fairies are vegetarians,” I said.

“I think we might be flexible on that point,” he said, licking his green lips.

“We’re not flexible.”

“Pity.”

“Dad,” I said.

He looked up from his pin. “Not now. I almost have it.”

“But you have to see this.”

“I told you not now.”

I dropped another fireball to hold him for a while and flew over to the dishwasher, landing on top. I looked over the edge and saw a little creature climb out of the hole. It jumped and landed on the garage’s concrete floor. Another followed and another and another until there were five total standing perilously close to Evan’s feet.

“Judd!” I yelled.

He glanced up and I pointed at the creatures. Judd jumped to his feet and said, “Hey, Dad. Why don’t you go and find the directions online?”

Evan stood up and stretched. “Might as well. It looks like something’s missing on that waste line. Your mom isn’t going to be happy.”

He turned around, narrowly missing the creatures and went into the house. Judd dropped to his knees and I flew down, landing close but not too close. The creatures didn’t even notice me. They were muttering and looking around with critical eyes. Judd and I exchanged a glance. The creatures were fairies, but not a species I recognized. They were a little taller than me with brown hair and no wings. They wore blue overalls with pocket patches on them with various single letters. The fairies looked a lot alike but weren’t an identical species, a phenomenon that sometimes happens in the fairy world.

I stepped forward. “Hello.”

They ignored me and pulled out tape measures and held them up like they were measuring the room.

“Hello,” said Judd, probably thinking that a hello from a human might make more of an impression, but he was wrong. They got in a line and started marching toward Evan’s red toolboxes.

I flew up ahead of them and made a dramatic landing in front of them. I was good at that with my big purple and green wings glowing in the dim light of the garage. The lead fairy stopped and finally focused on me.

“Hello,” I repeated.

“Yes,” it said.

Judd flattened himself on the garage floor. “Hi.”

The fairy looked at us and then attempted to walk around me.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Matilda Whipplethorn. I live here.”

“Ah, yes. The kindler. We’ve heard about you.”

The fairy attempted to skirt me again. Judd stopped him with a hand.

“I’m Judd. I can see you.”

If Judd expected an amazed reaction, he was disappointed. The fairy merely stared at him.

“What kind of fairies are you?” asked Judd.

“We’re from the Home Depot,” it said with a completely blank expression. If it was interested in us, it didn’t show it.

“We gathered that, since you climbed out of the back of our new dishwasher, but what species are you?”
 

“We’re from the Home Depot.”

“That’s a place, not a species. What are you?” I asked.

“We’re from the Home Depot.”

Judd put his head closer to me. “You better get your dad.”

I flew up to the workbench and tried to get Dad’s attention. He was still banging away on his mutilated needle. He’d assumed that his stellar woodworking skills would transfer over to metalworking. But with a ridiculous amount of practice, he was actually getting worse.

“Dad!”

He waved me away and stuck the needle in the still flaming basin. He turned it over, trying to get it to his favorite cherry red, which I suspected was too hot.

I yelled at him again and when he didn’t respond, I snapped my fingers. The flames extinguished in an instant. It was a new trick I’d recently mastered and one that Dad didn’t appreciate.

He threw up his mask. “Matilda!”

“We have visitors,” I said.

His face brightened. “The club?”

“Sorry, Dad,” I said, feeling two blocks of guilt land on my shoulders. “It’s not them.”

Dad struggled to keep his cheerful expression, but it was precarious. “Well, all right then. Let’s go see who it is.”

I pointed to the new fairies. Dad took off, spreading his brown and purple wings. Brown sounded dull until you saw Dad’s wings. They had about fifty shades of brown with touches of my purple and a little of my sister’s blue mixed in.

Dad floated down and I stood watching, biting my trembling lip. Dad still hadn’t given up on his woodworking club and it was my fault that he’d eventually have to. Few fairies accepted my abilities and Dad’s club weren’t among them. They didn’t trust me around their wood or their families. Dad wasn’t officially kicked out of the club, but he wasn’t invited to dinners or to play cards because they were afraid he might bring me along. So Dad was stuck. He couldn’t change me and he couldn’t change them.

I jumped off the edge of the workbench and glided down slowly. I blinked like crazy trying to get rid of the tears that filled my eyes. I landed beside Dad, and Judd eyed me. His giant face softened and he extended an index finger. I put my hand on the callused tip and felt the intense warmth he always radiated. Judd understood. I wouldn’t have expected a boy his age to have such tender feelings, but beneath his messy, smelly, loud boy exterior beat a compassionate heart.

I leaned on Judd’s finger and listened to Dad talk to the new fairies.

“So you’re saying that other fairies know that we’ve been seen?” asked Dad.

“Yes,” the lead fairy replied.

Dad craned his head sideways to look at the others in the line. They nodded.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t recognize your species. May I ask which one you are?”

“We’re from the Home Depot,” it said, looking just as disinterested as before.

“So you’ve said. I’m asking about your species.”

“We’re from the Home Depot.”

Dad looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged.

“Do you have names?” Dad asked slowly like he thought they might have a hard time following four whole words.

“I’m D,” said the first.

The rest followed suit, reciting the letters on their overalls.

“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 beatup 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.

Read the rest in Fierce Creatures.
 

Available now.

A.W. HARTOIN IS the author of the Mercy Watts mystery series and the Away From Whipplethorn fantasy series. She lives in Colorado with her husband, two children, and six bad chickens.