A Fairy's Guide to Disaster (9 page)

“Oh, no! Gerald!” I yelled.

I zipped over and landed between the boards myself. I looked down the narrow passageway he’d run into and could make out some movement, but, of course, couldn’t hear anything. The last thing I wanted to do was walk down that long corridor in the dark without knowing what might be at the other end. On the other hand, it was my chance to snag Gerald. That stink fairy wasn’t going to get away if I had to walk through a tunnel filled with cats.

“Gerald. It’s me.”

He didn’t materialize, so I crept into the tunnel. I ran my hand over the paper wall to my right. After my eyes adjusted, I could make out a picture on the wall of humans holding instruments and grinning like lunatics. At the end of the passage, Gerald appeared, or a form about his size. He was standing with his wings up. It was just like little Gerald to try to be intimidating, despite his shaking wings. When I got closer I could see that his whole body was shaking, too.

“Gerald, it’s me. Matilda.”

Gerald didn’t answer, but backed up a step. He looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to run to me or run away.

“Gerald. Come here this instant.”

I sounded like my mother on a bad day. I don’t know why I used that voice or why it worked, but Gerald stopped shaking and stomped his foot.

“Don’t order me around,” he said.

“Don’t be an idiot,” I replied.

“I’m not an idiot. You’re the stupid one. Stupid fairy.”

“Stink fairy.”

With that, Gerald ran to me. He flung himself into my arms so hard we fell to the ground.

“I wasn’t sure it was really you,” he said.

“What convinced you?” I asked, sitting up.

“Nobody else calls me Stink Fairy, except your fat sister.”

I rested my head on Gerald’s. “Stop calling Iris fat.”

“Stop calling me Stink Fairy.”

That was a tough one, since he was a stink fairy, and I sort of enjoyed calling him that.

“If I must,” I said, standing up and pulling him to his feet.

“She is fat, you know,” Gerald said.

“Why does it matter?” I took his hand and led him back down the corridor toward the dryads.

Gerald shrugged. “It doesn’t. I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t.”

Gerald shrugged again as we came out into the light to face the dryads on the water fountain. They cheered, cupping their hands around their mouths and jumping. I waved and felt a sharp tug on my other hand. Gerald had fainted again and lay toes up on the shelf. I knelt beside him.

“Gerald,” I said. “Wake up.”

Gerald cracked an eyelid. “Are they still there?”

“The dryads? Of course, but they’re nothing to worry about.”

Gerald shut his eye. “Make them go away.”

“I will not. They’ve been nothing but helpful to me. I’ve been searching for you for hours. Come on. Get up.”

“Hours?” Gerald opened his eyes to slits. He looked exceedingly suspicious, even for him. “Really?”

“Yes, Gerald. Hours. Now we have to get back home to Iris and the baby.” I propped him up into a seated position.

Gerald stared at the dryads. “What are they made of?”

“Flesh, like you and me. They just paint themselves to look like wood.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I guess they like wood a lot.”

“I like wood,” said Gerald.

“It would be strange if you didn’t. We are wood fairies, after all.” I pulled him to his feet. “We have to go. Iris is waiting.”

We dove off the edge of the shelf and flew to the water fountain. I kept a sharp eye on Gerald, but I needn’t have bothered. He kept as close as possible without us colliding. I landed near Soren and Gerald landed behind me, grabbing my hand. I began to think he wasn’t so bad after all.

“So you’ve found your little boy,” said Soren, towering over us.

Gerald stepped out from behind me and dropped my hand. “Little? Who said I’m little?” He eyed me. His face was back in its usual resentful expression.

I sighed. Truces with Gerald never lasted long. Dealing with him made me tired again.

“Gerald, it’s just a description. I had to tell them what you look like,” I said.

“I’m not little,” Gerald bellowed.

A chuckle ran through the crowd of dryads. Some of them clamped shut their painted lips together in order not to laugh out loud. Soren and I exchanged a look of understanding. I would’ve laughed myself if I hadn’t been sure it would’ve chased Gerald off and I didn’t have the strength to go after him. Instead, I patted his shoulder.

“I didn’t mean you’re little. You’re just the right size for you,” I said.

“All right then,” said Gerald, still glaring up at Soren, who was at least three times as tall.

“We need to get home,” I said.

“You know where we are, if you need us.” Soren glanced at Gerald. “Come to us for anything at all.”

Gerald crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. “We don’t need any help. I can handle anything.”

“Of course,” said Soren. “Matilda, come and visit us if you can.”

I crossed my arms. Not in an attitude of resentment, but one of restraint. I wanted to hug Soren and have him hug me. It’d been so easy being with him. I didn’t want to leave, but my need to get back to the mantel was greater. Soren touched my cheek and I turned, swallowing down the sadness of leaving him.

“Come on, Gerald,” I said as I flew off the water fountain.

I glanced back to make sure Gerald was right behind me. He was, keeping close as before. Then I pivoted in the air and hovered. All the dryads were climbing down the side of the water fountain, except Soren. He stood in the same spot, waving at me.

“Thank your mother for me,” I yelled.

Soren yelled something back. I couldn’t make it out. Gerald flew past me and stuck out his tongue. I sped up and passed him easily. We soared over rows of furniture and past glass cases. I led the way back to our mantel and I didn’t need good ears to do it.

The antique mall began to feel cozy and quiet with fewer humans milling around. I forgot that I couldn’t hear them and just enjoyed the wind rushing past me. Everything was going to be fine. Soren had said so and he’d been right about everything else. We’d found Gerald and he wasn’t dead. If I could find my way through the antique mall, I could get us back with our parents and somehow life would go back to normal.

CHAPTER 9

WE rounded the last corner and saw the mantel leaning against a wall. The wood gleamed warm and wonderful under the bright lighting tubes and I couldn’t wait to get inside to smell familiar smells and hug Iris. Coming home when home was no longer a sure thing was a wonderful feeling. Gerald’s wing brushed mine and I’m sure I saw a warmth in his eye, although his expression was as resentful as ever.

I reached for his small hand, but before I grasped it, there was a clunk and the lights went out. A red glow bathed the area and distorted everything. I stopped short and heard Gerald cry out beside me. I pivoted toward Gerald, but he was too close and I ran into him. We tumbled downward, entangled.

“Tuck!” I yelled.

Gerald obeyed instantly, tucking his wings and wrapping himself in a ball. I grabbed him and righted us just before we hit a table.

“What was that?” Gerald asked, still in his tuck.

“Soren said it would be dark soon. I guess that was it. I just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.” I tossed Gerald away from me like a ball. He spread his wings and hovered.

“Everything’s red.”

“Yeah, it’s weird. Let’s go home,” I said.

Gerald glanced at the mantel. “Home.”

We flew to our front door, hovered and knocked. I hoped that Iris would hear and come quickly. Before I could knock a second time the door flew open. Iris stood in the opening, grinning so wide it looked painful.

“You’re back,” Iris said, shooting out of the doorway into my arms.

I hugged Iris and flew her back through the doorway. Gerald landed on the threshold behind us and made discontented sounds at our reunion. He scowled at us and said, “Something smells weird.”

Iris put her hands on her hips. “Our house doesn’t smell weird.”

“If you think this smells normal, there’s something wrong with your nose.”

I turned to look around the dark hall. Something did smell a little off, but all the feelings fit in the right places in my heart. Suddenly, I never wanted to leave the mantel again. It was my tree, like Soren’s mother said. I never wanted to be separated from it.

“I found Barbara and picked up the rest of the mushrooms, but they’re still not putting off any light. Should we use the torches?” asked Iris, gesturing to a bracket on the wall that held a bundled bunch of sticks dipped in sap.

“I guess we’ll have to. Since the mushrooms are damaged,” I said.

“Do you think Mom and Dad will be mad? Torches are only for extreme emergencies and you know how they feel about fire.”

“I think today counts as an extreme emergency, but I don’t know where Dad keeps his flint.”

“I found it,” said Iris, holding up pieces of flint and metal.

The metal had some fresh scratches on it and I raised my eyebrow at Iris. She ducked her head and handed them to me.

“It’s dark in here without the mushrooms,” she said.

Gerald squeezed past me and pushed up his sleeves.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “I’m the best at making fire.”

“Go ahead, Gerald. Give it a try,” I said.

“Try? I don’t need to try,” said Gerald. “I’ll do it.”

Gerald went to get one of the brackets, but tripped on a wad of blankets on the floor.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“I was taking a nap, if you must know,” said Iris. “I wanted to be right here when you came back. I sleep so soundly, I knew I’d never hear you knock unless I was right by the door.”

“Where’s Easy?” I asked.

“Ezekiel? Are we calling him Easy now?”

“We are. It’s loads better than Ezekiel. Where is he?”

“Sleeping. He was really tired. I didn’t know babies slept so much.” Iris turned to Gerald and stuck her chin out at him. Her plump face wry and disbelieving. “Go ahead, Gerald. Make fire. We’re waiting.”

Gerald grabbed a torch and handed it to me. He kicked the blankets out of his way, shook his shoulders like an athlete, glanced at us, and then with the showy affectation of a magician, he struck the flint on the metal. Nothing happened. Not a spark or a hint of one. Iris stifled a giggle as Gerald tried again. His face turned red. He struck and struck until little beads of sweat formed on his brow and still nothing happened.

“Good try, Gerald. I’ll just do it,” I said. The dark was getting to me and the reddish glow from outside wasn’t helping.

“I don’t need any help,” he said.

I made a sideways chopping motion at Iris before she could utter a reply. “Fire’s really hard to make. Most wood fairies are terrible at it, which is good considering where we live.”

Gerald’s face got redder than ever and his lower lip trembled. “Of course Iris wouldn’t be any good. She’s so f…”

I clamped my hand over Gerald’s mouth before he could finish the word, but Iris crossed her arms and lowered her eyes anyway. I dropped my hand and gave Gerald a hard look. I put everything I had into that look. We had a deal and he was going to stick to it. Gerald surprised me by lowering his eyes and looking away.

“Go ahead,” he said.

I positioned myself so that Gerald and Iris couldn’t see what I was doing. I struck the flint while concentrating on the torch. A pretty little flame ignited on the tip and lit my face with a warm glow. Iris clapped her hands and Gerald looked with admiration at the flame.
 

“I guess one’s enough. Mom will be upset that we had any fire at all,” I said. “Where’d you put Easy?”

“In my room. It’s not so bad and there’s no broken glass in there,” Iris said as she stared at the flames. Its light gave her face lovely shadows and defined her cheekbones so that she appeared more adult and prettier than she normally did.

“I hear him. I think he’s awake,” said Gerald. He was looking at Iris, too, and his voice was soft.

Iris turned away from the light. “Better go get him.”

“I’ll go,” I said. But they followed me as if they were afraid to be alone. Perhaps they were. I held the torch high as we trooped down to Iris’s room. We passed our parents’ room, still in distressing disarray, and then approached my room.

I popped my head in to see how it had fared and held the torch up to light the area. My heart sunk to see it in such a state. I’d always been particular about my room. I had the prettiest lace curtains and Dad made all the furniture in a style he called French provincial. I’d collected colorful bits of glass and mounted them in frames. Mom called it my art. Now all that loveliness lay in ruins. Gerald and Iris crowded in around me. I looped my arm around Iris’s shoulders and laid my cheek on the top of my sister’s fair hair.

“Well,” I said. “It’s not so bad.”

Gerald snorted in reply, but I decided to just go ahead and let him snort. If it made me feel better to dissemble a bit, what was the harm? If it wasn’t so bad, then I could fix it, quick as anything. If I said it was a disaster, it would never be the same, and I very much wanted things to be the same.

Iris patted my arm. “You’re right. We’ll fix it in no time.”

“The bed is shattered and there’s stinky gunk on the walls,” said Gerald. He might have gone on, but Iris and I gave him such fierce looks that he stopped numbering the defects of my room and gave it a derisive look instead.

Iris grabbed my arm. “Easy sounds funny. He might be sick.”

I turned, squeezed past Iris and Gerald, and ran the twenty steps to Iris’s room. I flung open the door and saw on the floor a sight I’d never forget. A baby sat on Iris’s mattress in the middle of the floor, but it wasn’t Easy or like any baby I’d ever seen. It looked like a small brown boulder with patchy greenish mold on it. Tiny black eyes with a beetle-like quality blinked at me and it opened its mouth to show off jagged pointy teeth. My mouth opened, but I wasn’t aware that I was screaming until Iris came up beside me.

“Why are you screaming?” yelled Iris.

Iris looked past me and starting screaming herself. I pulled Iris back, and tried to slam the door only to find Gerald passed out in front of it. I pulled him by the foot out of the way and slammed the door. Iris had backed up against the opposite hall wall. She’d stopped screaming, but her pale face had lost every ounce of color it ever had.