How to Ditch Your Fairy (5 page)

“Huh,” Steffi said. For a microsecond he sounded like Danders Anders. “But what does that have to do with tubes or hubs or webs?”

Days walking: 61

Demerits: 5

Conversations with Steffi: 7

Doos clothing acquired: 0

D
anders Anders cornered me as I made my way to fencing. He didn’t mean to corner me, but when you’re as tal and wide as he is and I’m as little as I am, merely standing beside me constitutes menacement. He had Bluey Salazar and Freedom Hazal with him.

They were sporting twin don’t-look- at- me- it’s- not- my- fault expressions.

“Hi, Bluey,” I said. “Hi, Freedom.”

They muttered their helos and Bluey decided to be fascinated by the sticky linoleum flooring (they make it that way—it’s meant to make it harder for us to run on) while Freedom’s eyes were drawn to the lockers behind me. No one likes to be turned into Danders’s minion.

“Tel,” Danders commanded Bluey.

“This is Andrew’s idea,” Bluey began.

“Your motives are not mysterious,” I replied, glancing at my watch. Being late for class is a demerit.

“You can get rid of your fairy if you don’t wash for six weeks,”

Bluey blurted. “It worked for my sister’s cousin’s drama coach.

And also for Our Tananarive. But it’s got to be six weeks and you can’t even wash your hands.”

Freedom sucked his teeth in mockage. “No, you want to get rid of your fairy, then you have to fast. Starve her out. It’s a hundred percent guaranteed and only takes five days.”

“No,” Danders said, counting to five on his fingers. “Too quick.”

“What about using one of those sticky hoop things?” Bluey asked.

“A Fairy Catcher? They don’t work!” I knew. I’d tried. They looked a bit like a butterfly catcher, though the net was sticky and had bigger holes. Mine had caught nothing but dust and insects.

Sholto Pak Sung, one of the legendary seniors, stopped in front of us. “Are you talking about how to get rid of a fairy? Velocity, doosers, got to be velocity. It’s the only way.
Zoooom!
A friend of mine did 120 kilometers on his bike one time. After that his fairy was long gone. Though he also broke every bone in his body.”

The speakers squeaked and popped and then let out a burping static sound, which meant an announcement was imminent. We al looked up, despite not being able to see it.

Due to an electrical fault
, the speaker intoned,
B-stream
fencing has been transferred from Fraser Hall to Merckx
.

“Fairy dung,” I exclaimed, looking at my watch again. Merckx was on the far side of campus, on the other side of the A-stream footbal (al codes) ovals. I had eight minutes to get there. Without taking the shuttle, I wasn’t sure it was possible.

“Another way to get rid of them,” Freedom said, “is to—”

“Why are they teling me al this?” I asked Danders.

“Want Monkey Knife Fight.”

“Danders thinks if you try a different fairy- removal method, then you can go with him to the concert and he’l get a parking spot.

Because your fairy won’t be gone yet but you can stil go in a car.”

“Gah!” I said, darting around Danders Anders and into the changing room and wishing I could just
give
him my parking fairy.

I hauled out my fencing gear, changed faster than lightning, slung my bag over my shoulder, and crossed the halway at as close to a run as I could while always keeping one foot in contact with the ground (running in the hals is a demerit). When I got to the nearest exit I pushed through the door, hoicked my bag higher up my shoulder, sprinted down the steps, and along the narrow paths between courts, paddocks, and ovals.

Despite the purportedly world-class drainage system, mud and puddles were everywhere. The rain that hadn’t been loud enough to wake me up last night had made a mess of everything. I jumped and skirted the puddles as best as I could off balance with a bag ful of foils and sabers. Soiled sporting attire (before playing) is a demerit.

I could wipe down my shoes and swap over my socks for clean ones, but could I do that
and
arrive on time? Looking at my watch again would just slow me down. I lifted my knees higher, digging for more speed.

In the distance, I could see the shuttle arriving at Merckx, disgorging its load of on- time B-stream fencers.

Frang, blast, and dung.

I ran even harder, skirting the rugby paddock, populated with big-necks doing tackling drils. Ouch. Then around the soccer field.

By the time I arrived, warm-up had begun. I did what I could about my shoes and socks, then sprinted around the corner straight into Coach Van Dyck. We hit hard and went flying backward, neither of us faling. She grunted. I grunted. We both took another step back, semi-winded.

“Fairy dung,” I breathed.

“Swearing is an infraction,” Coach said. “So is running indoors.

As is arriving late. That’s three infractions, Charlie. Three. It could have been four—I’ve kindly not included your almost kiling me as an infraction.” Coach looked down at the tablet glowing in her hand. “Says here you showed up for tennis incorrectly attired. Four demerits in one day, Charlie.” She shook her head. “You now have eight, which earns you a game suspension. You are aware of that, Charlie?”

“Yes, Coach,” I said, biting my cheek so I wouldn’t groan out loud. A game suspension. My first. I realy hoped it wouldn’t be cricket.

Steffi walked past us, his fencing gear slung over his shoulder, doos and loose-limbed, as if he were gliding rather than walking. I sighed. He winked at me and then nodded at Coach, who nodded back.

“But isn’t he—,” I began. He was later than me. Why wasn’t he getting a demerit?

Coach wasn’t listening. “A one- game suspension,” she said, leafing through her pages. “No cricket meet for you Saturday.”

I nodded. I’d never had a game suspension before. Why did it have to be cricket? I love cricket. Why not tennis?

“I am disappointed.” She lowered her eyes and proceeded to bore holes in mine. I wholy believed in her setting- students- on-fire fairy. “I expect the absolute best from you today, Charlie.

Beyond your best. Do you understand?”

I gulped, then nodded, trying not to squirm.

“I expect no further infractions of any kind.”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Your very best effort, Charlie.”

I nodded and walked over to the warm-up area. The first person I saw was Fiorenze Stupid- Name stretching out her quads. Our eyes met briefly. The word for how she looked at me: “disdainful.”

Rubbing it in that she had Steffi and I didn’t.

Doxhead fairy.

I wasn’t sure which one I meant: hers or mine.

Days walking: 61

Demerits: 8

Conversations with Steffi: 7

Doos clothing acquired: 0

Game suspensions: 1

D
ad was waiting outside the main gates, sitting on a fire hydrant, sketching. He didn’t notice me until I was standing right in front of him making a coughing noise.

“Hi, Charlie.” He stood up, closed his sketchbook, slid his pencil down the spiral, and put the book in his back pocket.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, a little nervous. There were precedents for Dad meeting me after school, but none of them boded wel.

“I came to pick you up.”

“But, Dad, you know I’m not—”

“Sorry. It’s not being picked up, is it, if I’m walking with you?

I’ve come to walk you home. I thought we could go the long way, by the river, grab a sundae. You haven’t gone over your fat alowance today, have you?”

“No, I’m clean.”

“Superb.”

Although Dad didn’t believe in fairies, he and Mom had been understanding about my not riding in cars. Concerned, but understanding. I wondered if that was about to change.

I said good-bye to Rochele and Sandra. They were going to check out Our Zora-Anne’s new shop in the city. Rochele had tried to convince me to go, saying that her aura was sparkling and that she was sure her fairy would work for al three of us, despite that being almost entirely unprecedented. She was convinced too that Our Z-A’s shop was going to be the best in the city. But by the time I’d walked there and then al the way home, I’d be too tired to any homework. Besides, I wasn’t in the shopping mood.

“See you tomorrow,” Steffi caled, waving as he walked by. He and Stupid-Name had their arms linked like little kids.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do than walk along the river, Dad.”

This was not true. There were many things I’d have rather done.

Including go into the bathroom, lock the door, and lie fuly clothed in the tub and stare at the cobwebs on the ceiling.

Why wasn’t it me with Steffi? Stil, taking a walk with my dad and eating a sundae wasn’t anywhere near as loathsome as watching Steffi and Fiorenze goo- gaing al over each other.

We walked for ages in silence. The path beside us was crowded with cyclists, skaters, and bladers, the rumble of their wheels almost drowning out the sound of boats on the river. There weren’t many other walkers; most of the people using the footpath jogged or ran.

A blimp floated along the river with Our Z-A’s name in the city colors of gold and green; trailing out behind was a green and gold banner that read:
Fairy Love Can Be Yours
. I watched the uneven reflections distort the letters til they looked like a green and gold jigsaw puzzle floating on water. Almost pulchritudinous. The blimp rose to go over the bridge and veered past the bright lights on the other side. The city, where Rochele and Sandra were probably already trying on gorgeous clothes. A pack of skaters zoomed by, yeling out some wholy un- doos tauntage, just because I stil had my uniform on. Probably Arts students.

On this side, once we’d left the school behind, it was parkland for as far as you could see, which in the dark wasn’t very, even with al the fancy new lighting along the paths. Trees, bushes, flowers, climbing wals, skater ramps, restrooms, bubblers, more trees, bushes, and flowers. But no basketbal courts or cricket ovals. I wished there was time for us to shoot some bal on the way home. I missed basketbal so much it hurt.

I wondered what was up with Dad. Why the sudden need for alone time with me?

“Are you finaly going to give Nettles a quokka?” Nettles had been nagging for one ever since she saw a quokka special on
World’s Cutest Animals
. Little kangaroolike creatures about the size of a cat. They were pretty adorable. But Nettles did not have a good track record for pet maintenance: several dead fish, a lost cat, and two guinea pigs that Dad ended up looking after ‘cause Nettles kept forgetting to feed them.

Dad laughed. “The no- smal- marsupials- in- the- house rule stil applies.”

“Does that mean you’l be getting her a
big
marsupial then?” I said, with a smile that I hoped he’d think was mischievous and would distract him from whatever it was I was in trouble about.

“Very drol. How’s school?” Dad asked, and I knew exactly what was up.

“Mom sent you, didn’t she?”

Dad nodded. He didn’t look fuming, but then he never did, which was why it was him coming to talk to me and not Mom. Dad’s the enforcer. Mom says you have to be calm to enforce. Mom is not calm.

“She knows about my game suspension.” I sighed. How could she not?

Mom has the quintessential mom fairy: a knowing-what- your-children- are- up- to fairy. It drives her nuts because she does not consider herself to be the kind of mom who would need such a fairy. But not as much as it drives us nuts (particularly Nettles).

“I was suspended from this weekend’s cricket meet,” I said at last.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. Your mother’s upset. She thinks the whole not- going- in- the- car thing has gone on too long and gotten you in too much trouble. I agree. Do you want to wind up expeled? You love this school!”

“But, Dad … ,” I trailed off. There was no point explaining yet again why it was so important. My dad doesn’t believe in my parking fairy. He doesn’t believe in
any
fairies, which many people believe is why he doesn’t have one, which for him confirms that they don’t exist. It’s a whole circular reinforcement thing (that’s what Mom cals it). Non- belief interferes with their fairy thing working.

Or at least that’s the theory.

Dad’s disbelief is so strong that it cancels out
other people’s
fairies. Wel, almost everyone’s. It doesn’t have any effect on my fairy. Or Mom’s. But one time Rochele was shopping-grounded for weeks and weeks (she’d bought an extremely wel-fitting cheongsam that her mom said was “immeasurably sexier” than it should have been for a twelve-year-old) and when the grounding was finaly lifted, her parents decreed that she could only clothes shop with adult supervision and there were only four days until the school dance. But it had been raining solid for a week and it kept on raining until the day before the dance and Rochele’s fairy doesn’t work when it’s raining.

It was what Rochele cals a VAST SHOPPING EMERGENCY

because she
had
to have something new for the school dance (despite her wardrobe bursting at the seams), but neither of her parents could be her adult supervisor because they were working late and my mom was working late too (as usual), so Dad stepped in.

It was a disaster.

Everything Rochele found that fit was ludicrously expensive, or if Everything Rochele found that fit was ludicrously expensive, or if she
could
afford it, then it made her look like the most horrendous bug-eyed trol ever to live. She was so dirty on Dad I was amazed he didn’t notice.

That’s what comes from not believing in fairies. You rob people of a new dress for their school dance.

“Charlie? Are you listening?”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“You’re going to be suspended from al your games, which means you’l be off al your teams, which means you may wind up expeled. This is al you’ve ever wanted—to play cricket and basketbal. I know basketbal hasn’t worked out. Is that what this is about? Are you acting out—”

“No, Dad!” Why did he have to bring up basketbal? “I just wanted to get rid of my doxhead parking fairy! That’s al!”

“For the sake of argument, let’s just say fairies are real.”

“Yes, Dad, everyone in the neighborhood has me ride in their cars because of my stelar conversational skils. Not because they always get the perfect parking spot if I’m in the car.”

“I said I was pretending fairies are real.”

“Big of you,” I said, testing out the limits of dad tolerance.

He waved his arms as if to wipe away what I had said. “How does not taking the bus help get rid of your parking fairy? Buses don’t need to park. Or your bicycle? There are bicycle hubs al over the city. And you don’t park your skateboard, you carry it.

You’re making your life far more difficult than it has to be and most likely to no purpose at al. Why don’t you limit your embargo to cars? If you’d just take the bus, or the light-rail, or a ferry, you wouldn’t be late so much and you wouldn’t be suspended from your cricket match on the weekend. Cricket B needs you!”

“But, Dad, I feel like the fairy’s just about to leave. Like it could be gone tomorrow, or in the next hour, or the next minute.” Al day my fairy had been feeling somehow lighter. Like it was fading away.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, Charlie,” Dad said, almost singing it. “You’re putting your whole future in jeopardy for the sake of a non existent fairy.”

“I thought we were pretending fairies were real?”

He let out a gust of air almost too violent to be a sigh. “We’ve spent a long time discussing the matter, Charlie. Your mother and I have decided that either you start riding the bus again, or you have to do enough public service to wipe out al your demerits.”

“Public service!” I saw myself every Sunday picking up trash along the river, or worse
in
the river, or even more horrifying: stuck hours after school prying chewing gum from underneath every desk.

“But that would mean no free time ever again. I’d be locked in epic servitude for the rest of my life!”

Dad smiled. “No, Charlie, just until your demerits are wiped out.”

“But, Dad!”

“Why not start right now? We could catch a riverboat the rest of the way home.”

“You promised me a sundae,” I said to stal. We were minutes from the Ice Palace, the best cafe for sundaes in al of New Avalon.

“Al right, how about after we’ve had the sundae?”

I thought about it. I looked at the inviting ferry stop, al lit up and shining. There were maybe twenty or twenty-five people waiting, so the next boat wouldn’t be long. At this time of night most of the ferries had brass bands on board. You could pay for them to play whatever song you wanted. It was expensive, but … maybe if I caught the ferry I could con Dad into it?

But I was so close. Just a little bit longer …

“I’l do the public service,” I said.

“A double sundae it is. Any flavors you want.”