How to Ditch Your Fairy

by Justine Larbalestier

  “I have two life missions,” I said. I wondered if I should ask him to sit with me and Rochelle and Sandra tomorrow. Or if that would be too pushy. He’d spent last week hanging out with his soccer teammates.

  “So how will you know when your fairy’s gone?”

  “The new fairy will start doing new fairy stuff.” I hoped so, anyway.

  “What about vegetarianism?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “I read an article in the New Avalon Times that says statistically vegetarians have better fairies than meat- eaters.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded so solemnly that I wasn’t sure if he was mocking me or not.

  “But Rochelle’s not a vegetarian,” I pointed out. “Nor is Fiorenze, and they have the best fairies ever.”

  “Who’s Fiorenze?”

  “You don’t know? She’s in Fencing with us. Also Statistics and PR. She’s vastly popular.” Sort of. Not with the girls, she wasn’t.

  Steffi looked blank. How delicious was that? If he didn’t know who Fiorenze was, that meant her fairy wasn’t working on him. He was immune! I bit my bottom lip to keep the joy from bubbling out. “She has this fairy that . . .” I trailed off.

  Steffi grunted, clearly unintrigued. “Anyway, the article said statistically. You need a bigger sample size than just two. Not that the article said where those statistics came from. Do you have any doubts about fairies?”

  I stared at him. “What’s to doubt? Every time I’m in a car, there’s a parking spot waiting for it. Every single time.”

  “I’m sure. I don’t doubt your parking abilities. But is it really tiny little invisible people with wings? When my grandparents were alive they talked about luck, not fairies.”

  “They were dumber in the olden days.” I wondered again what Steffi’s fairy was. Did he have one? Not everyone does. My little sister doesn’t. (And, pox, do we hear about it!) My dad doesn’t either, but he doesn’t believe in fairies or luck. “I just want to be lucky at something other than cars finding parking spots. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  “Nope. I guess not. Wanna shoot some hoops?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Nothing I’d like better.”

  “You can show me how crazy they were not to pick you,” Steffi said.

  “I sure will,” I said, slipping my lucky ball back into my pocket. I was starting to think Steffi might like me too. “Race you to my place?”

  “You’re on!”

  CHAPTER 5

  True Love. Grr!

  Days walking: 61

  Demerits: 4

  Conversations with Steffi: 6

  Doos clothing acquired: 0

  Monday morning Steffi and Fiorenze were hand in hand walking past my locker. Steffi gazed up into Stupid-Name’s eyes as if the answer to today’s Public Relations quiz could be found there. It was only first recess! Yesterday afternoon he hadn’t even known she existed.

  “Fairy dung,” I said under my breath.

  “I hear you,” Bluey Salazar replied. He has a dog fairy (all dogs like him even if they bite or pee on everyone else). I hadn’t noticed him at his locker beside me. “She’s not even my type, but whenever that fairy- fluffed Fiorenze is in the room I can’t look anywhere else. It’s so annoying. Gosh, she’s . . . it was so much better last week when she was out sick.”

  “Oh,” I said. That’s why Steffi hadn’t known about Stupid-Name. She’d been sick all of his first week at school. Why couldn’t her illness have lasted, say, till the end of high school?

  “You really think she’s pulchy?”

  Bluey sighed. “Only when she’s around. There ought to be a law against a fairy like hers. Though I love what she’s done with her hair.”

  Her hair was braided and the tips of the braids were dyed bronze—almost the same shade as her skin. Our standard uniform is a bronzey brown, so she was now bronze from head to toe with only her eyes and lips standing out. In no way did she look adorable, pulchy, or doos.

  I grunted. “Must have cost a fortune.”

  “She’s rich. I heard her grandfather was a king in one of the old countries.”

  “I heard he was a bank robber,” I muttered, though I hadn’t heard that at all.

  “It’s a pity she’s so stuck-up,” Bluey said. “You know, I think it’s been weeks since she spoke to anyone other than a teacher. It’s an even bigger pity she’s already got the new boy.” He sighed again.

  “I thought you said you don’t like girls?”

  “I know. The whole thing is so annoying!”

  We watched Steffi lean forward and bounce two of Stupid-Name’s braids against each other.

  Aaaarggh!

  I was so ready to beat her about the head until her obnoxious, fragged, make- my- life- a-misery, doxhead fairy curled up and died. What was she doing with Steffi? My Steffi! Had she had six conversations with him since he started school? No, she had not! Fiorenze had never shown interest in a boy before. Not one. Why Steffi!? Other than him being the pulchiest boy I’d ever seen.

  “See you,” Bluey said.

  “Uh- huh,” I replied, staring at Steffi and Stupid- Name. They were definitely holding hands, which is an infraction. Stupid- Name was looking coy and glancing at her feet while standing so close to Steffi their fairies must have locked wings. Until now she’d been way too up herself to be linked with any of the boys at school. Though she’s always happy to let them carry her gear or buy her lunch or whatever. I’d never seen her holding hands with anyone before.

  Steffi leaned forward and blocked Stupid-Name’s face from view. I couldn’t tell if he was kissing her or not, but it sure looked like it. But they couldn’t be that insane, could they? Being caught kissing on campus or off meant instant expulsion.

  My fencing coach, Van Dyck, came striding down the corridor in the gold and brown jacket all the coaches wore. Sandra claims that Coach Van Dyck’s gaze is so intense she can set students ablaze. There are rumors that her fairy is a setting- students- on- fire fairy.

  Adrenaline flooded through me. Steffi couldn’t be expelled! I’d just met him!

  Without thinking about demerits or injuries I threw myself at the lovebirds, catching Steffi at the knees in a tackle that sent him crashing to the ground and Stupid- Name with him.

  “Whoa!” Steffi began.

  “You okay?” I asked, standing up, offering him a hand.

  Steffi nodded. Stupid- Name sat blinking with her back to the lockers.

  “What was that about?” Steffi asked.

  “Charlotte Adele Donna Seto Steele!” Coach Van Dyck said, rushing up beside us. “Did you just attack these students?”

  “No, Coach. There was a, there was a—”

  “Wasp,” Stupid-Name finished for me, standing up. She started to describe the wasp’s huge dimensions.

  “A wasp?” Coach repeated. “Which has now vanished?”

  We all looked around for the non existent wasp. I was grateful that there were so many windows, making the wasp’s existence and disappearance slightly plausible.

  “Apparently, Coach,” Steffi said. He looked confused.

  Coach Van Dyck ran her fiery gaze over Steffi, then Stupid- Name, before coming to a rest on me. “Perhaps in the future, Charlotte, you might want to call out instead of tackling people?”

  “Yes, Coach,” I said, waiting for the demerit.

  Van Dyck held her gaze on me for several very long wordless seconds before walking away.

  “Thank you,” I breathed, “for the wasp thing.” I couldn’t believe I’d gotten away without a demerit. “I wholly appreciate it.”

  Fiorenze nodded, but didn’t look at me.

  “No worries,” Steffi said. “But why did you tackle us?”

  “Kissing,” I said. “It’s against the school rules. You could get expelled. If Van had seen you . . .”

  “Really?” Steffi said, astonished.

  Fiorenze stayed silent.

  “Students aren�
��t supposed to engage in any public displays of affection.”

  “How about that?” Steffi said, turning to Fiorenze. “A wasp, eh? Well done.” He kissed her cheek, then said, “Oops.”

  Fiorenze looked down and then muttered something I couldn’t hear, which made Steffi laugh. He shook his head as if he could not believe how funny she was. It was wrong. Stupid-Name does not tell jokes. She is without joy or humor. Yes, covering for me was good of her, but I doubt she was thinking about it that way. She knew that kissing was expulsion worthy.

  Doxhead.

  I opened up my locker, remembered that my tennis gear was in the change room locker, and closed it again. Fiorenze finally disentangled herself from Steffi. As she walked past, I looked up, and for less than a second we stared at each other. I started to say something—it seemed weird not to—but she had already turned away as if talking to me, or any other girl, might make her head explode.

  Why was she so stuck-up?

  I stomped off toward the changing rooms, where Rochelle greeted me with a sympathetic smile. She was wearing black satin matching bra and panties, reminding me of how great her fairy is and how torpid mine is. She opened her mouth to speak.

  “Don’t,” I said, holding up my hand in the universal sign for seal-your-lips-I-don’t-want-to-hear-it.

  “She looks horr—”

  I pushed my hand to within a fairy’s wing of her cheek. “Which part of the hand are you not comprehending?”

  “The little finger. Also the lower part of the palm.”

  I growled, opened my changing room locker, stared at my tennis gear, sweats, and tees in a crumpled stinking mess, and realized I hadn’t remembered to take them home to wash, or to bring in fresh ones. If I wore the pongy clothes, I’d score a demerit. And if I burst into tears on account of the general decrepitude of my day, I’d earn another one. Crying is vastly frowned upon. “Dung.”

  “Erk,” Rochelle agreed, stepping back. “Those are on the nose. You can borrow some of mine if you like.”

  As if. Rochelle is almost exactly twice my height. Okay, slight exaggeration. But to make it clearer: I am a teenytiny point guard; she is a correctly sized center. If I tried to play in her giant tentlike tennis uniform, it’d be a demerit. “Very funny.”

  “What about wearing your fencing whites? Or your cricket ones?”

  “Or your swimmers,” Sandra said, opening her own locker. Sandra Leigh Petaculo is my second-best friend at school. Her fairy is a serving fairy. No matter what, her tennis serves always go in. Coach Ntini predicts that with some real speed and power, she will be one of the best tennis players New Avalon has ever produced. She will certainly be one of the most sarcastic.

  “Oh, yes,” I said, “everyone is laced with humor today.” Wearing incorrect attire is also an infraction.

  “Except you, Charlie,” Rochelle said, giving me her big-eyed, are- you- okay/ can’t-you- take- a-joke look.

  “Fairy fragger,” I muttered, pulling my fencing whites out. “Don’t laugh.”

  Coach Ntini levied my demerit and noted that I was only three away from a game suspension. He did this without saying a word: he looked at my fencing whites sorrowfully, turned on his tablet, noted the demerit next to my name, slipped the tablet back in his pocket, and held up three fingers.

  I looked down at my clothing and mustered up an expression of shock, as if this were the first time I had noticed what I was wearing.

  “I’m sorry, Coach.”

  “Your sorrow changes nothing; only your deeds can.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  “Go.” He looked in the direction of Rochelle, Sandra, and the rest of the B-stream tennis squad, who were warming up.

  I slunk off toward them, wishing there was a way to execute my fairy, not merely make her go away. If I hadn’t been stuck with her I wouldn’t be walking everywhere, and I wouldn’t have racked up demerits, nor would I be so knackered all the time that I kept forgetting to do all the stuff I was supposed to be doing. Like washing my clothes.

  Doxhead fairy!

  CHAPTER 6

  Danders Anders

  Days walking: 61

  Demerits: 5

  Conversations with Steffi: 6

  Doos clothing acquired: 0

  Just salad?” Rochelle said, peering at my lunch. She and Sandra were sitting at one of the tables overlooking the clay tennis courts. Big metal rollers were being run over each court, operated by a groundie sitting in the umpire’s chair using a remote control. It looked like fun.

  “That’s nowhere near enough protein,” Rochelle continued. “Do you want another demerit?”

  “It’s a big salad.” I pushed the lettuce aside with my fork. “See? Tofu. A full protein portion.”

  “Heya, Charlie. You trying the vegetarian thing?” Steffi asked, putting his tray next to mine. “Okay if we join you?” he asked as Stupid- Name put her tray on his other side. She didn’t say hello.

  “Sure,” I said. “Sandra? Ro? Meet Stefan.”

  “We’re in Accounting together,” Rochelle said, waving.

  “Health,” Sandra said.

  “You all know Fiorenze, right?” Steffi asked.

  We nodded and resisted saying “unfortunately.” Fiorenze pulled a book out of her bag, resting it open between her electrolyte drink and her lunch. She turned a page and commenced reading.

  “Well, yes, new boy,” Sandra said, glaring at Stupid-Name. “But only since kindergarten.”

  Actually, Rochelle and I had only known her since middle school, which was long enough.

  “Just you two,” Sandra said loudly. “None of your other admirers, Fiorenze. It’s crowded enough here.”

  Fiorenze kept reading, absently putting a forkful of food into her mouth. The three boys hovering behind her walked elsewhere with their trays, which they should have done anyway, seeing as how you get a demerit for stalking Stupid- Name. I glanced around the room. Dozens of boys watching her longingly. When I looked back, Steffi was taking Fiorenze’s hand in his. She glanced down, but didn’t say anything.

  “Thanks,” Steffi said, and smiled at me in a way that made me feel warm all over. How could he smile at me like that while holding her hand?

  Sandra reached across and tapped Steffi’s tie. “It’s crooked. You don’t want to get a demerit, do you?”

  Steffi frowned and pulled at his tie, making it more of a mess. He still looked pulchy.

  I itched to fix it.

  “You get in trouble for not having your tie straight?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Sandra said. “Haven’t you read the infractions list?”

  Steffi did his West Coast hand- flicking thing. So doos! “I don’t know. Maybe. There were so many documents. I concentrated on the ones that’d get me up to speed on classes.”

  Up to speed. Sandra and I giggled. Though she was laughing at him, whereas I thought it was adorable. Sandra never found anything adorable. Steffi was still holding Fiorenze’s hand. Not adorable.

  “You’d know if you’d read it,” Sandra said. “It is vaster and wider than the ocean, full of infractions beyond number.”

  “I thought they were up to 811?” Rochelle said.

  Sandra teeth-sucked. “For your immediate education, Stefan-the-new-boy: the top ten infractions are—”

  “Wait a second. What’s the difference between a demerit and an infraction?”

  Sandra added an eye roll to her teeth suckage. “An infraction is the wrong thing you do; a demerit is what you get if you’re caught committing an infraction. Right now you’re committing an infraction—your tie, if a teacher sees, it gets you a demerit. Once you have eight, you get a game suspension, which means you have to miss your next game. Once you have four more demerits—twelve altogether—you get another game suspension. Four more demerits brings you yet another. If you rack up five game suspensions they give you a school suspension. More than one of those and expulsion talk begins.”

  “How’s anyone supposed to re
member all of that? Plus—harsh,” Steffi said. “Also—it doesn’t make sense. You get a game suspension every four demerits but a school suspension every five game suspensions?”

  “Because that’s how it is,” Sandra said. “It’s not mathematics, it’s punishment. Besides, you don’t get a game suspension every four demerits until you’ve already gotten your first eight.”

  “Okaaay,” Steffi said, sounding like he thought Sandra was crazy. “Then how do you make your demerits go away?”

  “If your schoolwork is outstanding or you put in an exceptional performance, teachers and coaches can knock off a demerit or two.”

  Sadly, this had not happened to me since I took six wickets against Lower Devon a month ago.

  “Or you can do public service,” Rochelle said.

  “So what are the top ten demerits?” Steffi asked.

  “Infractions.”

  “Sorry?”

  “The top ten infractions are cheating, drinking, smoking, doing drugs—other than those prescribed by a doctor or on the okay list: aspirin, yes; flyers, no—accepting paid sponsorship, gambling—”

  “Gambling? But gambling’s legal in New Avalon.”

  “Oh, sure, but if a student from New Avalon Sports High was allowed to gamble, what would stop them from betting on their own team? Or worse, against their team and then doing something to make sure they lost?”

  “Huh,” Steffi said.

  “You need to read the list, Stefan,” Sandra told him.“It’s not just there to take up disk space.”

  Rochelle frowned, which meant she thought Sandra was being mean and it was time to change the subject. “How’re you finding it here?” she asked.

  “Which here?” Steffi asked, his eyebrows going up in a way that made me tingle. But he was with Fiorenze, not me. Even though that was because of her fairy. My head hurt.

  “The school?” Steffi continued. “Or New Avalon? More intense than I imagined. Stricter too. The day is so long. Ten hours! And only Sundays off. Last week was the longest of my life. I hardly ever see my folks or my sister anymore.”

  “If you don’t like it,” Sandra said, “there’s an enormous line of kids who’ll take your place.”