“Cake?” asked Mr. Johnson.
Ali smiled. “That’s right. You can have some cake, too. And as much wrapping paper as you want.”
“Okay,” said Bleachie. “The In-betweens are . . .” She put Mrs. Winthrop’s thumb in Mrs. Winthrop’s mouth, then took it out again. “They’re at Bill-E-Beef’s.”
“Bill-E-Beef’s?” asked Michael, from right behind Ali. “Why?”
Ali wondered too. What could a burger place with a giant rat for a mascot and arcade games have to do with Bunny’s plan? Then it struck her: Bill-E-Beef’s was birthday party central. For some reason these imps were so excited about birthdays that they wore wrapping paper. It was actually the perfect place for them to be.
“Bill-E-Beef, the Happy Rat!” Bleachie sang. Mr. Johnson joined in. So did Jennifer and Tyler and Molly.
“Ketchup, cheese, and pickles, stat!
Let’s all hug the Happy Rat!”
Ali pictured the college-aged guy in the rat costume pretending to stuff his face with ketchup and pickles as the little kids ran to hug him. Someone always got pelted by ketchup dribbling off Bill-E-Beef’s fake-hairy chin. Well, whatever the reason, Ali thought Bleachie was telling the truth. These babies didn’t have enough self-control to lie.
Ali stood up carefully, making sure not to knock around her tiny passengers, and faced the crowd of kids. “Let’s take these teachers and get over to Bill-E-Beef’s!” she cried. “We’re going to get our parents back!”
The mayor’s daughter, Hayley, sat in the corner of the couch, clutching her teddy bear and staring wide-eyed at the imps masquerading as her parents.
Bunny did her best to ignore the girl’s sniffles. Her whining was getting seriously annoying. Bunny and Lockner sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, their legs sticking out beneath it. Lockner had to sit a foot back, since his new belly was too big to let him scoot under the table. Bunny turned a tiny page in the Great Book of the Imps and held it up close to her face, trying not to cover the text with the mayor’s humongous fingers.
“I don’t care about the ancient compact between fairies, unicorns, and imps,” she huffed. “Why can’t I find an un-parent spell?”
“The book was written before we were even tied to children,” said Lockner. “The ancient imps might not have imagined we’d turn ourselves into parents.”
“Well, it had a parents-replacement spell, didn’t it?” Bunny snapped. “Impoliptus and Sky must have added things. But why isn’t there anything else?”
“If they didn’t put in any other spells to make imps big,” said Lockner, “maybe they’re trying to tell us something.”
“I don’t care what they meant!” said Bunny, flipping another page. “If I can’t find it here, I’ll just make up a spell. It can’t be that hard to do.”
“Mommy, why are you talking about imps and spells?” asked Hayley. “You told me they were just stories.”
Bunny glared at the little girl. “I was just an ignorant human then. Now be quiet and let me think.”
Twenty-Eight
The toughest kids were put in charge of holding on to the four “teachers.” Jonathan Yeager yanked on Mr. Johnson’s wrists as he bound them together with some duct tape from the art department.
“Oh, lay off the tough-guy act,” said Ali. “He’s just a baby who wants to eat candy.”
The fake teachers weren’t putting up a fight. Mrs. Winthrop couldn’t stop crying. These imps were doing a terrible job of being adults.
“Okay, let’s go!” Michael shouted.
At that, the mass of kids plowed off the field in front of the middle school and into the street. “Fairies go home!” one kid shouted.
The other kids took up the chant. “Fairies go home! Fairies go home!” they yelled, marching down the street. They had a ways to go. Bill-E-Beef’s sat right near the freeway so it could subject kids from other towns to its aggravating, un-fun birthday parties. She hoped the kids’ energy would hold out until they got there.
“I miss my flock starters,” whined Mrs. Winthrop. “Frizzcontrol! Thickener!” She began crying louder.
Natalie Buckmaster had taken over pushing her along. “We’re taking you to see them,” she said, rolling her eyes at Ali. “I bet they’re eating burgers right now. Don’t you want to eat burgers?”
“I want pizza,” said Mrs. Winthrop.
“Well, you’re getting burgers,” Natalie snapped.
Mrs. Winthrop/Bleachie sniffled but stayed quiet.
“Fairies go home! Leave kids alone!” the kids chanted. Ali moved to the back of the crowd, where she could keep an eye on what was going on. She wondered where Crista was now. Whose mother had she become? Had the magic changed her brain somehow so she didn’t remember who she really was? Why hadn’t she run away and found Ali so they could fix this together?
“Are you all right?” asked Michael, sidling up to her.
“I’m worried about Crista,” said Ali. “I’m afraid the magic’s done something to her mind.”
“I told you,” said Jennifer, “she’s an imp.”
“We can change her back,” said Michael. “That’s what Pilose said—magic is reversible.”
“Some magic,” said Tyler.
“Not all,” said Molly.
Ali ignored them. It had to be possible. “But how am I supposed to get the imps to reverse it? We can’t force them. We tried, and look how that turned out. Jennifer ended up small.”
“You don’t need them,” said Michael, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. “You’re magic yourself, remember? You got hair to rain down out of thin air.”
“Shhh! I think I’m the one that messed up all their haircuts,” Ali whispered.
Michael stuck the cigarette between his lips but then pulled it out of his mouth. “I guess I shouldn’t light this around you if you’re part fairy.”
“Or us,” said Jennifer. “We’re still people, you know.”
“Oh yeah, sorry,” said Michael insincerely.
“What are you still mad about?” Jennifer demanded. “You got your wish. You should be thanking me.”
“For now,” said Michael. “Who knows what these evil fairies will do if Ali can’t stop them with her fairy magic.” He looked at the cigarette. “I don’t know what it is, but I feel like this is really gross.”
“Maybe it’s because you got your wish,” said Ali. “You can’t be some big athlete if you can’t breathe and then die of cancer.”
“Hmm,” said Michael. “Good point. I only started because of my idiot brother anyway.” He took the whole pack out of his shirt pocket and stuffed it in a curbside trashcan. “You should practice using your magic,” he continued. “That way we can really get the drop on them.”
“You’re right,” said Ali. “What should I start with?”
Michael rubbed his chin, which was growing the beginning of a five o’clock shadow. “Hmm. Something small. Knock that jerk’s hat off.” He pointed to Jonathan, who was walking next to poor Mr. Johnson, pushing him forward. Jonathan was wearing a baseball cap.
Ali concentrated on the cap. What was she supposed to do next? She put her hand to her head and grabbed her tuft of hair. Come on. She rubbed it furiously. It felt a little hot now, but maybe that was just from the rubbing.
Pop. Jonathan’s cap flew off his head and hit the boy in front of him in the back.
“Hey!” The boy turned around.
“Oh no,” said Ali.
“Hey yourself,” said Jonathan, stepping up to the other boy.
The boy punched Jonathan.
Jonathan punched back.
The other kids stopped walking. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” they chanted, circling around.
“Brilliant plan,” said Jennifer.
Michael jumped between the two boys and pushed them apart. He towered over both of them. “We’re supposed to be fighting the evil fairies,” he said. “Not each other.”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” the kids chan
ted.
But Michael was able to hold the boys apart. As they struggled against his arms, his face broke into a wide grin. “I got my wish,” he said. “I’m bigger and stronger than you forever. So shut up and keep walking.” He let Jonathan and the other boy go, and everyone started moving again.
Ali picked up Jonathan’s hat, which had gotten stepped on during the fight, and hung back, waiting for Michael to join her. “I knocked it off with magic!” she said.
“Yeah, you did. Try something less dangerous this time. I don’t know if my new basketball skills are enough to fight off everyone.”
“Not unless they gave you more brains to fill that giant head,” said Jennifer.
Michael glared at her and put his thumb and forefinger together as if to flick her off Ali’s shoulder.
Jennifer stuck out her tiny tongue.
“Fight! Fight!” chanted Tyler and Molly.
“Stop messing around,” Ali said. “This is important. I’m going to . . . knock some leaves off that maple tree.” She stopped in front of an open yard that had one big maple tree right in the middle. The other kids were now a little ahead.
Ali didn’t rub her head. This time she concentrated all her thoughts on that little tuft of hair and touched her fingernails together. After a few seconds, her head felt hot again. “Fall,” she whispered.
A patch of leaves several feet square whooshed off the branches and plopped to the ground.
Suddenly Ali felt guilty. It wasn’t right to hurt the innocent tree. “Back,” she said louder, keeping her fingernails together.
The leaves whooshed up and stayed up.
“Awesome!” said Jennifer.
“Holy crap,” said Michael. “I didn’t think you could put them back.”
“I don’t think they’re on the right branches,” said Ali. Some of the branches were still bare, while other branches bristled with too many leaves.
“So what? I bet you could learn how to do it,” said Michael. “Oh crap—they’re almost there.” Sure enough, the pack of kids was turning the corner onto the main street where Bill-E-Beef’s was. Michael started running to catch up.
Jennifer scrambled into the backpack pocket with Tyler and Molly, and Ali dashed after Michael. They pounded around the corner to find that the kids were chanting again.
“Down with fairies!
Leave our town
Ali Butler won’t back down
Take your wishes
Take your wigs
We won’t let
you imps stay big!
Ali Butler has the knack
She’ll make you give our parents back!”
“And fix our hair!” yelled the girl with the ruined bob.
They weren’t just protesting fairies anymore. They were chanting for Ali! She pushed through the crowd to the front of the restaurant. Inside, adults sat at every table, scarfing down burgers and French fries. Others were energetically playing the arcade games that lined the walls. Some of the people playing the games were also eating, dripping condiments on the consoles. Ali turned to face the crowd of kids.
A boy pushed up a battered poster-board sign reading GO BACK TO FAIRYLAND! and waved it around. Some other kids cheered. No one had brought pro-fairy signs. Apparently the whole parents-replacement thing had been too much. Funny, Ali thought. I bet these kids complained about their parents all the time. Now they’re clamoring to have them back. Ali never would have wished her parents away. She’d just wanted them to realize she was as smart as Hannah. If Ali succeeded in getting them back, she’d be proving it. Too bad her parents would probably never realize they’d been turned into imps.
“I’m going to go inside now. Just me and Michael at first,” Ali called out. “I don’t want to do anything violent. Most of these fairies are just babies, so maybe they won’t give us any trouble. If you see them attacking us or something, then come in. Otherwise, please wait here. Okay?”
Jonathan Yeager pushed his way forward. “These things stole our parents. And they stopped giving out wishes before I got my improvement. Why should I care if they’re babies?”
Ali thought fast. “They’re not all babies. If they don’t give up, I’ll tell you which ones you can beat up.”
“Yeah, all right,” said Jonathan, grinning.
“Okay, we’re going in. Wish us luck.” Ali turned back to the restaurant. The imps were all looking out the window as they chowed down.
“I’m right behind you,” said Michael.
She was glad to have a giant with her to face down all these imps. Michael Landis had turned out to be not so bad after all. It fact, he was turning out to be a nice guy. And he really wasn’t that bad-looking once you got used to him. Ali tried to block out that thought. “Let’s go,” she said, and she pushed through the door into the restaurant.
Twenty-Nine
The guy in the rat costume rushed forward to greet them. His head was askew, so that he seemed to be looking out of the mesh fabric at the back of the rat head. He was carrying his tail, which was ripped in three places and had stuffing coming out of the sides.
“Hello, kids,” he said half-heartedly. “I’m Bill-E-Beef, the Happy Rat.” He sounded more like the broken-down, exhausted rat to Ali. “I’m afraid all our tables are unexpectedly full.” The rat glanced quickly at the room full of imps, knocking his rat head even farther off center. “I think . . . I hope I’ll have a table soon.” He quickly dropped his tail and reached both hands up to fix his head. When he’d gotten it turned around and could see through the eye holes again, he leaned over and whispered, “I’ve never been so happy to see some real kids. It’s the middle of the day on a school day. I expected a three-year-old’s party and a play-date. Instead I get a full house of looney-toons.”
A pinball machine began dinging crazily. The guy playing it stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth and pumped his fist.
“We want to solve that problem for you,” said Ali. “Did you see any teenagers? It should be a boy and a girl, sixteen and fifteen. They’re supposed to be wearing wigs.”
“Yes,” whispered the rat. “They came in with the first bunch and demanded the private party room. I told them it was booked, but they offered to pay triple. Now they won’t let the waiter in. They just come out and get their food.”
“The teenagers come out?” asked Michael.
“No, just the adults,” said the rat. “A man and a woman.”
Ali grabbed Michael’s arm and stood on her tiptoes to whisper as close to his ear as she could.
He bent down.
“It’s either Bunny and Lockner or Pilose and Ringlet.”
“Or Frizzcontrol and Thickener,” whispered Jennifer, sticking her head out of the pocket.
“So?” asked Michael.
“So you can scare them,” said Ali. “All we have to do is remove Hannah’s and Deacon’s wigs. It should be a piece of cake.”
“If the others don’t try to stop us,” said Michael. “I can’t take all of them.”
“We’ll just head for the party room.” Ali glanced toward the back of the restaurant. She’d been in that party room and knew exactly where it was. “If the others try anything, let me do the talking. I understand them.” She turned her head to talk to the tiny people in the backpack. “You guys just whisper if you think of something.”
“All right,” said Michael, grinning. “You be the brains, I’ll be the muscle.”
A group of faux-parents burst into song.
“We all love the Happy Rat
Where’s our fries and ketchup at?
Let’s all hug the Happy Rat!”
The rat’s head seemed to shrink a little. “Good luck, kids,” he whispered, and then picked up his tail and headed slowly for the singing table.
Ali surveyed the room. Looking closely, she was sure that every single one of the “adults” was wearing a wig. Few of the wigs matched the coloring of the faces. It was as if the imps had raided Annie’s wig shop and plopped w
igs on their heads indiscriminately. Some of the men were wearing wigs that were clearly meant for women. One very large man with a thick gray beard, who was watching Ali while stuffing his face with French fries, was sporting a long blond wig decorated with pink bows. What did it mean that even though the imps were big, they hadn’t regrown their hair? And were they in real human bodies or in rubbery ones like the fake Mrs. Hopper? The teachers had felt real enough. She shook her head. None of that mattered now. She just had to get to Hannah and Deacon.
“Act normal,” Ali whispered. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the crowd of kids outside the window. The GO BACK TO FAIRYLAND sign was right in front. Ali hoped they wouldn’t get impatient and storm in. She began to weave her way through the tables, with Michael following behind.
“Ali?” said one of the imps.
The woman was wearing a curly blond wig with bangs that spread every which way. It smelled good. Like it wasn’t old wig hair at all, but nice, fresh, tasty hair. Ali shook her head to shake the thought out. “Yes?” she said. Whose mother was this?
“Ali, it’s me, Crista.” The woman stuffed an onion ring into her mouth. Her large blue eyes stared at Ali. Crista had brown eyes. But that didn’t matter, not if Crista had replaced someone else.
“Crista? What are you doing here? Don’t you want to figure out how to get back in your body? I know who you are now. You’re Natalie Buckmaster’s mother.”
“I can’t stop eating,” said Crista. “Natalie’s father”—she pointed to the man sitting across from her eating a plate of cheese fries—“he wanted to come here, so I came, too. He’s one of the original imps, so he hasn’t had real food in like two years.”
“I guess the babies have never had real food,” said Ali.
Michael poked her in the back. “We need to go.”
“Come with us,” said Ali. “We can fix this.”
Evil Fairies Love Hair Page 15