by Gail Herman
Beck laughed. She had nowhere to go. Tree branches blocked her every move. Quickly, she flew into a knothole.
“You can’t escape that way, Beck!” Silvermist called playfully. She flew after her friend.
“Yoo-hoo, Silvermist!” Fawn called. “What about me?”
“Fawn?” Silvermist turned her head. And in that split second, she missed the knothole and crashed right into the tree trunk.
“Ouch!” She fluttered to the ground.
“Hurry! Hurry!” Fawn cried. “We need healing talents. Now!”
Silvermist rubbed her forehead. Already, a pea-sized bump was forming on it.
“Do you need a leaf compress? An icy-water pack?” asked Clara, the first healing talent to arrive.
Silvermist tried to shake her head. “Ouch!” she said again. “Well, maybe the pack,” she admitted. Clara handed her a pink petal-pouch full of water. Silvermist held it in her hand for a moment, helping the pack freeze. Then Clara placed the icy pack on the bump.
“Are you all right?” Fira asked, landing beside Silvermist. “What happened to you?”
“I’m fine, Fira. I just missed a knothole and hit the tree instead.”
Fira lifted the pack to check the bump. “That doesn’t look fine to me.” She lowered her voice. “Do you…do you think it could be the curse?”
“No, Fira. I don’t.” Silvermist spoke in an even tone. “It was just an accident. A regular, everyday sort of accident. Like I told Vidia, accidents happen. Any fairy could have done it.”
“Any fairy?” Vidia flew over. Her wings were finally dry. She circled above everyone and shot a triumphant look at Silvermist. Her glow had lost its embarrassed pink tinge. She tossed her head, proud as ever.
“Any fairy would fly right into a big old tree? I don’t think so.” Vidia clucked with false concern. “No, sweetie, a fairy needs to be pretty unlucky to do that.”
UNLUCKY? SILVERMIST DIDN’T feel unlucky, despite what Vidia said. Any fairy could have a little flying accident. Any fairy could turn her head for just an instant and fly into something, even a tree.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” she told herself. “There is no curse.”
Still, she knew that the other fairies were whispering. They were saying she’d had bad luck. They were saying she was cursed.
But I don’t believe it, Silvermist thought. Not now. Not ever.
The picnic wasn’t over yet, but Silvermist didn’t feel like returning to it. Instead, she flew to the seashore to watch the ocean waves. She wanted to be alone. She didn’t want to hear the fairy gossip.
Hours passed. When the tide went out, it left small pools of water scattered around the shore. Silvermist flew from tidal pool to tidal pool, looking for hermit crabs and tiny fish.
Then something caught her eye. A sparkling object was lying on the beach. Was it a shiny rock? A piece of sea glass? She flitted closer. It was a seashell! The tiniest, most perfect shell she’d ever seen.
Silvermist picked it up. Its inside was orange with wavy lines that spread out like rays of sunshine. Silvermist knew that it was special. Just holding it made her feel better.
Let the fairies and sparrow men talk of curses and bad luck. She didn’t care.
She slipped the shell into a fold of her dress and flew back toward the Home Tree.
When she got there, Silvermist flew on to the tearoom. It was empty. Next door, in the kitchen, baking and cooking talents were hard at work, preparing the evening meal.
Silvermist was too early for dinner. But maybe she could help in the kitchen. She would see if the cooking fairies needed help boiling water.
She ducked through the swinging door. Fairies flitted around the room, mixing, beating, sprinkling, and stirring. Two sparrow men stood by the sink, rinsing dirt off a big carrot.
“Dulcie!” Silvermist called. “Is there anything I can do?”
Dulcie was kneading dough at the big table in the center of the room. “Well, I don’t know,” she said, a little uneasily. “Are you feeling okay? Is your bump all healed?”
“All better,” Silvermist declared.
“That’s good. But there’s really nothing for you to do here, Silvermist.” Dulcie nodded at the stove. Three pots of water were already boiling merrily. “You don’t even have to come inside. Really.”
She’s nervous about my being here, Silvermist realized. She’s afraid I’ll bring bad luck or have another accident. I have to show her that nothing has changed. I’m the same water fairy I’ve always been.
“What about those pitchers?” she asked. Rows of water pitchers lined a long table across the room from the sink. “I could fill them for you.”
“I don’t think—” Dulcie began.
But Silvermist was already at the water pump. She caught the water as it flowed. Then, with a gentle underhand toss, she sent it streaming over Dulcie’s head and into the first pitcher.
Not one drop spilled.
“See?” Silvermist grinned triumphantly. “I can do this quickly, while the carrot is being washed.”
On the other side of the swinging doors, fairies were heading into the tearoom for dinner. “Well, it would help move things along,” Dulcie admitted.
At that moment, Vidia swept into the kitchen. “I was just flying past. You know, normally I like to dine alone. But I saw you here, Silvermist, and I had to drop in and see how you were.”
“Oh?” Silvermist concentrated on the next pitcher of water.
“Yes.” Vidia made herself comfortable in a chair next to Dulcie. “You were at the picnic, weren’t you, Dulcie, dear? So you know about poor Silvermist and the ladybug?”
Dulcie nodded.
“Well, I just wanted to make sure she hadn’t had any other”—Vidia paused to make sure she had Silvermist’s full attention—“unfortunate accidents.”
“Nope.” Silvermist shot another expert stream into the next pitcher. “Not one.”
Vidia gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Good,” she said. She sounded as if she meant the opposite. “Although, not much time has passed, really. Anything could happen. You know, you can’t ignore the magic behind these old tales. Just the other day, I heard about a butterfly herder. He forgot to cross his wings before passing the skeleton tree…”
Dulcie had stopped working. She turned to Vidia, taking in every word. The other fairies and sparrow men leaned closer, straining to hear.
“…and the next thing he knew, his entire herd of butterflies had flown off. He never found them!” said Vidia.
Silvermist tried not to listen. She kept quietly filling pitchers.
“And there was that sparrow man who broke some sea glass,” Vidia went on. “He had seven hundred years of bad luck. At least that’s what everyone thinks. But no one ever saw him after year five thirty-nine.”
She stole a glance at Silvermist.
“And there was a garden-talent fairy who opened a petal umbrella inside the Home Tree. Well, right after that, she planted a carrot seed—or so she thought. Turned out she’d planted the seed of a snareweed plant. When the thing sprouted, it nearly ate her!”
Silvermist’s hands were steady as she worked. She stayed calm, even as Vidia’s stories grew more and more outrageous. But really, she couldn’t wait to finish. All that talk about bad luck and curses! She wanted it to end.
“I’m done,” Silvermist said. She crossed the kitchen to check the water level in the pitchers. “Looks okay to me,” she announced. “What do you think, Dulcie?”
“Perfect!” Dulcie declared.
“See? Not one accident,” Silvermist couldn’t resist saying to Vidia. “I guess I’ll go into the tearoom now.”
Silvermist turned. Her wing brushed against a pitcher. The pitcher tipped and fell against another pitcher. Then that pitcher tipped, knocking over a third that fell against a fourth that tumbled into a fifth.
Silvermist tried to catch them, but she wasn’t quick enough. Pitcher after pitcher toppled. And fast-flying Vidia didn’t
move a muscle to help. She just sat there, smiling.
Silvermist gazed at the kitchen. Water had spilled everywhere. It had splashed onto the honey buns and into the walnut soup. It poured over plates and cups and across the floor. Fairies rushed around the room with moss mops and towels.
“Hmmm,” Vidia said. “Looks like dinner might be late tonight. What do you think, Silvermist?”
THE TEAROOM WAS filled with fairies and sparrow men. Each one stared at the swinging doors to the kitchen. They were all waiting for dinner.
Dulcie flew through the kitchen doors. “The meal will be served late,” she announced.
At the water-talent table, Silvermist ducked her head. She knew that it was her fault dinner was late.
But Dulcie and the others will work their kitchen magic, she thought. Everyone will be eating delicious food in no time. There was no reason to be upset.
Minutes later, the serving talents brought out steaming bowls of acorn soup and sunflower stew. It was delicious. Silvermist had been right. The accident wasn’t anything to worry about. Not really.
Just then, Vidia flew to the fast-flying-talent table. She was so rarely in the tearoom that she had nowhere to sit. “No, no, don’t get up,” she said, even though no one was offering a chair. “I’m not staying, darlings. I just wanted to make sure those gossipy serving talents weren’t spreading any rumors.”
The serving talents stopped their work to look at Vidia. Not one of them had been talking. They’d been moving so quickly to serve dinner, they hadn’t had time to say a word.
Now all eyes were on Vidia.
Vidia cast a look at Silvermist, making sure everyone noticed. “I wouldn’t want any fairy to be the subject of idle gossip,” she went on. “But…” She stretched out the word meaningfully.
Iris leaped to her feet. “Something happened to Silvermist! I knew it! What, Vidia? Was it another accident?”
Fairies and sparrow men swiveled in their seats to stare at Silvermist.
“I’ll answer that.” Silvermist’s voice was steady. “I spilled some water, Iris. It was just a little spill.”
“Is that what you’d call it, darling?” Vidia asked.
A voice rang out from the kitchen. “Cleanup talents! We need help in the pantry! The flour is soaked! The spices are drenched! The fruit is soggy! It’s a mess!”
Silvermist looked calmly back at Vidia. She felt bad about causing the mess. But really, the whole idea of the curse was so silly. Why not make a joke of it?
“Maybe I would call it a little spill,” she answered Vidia with a laugh. “And maybe I’d call Torth Mountain an anthill.”
Across the room, Fira chuckled. “And maybe the sun is just a firefly torch,” she added.
“And the Home Tree is a little sapling,” said Rosetta.
Soon, everyone was joining in the game. It seemed they’d all forgotten about the accident.
Silvermist kept thinking about it, though. An image flashed through her mind: pitcher after pitcher falling over.
Yes, she’d managed to laugh off the spill. But what about her flying accident? Was there something to what Vidia had said? Did the old fairy tales have a powerful magic?
She glanced at Vidia, who was standing by the fast-flying table. She looked like she knew what Silvermist was thinking. Vidia gave her a slow, cruel smile. And with a flick of her ponytail, she flew out of the tearoom.
Dessert berries were on the tables now. Dinner would be over soon. Silvermist reached for the sugar bowl.
“Oops!” She knocked over the pepper shaker. The top popped off. Pepper scattered across the table. Silvermist hoped no one had noticed. But no such luck.
“Oh!” Iris moaned. “Spilled pepper? That’s bad luck, too!”
“Quick!” Fira said. “Toss some over your left shoulder!”
Silvermist scooped up a handful of pepper. Without thinking, she threw it over her shoulder…right into the face of a serving talent who was carrying a platter of almond pudding.
“Watch out!” Rosetta cried. But it was too late.
The serving talent sneezed. The platter flipped. Pudding flew everywhere.
Another disaster, Silvermist thought with a groan.
It seemed that all the fairies and sparrow men had lost their appetites. One by one, they filed quietly out of the tearoom.
Fira stopped to give Silvermist a quick hug.
“I’ll just sit here a little longer,” Silvermist told her. Fira nodded and went on her way.
Alone and confused, Silvermist sighed. The tree and water accidents weren’t as easy to explain away anymore. Not after the pepper mishap.
Maybe I truly am unlucky, she thought. Maybe the curse is real.
SILVERMIST FELT BETTER after a good night’s sleep. In the morning light, the talk of bad luck seemed silly.
She flung open her window to let in the fresh air.
Chirp, ch-ch-chirp! A cricket hopped onto a branch outside her window. He rubbed his back legs together, chirping.
The music was so sweet, so soothing. Silvermist smiled. The cricket is singing just for me, she thought.
Silvermist sat down next to the window. She listened to the cricket for a long time.
If she were really unlucky, would this be happening? Would a cricket give her a private concert?
With one final chirp, the cricket hopped away.
Humming his song under her breath, Silvermist flew out to the courtyard. It seemed every fairy and sparrow man in Pixie Hollow was returning from somewhere.
“Wasn’t that amazing?” asked Fawn, rushing over to Silvermist. “If I tried, I couldn’t organize a concert like that.”
Does Fawn mean the cricket by my window? Silvermist wondered. But how would she know about that?
“All those songbirds,” Fawn went on. “There must have been thirty of them! All singing so sweetly. It was like nothing I’ve ever heard. Why they landed in the fairy circle to sing, I’ll never know.”
Beck joined them. “I don’t think we’ll see something like that again. Not for years and years—if ever!”
Slowly, Silvermist began to understand. There had been a songbird concert. An unexpected, wonderful performance, the likes of which no one had heard before. And she’d missed it.
Suddenly, Silvermist’s private concert didn’t seem so special. She didn’t feel very lucky at all.
“Oh, Silvermist!” Fira rushed over. “You weren’t there!”
“I know.” If only she had woken up sooner, she might have seen the concert. Wouldn’t anything go right for her?
Just then, she remembered something that had gone right. “Wait a minute!” she said to Fira. “I have something to show you!”
Her special seashell. The one she’d found on the beach. Just remembering it made Silvermist feel better. She reached into the fold of her dress.
It was empty. “Oh!” she gasped. “Where is it?” She felt around every inch of the fabric.
One of her fingers poked out through the bottom.
Her dress had a hole. The seashell had fallen out, Silvermist realized. She could search and search, but what good would it do? She’d never find it.
She wasn’t the kind of fairy who found lost things anymore. She was the kind of fairy who flew into trees. And tipped over water pitchers. And ruined desserts. And missed songbirds.
Silvermist was unlucky. She was cursed. There was no doubt about it.
Word spread quickly through the Home Tree. Silvermist had missed the best concert in Pixie Hollow history—just because she had been late!
“I told you! I told you! She’s cursed!” Iris said, fluttering from fairy to fairy.
With Iris moaning and crying, everyone looked worried. It was hard for Silvermist to stay calm. Her glow flared bright orange with embarrassment.
“Ahem!” Rani cleared her throat. “I have an announcement to make,” she said, thinking quickly. Fairies shifted their attention. Silvermist’s glow faded. She smiled at Rani grateful
ly.
“There will be a waterball tournament in two days,” Rani said. “All are welcome to watch. And all water talents are invited to show their skills.”
A waterball tournament! Silvermist loved contests. She enjoyed matching throws with her friends and aiming waterballs at targets. But she couldn’t do it now. With her luck, the tournament would be a disaster.
“I’ll be there!” Humidia declared.
“So will I!” another water talent called out.
“I’m sure Silvermist won’t be taking part,” Vidia said, “due to a severe case of bad luck.”
What? Silvermist turned to frown at her. Vidia couldn’t speak for her! True, she’d been thinking the very same thing. But for Vidia to say what she should do…well, that was unacceptable!
“Vidia is mistaken,” Silvermist said. “I will be there.” She smiled at Rani.
The water talents cheered. Silvermist knew she had done the right thing.
There was only one problem. Like Vidia had said, anything could happen.
“OH, WHY DID I say I’d do it?” Silvermist asked Fira. She felt funny. Nervous and uneasy. And to be honest, she even felt a little panicky. For Silvermist, this was strange indeed.
“Why did I ever say I’d be in the tournament?” Silvermist moaned. “I just know something’s going to go terribly wrong.”
Silvermist and Fira were leaving the courtyard. “We’ll think of something,” Fira said as they flew through the halls of the Home Tree.
“Hey! Wait!” The light-talent fairy skidded to a stop in front of the Home Tree library. “Let’s go in here. The library has lots of books on superstitions. It might give us an idea.”
Well, Silvermist thought, it’s better than doing nothing.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Inside, Fira led Silvermist to a far corner. A small sign read LUCK: GOOD AND BAD. The entire section—bookcase after bookcase—held books about superstition.
“I never knew this was here,” said Silvermist .
“Of course not,” Fira replied. “You never thought to look.”