by Gail Herman
Fira brought Silvermist to a shelf marked Bugs and Insects. Silvermist flipped open one book. It had two chapters on the rare white ladybug. The next book had three chapters. And another was simply titled Beware the White Ladybug.
Silvermist began to read.
“‘Good-luck charms and bad-luck curses are all around us. And perhaps the most powerful of all, is the curse cast by the white ladybug.’”
Silvermist gasped. Most powerful? A lump formed in her throat. “Oh, Fira. It’s the worst curse of all. What can I do? It’s hopeless!”
Fira leaped up to comfort her. “It doesn’t have to be hopeless! Look at all these other books.”
Fira pulled another book off the shelf. The title was Never Bad Luck/Always Good Luck.
“You mean, I might be able to undo the curse with a good-luck charm?” Silvermist asked.
Fira grinned at her friend. “Let’s find out!”
Silvermist and Fira read through the night. By early the next morning, they had put together a list called Things to Do to Bring Good Luck.
Silvermist sighed. “Do you think I can really drive away the curse?”
“Of course! We just have to find the right charm,” Fira said.
Silvermist read the first good-luck charm on the list. “‘Circle the Home Tree counterclockwise seven times under a blue moon.’ When is the next blue moon?” she asked.
“Next year,” Fira told her.
Silvermist crossed that item off the list. She’d have to try another one. “Okay, number two: ‘Find a five-leaf clover.’”
Silvermist pictured all the fields and meadows in Pixie Hollow. Surely, there must be a five-leaf clover hidden within them. But how long would it take to check all those places? The tournament was the next day. It seemed too risky.
She read the next item on the list. “‘Spot a triple rainbow.’”
It was a bright, sunny day. There was little chance of seeing any rainbow, let alone a triple one.
Finally, she read, “‘Find a pin and pick it up.’”
“That sounds simple,” Fira said. “Sewing talents are always using pins.”
“Right,” Silvermist agreed. “Let’s find a sewing fairy, then.”
“And ask her for a pin?”
Silvermist thought for a moment, then shook her head. “That wouldn’t exactly be finding one, would it?”
“What if we follow her,” Fira suggested, “and if she drops one, you can pick it up!”
Silvermist grinned. “And get good luck!”
The two friends hurried from the library. They circled the lobby and the tearoom. But it was early. Hardly anyone was about. They didn’t see a single sewing talent.
They flew up to the floor where most of the sewing talents had their rooms.
Just then, Hem fluttered into the hallway. Silvermist nudged Fira and pointed. The pockets on Hem’s sewing apron were stuffed with needles and pins.
“Time to check those spiderwebs,” Hem was muttering. “See if they’re clean and ready for the queen’s gown.”
“She’s going to the laundry room,” Fira hissed to Silvermist.
Hem flew down through the Home Tree, heading toward the lowest floor. Silvermist and Fira followed quietly.
On the sixth floor, Hem glanced over her left shoulder. In a flash, Silvermist and Fira ducked into a supply closet. Hem shrugged and continued on.
On the fourth floor, Hem glanced over her right shoulder. Silvermist and Fira scurried behind a big potted fern.
On the second floor, Hem whirled around. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone there?”
Silvermist and Fira leaped into a dark corner. They held their breath and waited. Finally, Silvermist poked out her head. Hem was gone. “All clear,” Silvermist whispered to Fira.
They flew quickly to the laundry room. But Hem had stopped suddenly just inside the door. They almost bumped into her. Thinking fast, Silvermist and Fira dove into a laundry basket.
“Lympia, did you hear something?” Hem asked a laundry-talent fairy.
“Hmmm?” Lympia murmured. She wasn’t paying attention. She was busy scrubbing leafkerchiefs in a washtub.
“I feel like somebody’s following me,” said Hem.
“Why would anyone follow you?” Lympia asked briskly. She handed Hem a pile of clean, neatly folded spiderwebs.
Hem shrugged.
Silvermist lifted her head out of the laundry basket. Just then, a pile of dirty dresses tumbled down a laundry chute, landing on her.
“Oh!” she yelped.
“There! Did you hear that?” Hem demanded.
But Lympia had turned away and was already sprinkling fairy dust on a stained spider-silk tablecloth.
Holding the spiderwebs, Hem flew out of the room. Silvermist and Fira climbed quietly out of the basket, scattering dresses every which way.
“Tut, tut,” they heard Lympia say as they hurried after Hem. “Tinker Bell needs to check these chutes. They’re shooting clothes in all directions!”
Hem turned a corner.
Silvermist and Fira turned a corner.
Hem flew into the courtyard.
Silvermist and Fira flew into the courtyard.
Hem was flying faster and faster. She dropped a spiderweb, but she didn’t bother to pick it up. She kept glancing behind her with a worried expression.
Silvermist and Fira flew faster and faster, too. They dodged the threads of spiderweb Hem left in her wake. Silvermist watched for a dropped pin. But once again, she was out of luck.
Finally, Hem flew into the sewing room. She slammed the door behind her—right in Silvermist’s face.
“Quick! Through the window!” Fira whispered.
They flew out a window in the hall. They darted around the outside of the Home Tree and flew back in through a sewing-room window.
The workplace was abuzz with activity. Swiftly, Silvermist and Fira hid behind a wall tapestry. They were almost completely hidden. Only their feet stuck out from the bottom.
Silvermist peeked out from the side of the tapestry. One group of sewing talents sat in the middle of the floor. They were sorting pins into three piles: small, smaller, and smallest.
“I can’t just pluck one from there,” Silvermist whispered to Fira. “That wouldn’t be finding it.”
But then she spied something long and thin under a wicker chair in the corner. It was a pin! And she’d found it!
Hem was busy threading a needle. Everyone else was sewing and sorting. This was Silvermist’s chance. She sneaked out from behind the tapestry. She stayed close to the wall. Quietly…calmly…she stooped to pick up the pin. Then she stood—and came face to face with Hem.
“Aha!” Hem cried. She whipped the tapestry away from the wall, revealing Fira. The rest of the sewing talents stopped working and looked up in surprise. “I knew something funny was going on,” said Hem.
Fira stepped into the center of the room. “Nothing funny is going on. We just wanted to…uh…watch you, Hem. Your talent is so extraordinary. What skill it takes to thread a pine needle! Why, I could never do that!”
“Well!” Hem said, relaxing a bit. She was flattered. “You can visit anytime, Fira.”
“Really? We can visit anytime?” said Silvermist, smiling.
“We’re very busy, preparing for the contest tomorrow,” Hem said. She eyed Silvermist with concern. “Besides, we try to stay accident free here. You know, with so many sharp pins and needles around.”
Silvermist understood. Just like Dulcie, Hem didn’t want Silvermist anywhere near her workspace. Silvermist turned to leave.
“Just a minute,” Hem said. “What’s that you’re holding?”
“It’s uh…uh…,” Silvermist stammered. “It’s a pin.” She opened her hand. “For luck.”
Hem gave her a sad smile. “I wish I could help you, Silvermist. But we need every one of these pins to do our work.”
Silvermist nodded. She walked over to the group of sorting fairies. She dropped t
he pin into the “smaller” pile.
“It’s a ‘smallest,’” Hem told her.
“Oh!” Silvermist bent to retrieve it.
“No, don’t! I’ll get it!” Hem cried. She lunged forward.
Startled, Silvermist jumped. She bumped into the piles of pins. Small, smaller, and smallest all scattered. They rolled under chairs, into cracks, and out the door.
Silvermist whirled around. “Don’t worry. I’ll pick them up!” she cried.
“No! No! That’s okay, Silvermist!” Hem said. “We’ll take care of it.”
Silvermist backed slowly out the door. In the hall, she tried to smile at Fira.
“That was a disaster,” she said.
FIRA LED SILVERMIST outside. “Who needs a pin, anyway?” Fira said. “We have lots of other things on the good-luck list.”
Fira took out the paper and read, “‘Find the Circle Constellation in the night sky. The center star winks once each night. When you see it wink, wish for luck.’”
“It’s hours until sunset,” Silvermist said. “What else?”
“‘Find a swan feather.’”
“Hmmm.” Silvermist thought out loud. “We’ll have to find a swan first. I remember seeing a pair of swans swimming at Havendish Stream.” She fluttered her wings. “Let’s try that one!”
Havendish Stream was crowded with fairies and sparrow men. Some were washing their wings. Others picked flowers by the shore. But as they spotted Silvermist, they flew off one by one.
“Well, at least we have a clear view of the stream,” Silvermist said. She was trying to look on the bright side.
The sparkling water and the sound of the waves lifted Silvermist’s spirits. She flew from one end of the stream to the other. But she didn’t spot a single swan.
She sighed. “The swans must have left. We’ll have to try somewhere else. Somewhere outside Pixie Hollow.” She looked at Fira. “This might take a while. Is that all right?”
Fira nodded. “I have to be back by dusk. The light talents are practicing a moonlight dance tonight. But it shouldn’t take long to find one big swan.”
The fairies set off. Silvermist hoped Never Land’s magic would help her. Maybe the wind would guide them in the right direction. Or maybe the island would shrink so they wouldn’t have far to fly.
But if anything, the island seemed to grow. Their route seemed to get longer. It took hours just to reach Gull Pond, right outside Pixie Hollow.
Seagulls dove around the pond. But there were no swans.
So Silvermist and Fira flew even farther from Pixie Hollow, to Wough River. The river was wide. The water was high and noisy. They flew back and forth over it. Each time they crossed, Silvermist was sure the river had stretched even wider.
No, Never Land wasn’t helping. And luck certainly wasn’t on her side.
“No swans here,” Silvermist said with a sigh.
Finally, they came to Crescent Lake. They picked berries to snack on and sipped rainwater cupped in leaves.
Fira looked at the sun. “It’s getting late. If we don’t see a swan soon, we’ll have to turn back.”
“Look!” Silvermist cried. She pointed to the sky. “There are two now.”
The swans flew past a nest built on the bank.
“Come on!” Fira took Silvermist by the hand. “Let’s check there!”
The fairies landed in the nest, which was made from grass and twigs. They flitted from one end to the other, searching for a feather.
“No.” Silvermist shook her head. “There aren’t any here.”
“That’s okay.” Fira flapped her wings harder. “We’ll follow the swans, like we followed Hem. They’re bound to lose at least one feather!”
Silvermist started to follow Fira. But something jerked her back. She turned and saw that her dress was snagged on a twig. She twisted to try to free herself. But the cloth was stuck tight. Of all the luck!
She heard a flutter of wings behind her. “Fira!” she called. “Come closer and—”
Silvermist turned, expecting to see Fira hovering next to her. Instead, she came face to eyeball with an enormous angry black swan.
“Oh!” Silvermist’s heart beat fast.
The swan stared at her. Its beak was inches from her face. Clearly, it didn’t like having a little fairy in its nest.
“Calm down,” Silvermist said to herself. “Swans are beautiful, gentle creatures.”
But this swan was huge and seemed menacing. Silvermist’s heart was racing now. She grabbed her dress and pulled hard.
Rrrip! Silvermist’s dress tore free.
Moments later, she and Fira hovered behind a tree, hidden from the swan. Silvermist took a deep breath. “That was close.”
The swan had joined its mate. Now they both circled lazily over the water. From a safe distance, they seemed lovely and majestic once again.
“Should we follow them?” Fira asked.
Silvermist shook her head. She’d had enough of swans for one day. Besides, the sun was low in the sky. The fairies had missed lunch and dinner.
“We should leave now,” she told Fira. “Before it gets too late.”
“You’re right,” Fira said. “I’m tired.”
“Me too,” Silvermist agreed quickly. Their fairy dust was wearing off. Her wings felt heavy, and they still had to fly home. It wasn’t fair to make Fira keep searching, Silvermist thought.
As the fairies headed back to Pixie Hollow, the low sun vanished behind the trees. Fira turned up her glow. But it was still hard to see.
“Is this the way?” Silvermist asked. She flew into a small thicket.
Fira struggled to shine more brightly. She squinted. “No!” she called. “That’s the—”
Silvermist flew out of the bramble. She scratched her arms. “I know, I know. That’s the patch of itchy ivy we passed earlier.”
Silvermist was tired and uncomfortable. Her dress was dirty and torn. She flew the rest of the way home in silence.
Will I be doomed forever? she wondered. And what if the curse gets worse?
She had no idea what would happen next. She wanted to be the old calm, cool Silvermist everyone counted on. But how could she be when she was cursed?
When they reached the Home Tree entrance, Silvermist hugged Fira tightly. “At least you’re back in time for your light practice,” she told her friend. “And now that I know where the swans are, I can find a feather in the morning. Of course,” she added, “I won’t get so close next time!”
There! Just having a plan made Silvermist feel hopeful.
“Swan feathers?” Beck flew into the Home Tree as Fira flew out. She paused next to Silvermist. “I’m afraid you won’t have any luck with that. It’s not the molting season. Swans won’t lose their feathers for months and months.”
All that trouble for nothing! thought Silvermist. And now she didn’t have a plan after all. What if she was cursed forever?
FIRA HAD GONE to light-talent practice. Beck had gone to her room. Pixie Hollow was quiet. Silvermist stood by the Home Tree, unsure of what to do.
If she went to sleep, would she fall out of bed and break a wing? If she flew to the dairy barn, would she turn the milk sour? If she went to the fairy-dust mill, would the dust blow away with the wind?
Would disaster follow anywhere she went?
The waterball contest was early in the morning. If she wanted to be in it—if she wanted to end her streak of bad luck—she had to keep searching. She had to find good luck somewhere.
She scratched one itchy elbow, then the other. Then she looked up at the night sky.
The night sky! She could search for the Circle Constellation.
Slowly and carefully, she made her way to the Never Land beach. Here, she had the soothing sounds of the waves and the greatest view of the stars.
Silvermist shivered. The night air was chilly. She found a leaf to wrap herself in. Then she settled against a rock and tilted her chin up to the sky.
Bright ligh
ts dotted the darkness. Silvermist had never really paid attention to the stars before. But now she could see that they grouped together in patterns that almost made pictures.
Do they always look like this? she wondered. Something seemed different. Then she realized that the constellations were changing shape.
She thought she spied the Circle Constellation, but it changed into a square. An arrow shape turned into a snake. A leaf turned into a feather.
Was that how the stars always were? Maybe her eyes were fooling her. Or maybe this was more bad luck. Were the stars playing tricks, just the way the Wough River had been when it had widened as she’d tried to cross it?
Silvermist felt more determined than ever. She could wait until the stars tired of their game. She’d be patient. She was good at that.
Minutes ticked by. Silvermist kept staring at the sky. Her eyes began to ache from the strain. She was afraid to blink, afraid she’d miss the winking star. Still, she waited.
Suddenly, the stars froze in place. Silvermist leaped to her feet. There, to the left, was the Circle Constellation. She was sure of it. Right in the middle was one star. The star that would wink.
Silvermist held her breath. Would it happen now?
Yes! The star flashed once, off and on. She squeezed her eyes shut and said, “I wish for all my bad luck to end.”
She opened her eyes and sighed with relief. She’d done it. She’d reversed the curse.
Now the stars were moving once again. They floated closer to the ground, and closer still.
All at once, Silvermist understood. The bright lights weren’t stars at all. They were light-talent fairies practicing their dance.
“That’s what confused me.” For a moment, Silvermist closed her eyes and pictured the changing shapes. “I guess I just wanted to believe so much…”
Her voice trailed off. She didn’t have the strength to finish the sentence. A lone tear fell from her eye, then another and another. Soon Silvermist’s tears flowed faster and faster.
Silvermist—the water-talent fairy who hardly ever cried—was sobbing.
Silvermist spent that night alone on the beach. She was afraid to go back to her room. With all those clouds in the sky, a storm could be brewing. She didn’t want to attract the storm to the Home Tree.