“Our honorary caterpillar shearer!” gushed Jason. “We’re looking forward to working with you again today.”
Nettle patted the seat next to her. “Sit down,” she said. She noticed Prilla hesitate. “What’s the matter, Prilla?” she asked.
Now was the perfect time to tell her. But Prilla didn’t know how to begin.
“Are you ill?” Nettle asked.
Prilla shook her head. She gulped. “Actually, I have to be honest with you, Nettle,” she said.
“Yes?” said Nettle. Her hazel eyes widened.
“Here’s the thing about caterpillars…,” Prilla began. She opened her mouth to say, “I don’t like them.” But nothing came out. She couldn’t say the words aloud.
Nettle smiled. “I know,” she said. “Aren’t they great?”
Prilla lost her nerve. “Yes,” she fibbed. “Caterpillars are great.” Then she had an idea. “But there’s something I like even better.”
“What is it?” asked Nettle. “What could possibly be even better than caterpillars?”
Prilla bit her lip. Her mind was a complete blank. “I like…” She frantically tried to think of something. Think, Prilla, think! She stared out the window for inspiration.
At that moment, a pretty pink and blue butterfly flitted past. “Butterflies!” Prilla said triumphantly. “I like butterflies!” She felt relieved for a split second. Then she thought, Butterflies? Why did I just say that?
Nettle gave her a puzzled look. “Butterflies?” she finally said. “Are you sure?”
It was too late to change her answer now. “Yes, I’m sure,” Prilla said, nodding. “Lovely butterflies. I just can’t get enough of them. Such colorful, delicate creatures. They fly, you know. All over the place. Fascinating,” she babbled.
“Butterflies,” Nettle said. “How unusual.” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “That’s very…interesting.” Nettle paused for a moment. “Well, I guess you won’t be helping us with the caterpillars today, then?”
“I guess not,” said Prilla. “I’ll be focusing on…butterflies.”
Nettle’s brow wrinkled. “If you say so,” she said.
“See you later, Nettle,” said Prilla. She crossed the room and found an empty seat at the keyhole-design table. As she sat down, she braced herself for someone to ask her to help design keyholes.
But to her relief, no one did. Instead, the fairies at the table chatted about the designs they were planning to create that day. Prilla smiled and ate her breakfast in silence.
She took a big bite of a roll. Light and flaky and buttery—delicious. The jam was both tart and sweet. Mmm. She had forgotten how hungry she was.
As she ate, she thought about what she had told Nettle. Not being truthful to Nettle had been wrong. But Prilla had only done it to spare her friend’s feelings. There was no reason to think about it anymore. It was over and done with.
That is the end of that, Prilla thought.
THAT EVENING AT DINNER, Prilla sat quietly by herself. She thought about all the adventures she’d had that day blinking over to the mainland. She had surprised a little girl struggling over a homework problem. She’d cheered up a boy who’d been kept after school for talking in class. She had played peekaboo with a baby, who had screamed with delight.
She had also visited a toy store, where she had amused young shoppers by sitting in the engine of a toy train. Then she’d hid behind a stack of sugar cones in an ice cream parlor. She had flown to the top of a Ferris wheel and made faces at the riders. Later, she’d sat on a little girl’s shoulder at the circus while clowns tumbled and cheerful music played.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding! Prilla looked up to see Cinda tapping her water glass with a fork. A hush fell over the tearoom. That was the signal that Queen Clarion, the leader of all the Never fairies, had an important announcement to make.
Queen Clarion, lovely and regal, as always, swept into the room. She seems a bit anxious, Prilla thought, sitting up straight in her chair.
“My fellow fairies,” Queen Clarion said, “I don’t want to alarm anyone, but I have some rather unpleasant news to share with you this evening.” She paused for a moment. “I am sorry to tell you that there has been an outbreak of fairy pox.”
There was a sharp collective intake of breath.
“Several of your fellow fairies have already been infected,” the queen went on.
The room began to buzz. Some of the newer fairies asked the older fairies to explain what fairy pox was. There hadn’t been an outbreak of fairy pox in Pixie Hollow in many years. But it was hard to miss a fairy with the pox. The fairies who got it broke out into spots. The spots could be quite pretty—pale pink, blue, and purple. But fairy pox made fairies dangerously sleepy. A fairy could fall asleep at the table and drown in her soup bowl if she wasn’t careful! Luckily, with plenty of bed rest and a daily dose of daisy pollen, fairies were almost always cured.
Over the noise, the queen said, “Fairy pox may not be life threatening, but it is very contagious. All ill fairies have been moved to the infirmary. Only nursing-talent fairies are allowed to have contact with sick fairies. So the rest of you, please keep your distance from anyone who is ill.”
There was silence. The fairies began to check each other for the telltale spots.
Bess, an art-talent fairy, looked down at her paint-speckled arms. “I forgot to wash up before dinner!” she explained. The rest of the fairies at her table laughed nervously. Then they shifted away from her, just a bit.
Iris, a garden-talent fairy who had been up all night searching for a rare shrinking violet, let out a jaw-popping yawn. She was surprised when her table-mates on both sides of her hastily excused themselves and found seats at another table.
Queen Clarion looked around the room. “Are there any questions?”
“Can you tell us who is sick?” a light-talent sparrow man asked.
Queen Clarion gestured toward the nursing-talent table. “Poppy, would you like to give an update?” she asked.
Poppy, a jolly nursing-talent fairy, stood up. “There are a dozen sick fairies so far.” She began listing them on her fingers. “Olivia, Heather, Flora, Marigold, Jordan, Zuzu, Amaryllis, Rhia, Aidan, Russell, Violet, and Primrose are ill,” she reported. “But they are all resting comfortably. They are sleeping a lot, as you can imagine! Why, just the other night, Jordan was telling a marvelous story about a battle between Captain Hook and a sea serpent. He fell sound asleep just as he got to the best part! I was almost tempted to wake him up to see what happened next!”
Everyone laughed. Jordan was one of the finest storytelling-talent fairies.
“So you see, your friends are in good hands. They’ll soon be as good as new.” Poppy sat down.
Queen Clarion spoke again. “So if there are no more questions, the serving-talent fairies can bring in the first—”
“Wait! Wait!” Jason interrupted. He stood up. “It looks like each and every one of the butterfly herders is sick! All of them!”
Heads swung around to peer at the butterfly herders’ table. Sure enough, it was empty!
A look of alarm crossed the queen’s face. The butterflies were important to the fairies, since they laid the eggs that became caterpillars. If anything were to happen to the butterfly herd, the fairies wouldn’t have any caterpillars—or any caterpillar fuzz.
“Well,” the queen said, “I am sure we’ll have no problem getting volunteers to help with the butterfly herding until they are able to return to work. Would anyone like to pitch in?” She looked around hopefully.
An uncomfortable silence filled the tearoom. Some fairies studied their forks. Others examined their dinner plates very closely. No one would look up.
“No volunteers,” said the queen. “This is indeed a problem. What are we to do?”
“I know!” said a voice. “There is a fairy who would be happy to help out. She loves butterflies.”
The room began to buzz once more. Everyone wondered who the
butterfly-loving fairy could be.
Prilla sank into her chair until her head was barely level with the table. She had completely forgotten about her butterfly lie.
“And who is this fairy?” Queen Clarion asked.
“It’s Prilla!” said Nettle. “She told me she likes butterflies even better than caterpillars!” she announced.
Prilla stared at the tablecloth. Her glow turned orange as she blushed. She felt every fairy in the tearoom peering at her curiously.
Even the queen looked surprised. “Is this true, Prilla?” she asked.
Without looking up, Prilla spoke. “Yes, it’s true,” she said miserably. “I did tell Nettle that.”
When Prilla did raise her head, she found herself looking right at Vidia, who was directly across the room. Vidia rolled her eyes and shook her head. Prilla could just imagine what she was thinking—that that silly little fairy had gone and done it again!
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
“Rise and shine, Prilla! It’s time to start your day!” a wake-up-talent fairy called through the door.
Prilla struggled to open her eyes. Was it morning already? Hadn’t she just fallen asleep? The sun was not even up yet!
Butterfly-herding talents certainly start their day very early, Prilla thought. She groaned and rolled out of bed.
She was still half-asleep as she pulled a simple cotton dress over her head. She didn’t even notice that she put on two different kinds of socks or that her dress was buttoned wrong.
She picked up her hairbrush. She remembered how the queen had smiled at her gratefully the night before. “Good luck tomorrow,” the queen had said. “Never butterflies are beautiful creatures, my dear. But of course, they are prone to…” She stopped and shook her head. “But you know all about butterflies— you love them! You’ll have no problem at all!”
Prone to what? Prilla had wanted to ask. But she couldn’t let on that she didn’t know anything about looking after butterflies.
Sighing, Prilla set down her hairbrush and headed downstairs.
Dulcie met Prilla at the front door, holding a small sack. She laughed when she saw Prilla’s sleepy face and mismatched socks.
Dulcie handed Prilla the sack. “Your breakfast,” she said.
A dust-talent fairy was waiting outside with Prilla’s daily dose of fairy dust. She sprinkled a level teacup of dust—not a smidgen more or a smidgen less—over Prilla. As usual, it was shivery and cool as it settled on Prilla’s head and shoulders.
“Thank you,” Prilla said. She slung the sack over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and rose into the air.
The sun was coming up over the hills. The meadow was starting to buzz with the sound of insects. Prilla began to feel better. I’m herding butterflies, not water snakes, for goodness’ sake! she told herself. How hard can it be?
Woods, valleys, meadows, streams, ponds, and colorful flowers all stretched out beneath her. Prilla turned a few aerial cartwheels and laughed with joy. There was something exciting about being up before everyone else. It made the day seem filled with adventure and possibility.
Prilla spied the garden-talent fairies’ flower-filled gardens. She could pick out Lily’s garden by the orange and red poppies, which were the biggest in Pixie Hollow. Prilla flew over the part of Havendish Stream where the water talents sometimes gathered. Looking back, she could see the Home Tree, small in the distance.
She looked down as she passed over a clearing. To her delight, she spotted the herd of butterflies!
Prilla hovered in the air, drinking in the scene. There were about fifty of the delicate creatures. Their wings beat lazily as they sunned themselves in the early-morning warmth.
And the colors! They took Prilla’s breath away. There were shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, shimmery gold, burnished copper, and shining silver. They were more beautiful than the biggest and brightest rainbow Prilla had ever seen.
The sun was barely up and she’d already found the butterflies. Why, this is going to be easy! Prilla smiled. She’d be done so early, she would have plenty of time for a nap and a blink over to the mainland before dinner.
Taking a deep breath, she landed quietly in the middle of the butterfly herd. That was when she realized she wasn’t sure what to do next. Finding the group was one thing. But Prilla didn’t know the first thing about herding them.
“Um, hello, butterflies,” she said uncertainly. Prilla knew that the butterflies weren’t able to understand her. But that didn’t stop her from talking to them anyway. “I’ll be your herder today. Our first stop will be Flower Field,” she said.
Flower Field was a nearby meadow filled with wildflowers of all shapes, sizes, and colors—stately Queen Anne’s lace, snappy black-eyed Susans, lovely Indian paintbrush. It seemed like a perfect place for butterflies
“So let’s go!” Prilla said, clapping her hands.
And to her delight, all the butterflies lifted off into the air!
How wonderful! Prilla thought as they rose. They began to circle. So far so good.
But without warning, the butterflies started to turn off in different directions. Prilla’s heart sank. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be!
“Hey, wait!” Prilla shouted. She chased after a blue and purple butterfly and waved her hands to get it to stay with the others.
But just as she reached it, the butterfly dropped several inches in the air. Prilla found herself headed right for a tree branch! At the last second, she ducked under it.
Just then, she noticed that a tiny silvery yellow butterfly had gotten quite far away from the others. That wouldn’t do at all! Prilla took off after it and chased it back to the herd.
But the butterflies wouldn’t stay together. Prilla hovered in the air, staring at them. She wondered what she was doing wrong. This was exhausting!
Suddenly, Prilla noticed that the butterflies were starting to move closer together. She watched with pleasure as they formed one large group. “That’s more like it,” she said.
Just as she was about to try to shepherd them to Flower Field, she realized that the herd of butterflies had started to pick up speed. They were headed right for her!
“Stop! Stop!” Prilla cried. But they kept coming, all fifty of them. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so frightening!
In a second, the butterflies were upon her. They surrounded her on all sides. Prilla felt the breeze from one hundred beating wings.
“Hey…wait…what are you doing?” she said. She found herself being jostled and pushed.
The next thing she knew, she felt rough tree bark against her back. Suddenly, the butterflies broke apart. Prilla was dangling from a branch high above the ground.
What happened? Prilla thought. She tried to turn around, but she couldn’t. Then she understood. Her belt had gotten caught on a twig. She was stuck.
Prilla watched as the swarm of butterflies merrily flew away, flitting and fluttering. She gazed after them until they were merely a colorful band across the sky. Finally, they disappeared from her sight.
“This is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Prilla,” she scolded herself.
She sighed. The ground was a long way down. Squirm as she might, she wasn’t budging an inch. Butterfly herding had certainly gotten off to a disappointing start!
A SLIGHT BREEZE BLEW, and Prilla swayed back and forth in the air. She wondered how in the world she was going to get down. At least no one was around to see her. Thank goodness for that.
“Prilla!” someone shouted.
Oh dear, Prilla thought. How embarrassing to be caught like this! She looked down at the ground. Pluck, a harvesttalent fairy, was staring up at her. Her hands were on her hips. Her mouth formed an O of surprise.
“Prilla! What are you doing up there?” Pluck called up.
“Oh, I’m just scouting for butterflies!” Prilla cried. She cupped her hand over her eyes and scanned the horizon. “Nope! Haven’t spotted any yet! But just give
me time! I’ll be herding them here and there before you know it!”
Pluck flew up to hover near Prilla’s branch. Prilla gulped and gave Pluck a big fake smile that was meant to say, “Things may look a bit out of the ordinary to you, but really, everything is perfectly fine.”
But Pluck was having none of that.
She looked closely at Prilla and frowned. “It looks to me like you’re stuck!” she concluded.
Prilla laughed nervously. “Oh, no, this is my special lookout twig,” she explained. “Don’t you worry about me!”
She crossed her arms and smiled, even though her belt was digging into her waist. She decided to change the subject. “So what are you up to today?” she asked, as if she and Pluck were having a pleasant talk over tea.
Pluck gave Prilla an odd look. Then she shrugged and began to explain. “There were reports of a gigantic bush full of plump, juicy blackberries near Flower Field,” she said. “Have you spotted it?”
Prilla shook her head. “But I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.” She frowned at Pluck. Why wasn’t she leaving? “So good luck finding the bush!” Prilla said enthusiastically. “Blackberries, how delicious!”
“Thanks,” said Pluck. She seemed to be thinking about something. “I know! Why don’t you leave your lookout twig for a while and come with me?” she suggested. “Never butterflies love berries, you know. Maybe the herd will be there. Then you can help me harvest the berries. And I can help you herd the butterflies!”
It was a good idea. Herding butterflies would be so much easier with two fairies instead of one. But Prilla couldn’t move without admitting that she was stuck. And then she would have to explain the embarrassing way she had come to be stuck. As far as Prilla was concerned, that was not an option.
“Oh, it’s okay,” said Prilla. “I think I’ll stay right here for the time being.” She smiled as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Prilla and the Butterfly Lie Page 2