Hold Tight tes-2

by Cherie Colyer

  “Is that the time?” I grabbed my purse off the table. “I have to pick Chase up before six.”

  Isaac dug his keys out of his jacket pocket. “Let’s go.”

  We had made it to the sitter’s with one minute to spare. Isaac drove us home, and I had just bolted the door behind Chase and me when I felt an unknown presence. The house didn’t smell right either. I grabbed the collar of Chase’s jacket to keep him from moving.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping closer to me.

  “Wait here.”

  I walked forward, stopping when Chase stepped on the heel of my sneaker. His wide eyes told me there was no way he would wait by himself in the foyer. I took his hand. A quick survey from the hallway didn’t show anything out of place. I inhaled, trying to place the scent. Moss or—I took another deep breath—what the yard smelled like after a rainstorm.

  I didn’t want to scare Chase any more than I probably already had, so instead of grabbing Dad’s umbrella from next to the stairs to use as a weapon, I clutched my backpack in a death grip and hoped slamming my textbooks down on someone’s head would be enough to stop an intruder.

  We crept from room to room. A brief tour of the downstairs revealed nothing, and neither did our search of the upstairs, but Chase had left his bedroom window open.

  “I’m going to nail it shut if you can’t remember to close it,” I scolded, leading the way back downstairs.

  “I didn’t open it.” He plopped down on the tile and pulled off his gym shoes.

  Chase had the warmest room in the house. He was always opening his window, claiming he was melting like Frosty the Snowman in a greenhouse, but it wasn’t worth arguing over.

  “Whatever. You hungry?”

  “Starving!”

  I ruffled his caramel-brown mane. “Go wash up, and I’ll make us something.”

  I’d just set the peanut butter and grape jelly on the table when I caught the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle.

  “You didn’t finish the spell,” cooed a whimsical voice.

  I swallowed hard and glanced around the kitchen, looking for the source of the voice that I decided was definitely female. It didn’t sound as threatening as it had the other day.

  Still, I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear: I had changed my mind. The faerie should stay in her realm.

  “Four little words,” she said, egging me on.

  I didn’t need Isaac’s book to know the last line. It was imprinted in my memory, the minor change to what was typed on the page and all. The question was whether I still want to invite a faerie into my home.

  Although, it seemed she was already here.

  “And grant me sight,” I said, completing the spell.

  I waited.

  And waited.

  Nothing.

  I shook my head in disbelief. Either my mind played tricks on me, or I should’ve paid more attention to Isaac when he’d said fairies were devious creatures. I really hoped it was the former.

  Annoyed, I slapped several slices of bread onto two plates and made Chase and myself a sandwich. Chase joined me in the kitchen and grabbed a jumbo bag of Doritos from the cabinet on the way to his seat at the table.

  “I had half a mind not to come,” said the voice.

  I spun around—both plates still in hand—to find a girl about my age sitting on the counter near the refrigerator. She wore a tank top that looked as if it had been fashioned together with fine silk thread and the petals of several pale pink orchids. Her white skirt covered her toes, her eyes were brushed deep purple, and pale red and yellow daisies adorned her silver-violet hair. From what I could see, she didn’t have wings sprouting out of her back.

  “Really?” she said with a frown, and I felt my heart become heavy. Someone so beautiful shouldn’t have been able to make such a sad expression. “Dead rose petals and tap water in a container with a picture of a car on it? You couldn’t take the time to get fresh ingredients and use a real bowl before calling an audience with me?”

  “It was bottled spring water,” I replied, forgetting we weren’t alone.

  “Can I have milk?” Chase said from behind me as he tried to tear open the bag of chips.

  My gaze bounced between Chase and the girl on the counter.

  “What are you doing?” Chase asked, his eyes following mine to the fridge.

  “Ah…” He couldn’t see her, I realized. The book had said faeries couldn’t be seen by most humans unless they chose to reveal themselves. This one obviously chose not to, or Chase would have asked who she was and how come she could sit on the counter and he couldn’t. I set the plates on the table and replied, “Nothing. Eat.”

  My guest giggled. Her laughter sounded like enchanted glass wind chimes. Chase turned the bag of Doritos over, dumping half its contents onto his plate and the table. Ignoring the faerie, I snatched the bag from him.

  “Can you make a bigger mess?” I put two handfuls of cheese-dusted corn chips back in the bag.

  When I returned my attention to the faerie, she was staring out the window. My mind spun with a million questions that I couldn’t ask with Chase in the room.

  “Do you have an imaginary friend?” Chase crunched down on a chip and kept talking. “Is that why you keep looking at the counter? Haley at school has one, and she says hers is the bestest friend ever because she doesn’t break the arms off her dolls and she doesn’t steal the last cookie on the plate when she’s not looking.”

  I was too old for imaginary friends, but Chase didn’t know anything about the powers. Worse things could happen than my little brother believing I’d made up a playmate. “Yeah, I do, but let’s just keep this between us. Okay?”

  “Sure.” Chase stuck another chip into his mouth and asked, “What’s your friend’s name?”

  I looked at the faerie, who’d been listening quietly to the conversation.

  “Brea.”

  “Brea,” I repeated so that Chase could hear. “I’ll be right back. Finish your dinner.”

  I motioned for Brea to follow me. She gave a fleeting glance toward the window before springing off the counter with the grace of a prima ballerina. She practically danced up to me, hands clasped behind her back. She had amazing eyes the color of violet quartz and creamy skin that looked dusted with shimmering powder. She was even prettier than the faeries in the books I’d read. I led the way into the foyer.

  Once we were alone, she said, “You know, a witch should complete her spells, lest she wishes not to see who entered the door she opened.”

  I turned to face her. “You’ve been here the whole time.”

  “That is how a summoning spell works. You call, I come.”

  “Well, yeah, but when I heard your voice, I didn’t realize you were physically here too. You could’ve told me.”

  “I was deciding if I should trust you.” Her gaze wandered over the school pictures of Chase and me on the hallway wall before meeting mine. “Is there a reason you called me here?”

  “Um,” I said, quickly gathering my thoughts, “yeah. I was hoping you would help me catch up on my chores. That way, I could catch up on my homework.”

  “Your chores?” She strolled around me and into the family room. “And why would I do that?”

  A test, I thought, remembering a warning I’d read about faeries challenging a person’s desires. I walked up next to her. “Because I’ve summoned you for this purpose.”

  She dragged a dainty finger over the couch and then the mantel above the fireplace. She looked beyond me a moment. “You will owe me.”

  “I have cream. Well, mocha creamer. And we have other snacks, in case you’re hungry.”

  Brea’s eyes found mine. “Perhaps if you allow me to linger in your world awhile, I could assist you.”

  “Deal.” I clapped my hands together once. “If you could toss the jeans in the dryer—laundry room is behind that door—” I pointed to where I meant “—and clean up after my brother as soon as he finishes eating, that wo
uld be great.”

  “Is that all? You only wish these simple tasks be completed?”

  I wanted more help, but now that I saw how gorgeous and elegantly dressed Brea was, there was no way I could ask her to scrub toilets or clean the family room. “That’s all I can think of.”

  “As you wish.”

  Brea twirled on her toes and headed to the laundry room. I joined Chase in the kitchen, but I couldn’t concentrate with Brea in my house.

  “Finish your sandwich,” I instructed and then followed the sound of Brea’s voice into the family room. She hummed a beautiful melody as she swept a feather duster over a lamp. “You really don’t have to do that.”

  “I like to keep busy,” she said. “If I were home, I’d be working on my gown for the summer solstice.”

  I followed behind her. “You don’t have wings.”

  “No. I’m too big to fly, don’t you think?”

  “I guess. Wait! Do some faeries have wings?”

  “Not in the Seelie Court.”

  I nodded. “How old are you?”

  “A hundred and forty-three in your years.”

  “Wow, you look great for your age.” I stepped out of her way. She crossed the room to dust the pictures on the mantel.

  “I’m young when it comes to my people.”

  “Right.” I puffed out my cheeks, wondering what to ask next. “Do you come here often?”

  “It’s been—” her dainty finger bounced in the air as she thought “—three years, or maybe four since my last visit. I forget. Didn’t you have homework? Isn’t that why I’m doing your chores?”

  “Yes.” But there was a faerie in my house. Mr. Chapin’s assignment would be there when she left.

  Brea motioned for me to scoot and went back to dusting. Reluctantly, I returned to the kitchen and ate while I read a chapter in The Scarlet Letter. I’d barely finished a page in the book when Chase shoved the last corner of bread into his mouth and dismissed himself to go play in his room. It was times like this—when I was stuck doing homework and overloaded with chores—that I wished I was young too. But I wasn’t, so I tried to focus on the words in front of me.

  At one point, I thought Brea was reading over my shoulder, but before I could turn to check, she appeared in the doorway holding a tall pile of folded jeans. I asked her to leave them on the foot of our beds. She even ran Chase’s bath, but since he couldn’t see or hear her, I had to take a break from homework to make sure he used soap and washed behind his ears.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I said later that night.

  Brea sat on my dresser, kicking her feet. I got a glimpse of flat green sandals when her skirt fluttered upward.

  I sat on the floor, organizing my backpack. “The house looks amazing. I can’t thank you enough. If you’d like, I can show you where the creamer is.”

  “I suspect in the kitchen, but that a faerie would drink of your beverages is a myth. One who indulges in such things becomes trapped in your world.”

  “How does that work?” I asked, intrigued.

  “It just is.” She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed the goose bumps on her triceps.

  “Are you cold?” I wasn’t sure if the chill she felt was because her tank top was far from appropriate for this time of year or if it had to do with the thought of being trapped in my world, never to see her family again.

  “Now that I’m sitting still, I am quite cold,” she replied. I jumped up and rummaged through my closet while she explained. “I’m of the Summer Court. I prefer to enter your realm after the spring equinox and to leave before autumn dries the leaves and winter nips at the air. Something you might remember should you choose to call upon me again.”

  “I didn’t realize faeries were assigned a season.” I yanked my dusty-rose hoodie off a hanger and held it out to her. She took it and put it on.

  “You’re an unusual human.” When I gave her a puzzled look, she added, “I’ve been asked to make a dancer lighter on her toes and help a musician play a song that steals the hearts of his audience, but I’ve never been asked to fold the laundry and put a plate in that contraption thingy. What do you call it?”

  “A dishwasher?”

  “Yes.”

  “So…you grant wishes? Like a genie?”

  “No. I enhance one’s talent in exchange for their company. Yours is the first house I’ve cleaned.”

  “Oh.” I supposed it made sense that a creature as beautiful and graceful as Brea would help humans reach their potential. “I don’t play an instrument, and I only dance at school events.” I plopped down on my bed. “My dad’s been working double shifts. He owns his own business, and it’s been crazy for him. In the past, I was home, so I’d make sure the house was clean and the laundry was done, but this year my teachers are laying on the homework and I have a new boyfriend. I don’t have time for housework too.”

  Brea sniffed a burnt-orange candle, immediately crinkling her button nose. “Ew. I’ve never liked the smell of pumpkin spice.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh as she set the candle down.

  “Will you tell me about your home?” I asked.

  “Sanctus?” The corners of her mouth rose to a dazzling smile. “It’s more beautiful than your botanical gardens—I visited one many years ago. And our sky is a canvas of blues and purples, and the meadows are a carpet of deep green.”

  I lay down, chin cradled in my hands. “Go on.”

  She spritzed the air with body spray, filling the room with the sweet fragrance of mango and mandarin. “It’s the Summer Court’s job to wake the trees and flowers in spring,” she said. “At dawn, morning dew kisses our cheeks, and in the evening when our work is done, we sip bacca vinus, a type of wine, while the jesters play a ballad on their flutes and lutes.” She slid off the dresser. With her arms stretched out from her sides, she twirled effortlessly around the room, finally coming to a stop in a low curtsy. “We eat and dance until the wee hours of the night.”

  She grabbed my hands and pulled me off the bed. We spun in a circle until I was giddy and breathless.

  “You do this every night?” I asked, panting.

  She nodded. “Until it’s time for summer to give way to autumn and for my brother to watch over things. He has it much easier than I, seeing as nature hibernates when he’s in charge.”

  Her gaze flittered toward the door to my room, then back to me. “Thank you for the sweater,” she said, zipping it up to her chin.

  “You’re welcome.” I stifled a yawn and hugged my pillow. “Thank you for your help today.” My eyelids grew heavy, the busy day evidently catching up to me. I was barely awake when Brea got up. “Help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

  “One should never say such things to a faerie.”

  Or maybe she’d only said that in my dreams.

  Chapter 5

  Delectable Treats

  Friday morning, Brea was nowhere to be found, but the upstairs was as spotless as downstairs. I hoped I’d see her again so that I could thank her.

  I had just finished drying my hair when my cell phone rang. A quick check of caller ID told me it was my best friend, Kaylee Bishop.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey, get your butt in gear. I’m picking you up in five, and we’re grabbing breakfast before school.”

  “Where are the guys?” I asked. Not that I minded Kaylee giving me a ride, but this was the first time in weeks she’d driven the MINI to school. Somehow since her accident—the work of Emma’s dark powers—we had gotten into the routine of Isaac driving me to school and Josh driving Kaylee.

  “Josh’s mom is having car trouble, and Isaac’s helping ’em.” The sound of running water flooded from the speaker along with Kaylee’s muffled words. From the swishing sound that came next, I guessed she was brushing her teeth while she talked to me.

  I put my cell phone on speaker and pulled a pair of jeans out of my closet. “I’m not complaining about having some girl time, but what happened to
Mr. Corey? And why hasn’t someone zapped the engine with their powers to make it run?”

  The sound of water on her end went off and was replaced by the jingle of keys. “His dad had to leave early for work, and I guess they have to know what’s broke in order to know what to zap. Three minutes. Be outside.”

  Kaylee and I grabbed lattes and muffins from the coffee house and headed to school. Pulling into the parking lot, we drove behind a line of cars at a painfully slow crawl to where the guys normally parked. Neither Josh’s Mustang nor Isaac’s Jeep was there, though, so we parked in one of the spaces.

  “Ben’s parents are leaving for Martha’s Vineyard around four tomorrow. Party starts at six.” Kaylee reached behind her to retrieve her bag from the backseat. “I figured we’d show up fashionably late.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Once we walked closer to school, we saw the cause of the traffic jam: someone had parked their shiny black Subaru where parents dropped off their teens. I stumbled when I noticed the creepy dude from the grocery store leaning against the side of the building. A thin line of smoke curled upward from his right hand, which he held at his side.

  Kaylee followed my shocked gaze. “Do you know him?”

  “Not really. I bumped into him at the store the other day, and, I don’t know, he kept looking at me strange.”

  “Strange as in—” she pursed her lips and crossed her eyes “—or strange as in ‘I want to ask this hot girl out but don’t know how,’ because you’ve never been able to tell the two apart.”

  “I was with Isaac, so it wasn’t the latter.” I shook my head. “Gawd.”

  “Hey, I’m just saying you usually need a two-ton anvil to fall on your head to know for sure.”

  “Shut up!” I bumped her with my shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, that’s why you have me.”

  We had to pass him to get to the doors. I gritted my teeth and picked up the pace, planning to pretend I didn’t see him.

  “If it isn’t Milk Girl,” he said with a smirk once Kaylee and I were within hearing range. We stopped a few feet from him. “I wondered if I’d get the chance to apologize for being such a weirdo the other day. I wasn’t quite myself.”