Green

by Laura Peyton Roberts

  I could wear makeup tonight! I thought, stopping dead.

  My mom didn't like me to wear more than lip gloss. But I was thirteen now.

  And she wasn't home.

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  Grabbing what makeup I owned from the bathroom, I tapped back over to my desk. My reading light and the big mirror there made a sort of vanity. I lined everything up in a row and started with foundation, but the base made my pale skin look pasty against my nearly black hair. I counteracted that by piling on pink blush. Breaking out the liquid eyeliner, I tried painting thin lines against my lashes. That brush was tricky, though, and before I got both sides even, I looked like Cleopatra. With a sunburn. I was headed to the bathroom to wash my face when the doorbell rang.

  Kendall! I thought, whirling around. My tap shoes clattered crazily as I ran through the house. I threw the front door open, but nobody was there, only the Douglases' Great Dane doing doughnuts through Ms. Clark's sprinkler. That was when I noticed the package lying beneath our mailbox, a brown-paper-wrapped package addressed to Lilybet Green.

  I had no clue who that box was from. Looking back, I definitely could have devoted more thought to waiting for Mom to get home. But it was my birthday. And I started ripping.

  Ka-boom!

  Sparkling ... Twinkling ...

  Black.

  18

  Chapter 2

  I woke up flat on my back on our front porch, surrounded by worried neighbors. For a moment I blinked up into their freaked-out faces and wondered what they were doing there.

  Then I remembered.

  "Ohhh," I groaned. "My head!"

  I reached to touch the spot that had thunked against the boards, but Mrs. Douglas grabbed my wrist, stopping my hand.

  "Lily!" she cried. "Thank God! Don't move." Her twin toddler boys peered at me from around her back. "I've

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  called nine-one-one, and your mother. Lie still until they get here."

  "My mother?" I repeated, confused. An odor like gunpowder mixed with scorched feathers filled my nose, and my voice sounded oddly dull, as if I were hearing myself through a wall. "She's at work."

  "Don't try to think, hon--you probably have a concussion. Harley!" Her crazy Great Dane had loped into our yard, barking his head off. "Harley, shut up! I swear to Pete!"

  "How many fingers am I holding up?" Mr. Lopez asked, waving gnarled knuckles before my eyes at a speed that made my head ache.

  "Um, maybe if you could hold them still ..."

  "The paramedics will do that, Al," Mrs. Karas said. She had the same china blue eyes as Kendall, although those were hard to focus on too. "What in the world happened, Lily? It sounded like something exploded."

  I turned my head side to side on the boards. Our living room window was a spiderweb of cracks; a chunk of glass near its center was missing. The only traces of the mysterious package were some shredded scraps of brown paper.

  "It was just a little ... a ... um," I fumbled. I had forgotten the word for box .

  "Here, Lily, you dropped this." Mrs. Douglas pressed something warm into my hand, letting go of my wrist so I

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  could raise it to my face. I blinked, then closed my eyes and squeezed them hard. The item I was holding was ... not possible.

  But when I dared to open my eyes again, there it was, clutched so hard my knuckles were white.

  Gigi's key! I thought, stunned.

  All my life, my grandmother had worn the same necklace, an ornate gold key on an intricately woven chain. The key looked old-fashioned, like something that might have opened a long-ago mansion, but three sparkling emeralds along its shaft suggested it had never been used in a door. I'd been fascinated by it since I was a baby, latching on with a chubby fist anytime Gigi bent near.

  "Like that, do you?" she'd always said with a twinkle in her wide-set eyes. "Well, of course you do! And someday it will be yours, Lilybet. You'll wear the key, I promise." But after Gigi died, we couldn't find her necklace. The key had just disappeared.

  Until now.

  Part of my staggered brain understood that the necklace must have been inside the exploding box. But how? And why? It didn't make any sense.

  "Whoa, dude! What was that?" a new voice asked. I glanced up to see Byron Berry join the circle of faces above me. "Cherry bomb? M-eighty? Dude , it was awesome! Where did you get it?"

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  Byron was the cutest boy in our neighborhood and, as far as I knew, all of the adjoining ones. He was older than me, tougher than me, and orders of magnitude cooler. I'd had a hopeless crush on him from the day I'd moved in.

  This was not the first impression I'd dreamed of making.

  "I have to go," I blurted out, struggling to sit up.

  The porch whirled dizzily.

  "You need to lie still for the ambulance," Mrs. Douglas said, trying gently to press me back down. "We don't know if you're hurt yet."

  "I'm fine." I wasn't at all sure about that, but the ringing in my ears was clearing, and sitting upright had swept away some of the gunpowder smell. "I really have to go."

  "I don't think it's a good idea--" Mrs. Karas began, but Mr. Lopez cut her off.

  "Ladies, she has to use the facilities. When you've got to go, you've got to go. Right, Lily?"

  Byron grinned. I felt my face heat up. But even having Byron Berry think I had bladder issues was preferable to having him see me laid out like this.

  "That's right, Mr. Lopez." Somehow I got to my feet, my taps clattering on the boards. That was when I remembered what I was wearing. And my damp, unbrushed hair. And the makeup. Oh, please, no, the makeup!

  "Lily!" Mrs. Douglas's footsteps lagged behind mine

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  as I turned and dashed through our open front door and down the hall to my bedroom, locking the door behind me.

  "Lily!" she called again, jiggling the knob. "You should not be running! The ambulance is coming."

  "I'll be out in a second. I just have to ..." What? Think? Wash my face? Die of embarrassment? Kicking off my tap shoes, I ran into the bathroom.

  The sight that greeted me in the mirror took my breath away. The source of that scorched feathers smell was now appallingly clear. Long clumps of once-glossy hair stuck out forlornly between patches singed back to my scalp. Black residue from the blast clung to the edges of my face, making the center part extra pale. And then there was the eyeliner.

  I looked like a goth struck by lightning.

  Tears flowed down my cheeks, leaving black tracks. I have freakishly wide-set eyes and a pointy chin. I'm far too odd-looking to be vain, but my hair was my one good feature, shiny and thick all the way down my back. Now half of it was stubble and the rest would have to be cut. Choking back a sob, I reached for a washcloth and realized Gigi's key was still clutched in my hand.

  I stopped crying instantly, examining the key in the bathroom light and trying to make sense of its sudden appearance. I had no idea where it had come from, but Gigi

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  had always meant for me to have it, and now, somehow, I did. With shaking hands, I slipped its chain over my head.

  The key hung low on my chest, where my cleavage would have been if I'd had any. Staring into the mirror, I vowed to never take it off. Then I grabbed the soap and scrubbed my face. Surprisingly, considering the state of my hair, my skin wasn't damaged at all. But I didn't have time to ponder that. If someone forced me to go to the hospital, I didn't intend to make the trip in sequined tap-dancing shorts. Hurrying into my bedroom, I dashed toward my closet and froze.

  There was a little man standing on my bed.

  Eighteen inches tall at most, he wore a black pilgrim hat, a green coat with silver buttons, tight black britches, and black boots with buckles, all of which looked as if they had just come through a freak rainstorm. Hanging down over his crossed arms was a wiry beard, a wild mess of blond whiskers with the merest hint of green, as if he'd been swimming in chlorine all summer. His eyes were green as well. They pinn
ed mine so intently I couldn't look away.

  "Oh no," I moaned. "I do have a concussion."

  The little man huffed with amusement, his arms rising on his round belly. "I've been called a few things in my day, but never a concussion."

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  I shook my head and blinked. He was still there, his boots stomping dents in my quilt as he walked closer. I smelled pipe smoke and grass and ... wet dog?

  "Hello, Lilybet," he said.

  "You kn-kn-know my name?"

  "O' course! Now, don't go all shaky, Lil. And don't you dare scream or you'll tetch us up good."

  My desk chair rolled across the floor and hit me behind the knees. Looking down, I saw two more rain-spattered little men pushing it, virtual clones of the first one except for the lack of beards on their pointed chins. I collapsed onto the seat, pretty sure I was hallucinating.

  "You're not real," I said. "I mean, seriously. I'm imagining you guys, right?"

  "We're as real as that key you're wearing, girl. Where do you think it came from?"

  "I ... I ... This can't be healthy."

  The bearded one jumped to the floor, bowing till his whiskers brushed wood. "Lilybet Green, we come to welcome you home on behalf o' the Clan o' Green. I am your humble brother Balthazar Green."

  The other two lined up beside him and bowed as well. "Welcome, Lilybet. Your brother Maxwell Green," the second one said.

  "Your brother Caspar Green," offered the third.

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  I gripped the arms of my chair hard. Their corners dug into my palms, suggesting that I was still conscious.

  "Um ... no offense, guys," I got out, "but I'm an only child."

  "Depends how you look at it," Balthazar said. "Now pack up and let's be off. We've already drawn more attention than we want." He turned a withering gaze on Maxwell.

  Maxwell hung his head. "That package wasn't supposed to explode."

  "Yes it was," Caspar muttered.

  "Well, to be sure." Maxwell gave me a pleading look. "But it wasn't supposed to hurt you, Lil. Cain said it would just add a bit o' flash."

  "Flash?" I repeated uncertainly.

  "Flair," Caspar supplied. "Excitement. Proper ceremony."

  "But your hair ..." Maxwell wrung his hands. "That is a shame."

  "Well, it can't be helped now." Balthazar shook his head. "Although frankly, Lil, I'm surprised. Who could have guessed you'd turn out to be so delicate?"

  "Deli- what?" I sputtered. "I just survived a bomb!"

  "That bitty pop o' sparks? All right, all right! Let's not split hairs," he responded at my outraged expression. "Not any more hairs, I mean. I'm afraid we're off on the wrong foot, Lil. You do realize your grandmother sent us?"

  "My grandmother?" I said with disbelief.

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  He pointed to the key around my neck. "Maureen was one o' our own--but, then, you called her Gigi, right? We've been holding that key for your thirteenth birthday, just like we promised we would."

  "Gigi gave you her key?"

  "In a manner o' speaking. It's a long story, Lil, and she'd definitely want you to hear it. So put on some shoes and let's go."

  "But--"

  "I know someone who can fix that hair for you," Maxwell wheedled. "A bit o' magic will grow it back good as new."

  "Really?" I asked hopefully.

  "We'll just nip home, then nip right back," Balthazar promised. "Won't take a minute."

  "Well ... if you're positive I'll be home before my mother gets--"

  The wail of a siren cut through my words, snapping me back to my senses. What was I agreeing to? My mom would be home any second, and these little green men could only be figments of my explosion-scrambled brain.

  The siren swelled louder. I heard Mrs. Douglas calling out front. Considering that I was conversing with my imagination, maybe medical attention wasn't such a bad idea after all.

  "You guys have to leave now," I said, standing up to move toward my closet. "I have to change into some normal

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  clothes, and if anyone catches me talking to you, I'll wind up in a rubber room."

  "By all that glitters, girl! Don't be difficult!" Balthazar exclaimed. "We're not leaving without you. Why else are we here?"

  "Don't ask me. I'm not even sure you are here."

  We faced off in a four-way stare-down. And then I noticed something that made the peach fuzz prickle down my spine. Slowly, barely perceptibly, all three were creeping closer.

  "I can't," I pleaded uneasily. "What would I tell my mom?"

  "Don't tell her anything," Caspar suggested. "Let her think you ran away. That usually works grand."

  "Usually? You guys have done this before?"

  Balthazar whipped a glare in Caspar's direction.

  "Um ...no," Caspar stammered. "Not this. Exactly."

  They eased another inch closer.

  "Moooooom!" I shouted. "Mrs. Douglas! Help!"

  All three of them jumped me at once. Six legs ran circles around mine. Hands reached above my knees, tying me up with a gold chain barely thicker than fishing line. Trying to kick free, I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. They buzzed about like frenzied green bees, able to reach all of me now.

  "Knock it off!" I shouted, slapping and struggling. "Stop!"

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  "Not to worry, Lil. We'll be out o' here in a jiffy," Balthazar huffed.

  It was far from a fair fight, especially with me still half dazed by that blast on the porch. In seconds, they had tied my wrists together and bound my arms to my body, trussing me up like a sausage.

  "If there's anything you'll be needing in the next few days," Balthazar said, "you'd best name it now."

  "Days! You said we'd be gone a minute!" I tried to sit up, but they had me so hog-tied I could barely wiggle. I'd have to talk my way out of it.

  "Look, this is obviously a big misunderstanding," I said, forcing down my rising panic. "If Gigi sent you guys, of course I'll go. Just untie me so I can put on some shoes and we'll go wherever you want."

  Balthazar held my gaze for a long moment. Then he threw back his head and laughed. "Bit o' a liar, are you, Lil? You're a Green, all right! Get the door, Caspar."

  Removing a coiled rope from his jacket, Caspar lassoed my doorknob and flicked the door open. No one was in the hall. In a flash, the three of them wriggled beneath me and hoisted me over their heads like a surfboard. Something about the way they'd tied me up would not let me bend at all.

  "Mrs. Douglas!" I bellowed again. "Help!"

  "On my mark, lads," Balthazar said. "Ready ... go!" They marched in unison, carrying me faceup.

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  "Seriously! Stop it!" I begged. "This isn't funny anymore. Besides, do you really think you can carry me past all those people outside?"

  "What a leprechaun carries is invisible, Lil. Everyone knows that," Caspar said.

  "'What a ...' Did you say leprechaun?"

  My bedroom doorframe brushed my head and popped me in the shoulder. "Oopsie!" Balthazar trilled. "Mind the corners, laddies."

  They hustled me down the hall, through the kitchen, and into the den, where Caspar withdrew from my midsection long enough to repeat his lasso trick on the back doorknob. Footsteps entered the living room. Voices called my name.

  "Help!" I hollered as three leprechauns ran me headfirst through the open back door into the sunshine outside.

  "Watch the stairs!" Balthazar barked. "Lively now, lads!"

  We jolted down the three back steps, around the corner of the house, and through our side yard toward the street. An ambulance was parked at the curb, its emergency lights revolving. Mrs. Douglas and the other neighbors stood on our porch, waving an EMT across the lawn. My body cleared the driveway just as my mother's Civic pulled in. She was out before the car stopped rolling, leaving her driver's door open.

  "Lily!" she cried, sprinting right past me on her way to the porch. "Lily!"

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  "Mom!" I shouted desperately. "
Mom, help!"

  She rushed into the house without even turning her head. None of the neighbors glanced my way either as the leprechauns ran me over our grass to the sidewalk.

  "Help!" I screamed. "Why doesn't anyone answer me?"

  "That'll be the binding gold, Lil," Balthazar's voice said beneath me. "A bit o' magic there--immobility, plus it makes you completely silent to anyone outside the clan. Hated to use it, but you forced us a bit. The end will justify the means--you'll see. Bear to the left, lads, into the street!"

  They trotted me down the bike lane in broad daylight, past houses and cars and pedestrians. Nobody noticed us. Nobody heard a thing. My mind raced with the need to get free, but my body was paralyzed. Panicky tears jiggled down my upturned face as block after block slipped by.

  "Bal ... Bal ... Balty," Maxwell wheezed. "I've got ... to put ... her down."

  "Not yet!" Balthazar huffed, out of breath himself. "Almost ... there."

  We bumped up over the curb and into my neighborhood park, running practically under the noses of the Mommy-and-me crew at the sandbox. Sunshine blazed into my face, searing past wet lashes.

  "To the rocket! The rocket ship!" Balthazar cried.

  By then it wouldn't have shocked me if they were space

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  aliens too, but when they jogged around the back of the park's maintenance hut, I saw what they were talking about.

  A huge play rocket ship lay on its side, its disassembled metal legs rusting in a heap. The leprechauns charged in through the rocket's open base, carrying me headfirst. For a split second, I welcomed the shade. Then the stifling heat trapped inside hit me like a frying pan.

  "This'll do," Balthazar panted. "Heave ho, laddies."