by Susha Golomb
“You mean, like when somebody forgets to lock the door?”
“Yeah, basically.”
“I guess it was really lucky that only my parents wandered in.”
“Not really. Most people wouldn’t have noticed it.”
“How could they not see a whole bridge so close to the sidewalk?”
“There’s a tendency for humans not to notice fairy things.”
“You still haven’t told me what you meant when you said you decided to keep me?”
What is it with this kid? Why is she so nervous? This is the part where she’s supposed to be all bubbly and excited …and grateful. Especially grateful. I need her nicely softened up when we discuss my plans for her future.
CHAPTER 7
FARTHINGALE
“So, anyway,” Poppy continued, ignoring me again, “we opened the new gate in your backyard.”
“My yard! Really? Where is it?” This was getting interesting.
“You know that big triple-trunked beech tree past the deck?”
“You mean where my tree house is?”
“The very one.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, because we come through it all the time.”
“I can’t believe it. How come I came this way when the tree is so close?”
“I don’t think you can use the tree on your own. You have to know their names.”
“Names? Trees have names?” Before she could answer, a new voice came from behind us.
“Poppy!” it said. “Poppy! What are you doing? Everyone is waiting!”
Another dragonfly-fairy dive-bombed my lap. She had one of those `I’m in charge’ kind of voices. She also had long hair that rippled like liquid silver. I was dying to touch it.
The veining in her wings was silver, too. Even her shirt had silver buttons, although it was hard to be sure. They were very small buttons.
“Is it time to go already?” Poppy asked.
“We expected you twenty minutes ago,” the new fairy commented dryly.
“I’m sorry, Farthingale,” Poppy said. “I didn’t realize we had been talking so long.”
Farthingale was standing on my other hand, both of which were in my lap. Fairy chairs. I wondered what else my hands could do that I didn’t know about.
“We need to move quickly if we’re not going to be late,” Farthingale said, glancing down at her wrist. She was wearing a watch. Silver, of course. Dragonfly fairies must all be color-coded.
“Come on Miriam,” she said impatiently. “Let’s go.”
I stood up. It was like school. I didn’t even think about it.
“Hurry along,” Farthingale said. “This way.” She flew over to the solid wall of shrubbery running along the edge of the garden.
I looked down at Tefnut. She was dream-twitching. Still sound asleep.
“Don’t worry about her,” Farthingale said. “She’s fine. Just hurry.”
Wake up, Tefnut, I thought at her as hard as I could. Wake up and show me what to do.
She twitched again. Aha. A sign.
No, not really. I was on my own.
“Excuse me, but where are we going?” I said summoning up my courage. I didn’t understand how someone so small could be so intimidating.
Hanging in mid-air like a bumblebee, Farthingale put her hands on her hips and looked at Poppy reproachfully.
“Oh, Poppy,” she said, shaking her head. “Haven’t you told her anything.”
“I was just getting to it.” Poppy said defensively, her cheeks turning red. “We were still talking about Miriam’s ears.”
“Well, never mind. Let’s get moving. We can talk as we go.”
I watched them argue while I made up my mind. Cousins, I thought. If these little people are my family, they must be my sister’s family, too.
Maybe she really did come here before me. Maybe my birthday wish is about to come true after all. I swallowed hard before I spoke.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
I stretched and rolled onto my side to enjoy the full benefit of the sun-warm bench, but kept my eyes closed to maintain the sleeping cat guise. It sounded like Farthingale was on the rampage. I decided not to wake up just yet.
CHAPTER 8
THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE DARK
Looking anxiously back at Tefnut, still asleep on the bench, and with considerable reluctance, I followed Poppy and Farthingale to an elaborate wrought-iron gate guarding a three-foot high opening in the tall hedge around the garden. I was positive it had not been there before. The gate, not the hedge.
Poppy and Farthingale sat on my shoulders, as I pulled open the gate and crouched down to fit inside. I may not be very tall, but I passed three feet a couple of years ago. After a few long minutes walking bent over through a leafy tunnel, the path began to slope downward and into the ground.
“Where are we going?” I asked nervously. We were moving from the dim light that the bushes let in to no light at all. “Are there any lights in there?”
“Don’t worry,” Farthingale said from my right shoulder, “It won’t be dark for very long.”
There are no lights in there, I translated.
“We’re going to Ardu,” she said. “It’s in the southeast corner of The Greater Elf Kingdom.”
“It’s where we live,” Poppy interjected. She was sitting on my left shoulder, and a lot more comfortable than I was. “We’re going home.”
It has been my experience that when people say `don’t worry’ it’s a good time to start. So I did. Besides, my home wasn’t ahead of us. It was back the way we had come.
The bushes were just a roof over my head now. My top half was still above the ground, but from my waist down, the sides of the tunnel were earth and rock. A few more steps, and I would be completely underground.
I stopped.
“Speaking of home,” I said, remembering everything I was ever told about not talking to strangers, not to mention not following them into dark places. “What did you mean when you said you decided to keep me?
“I mean, how permanent is all this stuff? Will I be allowed to see my parents? Ever?”
And can I believe anything you tell me, I wondered?
“Poppy! What kinds of things have you been telling Miriam?” my right shoulder said to my left shoulder.
Yeah, I thought, and are they true?
I’m sure that Poppy was about to say something that would have reassured me, but she and Farthingale were knocked off my shoulders when my head hit a thick branch as my crunched-up body tried to spin around, straighten out and leap into the air all at once.
“Ay, ay, ay,” I cried, jumping up and down in pain and hitting my head a few more times.
“Something touched me,” I cried. “There’s something in here.” I squatted down on my heels, straightened my spine, and started to move slowly backwards, duck style.
There was a dark shape in front of me. I desperately wanted to turn around, and run, make that waddle, away, but I was afraid to take my eyes off the Thing. Unidentifiable dark shapes in strange places may be scary, but things you can’t see at all, but know are behind you, are terrifying.
“Hi, Tefnut,” I heard Poppy say.
“Excellent,” came the sound of Farthingale’s voice. “I’m so glad you’re here. Now we won’t be nearly as late as I expected.”
Then she said something else, but I couldn’t understand it. I’m not sure I was supposed to.
All I know was that one minute I was squatting in the semi-darkness looking at a shape that may or may not have been Tefnut. The next minute a strong whoosh of air unbalanced me and my tush made firm contact with the ground.
Just great, I thought. Now it hurts at both ends.
My perspective was all out of whack. Between my squatting and my sitting, the shadows had somehow shifted their places. Even the air smelled different, fresher. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, except that I knew that nothing was the sa
me.
Then Farthingale walked over to me and as I looked up at her everything became clear. She was about the same height as my mother. Since there wasn’t enough headroom for her to grow to my size, I must have come down to hers. I was small. Very small
Five inches suits Miriam. She looks positively edible. I sat down and waited for them to decide what to do. So much for following discreetly behind.
CHAPTER 9
EAU DE TEFNUT
I should be going nuts right now, I thought. But for some reason, being the same size as Poppy and Farthingale somehow was an improvement.
“Climb onto Tefnut,” Farthingale said. “We can ride the rest of the way. It will be much faster.”
Now I saw the elephant-sized figure move out of the shadows and take shape. Everything was so different from this angle. If that was a cat, then I was a mouse--and not a very big one either. Was this really Tefnut? I especially didn’t remember her teeth being so extremely large.
The monster moved closer and opened its mouth. I could see that I was too big to swallow whole. It would have to bite me in half.
I closed my eyes.
It wasn’t wet, but it wasn’t dry either. And not nearly as sand-papery as I expected.
I wasn’t being consumed. I was being tasted.
“Cut it out, Tefnut. I’m not a kitten.” I put my arms in front of me to protect my face. This was Tefnut, all right. She was giving me the traditional pussycat greeting.
“Get off me and stop licking,” I said. Tefnut had me pinned down with her paw and was licking madly away at what little was left out. This is not the way I like to have my ears cleaned.
Tefnut lifted her paw, flopped down on the ground next to me and started her engines. Poppy and Farthingale flew over and landed on her back.
“Come on, Miriam,” Poppy said, waving me over. “Hop on.”
Shrinking like that had been disorienting, but Tefnut’s bath-time greeting brought me back down to earth, which was good, because I was now a lot closer to it than I used to be.
Okay, I thought, getting up, I’m small. But I’m still me. Everything is… okay… probably. I stood extra straight and tall to make sure I got every millimeter that I was currently entitled to.
I climbed onto Tefnut and grabbed two big handfuls of fur to keep from falling off. Bending forward and burying my face in her fur, I breathed deeply. Ahh, I thought, Eau de Tefnut. I would know that wonderful Tefnut smell anywhere. Tefnut wouldn’t take me anywhere bad.
“Sit up, Miriam,” Poppy said from behind me, as Tefnut padded forward into the darkness. “We want to fix your hair before we get to Ardu.”
I relaxed a little more as Poppy sat down behind me and began combing my hair. My mother used to comb my hair.
I closed my eyes, the world was not so different with the lights out. I let my mind drift and pretended that She was behind me, combing my hair. She had black hair just like Mom’s. We were finally together. Tefnut was taking us home.
I could feel my sister’s gentle hands, working carefully, slowly picking the knots out of my hair with her fingers, combing out the leftover tangles, then starting on a new spot.
“You look just like I imagined you would,” I said to her. “I love your black hair.”
“Are you kidding? It just hangs there. I am so jealous of your curly hair. I love combing it and watching it go all fluffy.” I let myself feel the rush of pleasure that her compliment would bring, feeling her warm breath on my head when she leaned in to examine a knot.
“Ahemm.” Farthingale cleared her throat breaking the spell. Big sister became Poppy again. I could feel a lecture coming on. My fourth grade teacher last year would clear her throat the same way. We used to time it.
“Miriam,” she started. “Did Poppy finish explaining to you how we first found you? Do you understand the connection that brought us together?”
“You mean about us being cousins?” I said.
“Cousins? Wherever did you get that idea? Never mind,” she said, giving Poppy a dirty look.
Poppy kept combing.
“It’s obvious,” Farthingale continued, “that there is at least one ancestor in your family who was a fairy, but…”
“Because of my ears?” I interrupted, wondering how much of what Poppy said could be believed.
“Naturally,” she answered. “But I seriously doubt that your ancestor was one of us. I mean, look at me and look at you. That is…it would be extremely difficult…” she said with evident embarrassment, “…having children, I mean. It’s just that… Well, probably, your ancestor was an elf. They’re about the same size as humans, if you get what I mean.”
“So, we’re not cousins,” I said.
“No. Not really. What you are, at least in part, is magic. By virtue of your unknown elf ancestor, of course. Are you following this?”
“Yes,” I said.
No. I thought. Not really.
“Look at it this way,” Farthingale said. “Because you are part magic, you are genetically able to join our community.”
“Isn’t that another way of saying that we’re related, like cousins?” I asked.
She let out an exasperated sigh and put her hand to her forehead. “Maybe you’re right, Poppy. Maybe cousins is the easiest way of putting it.”
“That’s what I thought,” Poppy said, from behind me.
“But, if you knew since I was a baby, why now?” I asked. “Why is this happening?”
“Young children can be terribly indiscreet,” Farthingale said. “We waited as long as we could…” I could hear the embarrassment in her voice. I’ll bet anything her face was all red too. “You were supposed to explain all this to Miriam,” she said angrily to Poppy.
“I was just getting to it,” Poppy said again. Apparently there were a lot of things she was `just getting to’.
“Well, Miriam,” Farthingale said, taking a deep breath, “I’m sure your parents have already explained to you about, hemm, hemm, the changes you will be going through as you grow and your body, hemm, hemm, develops.”
“You mean puberty?”
“Hemm, hemm, yes, that.”
“Yeah, I know about that stuff.” My friends and I had discussed breast development and periods extensively.
“Well,” she said, “it’s important that your wing buds are well established before your hormonal balance begins to change.”
This fairy ancestor stuff wouldn’t be such big news to Miss Know-It-All if she weren’t so stubborn. Her parents have been telling her for years. Too bad she hasn’t learned to listen as well as she talks.
The big news is when we get out of this tunnel and she finds out that she hasn’t had one babysitter for the last ten years, but six. Six babysitters and a very large fan club.
It’s been a pretty good system. The Six kept her out of trouble while she was growing. Now she’s ready for me.
CHAPTER 10
WING BUDS
“So, just how is this wing bud thing going to happen?” I asked, trying to sound casual. There had just better be a sister at the end of this rainbow, I thought. I was holding tight to Tefnut with my hands and legs while Poppy worked through my tangles.
“It couldn’t be simpler,” Poppy said, tugging at a particularly nasty knot. “It’s just like grafting a new branch onto a tree.”
Uh oh. I knew what grafting was. You had to cut a hole in the tree to do it.
“Will it hurt?” I could hear my voice tremble.
“Poppy!” The combing stopped. Farthingale sounded annoyed again. “When will you learn to watch what you say? No, Miriam it will not hurt. We don’t even break the skin when the wing buds are attached.
“It’s true,” Poppy said with a grin in her voice. “Getting these knots out has to hurt.” She started in on my hair again. “But when we do wing buds, you won’t feel a thing.”
“Ouch!” There was an extra hard pull on my hair as Tefnut came to a halt. My hands were still holding on to her fur, bu
t the rest of me bumped up into the air and back down.
“Ouch, again,” I gasped when my tailbone connected with Tefnut’s spine. “What’s happening? Are we there yet?”
“No, we’re not,” Farthingale, said. “What’s the matter, Tefnut?”
Tefnut didn’t answer. Which was okay, I mean, who ever heard of a cat who could talk? What she did do was sit down.
I lost my grip and slid backwards down her backbone, landing on Poppy and Farthingale who were already on the ground, trying to stand up when I knocked them back down again.
I looked up at Tefnut’s dark shape against the darker darkness of the tunnel, as we struggled to get to our feet. She was turning her head around to reach her shoulder. Then she chomped down on the exact spot where I had been sitting.
Don’t be silly, I said to the shiver running down my spine. Tefnut would never have bitten that spot if I was still sitting on it.
She chomped again and a shape the size of my fist separated itself from her fur and jumped high into the air, landing back in her fur just a few feet –actually, inches-- from where I was standing.
I got a better look at it just before it disappeared into her fur. It was a flattish oval shape, and… it had legs. Five or six skinny little legs hanging down from its bottom.
“My god!” I gasped. “Run, I mean, fly for your lives. It’s a flea. A giant flea.”
Poppy giggled. “Don’t worry, Tefnut,” she called out into the darkness. “We’ll poof it for you.”
“It’s just a regular-sized flea, Miriam,” Farthingale said. “It won’t hurt you.”
“Weee!” Poppy cried as she half jumped and half flew into the air, landing on the spot where the giant flea had disappeared.
Will it hurt? What a wimp! Come on Miriam. We’re talking wings here. Every kid’s secret wish. I tensed up and gritted my teeth. Hurry up, Poppy, before that little tickle of a flea drives me completely nuts.
CHAPTER 11
CAT MAGIC AND THE FLEA-POOFING SPELL
The flea popped out again.
In two incredible leaps, it was back on Tefnut’s head. Her ear, I think.
“Did you see that jump?” I said. “It was, like, straight up into the air. How does it do that?”