by Susha Golomb
“Anything,” answered another voice from the crowd. “Anything you need.”
`Anything’ takes up a lot of room. I knew that. I also knew from the feel of it that `anything’ was probably not in this bag. `Nothing’ sounded like a much better answer to me.
“Don’t worry, when you need it, it will be there,” Farthingale said.
There was a quiet minute while Farthingale showed me how to tie the sampo around my waist like a fanny pack. I took the opportunity to scan the crowd for you-know-who.
Quite a few fairies must have thought I was looking to see if they really all had sampos and held theirs out for me to see.
Everyone cheered when Farthingale finished and straightened up. She held up her hands for silence…and got it.
“Miriam,” she said loudly. “There’s one other thing that every dragonfly fairy has.” There was more cheering.
“PLEASE! EVERYONE! QUIET!” Farthingale’s voice was so loud, I looked over to see if she had a microphone. “THIS IS THE IMPORTANT PART.” There was no more noise.
“Miriam,” she said. “Please turn around.”
“Is this the grafting part” I whispered to her.
“Yes, it is. I mean no, no, it isn’t,” she whispered back. “It’s not grafting. It’s magic. The only thing you’ll feel are my fingers.”
I nodded, turned and stood arrow-straight, letting my gaze skim the faces in the crowd. If there was someone out there who looked like me, I couldn’t see her from where I stood.
I couldn’t help a slight twitch when I felt Farthingale’s fingertips start to move lightly across my back. For one long minute, it was the quietest I have ever heard. I believe they were all holding their breath. I know I was.
Then Farthingale dropped her hands and relaxed. I turned to face her, feeling a sheepish grin spread over my face. The decibel level became instantly painful as hundreds of excited dragonfly fairies took to the air, whooping, hollering and doing somersaults.
Hardly anybody noticed Poppy fly down and land on the Speaking Rock with us. She stood there looking out at the crowd with the expression of someone who would rather be anywhere else.
Farthingale put a reassuring hand on Poppy’s shoulder and used her foghorn voice again.
“QUIET!” she hollered, and quiet she got. “Poppy has something to say,” Farthingale said in a more normal voice.
“Miriam,” she began. “This coat…” She held out her hand. There was something in it, but it hardly qualified as clothing. It was smaller than her palm.
“Louder,” somebody yelled from the back.
“This coat,” she repeated only slightly louder, “has been in my family for six generations. It’s made of fern seeds. No one remembers who gave it to us or why, but it has always made us feel special. It’s also very useful for sneaking around. Because it makes you invisible. Anyway…”
“Speak up,” someone shouted. Too shy to look the crowd in the eye, she had lowered her head and was getting hard to hear, even for me.
“Anyway,” Poppy said a little louder. “I want you to have it.” She seemed to have run out of things to say, so she pressed the small black package into my hands and started to fly away.
“OUCH!” That, everybody heard. Farthingale grabbed Poppy by the tips of her wings and pulled her back. She put her arm around one of Poppy’s shoulders. I took the hint and put mine around the other. Farthingale pulled me close and we went into a huddle.
“Miriam,” Poppy said. “Everyone’s waiting for you to speak.”
“What should I say?” I pleaded, hoping for an answer that made more sense than Farthingale’s description of the sampo.
“You are now officially a citizen of The Greater Elf Kingdom,” Farthingale replied. “It would be appropriate to demonstrate gratitude.” Poppy and Farthingale moved to stand on either side and a little behind me facing the crowd. I wasn’t at all sure that gratitude was the appropriate response for this unasked-for honor, but I did my best. I looked out at the crowd trying to look grateful.
“Thank you all very much.” I spoke as loudly as I could without screaming. “I have been asked to announce that everything is okay and official. The population of The Greater Elf Kingdom has just been increased by one new member. Me.”
Pandemonium broke loose, as everyone took to the air, all talking at once. The other four companions flew over to the rock. Dragonbreath and Augusta settled on either side of me and once again, I felt myself walking on air. I was flown through the crowd, over to the beech tree and set down in the tree house. When I looked out from the tree house Tefnut was sitting on the grass washing her face. Just Tefnut and my own backyard. The clearing and the dragonfly fairies that had filled it were gone.
PART II
THE FAIRY GIFTS – WHETHER YOU WANT THEM OR NOT
CHAPTER 15
THE KEEPING PART
“You mean I get to go home?” I said.
I could see Mom waving to me from the back window. I have no idea how it happened, but I was sitting in the tree house in my own yard. I was my right size again, too.
“Of course,” Augusta said to me with a puzzled expression.
Augusta, Dragonbreath, Farthingale and Shadow were perched on the tree house railing like a row of butterflies. Poppy, Amber and Yofie were cuddled together on my lap. Now that I was big again, they looked a lot more like bugs than people.
“That’s it?” I said. “That’s the whole thing? What about the keeping part?”
“The keeping part?” Augusta asked. Everyone looked at me funny. Everyone except Poppy. She just looked funny.
“Yeah,” I said. “Remember, Poppy? When you told me that you decided to keep me.”
“Well, we did,” Poppy flustered. “We did keep you. I mean we do. It just means that…”
“Poppy!” Farthingale said. “You did it again. Didn’t you?
“We don’t keep you Miriam,” she said to me. “It’s just Poppy’s unique way of expressing things. When you’re grown, you can visit or stay with us as often and as long as you please.”
“…and the best part,” Augusta added, “is that we don’t have to ask Tefnut how you’re doing anymore. You can tell us yourself.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all?” Farthingale said, mistaking my relief, for disappointment. “That’s quite a lot, I should think. Do you know how often a human is invited to be part of our world? Did you see any other humans while you were there?”
“No, I guess not.”
“You guess right. And you won’t.”
I let that one sink in for a while. It looked like there wasn’t going to be a sister at the end of this particular rainbow.
“Relax, Farthingale,” Amber said, “I thing Miriam is just relieved. You thought we were kidnapping you, didn’t you?
“Well, yeah,” I mumbled. “It kind of seemed like a possibility.” I lowered my head to try and hide the rising color that was heating up my face. With my head down, I could see that Poppy wasn’t doing much better in the face-color department.
“Poor Miriam,” Augusta said, laughing so hard I could hardly understand her.
“Poor Miriam! Dragonbreath said, drowning out Augusta’s laughter with his own. “Poor Poppy is more like it.”
“Oooo Poppy too.” Augusta said. “Double blush. Good teamwork guys,” and she laughed even harder. “Farthingale will never let you forget this one, Poppy.”
“She was right. Farthingale was not laughing, and that look on her face… I was glad it was for Poppy and not me.
I wondered what really happened to my sister, since she clearly hadn’t gone the kidnapped-by-fairies route. My stomach started to feel funny. I was getting that bumpy feeling again. I wanted to be alone.
“My Mom looks worried,” I said, exaggerating only slightly, since Mom was always worried about something. “Maybe I’d better go in and let her know what happened.”
“It’s okay to tell them, isn’t it?” I asked,
carefully moving the little family off my lap so I could stand up.
“It’s more than okay,” Amber said, settling himself comfortably on the rail. “They already know. They must be dying to hear the details.”
Great, I thought. Everybody knows everything. Except me, of course.
“See you tonight, right? I said, in my pretend perky voice. I swung my feet over the edge and grabbed onto the rope ladder.
“That’s one spacey kid,” I heard Dragonbreath say when I got to the bottom of the ladder and turned to face the house. Mom was still glued to the window.
“She’ll be okay.” Shadow’s voice was faint but audible as I kept moving away. “She just needs a little down time to process.”
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I said stepping through the patio doors and into the house. Mom held the door open for me. Dad was sitting just behind her on the couch. They were both grinning their heads off.
“Later, okay?” I said, walking past them towards my room.
“Okay, dear,” Mom said in her teeny-tiny voice that pushes almost all of my buttons. Dad grunted his annoyed sound, the one that pushes all the rest.
I gritted my teeth and sped up. I knew I had exactly ten seconds before they switched over to pursuit-mode and came after me.
Dad could go from happy to angry in about one millisecond. Anyone would think that he was the one going through puberty. Mom would use her `nice’ voice, like I was still five years old. I preferred Dad’s temper.
I had to escape. I made it to my room, closed the door and relaxed. Once my door was closed, I was semi-safe.
“Miriam, dear,” Mom said, softly knocking on the door five seconds later. Whoa, I didn’t even get the full ten. They were really anxious.
“I just need some down-time to process,” I said, leaning against the door. “Okay?” I heard whispers. Then Dad spoke.
“That’s all right, he said. “Come out when you’re ready. We’ll be in the kitchen.”
Wow. Thank you, Shadow, I thought.
The dolls were still on the floor where I had left them after school. I sat down to play The Sister Game. It always relaxes me.
Big sister and little sister go on a picnic. Little sister goes for a walk and gets into trouble. Big sister rescues her. They all live happily ever after. I like it.
I took Kelly out the wastebasket and straightened her wings. Then I bent the dolls’ legs into a sitting position and propped them up against my dresser. Big sister and little sister have finished eating and they’re so full they can hardly move. They sit quietly, leaning against the big oak tree – that’s what my dresser is made of – sipping pink lemonade. They radiate warm and happy. I could feel their contentment.
“I had a really strange day today,” little sister says.
“Tell me about it,” says big sister. “It can’t be any weirder than mine.”
“What do you mean? Were you at Speaking Rock too? I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t see you.”
“I was there all right but I was hidden so that I could protect you…”
…There was a crumply sound behind me. No big deal, it’s the noise that the styrofoam pellets in my beanbag chair make when Tefnut settles down for a nap. She must have snuck in behind me. I dropped the dolls and leaned over for a deep, scratchy two-handed pet. I felt better.
I got up and went into the kitchen. I know Mom and Dad try really hard to be good parents. So what if they’re not totally honest. No one’s perfect.
CHAPTER 16
PROBLEMS WITH PARENTS
Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table looking at me with their heart-beating mushy half-smiles that mean we were about to have a meaningful conversation. Usually they were in charge of the meaningful part. I was in charge of listening. This time, however, they wanted details.
“We’re very pleased for you, Miriam,” Dad announced as soon as I sat down. “Farthingale told us they wanted to bring you out for a visit, but we didn’t know exactly when it would happen. How did it go?”
Right on, Dad, I thought, despondently. Start me off with an easy one. I had no idea where to begin.
“Well, I have this bag,” I said, after a while. I took it out and laid it on the table.
“It’s very nice, dear,” Mom said. Her tone was hyper-polite, but her look said, ‘what’s that rag doing on my clean kitchen table.
“Does it have any special meaning?” she asked. This is standard parent-speak for ‘There can’t possibly be any practical reason for the existence of that thing.’ I thought about that for another minute.
“It’s an educational tool,” I said more confidently than I felt.
“How exciting.” She perked up right away when I used the ‘E’ word. “How does it work?”
“I’m not sure. I think it just gives you stuff.”
“Stuff?” Dad asked. “What kind of stuff?”
“Anything, I think. I haven’t tried it yet.”
“Do you want to try it now?”
“Okay. What do you want?”
“Well, right now,” Dad joked, “I’d like a bagel and cream cheese.” I reached into the bag. From the look of it, I could have sworn it was empty, but I could feel something inside.
Out came my hand. It was holding a bagel. With cream cheese. The smell said it was onion-garlic. Dad’s favorite. I put it on the table. Nobody said anything for a long time.
The smell of garlic and onions wove in and out of our silence. Dad started to get red in the face. This was a good sign that he was about to speak …and that I didn’t want to hear it.
“Rose,” he said, ignoring me. “Nobody said anything about this. Nobody told us they were going to give her this bag.
“You can’t keep it, Miriam,” he said.
“You have to give it back. You can’t have anything you want. You have to earn it.
“Besides, Mom and I are in charge of what you can and can’t have. When you grow up, then you can have anything you want. While you’re a kid you have to get it from us.” He glared. I cringed.
“Wait a minute, Ben,” Mom said. “Miriam,” she said to me. “Pick up the bag again. Take out a pair of jeans that fit you exactly the way you like.”
I reached into the bag and started to pull out a denim pant leg. I kept pulling until I was holding one complete pair of jeans. Girls size 8, slim fit, extra long. My size.
Mom was beaming. “I hate shopping,” she said with passion. “Hmmm. How about a tube of ultra marine blue.” I reached into my sampo and pulled out a tube of ultra marine blue watercolor. Mom took it into her cupped hands, hugging it to her chest. “Paint!” she whispered reverently.
“Miriam,” Dad said. He didn’t sound too thrilled about the shopping thing. “Take out a hundred dollar bill.”
I did.
“My god.” Mom blanched. “The mortgage.”
“Not the mortgage, Rose. An ten-year old with an unlimited supply of hundred dollar bills.”
“Maybe they’re counterfeit.”
“Worse. An ten year old with an unlimited supply of counterfeit hundred dollar bills.” They stopped talking and just stared at each other.
“I guess you don’t want to see what else they gave me,” I said.
“What!” they both shouted at me.
!!!!!!
I had gone into the kitchen with the best of intentions. I came out, totally shattered. Mom and Dad were so freaked when I started taking things out of the sampo that I never even got to mention the wing thing. Apparently, my bag and coat are not on the Consumer Report list of approved toys.
I went into my room and put the sampo and Poppy’s coat in the dresser. My parents had extracted a promise most solemn that I wouldn’t touch them without permission. I had the distinct impression that permission would not be coming before age 21. I don’t care. What good is a bag that can give you anything except what you really want?
CHAPTER 17
THE MANDATORY, TOO CUTE FOR WORDS, FAIRY TEA PARTY
Whoop-de-do. A tea party. This is all I need. But that’s what’s happening tonight after supper right in our very own backyard. Mom and Dad are already so mixed up that I don’t think they know what’s real and what isn’t anymore. Less than twenty-four hours after my flight to Fairyland, Poppy showed up to let us know that company was coming. Everybody, I mean everybody, the entire two or three trillion little bug people are coming over. They all want to meet my parents and see where we live. Mom’s so excited she’s practically peeing in her pants.
Right after dinner, we carried the party food out to the picnic table. Dad turned on the floodlights and the backyard lit up like daytime. My tree house looked like a giant birdcage with a hundred hummingbirds in constant movement. The moment we stepped outside, dragonfly fairies started pouring out.
I cannot believe the neighbors are not going to see all this activity, but nobody seems worried, so maybe what Poppy told me is true, that it’s almost impossible for most humans to see fairy things. Apparently, my family doesn’t fall into the category of ‘most humans’.
We were surrounded by the swarm before we got halfway across the patio. This was supposed to be a celebration, but the dragonfly fairies hung in the air, almost painfully quiet. I had the feeling that they were waiting for introductions and that I was supposed to do it.
I cleared my throat but couldn’t think of anything else to do with it, so I cleared it again. Everybody who wasn’t already staring at me did so. Meanwhile, Dad and Farthingale silently peeled off and headed for the tree house while poor Mom, stood there nervously shifting a carton of banana berry ice cream from one cold hand to the other.
“Won’t you have a seat?” she said to the immediate horde. Not what I would call an icebreaker, but, hey, every little bit helps, especially when I’m not the one who has to do it. The fairies drifted down settling onto the table, backs of chairs, flower boxes, even the wind chimes. Mom and I were the only seats left empty. Except for an occasional nervous titter, the dragonfly fairies remained silent.
Mom put the ice cream on the picnic table next to a half-gallon bottle of Root Beer and a plate of blue and yellow sugar cookies. Dad had spent the entire afternoon squeezing tiny dots of his secret recipe cookie dough out of a pastry bag. They were half-inchers and there were hundreds of them.
We had two bowls of fruit, one filled with early season blueberries that Dad got from a special source, the other full of pomegranate seeds. While Dad was busy with the cookies this afternoon, Mom and I spent our time painstakingly picking the juicy slip-and-slide seeds out of the pomegranates.