by L-J Baker
“Crap.”
Rye dragged herself back to the kitchen and dropped into a chair.
“Rye? Are you still there?”
“Yeah. She’ll see it.”
Pause. “Okay. Even if she does, it might not be a disaster. Holly has probably already guessed about us. This may not be any surprise to her. Have you considered that possibility?”
The front door handle lifted.
“Fey,” Rye whispered. “She’s home. I have to go.”
Rye hung up. She grabbed Hedgerow and shoved it in the oven.
“It’s me,” Holly called.
“Um. In here. I’m just going to start dinner.”
While Rye cooked, Holly chatted about something that happened at school and a very strange customer in the store. Rye’s fear that Holly had leafed through Hedgerow magazine in the store failed to blossom into reality.
“Are you planning on seeing Daisy tomorrow?” Rye asked.
“No. One of her cousins is getting married. Her whole family has gone to CopseLake City for it.”
Rye mentally let out a sigh of relief. Mrs. Bark would be too busy to read her Hedgerow for a day or two.
“I’m going to crash,” Holly said. “Oh, did you finish those forms yet?”
“Um. Getting your ident number will take a little while longer. These government things take time.”
Holly frowned. “Can’t you do something? It’s been weeks.”
“I’m trying my hardest. Trust me.”
“I have three deadlines at the end of next week.”
“Oh. Really?”
“Yeah,” Holly said. “Two of them are the scholarships I’m most likely to get. Flora said so. I really, really don’t want to miss out. I finished all the other stuff and that stupid essay eons ago.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m doing my best.”
Rye waited until Holly was safely in her room before retrieving Hedgerow from the stove. She shut the living room door and sat at her desk. She glanced at her scribbling for menu plans. Getting a cooking job or two had looked so promising, but there was no way she was going to get both jobs paid in advance by the end of next week.
Much as she hated to do it, Rye was going to have to tell Holly that she couldn’t put in any applications yet. Holly was not going to like that. Just when they’d returned to talking to each other. Rye let her head fall into her hands. Life was shit. Just as she’d told Holly.
Rye sighed, shut her notebooks, undressed, and climbed into bed. She opened Hedgerow. The photograph jarred her nerves at first. The more she stared at it, though, the more it grew on her. So that’s what Flora looked like when she was being kissed. If only Rye didn’t know how miserable they both were at the moment the camera had captured them. Why didn’t that show?
Rye lay awake unable to sleep. Holly was going to learn that she was gay and had had an affair with Flora. The magazine reading world had a photograph of Rye Woods to study. What if someone recognised her as a fairy? With her wings hidden most people couldn’t tell, but what if they had specialist illegal immigrant hunters in the Immigration Service who were trained to spot disguised fairies? One of them idly flicking through her Hedgerow could see the picture. Or, perhaps, that new ambassador from Fairyland, the one who’d been a priestess; maybe she read Hedgerow. Glossy magazines were probably some form of evil, but anyone who was sent outside Fairyland to live as a representative must be regarded as holy enough to resist the lures of consumerism, frivolity, and vanity. Maybe they even had people at the embassy whose job it was to scour papers and magazines looking for escaped fairies.
That final kiss had sealed the end of her affair with Flora. It might be the end of Rye Woods.
Late on Fifth Day morning, Rye steered her broom up the ascending lane to the seventh floor and then around to the parking pad outside her apartment. She unlocked the door and carried the first bags of groceries inside.
“Holls? Are you back yet?”
Holly’s room was quiet and empty. Rye set the shopping on the kitchen table and went outside for the remainder. As she put her broom away, a chubby, green-skinned gremlin man trotted around from the neighbour’s landing. He was dressed well enough to look out of place against the second-hand, worked-in look of this neighbourhood, but his clothes were nowhere near the expensive, tailored trendiness of Flora’s area.
“Hello there!” He waved a small green claw at her. “Good morning, ma’am. Do I have the pleasure of talking with Ms. Rye Woods?”
Rye frowned as she bent to pick up her last shopping bags. “Who is asking?”
He pulled out a card striped with the colours of the rainbow and offered it to her despite her not having a free hand. “Spike Spignel, ma’am. Rainbow s End magazine.”
Magazine? The scowl she skewered him on sprang from a mixture of disbelief and dread.
“Our readers take an avid and natural interest in the lives of celebrities,” Spike said. “Your relationship with Flora Withe would –”
“Fuck off.”
Rye stepped past him, dropped her bags on the hall floor, and turned to shut the door. Spike threw his shoulder against it.
“Ma’am! I’ve got a great offer for you. If you’ll –”
“If you don’t get out of my doorway, I’ll knock you out.”
“Rainbow’s End would like –”
Rye shoved the door and knocked the little gremlin back. She thumped the door shut and slid the bolt into place. Fey. Someone had seen that photograph of her and Flora and not only managed to identify Rye but had found where she lived. What else had they discovered about her?
Spike knocked. “Our readers would like to know the story of you and Flora Withe! Ma’am? If you give Rainbow’s End an exclusive interview –”
“Fuck off! Leave me alone.”
“Two thousand pieces, ma’am!”
Rye frowned. Two thousand?
“Ms. Woods? Oh. Hello, Miss. Do you know Ms. Woods?”
“Rye?” Holly said. “Yes. She’s my sister.”
Rye slammed the bolt back and yanked the door open. Holly stood looking down at the journalist. Rye stomped out and grabbed the gremlin’s jacket.
“Listen to me,” Rye said. “You leave me and my family alone.”
“Rye?” Holly said.
“Go inside,” Rye said. “Shut the door.”
“But what –”
“Do as I say,” Rye said.
“Ms. Woods,” Spike Spignel said. “I enjoy face to face interviews, but this –”
“Shut up,” Rye said. “You listen to me, you annoying green fuck. You go away. You do not return. You do not try to contact me or any of my family again. Do you hear? Or should I punch you another ear hole in the front of your head?”
“Really, Ms. Woods. There’s no need for any unpleasantness.”
Rye dragged him to the railing and lifted him. “You want to talk? Okay. Let’s do it at the bottom.”
“Aah!” Spike grabbed for the railing. His skin paled to an unhealthy grey-green. “Ma’am! Ms. Woods. Please!”
Rye let him drop back onto the landing. “If you don’t want to go that way, use the stairs. Want me to help you down them?”
Spike backed away. “Look, Ms. Woods, Rainbow’s End can –”
Rye reached for him. Spike scuttled away and tripped down half a flight of stairs.
Rye stomped back to her door. She saw Holly at the window. Several neighbours watched. A tall, skinny pixie youth took a smoke from his lips and raised a fist in salute to Rye.
“Slick, bud! Very slick.”
Rye ignored him. She bolted the door and leaned back against it. She felt like a noose was tightening around her neck.
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Holly shouted from the living room.
Rye strode the few paces to snatch up the handset first.
“Hello? Am I speaking to Ms. Rye Woods?” a strange female voice asked.
“Who are you?” Rye asked
.
“I’m Violet Orris. I write for The Weekly Spore magazine. I was hoping to talk to Ms. Rye Woods about interviewing her for –”
“Go away and don’t ever call me again. Do you hear?”
Rye hung up.
“Who was that?” Holly asked.
“Wrong number.”
The phone rang again. Rye grabbed the cord and yanked it out of the wall. Holly stared. Rye brushed past her on her way into the living room. She pulled the shade across the window. Her wings were so defensively tight that the muscles across her chest ached.
“What’s going on?” Holly said. “Who was that man?”
Rye could feel part of her mind shutting down, just like before one of her panic attacks. But she couldn’t do that. She needed to think things through. It might not be as bad as she feared. That reporter had been interested in the sleaze about her and Flora, but he’d made no mention of her being a fairy.
“Rye? You’re acting way too strange. Are you on something?”
“Um. It’s just some stuff.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. I’m so used to seeing you threaten to toss guys off the tree that I can’t think why I’m mentioning it.”
“Look. Just give me a minute. I have to think.”
“Are you about to have a heart attack or something?”
That gremlin had offered her two thousand pieces. With that, she would be able to afford an ident number for Holly from Knife the goblin. But if she talked about her and Flora, the additional exposure would be putting her in that much more danger of discovery by the government. Still, if Holly had a number, she’d be safe. Wouldn’t she?
What a shitty thing to do to Flora. And the priestesses would use her confession of a homosexual affair against her when they dragged her back to Fairyland. It would be there in print with glossy photographs. Whatever other punishments they’d dish out for her having fled the country would be nothing to trying to cure her of eleven years worth of evil.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Holly asked.
“Crap.” Rye banged the heel of her hand against her forehead.
Holly would not be safe. If the government people got around to checking out Rye’s immigration status and shipping her back to Fairyland, they’d be able to smell out a fake ident number.
“Rye? What’s going on? Who was that guy? Why did you freak out on the phone?”
“I have to keep you safe,” Rye said.
“Safe? From what? That runty gremlin guy?”
Rye slumped on the sofa. She could imagine the next headline: Flora Fucks Illegal Alien. Nothing Rye might do could stop it. The darkness pressed in all around her. She could see no path out. She had ground to a standstill. The trap had sprung shut on her.
“Rye? I’m beginning to imagine all sorts of tragic shit.”
Rye sighed and sagged. “I’m all out of ideas. I’ve failed you.”
“I don’t understand. Failed what?”
Rye felt a hundred years old and so very weary. “You can’t apply for those scholarships. I’m sorry.”
“'What?'” Holly glared down at Rye.
“You don’t have a citizen ident number. Because you’re not a citizen. I’m sorry.”
“What the fuck?”
“I thought you’d be safe when you got your wings.”
“Safe? What do you mean?”
“I thought you’d get your citizenship when you became an adult,” Rye said. “That’s how it works in Fairyland. But it doesn’t work that way here. None of our relatives in Fairyland can claim you back once you get your wings, but what I didn’t realise was that you don’t get your citizenship here then. So, you’re not really safe from deportation. I only found out the other day.”
Holly set fists on her hips and scowled. “You didn’t bother asking before? I wasn’t important enough?”
“I thought I knew the answer. And there are some things that I find hard to do. Like talk to immigration.”
“Hard? You find it hard? What about me? It doesn’t matter to you that I can’t get a scholarship and do what I want for the rest of my life?”
“I suppose I should have told you before.”
“Fucking right you should’ve told me!” Holly shook her fists. “How could you let me think everything was okay? You promised me!”
“I know I did,” Rye said. “And I tried. I really did.”
“I don’t believe this! You’ve ruined my life!”
“I thought you’d be safe when you got your wings.”
“I don’t want fucking wings! I don’t want to be a fucking fairy freak! I want to be normal! I want to make something of myself. Not like you. But you’ve ruined all that, haven’t you? I hate you!”
Holly stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. She screamed with rage and frustration. Something heavy thumped against the wall. Her music blared into loud life. Rye slumped face down on the couch. So this was what it felt like when your world shattered around you.
Rye didn’t know how long she lay there. Holly’s music blasted through songs. Blank hopelessness played through Rye’s head. Someone knocked on the door. Rye ignored it. She got up and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed a jug of beer from a grocery bag and dropped into a chair. Life 1, Rye 0. Okay. But the game wasn’t over. She and Holly weren’t in Fairyland yet. There was no evidence that anyone had identified them as fairies.
After Rye finished her beer, she frowned at Holly’s bedroom door and sighed. She had to talk to her about this.
“Holly?” Rye pounded the door. “Holly? We need to talk.”
“Fuck off.”
Rye shoved the door open. Holly lay curled up on her bed. She hugged Mr. Bumble, a faded old stuffed toy which she’d had since she’d been a little girl. Rye’s heart hurt. She lowered herself to the side of the bed and saw that Holly had been crying. When Rye leaned across to turn the music volume down, Holly didn’t object. Rye stroked Holly’s shoulder. Mr. Bumble’s black button eye stared up at her.
“I never meant to hurt you, Holls,” Rye said. “Never that. I’m sorry.”
“I’m scared.”
Rye brushed blue-black curls away from Holly’s face. “We’re not going back. I’ve been thinking. Nobody from immigration or the government knows about us. I’m sure of it. So, I think we can make it right.”
“How?”
“Well, I talked to this woman in the Immigration Service. There are different ways they can make you a citizen.”
“Like what?”
“You can be a refugee,” Rye said. “Apparently that’s common with fairies.”
Holly sat up. “So, why don’t I become a refugee now?”
“Well, it’s complicated. We’d need to hire a lawyer.”
“Fey. How could you afford that?”
“I’ll find a way,” Rye said. “I’ll cook more dinners. Don’t worry about that for now. But even with a lawyer doing the application and stuff, it’ll take time.”
“I need to send those scholarship forms in!”
Rye sighed. “I know. But you can send them in next year, can’t you?”
Holly looked horrified. “Next year? Another year at that limping school? No way!”
“Maybe I’ve tried to protect you from this stuff for too long. Think about the alternatives. Would another year at school be worse than the rest of your life back in Fairyland?”
Holly scowled down at Mr. Bumble. “That reeks.”
“Yeah. Welcome to adulthood.”
Holly flashed her a resentful glare. “What are the other ways I could become a citizen? Would they be faster? And cheaper?”
“Um. What did she say? You’re not old enough to get married.” Rye straightened one of Mr. Bumble’s antennae. “And no one but me likes you enough to want to adopt you. So, I guess you’re stuck with me and with school for a year.”
“I could get someone to adopt me? I could ask Daisy’s mum. Or Flora! Yeah, I bet she’d adopt me.”
Rye was surprised how much that felt like a stinging slap in the face. “We’ll get a lawyer. Get your application in. Then you’ll be safe and have your ident for next year’s scholarships, okay? You don’t have to be afraid of anything. Okay?”
“Can you imagine how scathing it would be if Flora adopted me?”
“Can you forget Flora and pay attention? I’m trying to tell you that we’re going to be okay. But if the absolute worst happened, we could run away again. So, there’s no need to fret.”
“Run away? But that wouldn’t solve anything, would it? We’d just be illegal aliens in some other country.”
Rye shrugged. “If we had to, we’d do it. That’s all I’m saying.”
“This reeks.” Holly frowned. “But, then, who was that guy? The one you threatened to throw over the railing?”
Crap. “Um. Just a guy.”
Holly leaped off the bed and strode into the hall.
“Holly! Wait!” Rye darted into the hall to see Holly at the front door. “Don’t go out!”
Holly picked the rainbow striped card off the floor. “Spike Spignel. Rainbow’s End magazine? That’s one of those trashy gossip magazines. Why would a journalist leave his card under our door?”
“Um.”
“Shit!” Holly’s eyes snapped wide. “They’ve found out that we’re fairies. That’s why you’re all so panicked about us getting sent –”
“No! It’s not that.”
Holly scowled. “Then what is it? The only interesting thing about you is that you’re a fairy.”
Rye bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair. It failed to spark any inspiration.
“Flora,” Holly said.
Rye’s heart sank. “Um.”
“It’s because you know Flora. She’s famous.”
“Um. Yeah. They… they want me to tell them things about Flora. They found out somehow that we were friends. I don’t understand how that would be interesting, but… but they’re offering me money to do it.”
Holly’s face twisted with disgust. “What dregs! How could anyone think – Rye! You’re not! You wouldn’t do that to Flora?”
“No,” Rye said. “I sent him away. They started calling, too. That’s why I pulled the phone. Look, I think we would be best lying low and letting them forget us.”