by A W Hartoin
I found the pouch of meadowsweet. Grandma Vi used it to relieve swelling after wing sprains and it worked well. But I didn’t know if Miss Penrose’s swollen legs were the cause of the heart trouble or just a symptom. I dug around and found a vial of ma huang. It was used for treating simple colds and flu, but had the side effect of increasing heart rate.
“What is that?” asked Iris. “Are you going to give it to Miss Penrose?”
I tucked the vial back into its spot. “I can’t until I know what’s wrong with her. It might make her worse.”
Worse probably meant dead but I didn’t say that. I gently shook Miss Penrose’s shoulder and she opened her eyes a little wider than before.
“Matilda, you’re still here,” she said.
“I’m not going anywhere. Are you in pain?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You have to tell me.”
“My chest hurts when I breathe.”
I dove back into the bag and came up with a eucalyptus balm and a ginger tincture. I unbuttoned her bodice and rubbed the balm on her chest. She opened her eyes briefly and said, “That’s nice.”
“I thought you were afraid to give her anything,” said Ursula.
“This is just eucalyptus. It will open her bronchial tubes if they’re constricted. It’s very mild but soothing.” I opened the ginger tincture and sucked one tiny drop into an eyedropper. “This tincture should help with the pain that comes from inflammation in the chest.”
Ursula pulled back. “I don’t know. Maybe you should wait.”
“Give me the tincture,” said Miss Penrose with her eyes still closed but her voice more strained. “It can’t hurt.”
“Maybe it can,” said Ursula.
“There’s an herb list in the back of the reference. Look it up,” I said.
Ursula flipped through and read, “Reduces chest inflammation and the pain associated with it. Do not use with bleeding. May thin the blood.”
Miss Penrose looked at me, her eyes glazed and unfocused.
“When did the swelling start?” I asked her.
“Months ago, but it comes and goes.”
“Have you had any bleeding? Coughing up blood? Blood anywhere?”
“No.” Miss Penrose’s lips went a darker shade of blue.
“Ursula, do her legs look more swollen to you?” I asked.
Ursula stared at Miss Penrose’s legs and then at me. “Yes, they do. They’re bigger.”
Iris grabbed my arm. “What’ll we do? What’ll we do?”
I shook Iris off and put the tincture back. “That isn’t going to do it. Miss Penrose, is the pain in your chest worse?”
She nodded. She clearly didn’t have the breath to speak. I went back into the bag and looked at the medicines it contained, running over their uses and precautions in my mind. When I looked back at Miss Penrose’s face, it had gone slack.
“Matilda!” screeched Ursula, shaking Miss Penrose’s shoulder. “She won’t wake up! Do something!”
There was nothing for it but to go ahead and make my best guess. I plucked the ma huang and meadowsweet out of the bag and measured out three drops of each.
“The adults are coming. A lot of them,” said Iris.
“She’s dying,” said Ursula. “They don’t trust you. Do it quick before they get here.”
I nodded and squeezed out the first drop. It fell between Miss Penrose’s lips and absorbed into her blue tongue.
CHAPTER THREE
“MATILDA WHIPPLETHORN, STOP what you’re doing this instant,” bellowed Gregor Whipplethorn, Ursula’s father, a stout man with deep frown lines that became even deeper around me.
I froze, still holding the dropper over Miss Penrose’s lips. Gregor flew straight at me, his hands outstretched to snatch away the dropper.
“Do it!” yelled Iris.
I squeezed the dropper and the liquid disappeared into Miss Penrose’s gaping mouth. Gregor hit me an instant later, knocking me flat and cracking my head painfully on a rock.
“What have you done, Kindler?” he yelled in my face.
My palms crackled, but before I could form the fireballs that I was seriously considering burning his face off with, my dad flew over and knocked Gregor sideways into the mud of the creek.
“Never touch my daughter!” Dad yelled.
“The kindler killed Penrose!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! And my daughter’s name is Matilda, as you well know!”
Gregor climbed out of the mud and charged toward Dad. Ursula got between them. “Matilda didn’t do anything. Miss Penrose was already really sick when she got here.”
“She gave her something,” said Gregor, his muddy fists still clenched.
“I...I...told her...” Ursula stood shaking in front of her father.
I jumped to my feet, head throbbing. “Ursula didn’t do anything. I decided to give Miss Penrose the medications.”
“You admit it then,” said Gregor.
“I do, and I’m not sorry. It was the only choice,” I said.
“Matilda,” said a soft, feathery voice.
We all looked down at Miss Penrose, whose eyes were open. I dropped to my knees and took her pulse. It was still weak and slow, but not quite as bad. “Ursula, listen to her chest.”
Ursula listened. “It’s better, but still not like it’s supposed to be. Can you give her more?”
“She’s not giving her another thing.” Gregor grabbed Ursula by the arm and dragged her away from me and Miss Penrose.
“Do you have a better idea?” asked Dad, glaring at Gregor and then the rest of the men assembled behind him.
“We’ll find another healer,” said Thomas, Sadie’s father.
“Excellent idea, except we’ve been looking for a new healer since Vi died last year.”
Gregor stalked up to Dad and got in his face. “She’s not trained.”
“You didn’t have a problem with her training when your boy got the flu last year,” yelled Dad.
“That was different.”
“The only difference is that now you know she’s a kindler.”
Mom and our neighbor, Mrs. Zamora, landed next to the men. They all, except Dad, took a step back at the sight of Mrs. Zamora, fear showing in their faces. Mom pushed Dad back and glared at him and Gregor. “What is going on here?”
“He thinks Matilda is trying to poison Miss Penrose because she’s a kindler and, obviously, that’s what a kindler would do,” said Dad.
Mom turned to Gregor, furious. It’s a good thing Mom wasn’t a kindler. He’d have been sporting a hot, flaming head.
“I never said that!” yelled Gregor.
“You implied it!” yelled Dad.
“Stop it!” Mom yelled.
Mrs. Zamora knelt beside me, her long brown hair swirling around her slim waist. She took Miss Penrose’s pale hand in her light brown one and stroked my aching head. If anyone understood what it was like to be me, it was Mrs. Zamora. She and her whole family were mindbenders. They were able to hear other’s thoughts and manipulate minds, so the Zamoras scared most wood fairies senseless. How the Whipplethorn fairies felt about me was nothing to how they felt about the Zamoras. I scared them, but mindbenders instilled irrational dread. They were the stuff of children’s stories. Parents told their kids “If you don’t eat your dinner, the mindbenders will get you.” Even I had a hard time getting used to being friends with them.
Everyone stared at Mrs. Zamora and took a few more steps back as if distance would stop her from getting into their brains and making them do unspeakable things. She could easily if she wanted to, but she would never even take a peek inside their heads. Mindbenders took vows not to do it unless it was a matter of life and death. Plus, why would Mrs. Zamora want to get into their nasty brains? It would be like rolling around in thought garbage.
“What did you give her?” asked Mrs. Zamora.
“Meadowsweet and ma huang.”
“I feel a lot better,” said Miss P
enrose.
“Then Matilda chose wisely as she always does.” Mrs. Zamora shot a glance at Gregor and he wrapped his arms around Ursula. He probably wanted to put some stupid anti-mindbender helmet on her.
“No more of this nasty squabbling,” said Mom. “Penrose needs to be taken home. Start making a litter.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” said Gregor.
“Fine. What would you like to do?”
Gregor answered with a glare.
Mrs. Zamora asked me for Grandma Vi’s quick reference. She reached for it with the hand that had been stroking my head and found it coated with blood.
Mom dropped to her knees. “Penrose, do you know where you’re bleeding from?”
“It’s not me.” Miss Penrose raised a weak hand and pointed at me.
Mom and Mrs. Zamora examined the back of my head. Ursula tried to come to me, but her father held her back.
“She’s got a cut on the back of her head,” said Mom, rising to her feet.
“Gregor!” yelled Dad.
“You did that?” Mom stared at Gregor. Her eyes filled with tears. “How could you? You’ve known her since birth.”
Gregor shrunk down and all the angry redness drained out of his face. “It was an accident.”
“Accidents happen when you push people,” said Iris, turning red herself. My little sister. There was a fighter buried somewhere beneath all that blond fluffiness.
Dad grabbed Gregor by the shirt. “That’s it. I’ve had it with you.”
Gregor thrust Ursula behind him. “Fine.”
I flew up, wedging myself between their chests. “Miss Penrose has to go home right now. You didn’t mean to hurt me, did you?”
Gregor’s eyes lost their fight. “No, I didn’t. Of course I didn’t.”
“Then, please, go make a litter,” I said.
“He should apologize,” said Dad.
Gregor lifted his lip in a snarl.
“Dad, it’s okay. Really.”
“Apologize!”
Mom pulled me from between them and smacked Gregor on the shoulder. “Gregor Whipplethorn, apologize for making a mistake. That’s what people do. They apologize for mistakes, unless you’re saying it wasn’t a mistake.”
Gregor blew out a deep breath. “It was a mistake. I apologize.”
The men and Ursula went to make a litter while Mom treated the back of my head with balm of gilead, an antiseptic and pain-reliever.
“You shouldn’t have made him apologize, Mom. They’ll never let Dad be a normal club member again.”
Mom tucked a lock of long dark hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t matter, Matilda. It’ll never be the same. Dad just doesn’t know it yet.”
“I ruined everything. I shouldn’t have told them what I was. We could’ve all been normal.” My chest started hurting worse than my head.
Miss Penrose took my hand. “You are normal. You’re normal for you.” She closed her eyes and went to sleep, peaceful, not like before.
Mom touched Miss Penrose’s thigh. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Did Grandma Vi describe this to you, Matilda?”
“No, I’ve never heard of it,” I said.
“I have,” Mrs. Zamora said.
“Really,” we said in chorus.
“Well, it was a human in our last house before Whipplethorn.”
“Human illnesses are often similar. How was it treated?” asked Mom.
“They took him to the hospital many times. I didn’t see the actual treatment. He had the swollen legs, paleness, and blue lips.”
I looked down at Miss Penrose with her still blue lips and rapid breathing and asked for the answer I dreaded, “What happened?”
Mrs. Zamora put her elegant arm around my shoulders. “He died.”
CHAPTER FOUR
WE ARRIVED HOME with Miss Penrose in a litter to find Eunice standing in our front door backlit by the luminescent mushrooms glowing in our hall. Our fungus was always welcoming. Eunice wasn’t. She had a broom and wore rather a disgusted expression.
“What’s wrong, Eunice?” asked Mom as we hovered beside the door.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. These things are disgusting, absolutely disgusting.”
Mom’s shoulders slumped. “How many did you find?”
“I lost count after thirty.” Eunice squawked and smacked something with the broom. After a short tussle, she swept a green lizard the size of my hand out the door. The lizard tumbled through the air and then spread its limbs which had a translucent membrane between them. It glided to the ground, flying squirrel style.
“You’ve got a lizard infestation?” asked Gregor with a disgusted look of his own. “Maybe we should take Penrose to my house.”
“No,” said Mom. “She needs to be close to Matilda. The lizards are no big deal. We’re working on getting rid of them.”
Gregor agreed, even though Eunice swept two more lizards out the door. Gregor would never have agreed, if Mom had told him the cause of our infestation. He could’ve put it together, if he’d bothered to think about it. The lizards were fire lizards. I was the cause, of course. They sensed I was a kindler and wanted to be with me. The feeling was not mutual. We’d been infested for a month and we just couldn’t get rid of them. Mom would sweep them all out and a day later they’d be back. Dad sealed all our doors and windows, but they always got in.
We left Eunice fighting the lizards as the men carried Miss Penrose, careful not to step on any lizards, and placed her on the guest bed in the room next to mine. As soon as she was settled, the men practically ran out the door. They’d have been ashamed of themselves if they could’ve seen the fear in their eyes. Fear of a fourteen-year-old girl and the beautiful Mrs. Zamora.
Dad stroked his chin. “I think I’ll go have a word with Gregor.”
“Please don’t,” said Mom. “It won’t help.”
“We’re all Whipplethorns, Adele.”
“Some of us more than others,” Mom said.
“I have to make them see that Matilda isn’t dangerous.”
“You can’t. They’ll have to see it for themselves.”
Dad stood and looked at me for a second, frustration and sorrow showing in his eyes. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll check on those Home Depot fairies instead.” Dad kissed Mom and left.
Mom touched my cheek and suddenly it was okay if Gregor and the rest of Dad’s old friends didn’t accept me as long as Mom and Dad did. At least I got Ursula to speak to me a little. She was worth a million of her father.
I checked Miss Penrose’s pulse. Mom listened to her heart and described it the same way Ursula had. Iris gave Miss Penrose a drink of water and we watched as she fell asleep.
“I better go see if I can find this illness in Grandma’s books,” I said.
“Ask Mrs. Zamora if it’s okay.” Mom started to walk past us, and then stopped short. “Great flea infestation!”
Iris and I followed Mom into the hall. I couldn’t hear what was upsetting Mom, but a second later Horc and Mrs. Zamora’s baby, Easy, rolled out a door, smacking each other and trying to get a good grip on each other’s necks.
“Stop that!” shouted Mom.
The babies didn’t stop and rolled across the hall into my room. Before we could move, they ran out again, yelping and covered with lizards. They ran around in circles on their chubby legs.
Mrs. Zamora slipped past me and swept up Easy. She peeled a lizard off the side of his face and tossed it to me. The stupid thing cooed and gave me love eyes. Horc sat down on his plump butt and wailed. Mom rolled her eyes, but picked him up anyway.
She pulled at a particularly stubborn lizard stuck to the back of his bald head. “Horc, this is ridiculous. You eat stinkbugs, but you’re afraid of little old lizards?”
Horc looked up at her with big drippy eyes. “I’m not afraid. I’m disgusted. There’s a difference.”
“Eating a fresh stinkbug isn’t disgusting?” Mom asked, still yanking on the lizar
d.
“It’s food.”
“If you’d eat the lizards, that’d solve a lot of our problems,” I said.
“They are offensive to my palate,” said Horc. “I don’t like black pepper.”
“Are you saying you tasted one?” asked Mom.
“I might have.”
“Oh, gross!” Iris danced around, shaking her arms like they were covered in lizards, which they weren’t. Then she ran into her room. There were never any lizards in there. Unlike my room, which was lizard central.
Mom sighed. “I can’t get this one off Horc. Come here, Matilda.”
“Seriously, Mom? Just yank it off,” I said, crossing my arms.
Mom held out Horc to me and his remaining lizards lifted their heads and leapt from Horc to me.
“Thanks, Mom. You’re awesome,” I said.
“Just throw them out the window and stop crabbing. Nobody is happy about these lizards.”
One of the ten lizards on me crawled onto my face and wrapped its prehensile tail around my nose. “I’m pretty sure I’m the most unhappy about it.”
Mom pushed me into my room and pointed to the window. “It’s not worth arguing about.”
I opened my window and tugged at the lizard on my face. The suckers on the bottom of its feet pulled at my skin. “Get off.” The lizard came off with a pop and stared at me with adoration.
I dropped it out the window and shouted, “I do not love you! Stay out!”
Eunice bustled into my room with five more lizards in her arms and dumped them out the window. Then she helped pluck the rest off me.
“I think that’s all of them,” she said. “I just don’t understand how they’re getting in. I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if we knew where they were pooping.”