by A W Hartoin
“She’s a wood fairy,” said Farue. “That’s all you need to know. Now let’s get them to the History Museum.”
Farue, Lrag, and Bentha were all trying frantically to get Gerald and Iris’s attention, but they fluttered around not paying attention.
“I only heard of one Matilda,” said Earl.
“There’s plenty of Matildas. Pack it up and let’s go,” said Farue.
Gerald flew down and landed beside me with his usual know-it-all expression. “But there’s only one kindler and she’s it.”
Earl and Stanley jumped up and backed away.
“Oh, no. We ain’t taking that devil fairy anywhere,” said Stanley.
“She’ll burn our butts off,” said Earl.
Farue sighed. “You just had to do it, Gerald. Couldn’t you see me signaling?”
“What?” asked Gerald.
“They know about Matilda and believe it or not they figured out that she set fire to Stanley’s feet six months ago.” Farue turned to Earl and Stanley. “Calm down. Matilda’s real sick. She doesn’t have her fire and she needs your help.”
“No way, man,” said Stanley. “I got scars from those sixth degree burns she gave me.”
“I won’t do anything to you. I promise,” I said. “I need to get to the museum to help my teacher.”
“I’m not taking any chances. She’ll probably set fire to the van and we’ll crash it. Mr. Hornbuckle’ll kill us.”
“I don’t have fire right now. Honest,” I said.
“That horen said he wouldn’t do nothing, and he tried to kill me. He exploded my pants,” said Earl.
“I’m not a horen. Not even close.”
Farue rubbed his chin. “I’ll tell you what. You’re worried about that cabinet that got exploded, right?”
“We’re going to get fired for that,” said Earl. “You fairies are ruining our lives.”
“And our lives sucked already,” said Stanley.
“I’ll make you a deal. You take Matilda, Iris, and Gerald to the museum and we’ll take care of that cabinet,” said Farue.
“You can’t fix it. You’re tiny,” said Stanley.
“We’ll make it look like an accident. Drop some ceiling panels on it or something. Hornbuckle will chalk it up to the building.”
Earl and Stanley pondered that for a couple minutes and by the looks on their faces they lost track of the decision a couple of times.
“Where do we have to go?” asked Earl.
“History Museum. Deliver them to the curator and you’re done. But we don’t have a lot of time. The museum is about to close. Do we have a deal or not?” asked Farue.
“I’m really sorry about your foot,” I said. “If I’d known you could see me, I’d never have done it.”
“You promise never to do it again?” asked Stanley.
I crossed my heart, a gesture I learned from Tess. I was ready to move up to pinky swear, but the two of them nodded. Stanley put his hand down for me and when I stopped gagging from the smell of hamburger grease and smoke, I appreciated the gesture. Farue and several phalanx started to help me, but Lrag jumped off Stanley’s head and ran down his arm. “Permission to accompany Matilda to the museum?”
Farue nodded. “Granted.”
Bentha climbed down Earl and somersaulted onto the floor. “I will go as well.”
“I’ll protect Matilda, too,” said Gerald, lashing the air with his sword.
“You were always going,” said Iris, landing beside him.
“I know that. But I’m going to protect her, too.”
“She doesn’t need you. She has Lrag and Bentha.”
“I’m a warrior now. You should respect me. You can’t fight at all.”
“Neither can you,” said Iris.
“Tell her, Bentha. Tell her I’m a warrior now,” said Gerald, his eyes a little watery.
Bentha swallowed a smile. “I’ll say this. Gerald is as good a beginning swordsman as any nine-year-old wood fairy I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s because you’ve never—” said Iris.
I cut her off. “Iris, my leg is killing me. I need...a hug.” It was the best I could come up with, but Iris bought it, the big softy. She rushed over and hugged me. Oddly enough, it did kind of make me feel better.
Lrag picked me up, hopped over a couple of Stanley’s big yellow calluses, and picked a flat spot in his palm. A minute later we were in the van, waving to Farue and the phalanx.
“When do you think we’ll see them again?” asked Iris.
“You can visit anytime you want,” I said.
“You can, too,” said Gerald. “They’ll get over the antidote thing.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.” I snuggled into Lrag’s warm chest as Stanley placed us all on the black shelf between the seats.
“Gross, Stanley. Don’t you ever clean?” Iris pointed at a pool of goo. The same goo that had been there six months ago when we’d been in the van, except now it had dead flies and used tissues stuck in it.
“What’re you talking about?” asked Stanley.
Iris stomped her foot. “This was here the last time we rode in this van. Have you no pride in your area?”
I grinned. She sounded just like Mom.
“When was that? You weren’t never in this van before,” said Earl.
“It was six months ago when you delivered a mahogany mantel to the Elliot family,” I said.
“I don’t remember that.”
“You couldn’t see us then,” said Gerald.
“This is disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourselves,” said Iris.
“Looks okay to me,” said Stanley.
Bentha climbed up the dashboard and pointed his sword at Stanley behind the wheel. “Drive and I’ll forget to perforate your bulbous nose for ignoring me.” Then he ran to a rectangle perched on the dash and pressed the “I accept” button. He punched in numbers and an address, and then the rectangle said, “Drive to Sweet Circle.”
Lrag settled down on the shelf as far from the goo as possible. “Won’t be long now.”
I fell asleep with no fears and no dreams.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A HAND SHOOK me and I struggled to open my eyes. A cool breeze caressed my face and I smelled the scent of spring flowers, daffodils and tulips, but it was quickly replaced by stale smoke and body odor. The first thing I saw was Stanley’s hairy nostril, not a sight I’d recommend, especially when you first wake up.
“Stanley, you need a trim,” I said.
He held his hand up in front of his face and cast a dim eye on me. “Trim what?”
“Your nose hairs.”
“Nobody sees up my nose.”
“I am right now.”
That seemed to confuse him, so I let it drop. “Where are we?”
“The museum.”
I shifted in Lrag’s arms as Stanley carried us up wide stairs, leading to an enormous building made of grey stone and braced by a row of columns that spanned the building.
“That’s huge. How will we know where to go?” I asked Lrag.
“The galen are in the medical exhibit.”
Bentha ran down Stanley’s arm and hopped onto his palm. “Do they have an arms exhibit?”
“Why would they keep a bunch of arms?” asked Earl, walking up next to us. “Wouldn’t they get all rotten?”
Gerald and Iris fluttered next to Earl’s shoulder. Gerald shook his head and looked appalled. I didn’t know if it was the smell or the arms comment. They were equally bad.
“It’s arms, stupid. Not arms,” said Stanley.
“Arms is arms,” replied Earl.
Bentha ran out to Stanley’s elbow and drew his sword. “No. This is an arm, my dim fellow, as in ‘I am armed’ or ‘Take up your arms.’
Earl’s brow creased. “I always thought that saying was weird in movies. How could you take up arms? You already got your arms.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Lrag. “He’s almost got
a point. I don’t know why we call them arms.”
We reached the top of the stairs. Earl opened a large glass door and warm air rushed out. Stanley stepped inside and I gazed up in wonder at the high domed ceiling, painted with a nature scene. There were deer, rabbits, and all sorts of flowers and trees. The paint glowed from the late afternoon sun shining in the windows just under the dome. The detail was so intricate and lifelike, it was almost like looking into the forest that surrounded Whipplethorn Manor, and I got a wave of homesickness. I held out my hand and Iris landed next to me. She took my hand, but kept her eyes up. She spoke, but I couldn’t see her lips.
I squeezed her hand. “I didn’t get that.”
She kept facing up until I squeezed again. Then she looked at me with brimming blue eyes. “It’s just like home. Humans can do anything.”
Just then Earl horked up a phlegm ball and spat it into a used tissue. Iris turned green and shivered. Sometimes I think I’m lucky to have had snail pox. At least I didn’t have to hear that.
“Some humans can do anything,” I said.
Lrag’s chest rumbled under me. “I’ve heard Germany’s got impressive museums.”
“Do you come from Germany?” asked Iris.
“My species does. I was born in New Jersey. I’ll go someday.”
“Hey,” said Earl, pointing at a sign above a desk surrounded by humans. “We got to pay for tickets to get in here.”
“No way. They should pay us. This place is boring, and I ain’t got no money,” said Stanley.
About ten humans glanced back at us and for once I was glad we were invisible to the average human eye, so these people dressed in their well-cut clothes couldn’t see who we were with. A little girl dressed in a pink smocked dress pointed and said, “What’s wrong with them?”
Her mother blushed and shushed her.
Iris put her hands on her hips. “That’s not nice. They can’t help it.”
Gerald landed, his cheeks pink, I supposed with embarrassment. “Maybe not, but it’s a good question.”
Earl leaned in and peered at us. His nose hairs put Stanley’s to shame. “Who can’t help what?”
“Nothing, Earl,” I said. “Thanks for bringing us.”
“I still ain’t got no money.”
“Never fear. The curator is part of the network,” said Bentha, hopping down into Stanley’s palm and looking quite proud of himself as he did it. Come to think of it, Bentha always looked proud of something. Proud was his natural expression.
“What’s a curator?” asked Stanley.
“Dad, that man’s talking to his hand,” said a boy about four years old. His father tugged him away into the crowd.
Earl and Stanley didn’t notice. Both of them hovered over Stanley’s hand, and I wanted to tell them to act more normal but who knew what normal meant to them?
“The curator is in charge of the museum.” Lrag shifted me into one arm, and he pointed to a desk further inside the museum labeled “Information”. “Go over there and ask for Mr. Van Winkle.”
“Van Winkle’s not a real name,” said Earl.
“He must be a fairy, too,” said Stanley.
“It is, in fact, a human name.” Bentha slashed his sword toward the information desk. “Onward, idiots!”
“Who’s he calling idiots?” asked Stanley.
At that point, every human in the place was looking at us. If we didn’t get in soon, somebody’d call a doctor and get Earl and Stanley hauled off to an insane asylum. Judd’s mom was always saying he was driving her into one and from her description, it sounded like Earl and Stanley had a good shot at becoming inmates if they weren’t careful.
Gerald flew up in front of Earl and Stanley. He put his hands on his chest and his face went all crestfallen. “Us. He’s calling us idiots. He thinks we’re morons because we’re kids.”
Stanley got all serious. “People were always calling me a moron when I was a kid.”
“Yeah,” said Earl. “Me, too.”
“Happens to everyone, I guess,” said Gerald. “Will you please take us to the desk and ask for Mr. Van Winkle?”
“If they laugh at me, it’ll be your fault,” said Stanley.
“I take full responsibility,” said Gerald.
“All right then.”
Iris gave Gerald a thumbs-up, and he winked at her.
Earl and Stanley marched over to the desk. Stanley held his hand far out like he was carrying something diseased. The other humans watched us with a mixture of amusement and concern.
“I really shouldn’t be embarrassed. They can’t see us,” I said.
“You’re embarrassed for Earl and Stanley because they don’t have enough sense to be embarrassed for themselves,” said Lrag in my ear. “It’s a good thing.”
“Not really,” I said, and Lrag grinned.
“What was that?” said Stanley loudly to his hand.
I waved at him. “Nothing. Nothing. Lrag thinks Gerald should toughen up about the whole moron thing.”
“You just don’t understand kids. They can’t help it if they’re stupid.”
“I apologize,” said Lrag.
There was a young woman about college age with glasses and a blazer behind the information desk. Once she realized we were heading toward her, she started glancing around like she might make a run for it.
“Hey there,” said Earl.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hey,” said Stanley. “Nice glasses.”
I couldn’t tell if he was complimenting her or making fun of her glasses. Neither could she, if I went by her expression.
“Um...may I help you?” she asked in response.
“Don’t make fun of me, but I’m supposed to ask for Mr. Van Winkle,” said Earl.
“That’s not a real name, is it?” asked Stanley, leaning on the desk. “Cause I think it’s made up.”
“Are you sure you’re in the right place? This is the Langenfeld History Museum,” she said.
“Oh, it’s the right place. That GPS said so. Is Van Winkle a real name or not?” asked Stanley.
“Mr. Thaddeus Van Winkle is our curator.” She raised her hand to the security guard, but he was watching a toddler barreling toward a suit of armor.
“Is that the guy?” Stanley asked us, and the girl went crimson while staring at Stanley’s hand.
“That’s him,” said Lrag.
“That’s the guy. Give him a ring, will ya? Tell him we got him a special delivery.”
Stanley nodded at Earl, and they both chuckled.
“Mr. Van Winkle is very busy. You should come back tomorrow,” she said.
“No way,” said Earl. “We got stuff to do. He’ll want what we got. Sure as shooting.”
She waved at the security guard who’d managed to ward off the toddler until the parent dragged the child off. He was now wiping the sweat from his brow and looking for the next problem. He saw the information girl and sized up Earl and Stanley in an instant. He headed over with his hand on his nightstick.
Stanley turned red. “What’d you call him for?”
“We ain’t done nothing,” said Earl.
“Be calm,” said Lrag. “Remember, they don’t know why you’re here.”
“I could tell them.” Stanley raised his hand to eye level.
“No, don’t do that,” I said. “Just be polite and tell them you’re from the antique mall. You have a delivery from Javis Hornbuckle.”
“Who?” asked Stanley.
Earl elbowed him in the ribs. “Mr. Hornbuckle, stupid.”
The security guard arrived and looked Earl and Stanley up and down. Then he nodded to the information girl. “What seems to be the trouble, Rachel?”
“These...gentlemen want to see Mr. Van Winkle.”
“I see. Mr. Van Winkle is very busy. Come back tomorrow, fellows.”
“We ain’t leaving until we see that Van Winkle guy. You can’t make us,” said Stanley.
Lrag groaned and Bentha
started looking around for an alternate plan.
“Can you jump with Matilda onto the desk?” Bentha asked.
“I wouldn’t want to chance missing it,” said Lrag. “It won’t trouble me, but Matilda couldn’t take the fall.”
“Move closer, Stanley!” yelled Bentha. “We’ll get off and you can go.”
But Earl and Stanley weren’t paying attention. It’d dawned on them that the information girl and security guard didn’t think they were good enough to see Mr. Van Winkle and they were hopping mad about it. In Earl’s case, he was literally hopping. The security guard fingered the walkie-talkie on his belt, probably wondering where the nearest nuthouse was.
“We can be here!” yelled Stanley. “This is a public place!”
“Tell them about Mr. Hornbuckle!” I yelled, but they didn’t hear me.
Another security guard joined the first and they got in between the desk and Earl and Stanley. They pushed them back toward the door through crowds of nosy humans.
“Just jump,” I said.
“No!” yelled Bentha. “We’ll find another way.”
Stanley backed into the door, yelling about his rights when a man in a natty grey suit appeared at his elbow. “What’s happening here, Mr. Carlson?”
The security guard backed up and straightened his jacket. “These two refused to leave, Mr. Van Winkle.”
The man in the suit glanced down at me. I saw the recognition in his eyes and a thrill ran through me. Being seen for the first time by a new human never gets old.
“You’re Mr. Van Winkle?” asked Stanley. “That your real name?”
“Yes, it is. It’s okay, Mr. Carlson. These gentlemen are bringing me something and I forgot to tell you to expect them. It’s completely my fault. I apologize.”
Mr. Carlson and his cohort didn’t look completely convinced. They wandered away, but kept an eye on Earl and Stanley.
“Sorry about that,” said Mr. Van Winkle. “If Mrs. Hobbs hadn’t noticed you, I’d never have known you were here.” He gestured to a plump woman with dimples, smiling behind a ticket counter.
Iris blushed. “She can see us, too?”
“Yes, she can.” Mr. Van Winkle was careful not to look down at us, so he wouldn’t look as crazy as Earl and Stanley. “Please come this way.”
He led us back through the crowd toward the information desk.