A Fairy's Guide to Disaster (3 page)

The mantel stopped moving and I put my hand over Iris’s mouth to stifle her cries and tried to hear if the humans were talking. If they were, I couldn’t make out a word. The mantel lurched upward, driving us against the wall and then dropped. I held on to Iris as we flew into the air for a moment and then back down.

“You have to stop crying, Iris. I can’t hear anything. Are they talking? What are they doing with us?” I squeezed her and took my hand off her mouth.

“Something about crown molding and flooring,” said Iris, voice still quaking. “I think they’re walking away.”

Iris buried her face in my neck and hugged me. I rubbed my sister’s back and looked around the dim hall that used to be tastefully decorated. A few windows in the bedrooms must’ve remained open. Slits of light came through the doors, highlighting the debris. Particles of dust hung in the air and shone multi-colored, taunting me with their beauty amid the destruction. Broken furniture, clothing, plates, and cups littered the hall. All the mushrooms we used for illumination were damaged and fading. I didn’t see my favorite, Barbara, anywhere. Then I remembered we weren’t alone.

“Gerald,” I called out.

“He’s awake,” said Iris. “He wants to know where we are.”

“We’re in the hall above you.” I let go of Iris and patted her shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m going to get Gerald.”

Iris nodded, stuck two fingers in her mouth and began sucking them like she did when she was two. I struggled to my feet on legs that felt loose and wobbly like the bones had been removed. My head swam a little when I stood up.

“I’m coming, Gerald,” I said, not at all sure if I could get to him and afraid of what I might discover when I did.

I walked with mincing, painful steps to the door of my parents’ bedroom and looked down. Gerald lay below me to the right, pushing at the bureau and muttering. I squatted, held onto the door frame, and swung myself down into the bedroom. I dropped, hitting the side rail of my parents’ bed and bonking my head on one of the bedposts. I was glad nobody was there to see me falling all over the place except Gerald and I didn’t care what he thought of me.

When I straightened up, rubbing my head and cursing under my breath, the sight of Mom’s special place stopped me cold. Everything was ruined. From the delicately carved furniture my father made, to the Venetian glass mirror Mom prized. There were spots of wet where her perfume bottles had struck the wall and left their contents. The smell of Mom’s scents brought tears to my eyes. What would Mom and Dad say? I knew it couldn’t possibly be my fault. Mom didn’t even put humans on the list, but still I suspected my hearing didn’t help the situation any.

“Matilda?” Gerald’s voice broke into my thoughts. For once, his face didn’t hold a resentful expression, only frightened and pained. Blood coated his left cheek and an angry bruise bloomed below that. His wings were crumpled and a bit frayed, but since wings healed quickly, I wasn’t too worried about them. Gerald’s arm, which hung from his shoulder at an odd angle, was a much bigger concern. I was the worst babysitter ever. It couldn’t have been any worse if I’d set him on fire.

“Is the bureau on you?” I asked.

“No. I think I’m just stuck between it and the bed.”

I pushed the bed away from Gerald and it collapsed. I slipped and fell to the floor, banging my knees and ripping holes in my black tights. Gerald shifted his weight and cried out when his arm touched the bureau.

“Don’t get up yet.” I rubbed my knees. “I have to think.”

The woodworking book flew past my head and landed at my feet. I looked up to see Iris waving in the doorway to get my attention. “Matilda, I hear something.”

“What? Is it Mom and Dad?” I asked.

“No. It’s crying,” said Iris.

Crying? Who would be crying? Everyone else had gone to the berry harvest.

“Matilda, pull me up,” said Gerald.

“Wait,” I said. “Can you hear it?”

Gerald’s face screwed back into its usual expression of resentful self-righteousness. “You’re supposed to be helping me,” he said.

“Gerald, do you hear it or not?” I stomped my foot, crushing a bit of glass into a powder.

“It’s that baby,” he said. “Now help me up.”

I took his left arm, the uninjured one, and hauled him to his feet. He winced at the pain in his right shoulder. “I think it might be disconnected,” he said.

“I’ll have to pop it back in,” I said. How to fix a dislocated arm was on the list. I’d read the instructions a dozen times, but the thought of wrenching Gerald’s arm back into its socket made me nauseous.

Gerald raised his eyebrows. “Has your magic come in yet?”

“No, it hasn’t. But the instructions were on the list. It is good for something.”

“No way. You won’t be able to stop the swelling. My dad will do it.”

“Suit yourself, but it could be hours before your dad comes back. Listen again. Are you sure it’s a baby?”

“Yes,” Gerald said in a long, bored tone.

I strained my ears, but I still couldn’t hear a thing. “Iris, do you think it’s the baby, Ezekiel?”

Iris’s face appeared over the edge of the door frame above us. “I think so. Why’s he crying like that? Where’s his mama?”

I shrugged. I thought our neighbors in the other leg of the mantel had gone to the berry harvest like everyone else. The Zamoras were new neighbors and I didn’t know them well. They’d moved into the mantel after my grandmother died and I didn’t visit because I didn’t want to see Grandma Vi’s home changed. Plus, they had the new baby, Ezekiel, and didn’t get out much.

“He’s still crying,” said Iris.

“Mrs. Zamora will take care of him,” I said.

“If she’s there,” said Gerald, sitting down on the floor and rubbing his arm. “Maybe she flew off and left him when all this happened.”

“Shut up, Gerald. She’d never do that,” I said.

“Then why’s he still crying?”

“I don’t know. Will you let me think?”

“Sure. It’ll be fun to watch you try,” said Gerald with a smirk.

“He’s still crying,” called down Iris. “And he’s getting louder.”

I threaded my way through the mess to my parents’ windows and peeked out. All I could see was cream-colored metal.

Gerald came up beside me. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know, but we have to get out of here now.”

“No kidding. Your parents’ furniture just about killed me.”

I pushed at the window, but it wouldn’t open any farther. I might be able to fit through, but Iris never would.

“Iris, see if you can open the front door,” I said.

I waited as Iris scurried off and returned. Her round face peered over the edge of the door. “It won’t open. It’s too heavy. I’ll try the other door.” She left and returned a few seconds later. “It’s worse than the front.”

“We’ll have to wait until the mantel’s upright again to get out,” I said.

“What about the baby?” asked Iris.

“What about my arm?” asked Gerald.

I looked around my parents’ room as if I might find some answers in the mess. My hand went automatically to my jumper pocket, but the list was gone. My first thought was to wait for some adult to come along and fix it. But even if someone did come, how would they get in? I felt Iris and Gerald watching me, waiting for me to decide what to do. And even though I couldn’t hear him, I knew Ezekiel was out there crying, also waiting. But I wasn’t completely on my own. I had Iris for ears and Gerald might prove useful if I needed to annoy someone. The decisions were all mine and I found I didn’t mind so much. It was better than asking permission.

“All right,” I said. “Iris, I want you to come down here and help me. Just come down the way I did, and I’ll catch you.”

Gerald snorted and would’ve said something nasty about Iris’s weight no doubt when I stepped on his foot. He yelped in pain and I held up my arms to my not-so-little sister. Iris dropped and just about flattened me. There wasn’t an ounce of breath left in my lungs and a pain cramped my neck that probably wouldn’t go away for days.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Iris said as she rolled off and helped me up. “I won’t eat any more maple syrup, I promise.”

“Good idea,” said Gerald.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I glared at Gerald as he stuck his tongue out at Iris. “Eat whatever you want. Now let’s take care of Gerald.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, trying to scoot away from us.

“We’re going to fix your arm, dufus. What do you think?” I smiled at him. Fixing his arm might not be that bad after all. I might even enjoy it after all the nasty things he said to Iris.

“No, you’re not. I’m waiting for my dad.”

“When it’s time to get out of here, you have to be ready. Sit on him, Iris.”

Iris grinned and plunked down on Gerald so hard a big whoosh of breath rushed out of him.

“At least use that stupid list,” Gerald said with what little breath he had.

“I don’t have it. I’ll have to do it by memory,” I said.

Gerald pointed frantically at the spot where he’d been trapped. The list lay, unscathed, next to a bed post. I went over and snatched it up. The three step instructions for popping an arm back into its socket were fifteenth of the list. Mom was big on three steps to anything and, for once, I was grateful. I could handle three steps.

I stuffed the list in my pocket. I stepped into position, grabbed Gerald’s arm the way the list said and yanked. There was a grinding pop and Gerald screamed.

“You did it!” yelled Iris.

“Get off, fatty!” yelled Gerald.

I helped Iris up, and we watched Gerald fuss and flex his fingers. His arm was back in its socket, but he didn’t appear to be grateful about it.

“I could’ve done that,” he said. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“Only if your grandmother was a healer,” replied Iris. “Matilda has talent. Grandma Vi said so.”

“Your grandmother wasn’t a great healer. My dad could…”

“Shut up, Gerald,” I said. “Is the baby still crying?”

“He’s kind of screaming,” Iris said with big tears in her pale blue eyes.

I went to the window and shoved it open as far as it would go. “I’m going to go get him.”

“I’m going, too,” said Gerald.

“No, you’re not. Stay here with Iris.”

“It’s not my fault she’s too big to fit through. I’m leaving. I’m going to find my dad.”

“No, you’re not.” If I knew one thing for certain, it was that they had to stick together. Iris couldn’t leave, so we were all staying. What kind of babysitter would I be if I let Gerald run off? What if something happened to him? I wasn’t totally against something happening to Gerald, but I had to keep him with me, and I couldn’t leave Iris.

“I’m going,” said Gerald. “You can’t stop me.”

I grabbed his good arm and wheeled him around toward my parents’ ruined wardrobe, lying on its side. My dad had decorated it with dozens of pieces of delicate inlaid wood, but they’d all popped off and lay scattered around the floor. I felt a little sick when I thought of the hours he’d spent making the piece perfect for Mom’s Christmas present the year before.

I pulled open the door. “In you go.”

“No way!” Gerald yelled. His face turned bright red and a vein popped out on his forehead as I shoved him in the wardrobe. He may have been smarter, but he definitely wasn’t stronger.

I slammed the wardrobe door in his face, turned the key in the lock, and handed the key to Iris.

“Wow,” said Iris.

“Yeah. I’m going to pay for that, but I couldn’t trust him not to leave.”

“Wow.” Iris looked at the key in her hand and then back at me.

“Don’t let him out unless… unless I, you know, don’t come back or something.” I went to the window and tried to ignore Gerald hollering and banging in the wardrobe. It was hard to concentrate with all the fuss. I pushed at the window, but the wood didn’t give. It would be a tight squeeze.

“What do I do while you’re gone?” asked Iris. A worry line appeared between her eyes, just like the one our mom had.

“Nothing. Just wait with Gerald.”

I pushed all the air I could out of my lungs and pulled myself through the window. I scraped my nose and tore my jumper on a nail, but I managed to squeeze out onto a huge hump of cream-colored metal next to the mantel. My eyes smarted from the bright sunshine after the dimness inside the mantel.

After my eyes adjusted, I saw that we were in the back of a pickup truck. I’d seen a few in the national park, but never so close. The mantel fit neatly into the truck’s bed between the two humps where the truck’s wheels were. There was a big rope over it and thick blankets underneath.

I stretched my wings and flew up onto the side of the truck. Whipplethorn Manor was yards away and teemed with humans. I’d never seen so many in one place before. I hoped to see Mom’s silver streak weaving through their numbers or Dad’s glowing purple wings fluttering in the garden. My ears might’ve been bad, but there was nothing wrong with my eyesight. I searched among the humans measuring the front porch and shouting at each other. Others pointed at the mansard roof and the grey slate tiles that decorated it. But my parents weren’t there. None of the Whipplethorn fairies were. If I could’ve heard what the humans were saying, I could’ve at least figured out what was happening.

Iris stuck her head around the edge of the window and waved at me. “Matilda, did you get him?”

“I’m going right now.”

I flew up over the mantel and hovered for a moment above the shelf. From my position, the mantel looked like a U. The legs, that usually framed the fire box, extended away from me and I saw them in a different light. Upside down the curves and carvings looked more beautiful and refined. I’d never truly appreciated the mantel’s beauty before. Whipplethorn Manor was always bathed in dusty darkness and I was used to it that way. The sunshine revealed the magnificent detail of the carvings and the shine of the mahogany to me for the first time. I thought I knew my home, but now I was seeing it for the first time as a stranger might and it was glorious.

I fluttered over to the right leg of the mantel. The sight of the Zamoras’ front door jerked me back to my task. I flew down and landed on part of the pillar on the right leg. The pillar had a curvy section in the middle that resembled a bunch of long columns meshed together. The door was hidden among the pillar’s many lines and bumps. I’d rarely used that particular door when I visited Grandma Vi. She was usually in her sitting room at the top of the mantel near the shelf, so she could get the most sunlight.