Fairy Tale (20 page)

Eden whistles and fans her face. "Oh, my God, he is such a hottie. I'll be his tight end any day."

"Whose?"

"Pip's."'

I squint at her. I think she said the same thing about Cam a few days ago, around the time she was laughing about the football team stealing Pip's pants.

"These are our Hawks!" Principal Edwards announces to more applause, and the cheerleaders run out to the center of the gymnasium. They all seem to head for Pip, wrapping themselves around him until I can barely locate him in the mob. Then Sara does a cartwheel and bounds over, like a little kitten, pouring herself into his arms. I can see his face now, and there's a smile, a big one I don't think he's ever shown me. She throws her head back and laughs, and he does the same. Have I ever heard him laugh? I watch as, despite the madness around them, they slowly bring their lips together, and-

Gah. What is Cam up to? I quickly switch my gaze to a couple of rows ahead of me, expecting to see him sitting there, silent, a lone tear running down his face.

Instead, he's on his feet, hooting and hollering, pumping his fist in the air as the pink cloud swirls over his head. Not exactly heartbroken.

Well, he
had
mentioned something about moving on to his next thing. Maybe he's past football. Maybe he's taken up something that his little fairy body will be better able to handle, like crocheting or stamp collecting.

Or maybe something more. Much, much more.

I'M ON THE porch again, listening to the faraway voices of Laura from
Little House on the Prairie
wafting from my living room. It's another warm night, and before, adults were walking past with strollers and mowing their lawns, and kids were shouting out in play. Even little Gracie was out, with her first pair of roller skates, Mrs. Nelson watching with eyes that never wanted to lose sight of her again. But the sun has long since set, and I'm still outside, still trying to read the first few pages of
Leaves of Grass
for class tomorrow. At this point, I'm one line into the first poem and confused, my mind completely lost on something that was happening only a few streets over.

Over the trees I could even see the glare of the stadium lights, casting the dark sky a gunmetal gray. And I could hear the cheering of the audience every so often in between Laura yelling for Ma or Pa. The crowd cheered a lot, so Pip probably did them proud and won the game. I bet he had the entire student body chanting his name. I'm sure the team picked him up on their shoulders and carried him around the field. Sara probably took him in for a passionate celebratory kiss on the fifty-yard line, while confetti floated around them.

Then the ending credits rolled and they lived happily ever after. Okay, so it probably wasn't that perfect, but the thought still makes me gag.

"Are you okay?"

I whip my head around and see a form standing on my lawn, in the darkness. Cam? It moves through the bushes, and at once, Pip's features come into the light, his golden hair a mess, the purple bruise on his lip just an outline now. He is wearing an oversized Hawks T-shirt that shows off his powerful lower arms, and has a gym bag slung over his shoulder. The bulb overhead glows yellow in each of his eyes, and, since his mouth is still swollen, I can't make out his expression.

"Fine," I answer, straightening. "You won the game, right?"

He nods. "How did you... Oh, that's right. Enchantress."

I shake my head. "I didn't envision it. I just knew. But why are you back so soon? Isn't there a celebration at the Parsonage?"

"Yes"
he says, climbing the steps to the porch and hefting his heavy bag onto the ground. "But, you know- about tomorrow. I wanted to talk to you about it."

I squelch the desire to hear him tell me, "I rushed right home because I missed you," and say, "That's right. Are you ready?"

I move my bare feet from the glider, and he takes the seat next to me. "Yes. Are you?"

"I just want it to be over with." I sigh. "I think Dawn has been making me think and feel things that aren't real. I don't like it."

He wrinkles his nose. "But you told me you can see Cameron in his true form."

"Well, yeah, but other things..."

He looks confused. "That was a very powerful spell that Massif put on us humans, making us see Cameron as he once was. And you can see Dawn, even when she makes herself invisible. If you're immune to those spells, you're probably immune to all Magic of Thought."

"Magic of Thought?"

"Making you perceive things that don't exist, or not perceive things that do."

"I guess, but..." I bite my tongue. If I'm immune to Magic of Thought then the feelings I've had for Pip are...

No. No. No.

"So, are you saying, hypothetically," I say, making sure that word is clear, "that a fairy probably couldn't, I don't know, get in your mind and make you think you were in love with someone?"

He laughs. "Not possible. I told you, fairies don't understand that kind of love. They surely couldn't concoct a love spell."

I freeze. My stomach starts to ache. Something inside me isn't working right. I stare at
Leaves of Grass,
unable to meet his gaze. I am an evil, evil girl.

He's going on, oblivious to the heart attack I'm having. "I believe Dawn is aware of everything."

The plan? My heart begins to beat faster, humming like a motor in my chest. "How do you know?"

He sits beside me on the glider and whispers in my ear, his cheek against mine, soft and begging to be kissed. "I came right here because before I left for the game, I heard Dawn talking to Cameron."

"And..."

"She told him that if she doesn't deliver him to Otherworld tomorrow night, Massif will kill her." He leans in still closer. "Why would she tell him that, unless she had a reason to believe he might not follow her to Otherworld?"

"Is it true? Will Massif kill her?"

His lips form a straight line. "Possibly."

"And you think that means she knows about our plan?"

"Yes. I think it means she's not going to let you stand in her way. No matter what Cameron says." He's so close that I can smell Cam's scent on his jersey, and it's hard not to lean into him. "She knows that you are the one thing that would make Cam stay in this world. If you're gone, he will have no reason to stay here."

I break out of the daze and suddenly feel cold. I'd imagined that maybe she would lock me in a basement until Cam was safely in Otherworld. Perhaps make it so that my mom's SUV broke down on the way to the party. But this... this means...

"You think she's going to try to kill me?"

He nods.

"But how? You said I'm immune to her magic."

His face is stone. "That doesn't make you invincible."

"No, of course not. But Cam wouldn't let that happen. He said lie would kill her if she hurt me."

"Dawn's only mission in life is to deliver him to Otherworld. She will die if she doesn't make this happen. And I doubt Massif would allow Cameron to harm her. He wants their kingdoms to unite."

"But if I'm dead, Cam would never go back to Otherworld. He'd hate Dawn forever. He'd stay here, just out of spite."

He shakes his head. "I don't think he would."

Anger wells inside me. "How do you know? You don't know Cam."

"But I do know what it is like to be different, to be an outcast," he says softly. "And if Cameron stays here past his sixteenth birthday, Massif will no longer protect him. His spell will be broken. The one he put over all humans. The one you are immune to."

"So, everyone will see him as he is? Wings and ears and... everything?"

He nods.

My heart stops.

"Cam doesn't care how he looks," I say, but even as the words come out, I know that he does. After all, that was the reason he'd been moping about day after day, feeling useless. But would he really rather spend an eternity married to a demented fairy than live in this world? If I weren't around to protect him, maybe. "And what about his powers?"

"They will be gone."

I bite my tongue. The only thing that has made Cam smile in the past few days is the fact that he's found his next thing. That he is useful. Would he really want to give that up for me? Wouldn't he be crazy to even consider that?

Finally, I ask, "Do you think we shouldn't go through with this?"

"No, not at all." And then those eyes, afire in the light from above, focus on me, completely serious and warning. "But I want you to be safe."

I swallow, breathless. I do a mental inventory and realize that the only thing between me and a painful death is a powerless fairy and a guy who has been known to pee his pants at the sight of anything with wings. Not good. I shiver, wishing I'd taken some sort of martial arts course.

"I just want everyone to be happy," I murmur. "And it seems like, whatever happens, someone is going to suffer."

Pip notices that I'm trembling and puts an arm around my shoulder. It feels nice, and strangely familiar. He looks across the street, into the black night. "What-" he begins. It's a full minute before he starts up again. "What thoughts were you having? The ones you believed the fairies were making you think?"

"Um. Nothing." As if I'd ever let him know about those. Goose bumps appear on my arms, and I have to rub them away. "What do you think about this? Do you think Cam can still be happy here?"

"Of course. He has you."

"But he won't have any powers. He'll be five feet tall, with pointed ears and wings. And completely useless."

"Fairies rarely grow over four feet tall," he points out.

I sigh. "Even better. At first, Cam might be okay with it. But eventually, it will eat away at him. People are cruel to those who are different. You know that."

"But he will still have you."

Yes, but will he? What if Dawn is planning something? What if she is planning to kill me?

Pip gives me a cautious smile, then stands and hefts his bag higher onto his shoulder. "Watch out for yourself, enchantress. And keep your windows closed tonight."

The way he says it, it makes me shiver. I watch him disappear into the darkness between the bushes, then kick aside
Leaves of Grass
and stare up at the blue-black sky. Out of the comer of my eye, I think I see a pink aura floating in the light of the porch. When I turn to face it, it's gone. And something tells me it's going to be a very long night.

LYING IN BED, I listen to the rain pattering against the window. I roll over and pull up the covers, feeling the pillow against my back. Though it's soft and lifeless and cool to the touch, since all my dreams were filled with him-holding me, stroking my arms-it almost feels like he's there with me. And maybe that's why, despite the stern warning Pip gave me last night, I felt safe.

Today is October 15. My birthday. My sweet sixteen. The day I am finally supposed to be a woman.

I'd so hoped womanhood would bring wisdom.

Of course it would be raining today. Never mind that my hair is going to be a frizz test by the time the party is in full swing. In less than fourteen hours, one of the men of my dreams will be gone forever.

I can only hope that when it's all over, I'm more relieved than sad.

I'm still wiping sleep out of the comer of my eyes when I come downstairs and nearly trip over a large brown mass at the foot of the steps. In a flash, I wonder if Dawn had placed an obstacle in my way in a lame attempt to kill me. But then I realize it's my mother, scrubbing the hardwood floors. I expect a bright and cheery birthday greeting, but instead she bears down all her weight on the sponge, drops it into the bucket, and huffs,
"Marone!
These floors are a mess." There's a wild, unfocused look in her eyes.

My mother's cleaning fits are like her shopping trips- completely, psychotically elevated to the importance and difficulty of rocket science. She's gone off the deep end before, usually before company comes. "Mom, you know that nobody's coming here. Everyone will be at the Toad."

"But what if someone wants to come back for coffee " she says, more as a statement than a question, surveying the rest of the floor. "Go in the kitchen and get your orange juice. Take off your shoes first."

I'm about to argue that the party will run way late, and we'll have plenty of coffee at the Toad, but then I decide it's pointless. I pull off my boots, one by one, and trudge down the hall in my pink socks, not feeling much like orange juice. Not feeling much like anything, actually, knowing there's a possibility Dawn could slip some cyanide into it to get me out of the way.

And that's when I see him, standing in the middle of the kitchen. At first I see only his feet, but my eyes trail upward, past the sea of too-baggy clothes he's swimming in, right to an enormous bouquet of pink- and red-foil chocolate roses. He's known forever that I think flowers are a waste and chocolate is the food of the gods. It's comical, because he's now so short, nearly a foot shorter than I am, and his face is so hidden that it's almost like the flowers have legs. "Happy birthday," the talking bouquet says.

I feel a pang of guilt, a sudden desire to climb up to my room and hide there, away from Pip and Cam and my divided feelings, forever. Instead, I take a step forward, "Happy birthday to you, too," I say, both elated and sad that he knows me so well. I take the flowers from his hands and look down at him, then stoop over awkwardly, and... kiss the top of his head, as if I'm his grandma. I never thought anything with Cam could be this weird. "They're nice."

My mother comes up behind me and says, "Well, don't wait. Give him your gift."

"My-oh" I'd bought it at the Menlo Park Mall last month, though it seems like ages ago. It's been in my bag ever since, and at first I couldn't wait to give it to him, it was so perfect. But so much has changed. I fumble around in my knapsack and pull it from the bottom, a gum wrapper stuck to it. "I bought it before-well, before," I explain.