Fairy Tale (10 page)

"They what?" I shake my head. "That's so wrong. The football team did that?"

"Yeah, but you have to agree, the pants needed to go."

Cam had had to stay back home to complete another one of the Evil Gnat's lessons, but if he'd been there, he would have tried to stop them. He'd have done it because Pip is the Brownes' real son, and, well, just because. That's the kind of guy he is-a man among boys. And so it just figures that the fairies want to take him from me, not to mention on the most important night of my teenage life, my sweet sixteen. I already have a lot on my mind, so I don't need to add babysitting Pip to the list, but, well... it's what Cam would do.

"Scab had better lay off," I say. To her questioning look, I add, "I feel bad for him."

She nods. "I know, he's a little clueless, isn't he?"

"No, seriously. He's in a new place and he doesn't have any friends."

"And you're going to adopt him?"

I straighten. "Well, why not? I could, I don't know, give him a makeover. Help him fit in."

"Well, if anyone can do it, you can. Though..." Her eyebrows wrinkle and I can tell she's thinking about those horrid cords. "Some people are beyond help."

Eden's right. He is a bit of a nightmare. A new outfit might help a bit, but nothing could save him from his swishy way of walking. His too-proper, formal way of speaking. His tendency to spout off obscure fairy lore to anyone who will listen, as easily as if he were chatting about the weather. Though he's human, he's more fairy than anything.

But then it hits me.

Eden's riffling through the magazine rack, looking bored, so she doesn't even notice my eureka moment. At that moment, I see it. It's only a glimmer, but it's there.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

Pip knows everything about fairies. Fairy thoughts. Fairy dreams. Fairy motivations.

Fairy weaknesses.

And he doesn't know it yet, but he's going to tell me them all. He's going to help me find a way to save Cam.

I DIDN'T KNOW that five (count 'em, five) chicken gorditas and a Mountain Dew from the Taco Bell at the Menlo Park Mall food court could unleash Pip's wild side. They must not have caffeine in Fairy Land, because he startled talking like an auctioneer the moment he wrapped his lips around the straw and took one long, eye-popping swig, and he hasn't shut up yet. From his love for feathered
ewl
(huh?) to his interest in popping
sagmints
(huh? again), it just keeps coming. And I haven't been able to understand a freaking word yet.

"Hold on, hold on. What is an
ewl
? "

He stops midbite. A string of shredded cheese is sticking to his chin. ''It's a round object, thrown. Caught. We play with it in the traditional feathered attire."

Warped as it is, it's not entirely unexpected that in the land Pip calls home, they engage in sports dressed like chickens. "You mean, it's a ball?"

He nods brightly. "It can be a vicious game at times. I was quite good at it... Well, being human helped. Fairies don't have much brute strength. They rely on their powers, but use of powers is not allowed during sporting events."

I nod, inspecting him. Pip wouldn't exactly bowl a person over with his muscular physique. In fact, scarecrows have better muscle tone. "And 'popping
sagmints
.
"
What's that?"

"A sagmint
is a juicy type of winged creature. You eat it. Popping ones are hot, fresh out of the oven."

"You mean, like roasted turkey?" He nods, mouth full, as I look down and realize that he has polished off all of his gorditas faster than I could finish one sleeve of cinnamon twists.

He is the man of my mother's dreams.

"So," I begin, checking around to see if anyone from our school is watching. So far, the coast is clear. "Humans are better at playing...
ewl
you say. Is there anything else we're better at?"

He thinks for a minute. "No. That's about it."

I can't imagine that we could win Cam back by challenging Massif and Dawn to a game of
ewl
. Especially because I wouldn't be caught dead in feathers. "Don't they have any weaknesses?"

He's looking up at the Taco Bell storefront, studying the menu. "You wouldn't happen to..."

"Fine," I sigh, then stand up and head over to the line. When I return with a couple of hard tacos, I warn, "No more."

"Thanks." He grins. "It's just that, fairies don't eat very much. They only eat one meal a day."

"Like dogs?" I don't know why, but that amuses me.

He says, "I have to say, this world is growing on me. I can go wherever I want."

"You can't in Otherworld?"

"Humans can't. They're not exactly welcome in certain places. And there are many rules humans must obey."

"Like?"

"Oh, you know. We can't look directly at a fairy. We have to step aside whenever one is coming toward us."

"Seriously? That's horrible," I say, which only makes me want to bitch-slap Dawn more. "I thought you said they were benevolent to humans."

"They are. Much of the time, they wouldn't bother me. But fairies like to play tricks on humans. Even the kind ones."

"Like, what kinds of tricks?" I ask.

He looks away, then back at me. His lips move, trying to form the words, except nothing comes out. I can tell he isn't interested in talking about it anymore, which makes me think of Mrs. Browne. She'd said he didn't want to talk about his time in Otherworld, which I'd thought was strange, since he talks endlessly about fairy lore in general. What about his past doesn't he want us to know?

"I think we were talking about weaknesses," I say.

"Yes. Right. I can't think of any."

I sigh. "Nothing?"

He takes a bite of his taco and scratches his head, deep in thought, as if he's really trying to help me. It's kind of cute, the faithful-pup routine. As he sits there, scanning the ceiling, I catch a glimpse of a bunch of senior girls leaving Forever 21.

Slumping down in my chair, I inspect him. Then I say, "You know what? I think I'm having a Gap attack. Let's go."

I TAKE A gob of styling wax and work it through Pip's hair so that some of it's spiking in all directions like whipped peanut butter and just a bit is falling in his face. It's a big improvement over the slicked-back duck's backside. "Hello, Mr.
GQ"
I say, grinning at him through the mirror in the Brownes upstairs bathroom.

He looks uncertainly at his reflection and then meets my eyes in the mirror. "GQ?"

"It means you're hot." Which, though Pip's ego is in need of boosting, is not a lie. I'd spent a good chunk of the money I'd earned at my summer job on clothes for him. This particular outfit-dark denim jeans, black loafers, and a faded, untucked button-down-would not only put him on the planet, it would possibly qualify him for A-list status.

Mrs. Browne is thrilled. I guess she's happy to see her own flesh and blood looking normal, for once. "It's just amazing," she gushes, inspecting him from all angles.

"Thanks," Pip and I say in unison.

"Morgan, at least let me pay you back for all those clothes. I was planning on taking him shopping myself, once all this..." Her voice starts to falter. "... is over."

I'm about to say, "Don't worry about it," but she takes one look at Cam and rushes down the hallway, head down, hand clasped over her mouth. I hear a muffled sob before she slams the door to her bedroom.

Cam's face contorts. "She's taking it well."

"I see that. Should you go talk to her?"

"I'd make it worse. She cries every time she looks at me." He starts to gnaw on one of his calluses but then stops and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "But I guess I have that effect on women."

I muss up Pip's hair some more, then undo a button on his collar. "Perfection."'

Cam nods at Pip. "Cool, man."

"I'm a genius."

"Whoa, Einstein. There was a lot of room for improvement," he points out.

I say to Pip, "Don't pay any attention to him. I deserve to be adored and thanked profusely. Now, go and put on the heather gray V-neck."

Pip nods and, loyally, scampers across the hall to his room, where the pile of blue Gap bags is lying in the center of his bed. We both stare after him for a minute, and then Cam takes a swig of his Coke.

"How is training going?" I ask, leaning against the bathroom sink. It's getting dark out, and Cam had only poked his head in five minutes ago. Prior to that, the door to his room had been closed, and when I pressed my ear against the door to listen, I couldn't hear a thing. I suppose any normal girl would be jealous of her boyfriend spending hours in a locked bedroom with Barbie, but I've convinced myself that that was only her human form and her true fairy form is decidedly wart-nosed.

"It's going." He sighs. He looks tired and weak, a complete 180 from just a few days ago.

"You look terrible. They're killing you. Why can't you tell them to back off?" I grumble. "Why can't you just say you don't want to go? You don't, do you?"

He bites his lip. "Shh. Of course. But-"

I lean over to wipe a shock of black hair out of his face, and that's when I notice a pink blob hovering over his head. "Yo, Tink," I growl at the air, "isn't there a rainbow somewhere that needs painting?"

The pink blob shivers, and floats into the darkness of the hallway.

"Look," he whispers, his face dark, "I don't have a choice."

"Why not? Because Dawn's always on your back?" I shake my head. "Just tell her to buzz off."

He looks up in the air, then back at me, astonished. "You really can see her."

I nod. "So?"

"So, that baffles me. Humans aren't supposed to see her."

"Well, maybe I'm an extraterrestrial. Or maybe she just sucks at fairy magic."

He flashes a warning look. "Remember what she did to you at school? Be nice. I told her not to touch you, but don't provoke her."

I clench my fists. "You sound like you're on her side."

"No. Listen. I'm not on her side, but I'm not against her, either. She's not evil. She's under orders to bring me back, whatever the costs. My father will kill her if she doesn't obey."

"But you're going to be king."

'I'm not king yet."

I can't believe he's defending the gnat that nearly beat the brains out of me two days ago. I'm about to launch into another argument, but my resolve falters when I look into his eyes. He looks beat. And he's told me before that the way he feels about me won't change. With or without Dawn in his life. "Fine. Sorry." I sigh, feeling bad for being a pest when he obviously has so much more on his mind. He could use a break. "What's our plan for tonight?"

"What?"

"It's Friday. We always go out on Friday."

"I've got a lot of work. They don't think I'm being serious."

"What about tomorrow?"

He takes in a long, slow breath and shakes his head. "Busy."

"This is our last weekend together!" I say, then bite my lip when I realize I'm treading back into pest status.

"I'm so sorry, Boo." Then he whispers, "But you know what we talked about. One, two, three. Always."

I nod. I can feel the tears brimming in my eyes. He reaches over to hug me, and when I pull him close, I whisper, "If we could think of a way out, would you do it?"

He pulls away and looks into my eyes. "Not if it puts you in danger. No way."

"But if it doesn't?"

His voice is resolved. "Of course I would."

I turn and look across the hall, to where Pip is busy pulling the shirt over his head. And I can't help but notice these corded muscles on his upper aims, and gold light from the bedside lamp casting a glow on the curves of his chest. And what are those peeking out above his funky Gap jeans? Washboard abs? Wait. Did a
Men's
Health
model sneak in here when I wasn't looking?

Cam is speaking, but I only catch the end of it: "I promise."

I flip my head back to face him. "Um. What?"

"I said to let me work on it. I don't want you getting into any more trouble. You don't know what you're up against. Okay?"

"Uh. Okay." He takes my hand and squeezes it. For the first time I notice that his hands, which have always been covered with calluses from weight lifting, are completely smooth. Smooth, and somehow smaller. My hands don't seem to swim in his, like they used to.

The next time I look, Pip is pulling the sweater over his waist. He looks at me and raises his eyebrows, seeking approval.

"Nice," I sigh.

Cam drops my hand and looks at him, "Cool, but one thing." He takes a pair of shades from his shirt pocket and hands them to Pip. These aren't any ordinary shades; they're the ones I gave Cam last year for his birthday, and he wears them constantly. I used to joke to him that they upped his hotness factor by 1 million percent.

Pip inspects them, then puts them on and looks into the mirror again, with a grin.

And just the slightest bit of confidence.

And that's when I get the first hint that I'm in over my head.

IN THE MORNING, I wake trembling from a dream I'd had.

Cam was holding me, tracing his fingers lightly up and down my back like he always does, as if writing a secret message there, and telling me he would never leave me. His voice was a whisper, but a hard one, tangled with worry. And just as I leaned in to kiss him, to take some of that worry away, I realized that it wasn't Cam. It was Pip. It was so real that when I woke, I could still feel the pressure of his lips on mine. His breath was so warm and sweet, and it made me hungry, wanting to meld our bodies together.