“Maybe not, but you don’t necessarily have to be one for real.”
“What do you mean?”
David was staring at her blossom. “There’s a costume dance at school next Saturday. I thought maybe you could go as a faerie and try out the role. You know, get used to the idea as a costume before you try to tackle the idea that it’s real. Get comfortable with it.”
“What? Strap wings on and wear some funky dress?”
“Seems to me you already have wings,” David said, his voice serious.
His meaning slowly dawned on Laurel and she looked at him in disbelief. “You want me to go like this? With my blossom out for everyone to see? You must be crazy! No!”
“Just listen,” David said, sitting up. “I’ve thought about this. You know that tinsel garland stuff? If we wrapped that around the base of the flower and then looped it over your shoulders no one would know it wasn’t fake. They’d just think it was an awesome costume.”
“I couldn’t pass this off as a costume, David. It’s too good.”
David shrugged. “People generally believe what you tell them.” He grinned. “And do you really think someone’s going to look at you and say, ‘Hmm, I think that girl’s a plant’?”
It really did sound absurd. Laurel’s mind drifted to the shimmery sky-blue formal she’d worn to her mother’s cousin’s wedding last summer. “I’ll think about it,” she promised.
After school on Wednesday David had to work, so Laurel decided to go to the public library. She stepped up to the reference desk where the librarian was trying to explain the Dewey decimal system to a kid who clearly neither understood nor wanted to. After a couple of minutes, he shrugged and walked away.
With a frustrated sigh, the librarian turned to Laurel. “Yes?”
“Can I use the internet?” Laurel asked.
The librarian smiled, probably glad for a rational question. “That computer over there,” she said, pointing. “Log in with your library card number and you’ll have one hour.”
“Just one?”
The librarian leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s a rule we had to make a couple of months back. Had a retired lady who would come in and play Internet Hearts all day.” She shrugged as she straightened again. “You know how it is; a couple of crazies ruin it for the rest of us. It’s high-speed though,” she added as she turned back to a stack of books she was scanning in.
Laurel headed over to the carrel that held the only internet-enabled computer. Unlike the sprawling library Laurel and her dad had often visited in Eureka, the Crescent City library was hardly bigger than a regular house. It had one shelf of picture books and one shelf of adult fiction, and other than that, it was all old reference books. And not even very many of those.
She sat at the computer and logged in. After a quick glance at her watch, she started Googling.
Forty-five minutes later, she had found pictures of faeries living in flowers, wearing clothes made of flowers, and sipping tea out of tiny flower cups. But no mention of faeries actually being flowers. Or plants. Or whatever. Lame, she thought peevishly.
She started reading through a long Wikipedia article, but every two or three sentences, she had to look up a reference she didn’t understand. So far she was only a few paragraphs into the article.
With a deep breath, she squinted and started reading the article again.
“I love faeries!”
Laurel almost fell out of her chair as Chelsea’s voice sounded right in her ear.
Chelsea dropped into a seat next to Laurel. “I went through this phase about a year ago where everything I did had something to do with faeries. I have like, ten books all about faeries and pictures on my ceiling. I even found a pamphlet on some guy’s conspiracy theory about how Ireland is controlled by the Seelie Court. And even though his ideas were a little farfetched, he did make some valid points.”
Laurel closed her browser as quickly as she could, although the phrase too little, too late came to mind.
“Back in the Dark Ages, people used to think anything bad that happened was caused by faeries,” Chelsea continued, not seeming to notice that Laurel still hadn’t said a word. “Of course, they also blamed anything good that happened on faeries too, so I guess it evens out. Still.” She grinned. “So why were you looking up faeries?”
Laurel’s mouth went dry. She tried to think up some kind of excuse, but after trying to wrap her mind around dozens of conflicting faerie legends, she had nothing. “Um, I just wanted to find out for—” She barely managed to remember that Chelsea was in her English class before using it as an excuse.
Then she remembered David’s proposition.
“I’m going to the dance as a faerie this Saturday,” she blurted. “I thought I’d try to learn a little more about them.”
Chelsea’s face lit up. “That is so cool. I totally want to be a faerie. We should try to match.”
Oh, great. “Actually, David’s making me some kind of wings. He says it’s a surprise.”
“Oh.” Chelsea hesitated for just a second. “That’s okay. I should probably collaborate with Ryan anyway.” Her cheeks colored a little. “He asked me on Friday.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. He’s cute. Isn’t he cute?”
“Sure.”
“Good.” She looked lost in thought for a moment. “So you’re going with David?”
Laurel nodded.
Chelsea smiled, though it looked a little pained. “Well, you’ll be a gorgeous faerie. You practically look like a faerie anyway, so it’ll be perfect.”
“Do I?”
Chelsea shrugged. “I think so. Especially with your hair and skin being so light. People used to think angels were faeries, so faeries must be very light and fragile-looking.”
Fragile? Laurel thought, a little taken aback.
“You’ll look perfect,” Chelsea said. “I’ll wait for you by the door. I want to see your costume first thing.”
“Deal,” Laurel said with a forced smile. She didn’t like how she’d suddenly gotten herself locked into David’s idea. But it was better than telling Chelsea the truth.
“Why are you surfing here, anyway?” Chelsea asked. “Don’t you have internet at home?”
“Dial-up,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes.
“Really? Do they still have that? My dad’s a computer tech and he set up this whole wireless network in our house. We have high-speed internet on six computers. He’d just die if I told him you were still using dial-up. You should come to my house next time. Lots of bandwidth and I’ll lend you some books, okay?”
Laurel said okay instinctually, but there was no way she could go to Chelsea’s to research. Chelsea was too smart—she’d put the pieces together.
Assuming there were any pieces to be had. Laurel hadn’t found a single source that talked about faeries being anything like she was. The closest she’d found were dryads—wood spirits—and they were just the spirits of trees.
She was pretty sure she wasn’t a spirit.
“Well, I gotta go,” Chelsea said. “I have to do some real research.” She held up her history book. “I’m supposed to find at least three sources not including the net. I swear, Mrs. Mitchell is so behind the times. Anyway, see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Laurel said, waving. “Tomorrow.” She turned back to the computer to run one more search. But when she opened her Web browser, her time had expired.
Laurel sighed and collected her sparse notes. If she wanted more, she’d have to come back another day. She glanced over toward the bookshelves where she could just see Chelsea’s bouncing curls.
Chelsea’s house would be more convenient.
Too bad convenience was way down on her list of priorities these days.
TWELVE
“STILL NOTHING?” DAVID ASKED WHEN LAUREL CALLED him Saturday afternoon, a few hours before the dance.
“Nothing. I’ve been to the library three days in a row and there’s
nothing.”
“Not even hints?”
“Well, you can read any explanation into something if you really want to, but no descriptions of…” She lowered her voice. “…faeries that sound anything like me.”
“What about Shakespeare? A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
“Actually, those are about as close as it comes. But they still have wings and seem very magical. Not to mention mischievous. I’m not like that…am I?”
David laughed. “No, you’re not.” He was quiet for a few moments. “Maybe the stories are wrong.”
“All of them?”
“How true are most legends?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like there would be some documentation if it were true.”
“Well, we’ll keep looking. Anyway, are you ready for tonight?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll see you at eight, then?”
“I’ll be ready.”
David showed up a few hours later with a large box that supposedly held the “wings.” Laurel answered the door in her blue dress with a shawl tightly wrapped around her shoulders.
“Wow,” David said. “You look great.”
Laurel looked down, half wishing she’d chosen something less attention-drawing; everyone would be looking at her in this. The dress was a shimmering light-blue satin with silver beading, cut on a diagonal that fell in a perfect drape across every one of her curves. The front had a soft sweetheart neckline and it was backless. She was bared almost to her waist by a round edge and more of the sparkling silver beading. A mini-train provided the finishing touch.
David was wearing black pants with a white tuxedo jacket complete with tails. A red silk cummerbund encircled his waist, and he’d managed to find a cravat to fasten around his neck. White gloves poked out of his breast pocket and he’d gelled his hair.
“What are you supposed to be?” Laurel asked appreciatively.
David blushed. “Prince Charming?” When Laurel laughed, he shrugged. “I figured we could both be mythical creatures from a fairy tale.”
“My mom knows you’re coming,” Laurel whispered, leading David quickly upstairs, “but I think it’s best if we try to get the preparations all done before she knows you’re here. She might insist I keep the door open or something.”
“No problem.”
She swept him into her room and, after a cautious glance down the hallway, closed the door. Laurel untied the knot of her white shawl and let her blossom flutter free. She helped the petals back into their upright position; they’d seemed a little limp the last couple of days and didn’t stand quite so high. She turned when she heard David’s sharp intake of breath.
“What?”
“They’re just so beautiful—especially with that dress. I’m amazed every time I see them.”
“Sure,” Laurel said sarcastically. “They’re fabulous when they’re not yours.”
It took only about two minutes for David to secure the garland around the base of the flower and over her shoulders. Laurel turned to the new mirror hanging on the back of her door and laughed. “David, you’re a genius. It totally looks like a costume.”
David stood beside her, smiling at their reflection. “I’m not quite done yet.” He turned back to the box. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the chair. “And close your eyes.”
She did, starting to enjoy this now. His hands touched her face and then she felt something cold brush along her eyelids and cheeks. “What are you doing?”
“No questions. And keep your eyes closed.”
She heard something shake and then a cool mist covered the length of her hair. “Just a sec,” he said. Then she felt his warm breath, making the still-wet spots on her eyelids even colder but warming the rest of her face. “Okay, you’re done.”
She opened her eyes and stood to look in the mirror. She gasped and laughed as she turned her face to one side, then the other, letting the fading sunlight catch the glitter on her cheekbones and around her eyes. And her hair was full of glitter that sparkled and fell to decorate her dress when she shook her head. She almost didn’t recognize herself amid the glitter and glimmer of the face paint and the tinsel on her shoulders.
“Now you look like a faerie,” David said approvingly.
Laurel sighed. “I feel like a faerie. I never thought I’d say that.” She turned to David. “You’re amazing.”
“Nope,” David said with a grin. “We’ve proved it scientifically—you’re amazing.” He ran his fingers through his glossy hair with a lopsided grin. “I’m just human.”
Laurel smiled and squeezed his hand. “Maybe, but you’re the best human.”
“Speaking of humans,” David said, gesturing toward the door, “we should go show your parents. My mom will be here to pick us up in about ten minutes.”
All the tension of the evening rushed back. “You don’t think my mom will see right through this?” she asked.
“She won’t have a clue,” David said. “I’m sure.” He took both of her hands. “You ready?”
She wasn’t, but she nodded stiffly anyway.
David opened the door, then offered his arm with a flourish. “Shall we?”
Laurel’s mom caught them as they were headed down the stairs. “There you are,” she said, brandishing her camera. “I was afraid you’d try to sneak out on me.” She studied Laurel with a smile. “You look gorgeous,” she said. “You look handsome too,” she added to David.
“Where’s Dad?” Laurel asked, surveying the living room.
“He had to work late tonight. But I promised him tons of pictures. So come on, smile!”
She took about fifty pictures before David’s mom finally honked for them.
Laurel pulled David along behind her as her mom called out to them to have a good time. David’s mom gushed over them too, but she’d already gotten pictures of David, so they got off the hook with only five or six more of the two of them together.
By the time they were done, Laurel had almost changed her mind. “It’s too attention-getting,” she whispered to David in the back of his mom’s car. “Someone’s going to figure it out.”
David laughed. “No one’s going to figure it out,” he assured her. “I promise.”
“You better be right,” Laurel grumbled as they pulled into the high school parking lot.
“Look at you!” Chelsea squealed when she and David walked into the decorated gymnasium. “David said the wings were going to be awesome, but I had no idea they would be this good.” She made Laurel turn a full circle. “You know, it kind of looks more like a flower than wings, don’t you think?”
“They’re like, flower-wings, I guess,” Laurel responded nervously.
But Chelsea just shrugged. “They’re totally gorgeous. David, you’re a genius,” she said, touching his shoulder.
Laurel stifled a grin. David would get most of the credit for her flower tonight, but that was fine with her. Especially when the other option was everyone finding out she’d grown it!
Chelsea sniffed at her shoulder and Laurel stiffened. “Wow,” Chelsea said, sniffing openly now. “What did you spray on these? I’d totally pay for whatever you used.”
Laurel was stuck for just a second, then she said “Actually, it’s just this old perfume I’ve had forever. I don’t even remember what it’s called.”
“If you ever don’t want it, I do. Mmmm.”
Laurel smiled and looked meaningfully at David as she inclined her head toward the other side of the room. Away from Chelsea’s nose.
“We’re going to go get something to drink,” David said, taking Laurel’s hand. Luckily, Ryan walked up and Chelsea was distracted enough that she didn’t follow them.
Laurel left her hand in David’s. He hadn’t exactly said this was a date, but he hadn’t said it wasn’t, either. She preferred to think it was. Despite her hesitance to call him her boyfriend, she wasn’t completely sure that wasn’t what she wanted. What else could she want in a guy? He was sweet
, patient, smart, fun, and he made no secret that he adored her. She smiled as she followed him. Walking hand in hand might start a few rumors, but she didn’t mind.
As she walked, everyone made way for her “wings.” People who’d never spoken to her before sought her out to tell her how cool her costume was. Everywhere she looked people were watching her. But it didn’t make her nervous tonight. She knew what they were seeing—she’d seen it herself in the mirror earlier. She looked magical; there was no other word for it.
A slow song started at about eleven thirty and David finally claimed her for his first dance of the night. He’d hung back, chatting with his friends and watching her most of the evening as several other guys had asked her for dances.
“So tell me,” he said, drawing her close, “was it all that bad?”
She smiled up at him as she placed her arms around his neck. “Not at all. You were totally right.”
David laughed. “About what?”
The smile remained on her face, but her words were serious. “Everyone can see me for what I am, and no one’s afraid or freaked out. No one’s calling wacko scientists or anything. They just think it’s cool.” She hesitated then added, “I think it’s kind of cool.”
“It is cool. It’s awesome.” He grinned. “You’re awesome.”
Laurel’s gaze dropped to his shoulder, but a tingly warmth spread through her.
“So how does it feel to be a faerie?”
Laurel shrugged. “Not so bad. Of course, it wouldn’t be like this every day.”
“No, but if you can just get used to the idea, then maybe you can start thinking about whether it’s true.”
Laurel stared at him in amusement. “You want it to be true!”
“What if I do?”
“Why?”
“Because being mythical by association is as close as I’m ever going to come.”
“What do you mean? You’re Prince Charming.”
“Yeah, but—you know—not really. But you? Laurel, I think it’s true. And it’s awesome. Who else is best friends with a faerie? No one!”