Magic Sucks

  “Any what, that is so critical?” I asked.

  “Actually,” she continued, daintily leaping over my question, “I was more or less in charge. I guess you could say I ran the place…all of it. I’m retired now. I did it for a long time. It was enough. I don’t, don’t, don’t want to do it anymore. Not ever. Not even for a little while. I am so fed up with bickering cats…

  “Now don’t get me wrong.” Tefnut reversed herself. “It was nice. Very nice. You would love it,” she said again. “Cats may not always get along, like cute, little dragonfly fairies, but life is never boring for us. You’ll love it.”

  “Is it Comfortable?” I asked, trying to understand not only what she was talking about, but why.

  “Ah ha. Yes. That. Well, from a human point of view I think you will find it extremely comfortable. Luxurious, even.”

  I doubted it, but said nothing.

  “As I was saying,” Tefnut went on, “my current preference is for a quieter, more contemplative sort of lifestyle. And with a little help from you…” She gave me a long meaningful look. “…I plan to continue enjoying it.

  “You understand, don’t you Miriam?” I didn’t. This has been happening to me a lot lately.

  “Well, it’s like this. Officially, I am still the Catalyst; Chief Catastrophe; Supreme Ruler of the Cats of Clarity; Tie Breaker; Rule Breaker; Number One Tooth; Major Tooth and Claw Cat; and the DFOA. That’s Dominant Female Over All.

  “In other words, in Ailuria, I’m in charge. The queen of the cats. And as such, I have one final teeny little obligation to fulfill. That loose end I mentioned. You’ll love it.”

  Tefnut paused to make herself more comfortable, crossed her front paws, and looked me straight in the eye. It was the same look my parents give me when they are about to tell me something they know I don’t want to hear. I braced my brain.

  “It’s traditional that the rulers of our kingdom choose their successors. I was here when you were born. I sat on the high dresser in your room and watched you in your crib and wondered what you would be like when you grew up.”

  “Even though it will be many years before you are old enough,” Tefnut continued.

  “Old enough for what?”

  “Ahem.” Clearing her throat, Tefnut was obviously preparing herself to say something that was either very important, or something I wouldn’t like… probably both.

  “I am now sure of my decision,” Tefnut said with great formality, “and I have chosen you to be the next ruler of Ailuria.”

  There was a long pause. Tefnut seemed to be waiting for me to speak. From the smugness of her last comment, I presume, she expected me to say thank you. I didn’t.

  “Excuse me?” I finally said. “Aren’t we missing something here? Like the fact that I happen to be human?”

  “Like the fact, my dear child, that we cats have had both fairy and human leaders in the past. It makes no difference to us as long as they do the job.

  “Do you think I just wandered into your life one day? As it happens, I chose your family for my retirement specifically because you have a distant ancestor – on your father’s side – who was one of our most successful queens.” Meanwhile, I’m not talking because my mouth is hanging open.

  “You didn’t know that, did you,” Tefnut said, cat-smug. “Neither does your Dad. Her name was Dana and she ruled from 1497 until she retired in 1546. The fact that you also happen to have elf ancestry…well, really, that just settled everything, didn’t it.”

  For a while, I traveled back and forth to Ailuria on an occasional, semi-secret basis. Just enough to let everyone know that I was still around. Keeping my options open as it were.

  My final trip to Ailuria was almost ten years ago to visit to an old friend. On my way to her den, I stopped to enjoy the sight of a caboodle of kittens pestering their mother.

  “Mommy, tell us again, the story of when we were born,” they demanded.

  “Ah. Well,” she began affectionately, lingering on her opening. I heard a good story coming up and settled down to listen.

  “You were born on the night that the journey-cat was treed by a mouse. Everybody knows about that. All night long that cat was afraid to come down. All because of a little mouse. Isn’t that the silliest thing you ever hear? The whole village of Southend was there to see it, but no one ever discovered who the journey-cat really was…”

  Burning with shame, I cringed away. Even if they never found out, how could I, the DFOA, knowing what I know, endure the humiliation of listening to mothers all over Ailuria telling this story to their kittens?

  That was the last time I ever visited Ailuria, or ever wanted to.

  CHAPTER 20

  NOT A HAPPY QUEEN

  “Okay. Hold it! Stop right there. We’re not talking fairy friends here. This is major responsibility. I don’t do responsibility. I don’t have to. I’m a kid. It’s in the rules somewhere.”

  “Of course, it goes without saying” Tefnut said, her voice dripping with courtesy, “that I have already discussed this with The Six. At considerable length,” she added, as if that somehow made it all right.

  “Oh, really! Don’t I have any say in the matter? Or am I just a loose end to be tied up?” I could feel my anger building.

  “Every morning, I wake up and look to see if I still have two little wing bumps on my back. I am invariably surprised to see that I do.

  “Do you think it’s all hearts and flowers? All my friends are growing breasts. I’m growing wings. When do you think I’m going to my next pajama party? Try, never!

  “Now, on top of all this, I’m supposed to show up in some tra-la-la fairy place full of cats, curtsy, and wait for them to queen me? I don’t think so.

  “Relax, Miriam,” Tefnut purred at me. “No one can make you be anything. It’s your decision. Completely. Utterly.

  “What we think – the Six and I – would be a good idea…” She spoke slowly, as if she was searching for the right words. “Since school will be out in a few weeks… Perhaps, the time is right for you to take your fairy gifts and go for a visit to Ailuria.

  “No strings. No obligations. Just a nice little trip. Say hello. Check things out. See what you think.”

  Finally it dawned on me that this was not something Tefnut thought of last week. We’re talking long-term planning here.

  “Tefnut! Did you have anything to do with the dragonfly fairies finding out about me and my family when I was a baby?”

  “Oh, Miriam! You’re so suspicious.” Tefnut stood up, stretched and cat-casually walked out of the room.

  “Is that an `Oh, Miriam, yes’, or an `Oh, Miriam, no’,” I said to her tail as she disappeared around the corner.

  “Stop arranging my life for me,” I hollered to the empty air. “First, I have to grow up. Then you can arrange my life for me.”

  I stomped out of the room to find my parents. How dare they connive with Tefnut like that and then let her dump everything on me?

  I could hear Mom humming in her studio. I stormed in and confronted her.

  “How could you let Tefnut do this to me?” I challenged her. She turned abruptly to face me with a worried expression and a paint-smeared face.

  “Darling. Are you okay? What did she do?”

  “You don’t know? What did she tell you?”

  “Tell? Don’t be silly, dear. Cats don’t talk.” This coming from a lady who claims she used to be a mermaid. I rolled my eyes heavenward. Give me strength.

  “Tefnut does,” I said. “Nonstop. I could hardly get a word in edgewise.”

  “Well, no cat ever spoke to me,” Mom said calmly. “Although I don’t know why they shouldn’t,” she mused, absently pulling out a chair and sitting down. I gave out with another eye roll. Typical, I thought.

  She put her hands under her chin, elbows on the big-paint covered drafting table, watching me, waiting for me to speak.

  CHAPTER 21

  COFFEE BREAK

  “So, what did she say?
” Mom finally asked when I didn’t.

  “She said,” I announced, “she said, she wanted me to be the queen of the cats.” I snorted for emphasis and plopped myself down in the chair opposite her.

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re not a cat. How could you be a cat queen?”

  “She didn’t tell you about this?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Not a word. Not even that she could use words,” Mom commented. “Maybe you had better tell me exactly what she said.”

  I did.

  “My goodness!” Mom murmured when I was done. She put a hand to her chest and took a big breath. “Are you sure she talked to you?”

  “Mo-om.” I dragged the whine out extra long for effect.

  “Well, she never spoke to me before.”

  “I know that,” I said through clenched teeth. “You already said that.”

  “My goodness. Talking cats and fairy friends. Why it’s almost like when I was a girl. I remember…”

  Why can’t grownups stay on the subject? Why does it always take them so long? Cats, fairies, parents. They’re all the same.

  “Listen, Mom. I don’t want to hear that stuff.”

  “I don’t understand. When you were younger, you used to love hearing stories about when Dad and I were kids.”

  I glared at her and said nothing. I still did. I still liked the true stories about what they really did when they were young. But after I found out about my big sister, I stopped asking because I never knew what they were going to come up with.

  Sometimes, late at night, I worried about our family. Mom and Dad always acted like they really believed everything they said. I was afraid that if someone found out, they would take them away. I couldn’t let that happen. They were mine. I loved them and they needed me to love them.

  “When you told me that story about being touched by the fairies, you never told me it was true.” I said, accusingly.

  “I always did.”

  “But only in a story way. You made it sound like make-believe.”

  “You were a little girl. You loved hearing it that way.”

  “Well, I’m not little anymore.”

  “But, we don’t talk about those things anymore. You’ve been so… uninterested. I didn’t want to push. I thought maybe when you were older…

  “When Farthingale approached me last month,” Mom said, “I was as surprised as you must have been. But I was pleased, too. I thought it was a perfect way to let someone else show you what you didn’t seem to want to hear from us anymore. I thought you would be thrilled to see the garden we had told you about.”

  “Try terrified.”

  “But she was such a sweet little thing.”

  “Sure, she was sweet. You were probably all cozy-comfy talking right here in your studio like we are. Your world didn’t get turned upside down.” I hit a nerve. She winced.

  “Well, now that you mention it, we were in the kitchen. I got your old toy tea set out of the cupboard, and we had coffee.

  “But Miriam? It’s over. It was okay, wasn’t it? Why are you so angry?”

  Because, I thought without telling her. Because you tell me things that aren’t true and now I don’t know which is which. It’s embarrassing.

  I wanted to ask her again about my sister. Maybe this time she would tell the truth. Nah. She doesn’t know the difference.

  Anyway, I had a better idea.

  “I gotta go,” I said through clenched teeth. “I told Rachel I’d come over when I finished my homework.”

  I walked out, leaving Mom shaking her head. The only thing wrong with her studio is that it has a sliding door. There’s nothing to slam.

  CHAPTER 22

  GOODBYE, MR. GOOD GIRL

  It would have saved me a lot of grief if I had known that the garden story was true. I thought I was being kidnapped by friends of Roger Rabbit. The way I acted, the fairies must have thought I was a complete jerk. And after that stupid party, it’s no wonder they haven’t come back for another visit. Now they know that not only am I a jerk, I am a daughter of jerks.

  Back in my room, I went to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. There was the sampo and Poppy’s coat.

  Mom and Dad let me keep them in my room because they knew I wouldn’t touch them once I gave my word. I’m always the person they want me to be.

  `Miriam is so nice. Miriam is so polite. Miriam is so thoughtful. Such a good student. Such a good girl.’ Blah, blah, blah, blah.

  My teachers all like me. My friends think I’m funny. My parents think I’m great. Just great. I’m somebody for everybody. All because of a bunch of little bug people who have been telling me how to walk, talk and chew gum while I sleep.

  I probably don’t even exist, I muttered, putting on Poppy’s coat and becoming invisible. I’m just a collection of everyone’s wants. Even my cat’s.

  I am seriously ticked off. I want me back and I want me now.

  Well, this is for me, I thought, tying the sampo around my waist. It’s my turn.

  Goodbye, Mr. Good Girl.

  “Tefnut, we need to talk.” Miriam’s mother caught up with me when I stopped in the kitchen for a snack. She lifted me up and put me on the counter so we were eye-to-eye.

  “Exactly what’s going on? Since when have you had a voice? What is this queen business and why haven’t Ben and I heard anything about it?” She pounded me with her questions. It was painful. I turned my ears away in self-defense.

  Gentle Rose sounded anything but. She even smelled angry. In this case, silence was the better part of discretion. I turned around to lick my back and avoid direct eye contact.

  Humans have the power. They can out-stare anything at twenty paces. Even I didn’t have a chance if I let her look me in the eyes.

  She put her hand under my chin and started to scratch. Ooo, that felt good. Without even asking me for permission, my chin followed her hand around until I was looking at her again. Sneaky. Very sneaky, Rose.

  I sighed. This is exactly why letting humans know you can talk to them is a really bad idea.

  “When an Ailurian ruler chooses to retire,” I began, giving in to the inevitable…

  “Which, by the way, almost never happens, because it’s such a great place to live,” I said, hoping to forestall some of the more difficult questions Rose might choose to ask me…

  “They have a ten-year grace period to choose their successor. If they don’t find anyone, or if they return to Ailuria, however briefly during the grace period, then, poof, retirement is over. They automatically revert to power. If Miriam doesn’t show up in Ailuria by the end of the summer, I am officially unretired and have to move back…forever.”

  “First of all, Tefnut, you’ve already been with us for more than ten years…”

  “Not full time, I wasn’t,” I interrupted. “Remember how I used to disappear for two or three days at a time? I didn’t fully retire until I was with you for more than a year.”

  “Hmmpf.” Rose nodded her understanding and rolled on. “Second, since you seem to know what’s going on around here, you should have better timing.

  “Miriam’s been having a tough time lately,” she said. “I think she’s angry at us for not having any more children. And right now, she’s extra mad at us, because we won’t let her use the sampo. She is using it as an excuse to be even more difficult than usual.

  “Third, you can’t make decisions for my daughter. That’s my job.”

  “I didn’t decide,” I said slowly, formulating my response to garner maximum parent points, “I chose. It’s different. Just because I chose Miriam doesn’t mean she actually has to do it.

  “All I really need is for her to show up before the ten years are up and let everyone see the girl I picked to be their queen. That will get me off the hook. Then she can do whatever she wants with her life. She doesn’t have to be queen, she just has to be chosen to be queen.”

  “Is that how you explained it to Miriam?”

  “Of course
not. How could I know that a ten year-old girl would be anything but thrilled to the core to have such an honor bestowed upon her?”

  Rose’s eyes narrowed without releasing their grip on me. “She’s at a friend’s house. As soon as she gets home, I suggest you explain it to her the way you just told me.

  “And Tefnut…”

  “Yes?”

  “It had better be true.” She stalked out of the kitchen, probably to find Miriam’s dad and start the whole thing all over again. It was time to go. As soon as Rose was out of sight, I headed for the cat door.

  PART III

  THE SECOND JOURNEY

  CHAPTER 23

  THE RUNAWAY

  I was so ticked off at Tefnut and Mom and Dad that it was easy to leave. Sitting with my invisible nose pressed against the airplane window, I watched us take off. Goodbye, earth. Hello, clouds. I was having trouble staying angry. Being invisible is too much fun.

  Grandma and Grandpa don’t know it, but they are about to get a houseguest. They live in Bigwater Beach and so did my parents until just before I was born, so that’s where my big sister must have grown up.

  It’s for sure she wasn’t in Ardu. No one there even knew what I was talking about. They thought it was the dumbest thing they’d ever heard.

  My current theory is that she disappeared from Bigwater Beach. I know she’s alive somewhere. I can feel it.

  Grandma and Grandpa will know what happened. And they’ll tell me, even if Mom and Dad won’t. But first I plan to have a little look around for myself. Other people will remember things. There will be traces.

  I leaned back into the seat and closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like when we finally met. Not that I hadn’t ever thought about it before. This was my favorite daydream, so I knew exactly where to pick up the threads.

  She’s sitting next to me, of course, and we’re on our way home at last. Mom and Dad are already at the airport, waiting. They get so excited about things like this. But for now, it’s just the two of us. My sister is beautiful, an almost-adult with a figure to die for, long hair that shines like a shampoo ad, and that swings side to side when she walks. We are quiet. Today, I don’t have any questions. I don’t need any advice. Today, everything is right.

  !!!!!!

  Sneaking on and off the airplane was easy. Figuring out the bus schedule after we landed at the airport was not. I wiggled my shoulder blades, wishing the two little bumps on my back were more functional. I decided to ask.