Operation Tenley

  Tenley pointed at their cart. “We have twelve.”

  “Or less,” the clerk answered. “Aisle three is open.”

  Aisle three had an old, bent-over cashier and a line four carts deep.

  “Well, the thing is, ma’am, I’m trying to get nominated for America’s Next Most Inspirational Teen.”

  “Oh, jeez, that’s great.” The clerk smiled at Mrs. Tylwyth.

  “Thank you,” Tenley said. “And it’s on in, like, fifteen minutes, so I kind of need to get home to watch it.”

  “You’re on TV in fifteen minutes?” The clerk flipped on her conveyer belt. “Well, what are ya’ doin here? Let’s get you out.”

  “Oh no—” Mrs. Tylwyth waved. “Tenley, I think you’ve confused this nice woman. The voting isn’t for a few more days.”

  The clerk stopped rushing and looked up. “Oh.”

  Tenley grinned. “My mom’s right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to confuse you. I just really, really want to win so I watch every single episode from last year to try to learn as much as I can about how to be the most inspirational teenager that I can be.”

  The clerk looked impressed. “Well, that’s something pretty great, then. What do you do to inspire your fellow teens?” She winked at Mrs. Tylwyth. “I got two of ‘em. One’s always on her what-not device. And the other’s crazy about that Naked and Not Found show. Can’t get enough of it.”

  “Nail art,” Tenley said proudly. “I think it’s super important for girls to feel confident about their hands. I have a nail art tutorial on my YouTube channel.”

  The clerk stared at Tenley.

  “You’re very kind,” Mrs. Tylwyth pointed to the Twelve Items or Less sign.

  The clerk looked at Mrs. Tylwyth. “Think nothing of it. You’ve got yourself a real go-getter here. I’ll be rooting for you …”

  Tenley pointed to her sash. “Tenley T. Vote for me!”

  At the exit, Mrs. Tylwyth stopped. A rainstorm was flooding the parking lot.

  “Oh, dear. I think we should wait it out,” Mrs. Tylwyth said.

  “I can’t, Mom. The show starts in seven minutes.”

  “It’s dangerous to drive in this, Tenley. I’m sorry.” Mrs. Tylwyth backed the cart up and disappeared around the corner.

  Tenley frowned. When she was sure no one was watching, she ran outside, glanced upwards, and blew. Once. Twice. The rain overhead began to subside. She blew a third time and the clouds broke apart, forming a clearing over the parking lot.

  She hurried back inside and found her mother. “Mom, it stopped. Let’s go.” Tenley grabbed the cart and hurried out the door before Mrs. Tylwyth could protest.

  9

  Fair City

  Room 71 was completely empty.

  “Someone will be with you shortly,” the Fair Force said before closing the door and leaving Pennie alone.

  Pennie stepped in farther. Without her tool belt, the bottoms of her robes were dragging and starting to gray.

  A moment later, a very small Fairship stepped directly out of the wall and into the room. “Oh, goody. I heard you were coming.” Almost reaching Pennie’s shoulders, making her three feet tall at best, the Fairship’s white robes had splatters of color across them. They also had red cuffs. She was an Original Eight.

  Pennie prepared herself for another cranky tone, but instead this Lady Fairship smiled. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “Not at all,” Pennie said, admiring how the Fairship’s curly red hair hung loosely around her face. Pennie checked on her own tight bun.

  “I’m Tinktoria. Please call me Tink. And you must be Fair One penn 1?”

  “Yes.”

  “Follow me.” She waved.

  Pennie hurried after her, but stopped when Tinktoria disappeared through the wall.

  “Oopsie!” she heard Tink say before reappearing again. “I always forget that everyone else needs one of these too.” She slipped one of two quartz crystals in the shape of an eight from around her neck and handed it to Pennie. She tucked the other one back under her robes.

  “This is beautiful,” Pennie said. The crystal was as big as her palm and glowing.

  “Let’s try this again. Follow me.” Tink disappeared once more.

  Pennie didn’t move.

  “Come on now,” she called through the wall. “Take a step. You’ll see.”

  Pennie wrapped her fingers around the crystal and stepped forward. Her foot disappeared. She took another step and found herself on the other side of the wall. “Wow.”

  Assuming Pennie was impressed with walking through the wall, Tink nodded. But it was the explosion of colors Pennie was talking about. Easels and canvases littered the room. Paint splotches covered the floor. She had never seen these colors anywhere in Fair City. With the exception of the Fair Ones’ red hair, Fair City was grayscale—differing shades of black until the lightest black became white.

  “Now you know what I do in my free time, which, between you and me, is most of the time.” Tink waved to the paintings, all of Earth: rivers and forests and oceans. “Oh. Crystal, please.”

  Pennie dropped the crystal eight back into Tink’s hand. “I’ve never seen so much color in Fair City before.”

  “Yes, well. We are grossly lacking in it.”

  Tink led Pennie through the maze of art to a large hammock hanging from the ceiling. Two potted trees sat on either side of it. Built from space junk inside the asteroid belt, Fair City was nothing but bits of rock and debris. Pennie had never seen a tree in person before, but some Fair Ones suspected there were a few hidden in privileged places.

  She reached out to touch a leaf, then stopped.

  “Oh, go on!” Tink flapped her hand. “Let me introduce you; this is Hap and this is Happier.” She smiled at her little palm trees and repositioned the two sun lamps next to them. “Difficult place, Earth. But it does produce some gems.”

  Pennie stroked the leaves gently. Velvet.

  “Now, I was just taking a siesta,” Tink said as she dropped into the hammock and patted the spot next to her, “when they told me you’d be dropping by.”

  Pennie sat gingerly. Tink didn’t seem bothered when they collapsed into each other.

  “penn 1. I knew a benn 1 once. Long time ago. Oh! I forgot the tea. And I forgot to ask, tea?”

  “Okay, sure. Thanks,” Pennie said.

  Tink hopped off the hammock and walked over to a purple square painted on the wall. “Let’s get down to business. I’ll need to know a few things.” After a quick tap on the square, a hologram screen appeared with a photo of Pennie standing very straight with a serious look on her face. Instead of robes, she wore a white shirt and big roomy bloomers.

  “This was your official Fair One application photo.” Tink pressed another spot on the wall, a green square, and reached in for two mugs of steaming tea.

  “I don’t even remember taking this.” Pennie studied the photo. She looked the same, except for the shorter red hair. Other than that, she had the same small nose, grayish-greenish eyes and full cheeks.

  “We keep all Fair One information on Fairbook. Here you are.” She handed Pennie one of the mugs and placed her own on a small shelf that appeared on the wall as soon as she walked by it. “Now, I understand your client is to be erased?”

  A hologram tablet, having appeared on the shelf next to the tea, started calculating something.

  “No,” Pennie said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Of course. You’re interested in The Right to Delete. Forty-eight hours to convince your client to delete her elemental power, which is …”

  “Wind.”

  “That’s a good one. Not the best, but good. Personally, I’d want the water element. Water is life, after all. But you get what you get, I suppose.”

  Pennie smiled politely. Ever since the Super’s disappearance, some humans were born with weather powers. No one knew why. But once the Fairships reali
zed these humans were in more danger than the average human, the original Protection Plan was rewritten to give each one of these clients their own Fair One.

  “Now,” Tink said. “This challenge you are entering into is a little dicey. We have to make sure you understand this.”

  Pennie looked at the corners of the ceiling. “Are we being recorded?”

  “What isn’t being recorded in Fair City?” Tink clicked on the tablet. “Six months old when she discovered her element?”

  “I know I should have reported it. But I was afraid of what you, I mean not you you, but what the Fair Force would do to her.”

  “Exactly what they will do to her if she doesn’t agree to give up her element in forty-eight hours.”

  Pennie looked stricken.

  Tink realized her curtness. “I apologize, Fair One. It seems you care about your client a great deal.” She softened. “Why?”

  “She’s my client. It’s my job.”

  “Yes, exactly. It’s just a job. And if it’s proving too dangerous to keep your client where she is, then it’s your job to hand her over to us.”

  Pennie squirmed in the hammock.

  “What is it, Fair One? If there’s a skeleton in your closet, best to get it out now. I can find everything I need to know in our database anyway.”

  Pennie hesitated. She’d never told this to anyone. “One day, when Tenley Tylwyth was about two years old, I wasn’t observing her as closely as I should have been.” Pennie struggled with her words. “I went on an unauthorized space trip. Anyway, my client must have been practicing her wind element because right when I got back to the ob-spot, the palm tree next to their house was swaying out of control. Violently. I tried to stop it, but I was too late. Skipper Tylwyth, Tenley’s father, was only inches away from it when it fell into their living room.”

  “Her element had that much force at such a young age?”

  Pennie nodded. “The thing is, after narrowly escaping death, he vowed never to live anywhere near palm trees, or any other trees, again.”

  “Are you saying her father left?”

  “A fishing rig. In Alaska. He’s never come back.” Pennie felt a sting in her heart.

  “And still, even after that, you refused to report your client?”

  “It was my fault. I should have stopped that tree from falling. I could have if I hadn’t gone with my friends.” Pennie looked down.

  “I see. And your client,” Tink swiped at the tablet, “she’s interested in winning a beauty contest?”

  Pennie tried to sit higher in the hammock, but slid back down again. “America’s Next Most Inspirational Teen, actually.”

  “How serious is she about winning?”

  “Very. Local nominations are in two days. If she wins that, she goes onto the national level.” Pennie lowered her voice. “I think she’s determined to get famous so her father will see her on TV.”

  Tink looked suspicious. “Determined enough to use her element for the talent portion of this contest?”

  “No. No way. She’d never do that.” But Pennie’s stomach flipped. If Tenley used her element on TV, Mother Nature would find her in an instant.

  Tink looked unconvinced. “Let’s get you ready.” She took the tea from her, still untouched.

  “My tool belt is checked at the front.”

  “You won’t be needing that.”

  “Great.” Fair Force technology was infinitely more advanced than Fair One tools. Monitoring a client through a 3rdi-All was rumored to feel so much like standing on Earth that some Fair Force got queasy.

  After struggling with the hammock, Pennie followed Tink past the canvases and paint, and back to the wall again. Tink handed Pennie the crystal eight, and once they were on the other side, Pennie handed it back to her.

  “All clear,” Tink said stepping into the hallway. “Quickly now.”

  Tink moved fast on her tiny feet. After a few twists and turns, the two stopped in front of a break in the wall.

  “We try not to be obvious about where Command Center is,” Tink whispered at Pennie’s confused look. “Never can be too careful.”

  “The real Command Center?”

  “It’s the only access point, my dear.”

  “To where?”

  Tink stepped inside the door. “Earth.”

  Pennie froze. Earth was the last place a Fair One wanted to go.

  10

  Hadley Beach

  Mrs. Tylwyth stepped out the door. Tenley’s backpack was slung over one arm. She juggled a poster board, Scotch tape, two bags of confetti, and a stack of streamers with the other.

  “Mom, I need dry erase markers, too!” Tenley yelled from the upstairs window. “Can we go get some?”

  “I’m sorry, honey. I have to get the store open early today for a delivery. Mrs. Frontalbagger died last week and her son is bringing me all her furniture.”

  Tenley closed the window. Mrs. Tylwyth balanced her piles carefully and opened the back door of their car. A roll of pink streamers dropped to the ground and began unraveling down the driveway. She leaned over to grab it and another roll dropped.

  Tenley walked outside brushing her hair, leaving the front door wide open as usual. She headed for the driver’s side. “I’m driving, Mom. K?”

  Mrs. Tylwyth threw the rest of the pile into the car.

  “I don’t think today is the best day for you to start driving,” she said. “It looks like it might rain and there was a report on the news this morning about a sudden flash flood that flipped a car right over onto its side. A flash flood! Out of nowhere! Besides, it’s Waffle Day. You don’t want to be late for that.”

  “Please, Mom? How can I pass the test if I’ve never even practiced? I only have three years until I take it. All the contestants on ANMIT are expected to pass on their first try.”

  “Such crazy weather lately,” Mrs. Tylwyth mumbled to herself. “It’s like Mother Nature’s out to get us. Plus, Tenley, it’s illegal for you to drive.” She gathered up the streamers and threw this mess into the car, too.

  “Just to the end of the driveway?” Tenley smiled sweetly.

  Mrs. Tylwyth folded. She looked at her watch, sighed heavily, and walked around to the passenger door where she slid into their small, practical car. Tenley hurried to the driver’s side and climbed in.

  Tenley moved the rearview mirror around to frame her face. She smoothed down her hair and puckered her lips to check on her lip liner. Then she opened her window and closed it again. She took off her shoes and threw them into the backseat. She fiddled with the radio, which wasn’t even on.

  “You could be there by now,” Mrs. Tylwyth said.

  Tenley started the car. Mrs. Tylwyth cringed. Tenley gave her a quick smile, turned her head to back out, and drove straight into the garage.

  The door dented like a piece of toast.

  “Tenley!” Mrs. Tylwyth threw her arms up. “I just had that fixed again.”

  Tenley stepped out of the car, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door. “I’m sorry, Mom. I did really well until the door part, though.”

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Tylwyth stopped in front of the school and scribbled on Tenley’s outstretched palm. Tenley stepped out, opened the back door, and grabbed her backpack. Then she took her sash, slung it over her head, and secured it at her hip. She thanked her mom, slammed the door, and turned for school.

  Just inside the building, Mr. Frimpy’s figure loomed large, as usual. But today there was somebody next to him. Somebody tall, dark, and hot.

  “Thanks for coming, son,” Mr. Frimpy, substantially smaller than the hot guy standing next to him, said. “The gym is all set for the auditions right after third period.”

  “I sure appreciate it, Principal Frimpy.”

  The hottie shook the principal’s hand and spun around directly into Tenley. “Oops. Sorry.”

  “Cheer auditions?” Tenley asked with a brig
ht smile. “Omigod wait!” She grabbed Mr. Frimpy’s arm. “Is Hadley Middle School holding an America’s Next Most Inspirational Teen nomination audition?” She bounced on her toes. “That’s so much better than the Community Center. You won’t be sorry, Mr. Frimpy. I’ll make you proud. I’ll make the whole school proud!”

  “No, Ms. Tylwyth.” Mr. Frimpy pulled his arm out of Tenley’s clutch. “We’re not holding ANMIT auditions.”

  She stopped bouncing. “Oh. Well for the record, I think we should.” She shifted her body so the hot guy could read her sash. “Are you an ANMIT scout?”

  Mr. Frimpy sighed. He’d have to introduce them now. “This is Dan Ringer. He’s a new senior over at Hadley High School and he’s volunteered to run the auditions here. Lucky for all of us, his father was asked to relocate.” Big smile.

  “Hello,” Dan said.

  “Hello. So, are your auditions open to anyone?” Tenley asked.

  Dan nodded. “Sure, yeah. As long as you come prepared, we’re expecting some stiff competition.”

  “G.R.E.A.T!” Tenley cheered, kicking her leg, barely missing Mr. Frimpy.

  Mr. Frimpy cleared his throat. “Miss Tylwyth, this is your twenty-ninth tardy so far this school year.”

  “Yes, Mr. Frimpy,” Tenley said. “My mom is so sorry. She lost her keys and we had to tear apart the house looking for them and then she drove right into the garage door. Again. It’s like the millionth time she’s done that. Boy, is my dad gonna be mad. And she told me to tell you to drop by the antique store anytime. New shipment today.”

  “Note?”

  “Right here.” Tenley held out her palm. Sorry Tenley is late again car accident my fault, Sylma Tylwyth was written in black ink. Mr. Frimpy’d seen enough of the handwriting to know it was, indeed, Mrs. Tylwyth’s. “Please don’t be mad at her, Mr. Frimpy. You know she’s a really bad driver.”

  “Next time get it on paper.”

  “Sure thing.” Tenley pranced down the empty hallway, certain Dan was watching.

  11

  Fair City