Aurora Wolf

A Girl, A Cat and A Fairy

By Allison Hunter-Frederick

Thirteen-year-old Lucy McCarthy playfully weaved through tall backyard grass with her cat, Calico, pouncing along at her heels. She paused upon seeing a dragonfly flittering about her dad’s sprawling rose bushes.

This dragonfly had wings as colorful as a pin wheel and reminded her of fairies, but surely her mind played a trick on her. After all, she sometimes chased after grasshoppers thinking they were red-hued brown butterflies, only to discover their real identity when they landed and displayed their green outer form.

She knew from her parents that fairies didn’t live in cities. Nor did fairies enter houses of solid masonry brick like her dad had built to withstand pestilence. Nor did fairies trespass in houses protected by amulets like her mom had installed after researching fairy lore.

The back door slammed, interrupting Lucy’s thoughts. Her dad hollered, “I’m going to mow soon! Check the lawn for sticks and stones, snakes and rabbits.”

Lucy fidgeted with her bra, still feeling uncomfortable in its newness, before veering after Calico. She paused near the overflowing compost, sweat leaking through her tie-dyed shirt and pastel Capri, caught her breath, and realized Calico was no longer in sight.

She scanned rows of hyacinth, daffodils, and creeping phlox lining the fence nearest her and then rows of lettuce, carrots, and parsley lining the fence by the rose bushes. In the midst of young lettuce leaves Calico slunk with a full mouth.

Lucy laughed. “What have you found now, Calico?”

Calico loped across the yard and plunked her queenly self in front of Lucy. In her white-fringed mouth was a tiny, squirming, wailing, brown creature.

Calico batted the trembling bunny. Lucy scolded, “Calico, that isn’t how you play!”

At the rebuff, Calico lowered her beige head. Lucy softened her voice, “The bunny is too small to be in your mouth. You’ll hurt it. Let me have it, please.”

Cupping her hands under Calico’s mouth, Lucy tickled her jaw. The bunny dropped and Lucy caught it. She plopped it into her flowery straw hat and headed towards the house jabbering, “I’ll take you inside to check for fractures and then return you to your home.” 

Hat clutched to her chest, Lucy darted up the back steps and into the kitchen. Her dad raised his brows. “That was quick.”

“Calico found a bunny. I tried seeing if it was okay, but Calico kept nosing it. So I brought it inside.” She thrust out her hat. “See? What do you think?”

Her dad threw her a harried look and kissed her forehead. “I think you need to wash up and you’ll be a doctor like your mom, except maybe of animals not people.”

His cell phone rang and he fetched it out of his paint-splattered baggy overalls. Lucy wondered what handyman job he was being offered now, if she would eat supper alone, and if the lawn would need to wait AGAIN. She shrugged and turned heel. She had her own work to do. She had a bunny to doctor.

“Just a minute,” her dad told the caller, putting the phone to his chest, and whispered to Lucy, “You might wash your bunny too. It looks like it got into paint.”

Lucy’s eyes widened and she hastened to the bathroom. Calico pranced after her, but Lucy was in no mood for her cat. What if the paint were blood?

Shutting the bathroom door on Calico, Lucy plunked her hat in the tub and scurried to the sink where she filled a cup to the brim with water. Only then did Lucy think about how terrified the bunny must feel. In just minutes, it had been assaulted by a cat, flung into human hands, and then deserted in a tub. Lucy frowned: Her patient care failed in comparison to her mom’s.

Lucy used her best calming voice. “I didn’t want to use water from the tub and perhaps drown you, but you need cleaning if you have paint on you.”

“No matter what,” she added, kneeling at the tub, “I should wash off Calico’s saliva.”

Leaning forward, Lucy extended one hand to pick up the bunny while her other hand held the cup. “What—?”

The cup dropped from her hands and into the tub.

“Watch it!” exclaimed a tiny creature. It flew up into the air, grazed the ceiling, whizzed around clumsily, and finally plummeted onto a shampoo bottle.

Lucy stared, aghast and somewhat curious. The creature stood slightly taller than a rose petal. She radiated yellow, orange, and pink striations—dazzling Lucy like a fruit orchard. Her clothes reminded Lucy of her ballet days, which had ended after she had twirled into another dancer and broke her ankle. The creature’s flowery bodice looked velvety soft, while her ruffled tutu hung to her knees. Her semi-glossy hair hung limply over her dress, while on her back…. were wings, translucent and droopy like that of a nymph cicada. There was no doubt in Lucy’s mind of the creature’s identity: “You’re a fairy.”

“And you’re a human.”

Lucy grinned but then her face sagged. So what if she knew the creature was a fairy? This didn’t help her know what to do. Before she had started kindergarten, her family had fled their country farmhouse to escape the wee folk. Although Lucy lacked any memory of their assault, she had heard her parents often recount horrific tales of poltergeist-like activities.

“You’re staring,” the fairy prompted.

“Sorry…. Weren’t you a rabbit before?”

The fairy nodded. “Some fairies have the power to change shapes.”

“How come you changed back?”

“There are strong powers in this house. I started to change the second you brought me inside.” The fairy clasped her tiny hands over her tiny mouth. “I probably shouldn’t have said that!” She shifted to a guarded stance. “Am I in danger because you know my powers don’t work in here?”

“Am I in danger because I can see you?”

“I won’t hurt you, if you don’t hurt me.”

Lucy smiled: “Same here.”

Tilting her head, she examined the fairy again. Lucy felt as if she were watching a color wheel. Fairies were beautiful!

Calico meowed at the door, interrupting her thoughts. Lucy frowned. “I should get you back outside. You could be in danger if my parents were to see you.”

Her hat wet from the fallen cup, Lucy hauled a towel from its rack and held it out. The fairy groaned and wrung her hands. “This feels too close for comfort, but I suppose there is no other way.” She fluttered and swooped downward before plopping into an awkward heap on Lucy’s green towel.

Lucy giggled.

The fairy stomped her foot. “Just you wait until I’m fully grown! I’ll come back and curse you with the most powerful spell.”

Lucy gasped. “Please don’t. I didn’t mean to laugh. You’re just a little clumsy….”

“I’m also just a little young.”

“Me too,” Lucy consoled. She pointed to her elbows and knees. “I have scabs to prove it.”

Impulsively, Lucy reached out to feel the fairy’s wings. The fairy shrieked and backed up.

Lucy stared at the fairy nestled in her towel, in her bathroom, in her house. She wasn’t sure whether to ask the next question, it sounded rude, but felt important. “How can you be pretty and evil, all at the same time?”

The fairy protested, “I’m not evil.”

“Then why did you threaten to hurt me?”

“I was scared.” The fairy hoisted herself by her elbows. “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Lucy nodded, more questions forming in her mind, but Calico meowed again. The fairy kicked Lucy slightly. “Maybe you should return me to my home, before your cat makes a meal of me.”

Lucy exited to the kitchen, Calico trailing after her, but stopped at the roar of a mower. Impatiently, she ran her fingers through her bangs. “Dad’s still mowing the lawn. It’s not safe to take you outside.”

Calico swished her tail against Lucy’s knees. Lucy laughed, rested the towel on the countertop, and directed the fairy, “Wait here, while I feed Calico.”

Lucy spooned cat food into an empty bowl on the floor. Glancing up, she noticed the fairy venturing to the towel’s edge. “Are you hungry?” Lucy asked.

“Yes! Could I have some bread, please?”

Lucy pulled a bag of bread from the fridge and slid out three slices. She set them on the countertop and, as she started cubing the first, asked, “Why did you change into a rabbit?”

“I want to learn about humans, which is against my parents’ wishes. Even though our family can change shapes, my parents prefer us to stay underground except at night when there’s less chance of being seen in any form.”

The fairy zipped about the kitchen, stopping to examine a sugar canister. She traced her fingers over the lacy wings of the dragonfly decals. She soared up again but this time crashed into the ceiling and tumbled to the countertop. She rubbed her head. “Why do humans build homes enclosed on all sides? I don’t know I could ever get used to that.”

Lucy piled bread cubes into a bowl. “Our homes protect us from weather and burglars.”

The fairy glanced at Calico, who was busily eating, and then flew atop the fridge. “I don’t know if I could get used to all the wood, plastic, and metal either. They’re so….” She tapped her nose, as if searching for the right words. “They’re so inanimate.”

Lucy reached into a cupboard. “I’m having honey on my bread. Do you want anything?”

The fairy shook her head. “Plain, please!”

Lucy spread sticky globs of honey onto the bread with her fingers, which she then licked clean. “I don’t know if I could live underground either, with dirt and bugs always underfoot.”

The fairy meandered across the fridge top, glancing to her right and left, surveying the entire kitchen. “Your rooms are so closed and stuffy. I think I prefer my home.” She sighed, adding, “Except there’s never enough bread. It’s a human invention.”

“Perhaps you’d like to see another room? We could go to my bedroom and draw. That’s my favorite thing to do.”

The fairy darted about again, pausing this time at the fridge door. She pointed at the butterfly magnets. “What’s the attraction with flying creatures? It’s weird for a family who hates fairies.”

Crossing one sandaled foot over another, Lucy felt her cheeks warm. “I guess we’re weird—or rather I am. My parents don’t care for the decals. They just let me have them to make up for them never being around.”

A rush of colors flew by and Lucy felt a tickle on her hand. She glanced down and held her breath. The fairy was flittering right next to her. “Mind if I hitch a ride?”

Grinning, Lucy held out her hand. “Hop on! My name is Lucy. What’s yours?”

The fairy put her finger to her mouth. “It’s a secret.”

Lucy paused but no other response came. Lucy supposed that fairies weren’t supposed to share their names, anymore than they’re supposed to be seen.

Lucy carried their food into her bedroom and deposited it on her desk. The fairy zoomed about Lucy’s walls decorated with animal posters. Many were of flying creatures, but others were of wild animals such as wolves, dolphins, owls, and even frogs.

“You have a lot of animal posters.”

“My parents think I’ll become a veterinarian, but I think I’ll be a naturalist. I spend so much time gawking at animals that I forget all about caring for them.” Lucy pointed to hangings of pressed flowers mixed between the posters. “Besides, I like flowers too.”

The fairy dawdled at a bulletin board. Tacked to it were photos, drawings, and 3-D crafts. “Did you make all these?”

Lucy nodded. The fairy rubbed her fingers along the edges of one drawing and then another, creating a speckled frame around them as she did. Lucy clambered onto her bed for a closer look. “How did you do that? I thought you didn’t have any powers in our house?’

“I don’t, but I do have fairy dust on my body.”

“Does that mean the tub, the towel, and whatever else you touched will sparkle too?”

The fairy shrugged. “Probably not; I had to rub in the dust.”

She dived towards Lucy’s desk and skidded to a stop in time to avoid smashing into Lucy’s lamp base. “Weren’t we going to do crafts?”

Lucy rummaged through desk drawers, pulling out handfuls of construction paper, boxes of glue and scissors, and all kinds of drawing implements: coloring leads, pastel chalk, scented markers, and even a stash of crayons with faded wrappers.

Calico bounded in and stopped at Lucy’s feet. Smiling, Lucy stroked Calico’s erect ears and asked, “Where have you been?” Calico sneezed and Lucy brushed dust from her nose. “Ah, you were in the basement.” Scooping up a bunch of broken crayons, Lucy flung them across the wooden floor and yelled, “Go chase!”

Calico lunged under a corner of the bed, while Lucy turned her attention back to the fairy. She crushed broken crayons underfoot; ripped paper scraps into pieces the size of a fingernail, and poured glue onto a bottle cap. She positioned them atop the desk and motioned, “These are for you.”

The fairy poked at the paper fragments and crayon bits. “How can you be so nice and yet hate fairies?” she asked quietly.

Lucy twisted her hair around her finger. “Fairies aren’t always nice.”

“Neither are people,” the fairy countered.

Unsure of how to handle this turn in the conversation, Lucy plopped on her grasshopper rug and rifled through leads before settling on a red.

Crumpled paper landed at Lucy’s feet. “Humans are bigger.”

“Fairies are more powerful,” Lucy retorted, her chest heaving, and anger rising up.

More paper hit her in the head, as the fairy fumed, “Our powers can’t stop you from destroying our homes. Every time humans uproot trees, overturn gardens, or pollute water, we have to look for a new place to live. How are we more powerful? How do we deserve that treatment?”

Lucy jumped up and paced the room, clenching and unclenching her hands. “My family didn’t do anything wrong but next thing you know we had rearranged furniture, broken dishes, ripped pictures. My parents tried keeping up with repairs, but gave up when fairies unscrewed the pipes and our house flooded. Dad argued fairies couldn’t exist in cities, which is why we moved here, but Mom read that fairies often followed families and so she laid iron in corners, hung bells from hooks, and brought barrels of salt to sprinkle on the table before meals.”

Lucy flopped back on her rug, tensed her toes and fingers, and added bitterly, “I guess Dad was wrong, because here I am with a fairy in my bedroom.”

The paper assault stopped. The fairy fluttered downwards and rested on the edge of an open desk drawer. “My family was relieved to discover that your dad is a gardener, by trade no less,” she whispered.

Lucy watched the crumpled scraps uncurl, her mood still frumpled. The corners of her mouth twitched, as pride and envy swelled inside of her. “Yeah, Dad has many talents, unlike me. He can build houses, landscape yards, and even cultivate gardens.”

“We’re still figuring out our talents,” the fairy consoled.

Lucy stood back up, limbs shaking less, and peeked at the fairy’s picture.  Metallic colors and pastel hues formed cavernous rooms and flowery trails. “I think you’re an artist.”

The fairy smiled and flew back up to her collage. She fiddled with the flower shapes and asked, “Do you have any other kinds of paper?”

Picking up tissue paper, Lucy asked, “What about this?”

“Perfect!”

 

The front door opened. Lucy leaped up and whispered, “My parents are home. Stay here!”

Slipping out into the living room, Lucy greeted her parents who were chatting about supper. Stifling a yawn, her mom pulled Lucy into a hug, and asked “How about pizza?”

“Okay,” Lucy agreed, even though pizza had become a mainstay since the arrival of spring last month. “Do you want me to heat it?”

“Sure,” her mom replied. “Why don’t you—?” She gasped. “Is that—?”

Lucy followed her mom’s gaze and then froze. There atop the recliner sat Calico and in her mouth trembled a colorful winged creature.

Her dad hurtled towards Calico, who escaped into the kitchen. Calico darted back into the living room and jumped atop a tall cabinet. Her dad, following, stopped short and glared.

He pulled out a chair to climb on, but Lucy’s mom held up her hand for him to stop. She crept towards the cabinet with arms outstretched. “Be a good girl, Calico,” she whispered. “Bring the fairy to me.”

Lucy watched her parents try to corner Calico. She knew the fairy wouldn’t hurt her family, but also she couldn’t tell her family that. She shook her head, twisted her mouth, and tried to figure out what to say. “Couldn’t we just bring the fairy outside?”

Whirling, her mom complained, “We could have if your dad had agreed to line the yard with amulets.”

Her dad sighed. “I didn’t want to bother with maintaining them, which I’d have to with all our weather changes.”

“I guess then we’ll always be moving! The fairies apparently aren’t going to ever leave us alone.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “These aren’t the same fairies. They lived here before we moved. They don’t hate us. They even like that….” Lucy’s voice trailed off.

Her mom’s face was ashen. “Did you play with the fairy?”

Lucy averted her gaze. Her dad’s face was turning crimson. His hands were tightening around a chair. He looked ready to shake her. “You know what troubles we went through with fairies. Yet you brought one into our home?”

Gulping, Lucy hastened to explain, “I didn’t bring her in. Calico did, as a bunny. Then she changed. She doesn’t have any powers in here, not with all of our amulets.”

“Let’s keep it that way!” her dad bellowed and climbed on the chair. He snatched Calico and yanked loose the fairy who squealed, before marching downstairs.

“What’s in the basement?” Lucy asked, fear filling her heart.

“An iron cage,” her mom replied. “Fairies don’t like iron.”

Lucy bolted forward and grabbed her mom’s arm. “She’s my friend. Please let her go.”

Her mom ran her hands through choppy hair and exhaled.

Lucy grabbed the moment to further plea, “Or at least don’t cage her up.”

Her mom shivered. “She could escape. She could regain her powers. We’re being nice by allowing her to stay in a cage.”

Footsteps sounded on the steps and Lucy’s mom slammed her fists on the table. “I’m so upset with you right now! I can’t believe you brought a fairy into our home.”

Lucy stepped back, feeling as if she had been expelled from school.

Her mom waved her hand. “Just go to your room. Neither your dad or I are in the mood to see you tonight.”

That night, Lucy couldn’t sleep. Nor apparently could Calico, who kept jumping on and off the bed throughout the night. After Calico had pounced on Lucy’s chest seven times, Lucy gave up.

She trailed after Calico through the dark and quiet to the basement. Lighting her way with a flashlight, Lucy tiptoed downstairs to a cage hung from a clothesline wire. She gasped. Her friend looked like a drenched apparition. Lucy unlatched the door and reached inside. The fairy felt sickly hot. Lucy hoisted her out.

“Won’t you get into trouble?”

Lucy clambered up the stairs. “I’m a teenager. I’m always in trouble. Besides, my parents wouldn’t want you to die. They’re just scared.”

She slipped out the door into the sultry night, keeping Calico close, and crept around the corner. “Where’s your home?”

The fairy pointed towards the rose bushes.

Lucy tramped through the mowed grass. “Which rose?”

The fairy pointed to a red and orange variety known as tropical skies. Lucy grinned: This was a favorite of hers because it looked like a sunset. “Can I peek?”

The fairy shook her head. “Fairyland has powers too strong for humans to see even for a minute. You’d never want to return home. But the picture I drew…. I left it for you. It’s of my home. “

The fairy tapped Lucy’s palm. “Lift me to your ear.”

Lucy raised her brows, but obliged. The fairy leaned, wings brushing and tickling Lucy’s lobe, and whispered, “My name is Maeve.”

Lucy positioned Maeve in front of her face. “Will I ever see you again?”

“You have already many times.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I take on many animal shapes. Watch for me! I’ll let you pick me up.”

Lucy beamed, then knelt and lowered Maeve to a hollow under the bushes. Maeve arched her shoulders and declared, “Lucy McCarthy, from this day forward, you have a talent. You will become a famous nature artist.”

Lucy extended her pinkie, which Maeve grasped and shook as best she could. “I’ll bring bread!” Lucy promised.