How to Ditch Your Fairy Read online

  My next one was light deprivation. Two weeks of total darkness? It was about as possible as the nothing- but carrots method. I could only attempt it during the holidays and even then I couldn’t see my parents agreeing. And Burnham- Stone’s list of “contraindications,” which included depression and suicide, was not encouraging. On the other hand, at the end of it her cat fairy was gone.

  The dirt option was the one Bluey had recommended, only he’d said six weeks and Tamsin said four. You weren’t allowed to wash your teeth, your hair, your clothes, your anything. We’d be expelled by the end of the second day if we tried it. I wondered how bad you’d smell after four weeks. Vastly bad, I decided.

  The next one was completely out of the question. “Near dying” turned out to be exactly that. Burnham-Stone had noticed some people who’d almost died had lost their fairies. At first she’d thought this was the velocity effect. I tried to read the footnote to figure out what the velocity effect was, and failed on account of the teeniness and multiple- crossed- outedness of her writing, but it seemed to be the idea that if you go really, really, really fast your fairy falls off. She discounted it because there were lots of professional skydivers and race car drivers with fairies.

  She also said you didn’t have to actually nearly die. It wasn’t about seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but about whether your fairy thought you were in immediate danger of sudden death. So people who’d been held up in an armed robbery had lost their fairies, as had some amateurs skydiving, and people in car accidents who otherwise had been completely unharmed.

  If the fairy thought you were about to die imminently, even if you weren’t, it jumped ship.

  She’d been unable to find a single example of someone with a fatal illness losing their fairy before they died. The fairy didn’t jump on diagnosis. People who were deathly ill kept their fairies until they died.

  “So, Fio? It says here that if we jump off a building and survive, our fairies will disappear. Apparently they run away if they think you’re going to die.”

  “Um, yay? But wouldn’t we actually die?”

  “Not if we had a trampoline or something to land on.” Even to me it sounded like an injured suggestion.

  “I prefer bleaching.”

  It was almost four in the morning and I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in months and months. I yawned, rubbed my eyes, and tried to focus on the pages in front of me. Why did Burnham-Stone give so many examples? Why did she have to quote so many people, including herself? Why couldn’t she get to the point? Her book would have been half the size if she hadn’t droned on and on.

  Fiorenze yelped.

  I startled and scattered pages. “Gah!”

  Fiorenze looked up at me, all tiredness gone. “I think I’ve got it!”

  “Really?” My heart beat faster.

  “Yes! And it’s not that dangerous, plus we can do it to night—”

  “This morning.”

  “We can do it right now,” Fiorenze said, grinning. “But you might not like it.”

  “I thought you said it’s not dangerous? It’s got to be better than bleaching, right? Or dying. It doesn’t turn you orange, does it?”

  “Orange? No. But it’s a bit bloody.”

  “Tell me.” Did we have to cut our little toes off and eat them? Drink blood? Bathe in it? Though where would we get enough blood to have a bath in at this time of night? “How bloody, Fio?”

  “We cut our thumbs. Doesn’t have to be too deep or anything, but there has to be blood. Also we have to have salt in our mouths when we do it, and it has to be in the dark.”

  “Well that doesn’t sound too bad. If we’re careful and don’t take out our own eyes we should be fine.”

  “And . . .”

  “And?”

  “Well, it won’t disappear our fairies exactly.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “We do it together. We swap.”

  “Swap?” I asked. “What do you mean, swap?”

  “Swap our fairies. I’ll have your parking fairy and you’ll have my boy fairy.”

  “That’s possible? I never heard of that happening. Are you sure?”

  Fiorenze nodded. “I don’t know if it’ll work or not. But Tamsin says that it worked for her. She and Waverly swapped fairies. Do you believe that? I didn’t even know. He got her fairy, she got his. That’s how she got her current OCD fairy.”

  “So you’d get my parking fairy,” I asked, thinking that sounded very doos indeed. “And I’ll have—”

  “I’ll have all your problems and you’ll have mine.”

  “Why haven’t we ever heard of that before?”

  “I don’t know. But according to Tamsin it not only works, it takes about ten minutes.”

  Just ten minutes away from having no parking fairy and having Fiorenze’s boy fairy instead? The one that made Steffi like her? “Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked. “My problems are vastly malodorous.”

  “Not as malodorous as mine,” Fiorenze said. “Truly, Charlie, my fairy is the worst fairy in existence. You’re getting the bad end of this deal. We can keep searching through Tamsin’s book if you like.”

  Was she mad? Nothing could be worse than being Danders Anders’s parking slave. Nothing.

  “You really don’t have to swap.”

  “Yes, I do. I can’t stand having a parking fairy for another single day. Let’s do it!”

  CHAPTER 27

  Swap

  Demerits: 6

  Conversations with Steffi: 9

  Game suspensions: 1

  Public service hours: 19

  Hours spent enduring Fiorenze

  Stupid- Name’s company: 7.66

  Number of Steffi kisses: 2

  Days Steffi not talking to me: 2

  Parking spots for Danders Anders: 16

  Vows to kill Danders Anders: 31

  Isn’t there a closer bathroom?”

  “Sure,” Fiorenze said, “but the one we’re going to is the darkest.”

  “It’s not near your dad’s rooms, though, is it?”

  “Oh, no. He has his own bathroom.”

  “How many bathrooms do you have?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never counted. Maybe twelve, I guess. But this one,” she said, opening the door while balancing the bowl of salt and knife, “is the darkest. No windows.”

  “Okay,” I said, following her in.

  Fiorenze placed the bowl on the floor and rested the knife on top of it. I put the antiseptic and Band-Aids beside them and shut the door. The knife looked sharp, but I was more worried by the salt. It was a lot of salt. We had to put a fistful of it in our mouths while we cut our thumbs.

  I like salty things, but not that salty. It reminded me of the time me and Nettles had made a cake together—we were both little. We’d gotten the salt mixed up with the sugar, and put in way more than the recipe said because we both have a sweet tooth. It had been the worst shock of our lives when we tasted the batter! I’d almost choked; Nettles had vomited. She’d been so discombobulated by the whole thing she didn’t take any photos. But even after we’d drunk liters and liters and liters of orange juice, all we could taste was salt. Water became ocean in our mouths.

  What if I couldn’t keep the salt in my mouth for the count of one hundred? The swap would be ruined.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes. We should cut ourselves before we turn off the light, right?”

  “Tamsin says it doesn’t work unless you do everything in the dark.”

  “Fine. If that’s what she says. But no slipping and taking out one of my eyes.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Fiorenze sat down with her back against the bathtub. She patted a spot on her right. “You sit here when the lights are off. Just two steps, then sit.” She shifted the bowl so it was between us and picked up the knife.

  I nodded. “Got it.” I reached my hand to the light switch and then paused. “Are you sure you want to do this, Fio
? Every girl in school, not to mention some of the boys, well, they’d kill for your fairy.”

  “They’re insane. Ten seconds with my fairy and they’ll change their mind. You will too, Charlie.”

  I doubted that. I’d have Steffi. “My fairy’s much worse. You’re going to get sick of everyone bugging you to get in their car. Just wait until Danders finds out.”

  “It’ll beat being chased by every boy my age.”

  “So you’re sure?”

  “I’m completely sure.”

  “Me too. Okay, here goes the light.” I turned it off.

  “Hmm,” Fiorenze said. “Turn it back on.”

  I did. Fiorenze jumped up, shoved a towel in the gap under the door, and then she grabbed some toilet paper to fill up the keyhole.

  “It really has to be that dark?” I asked.

  “As dark as possible. According to Tamsin, fairies don’t like the dark.”

  “Scared of the dark, and of dirt, and carrots. Fairies are weird.”

  “No argument from me.” Fiorenze smiled, then sat back down, adjusting the knife and salt next to her. “Lights,” she said.

  I turned them off again. This time we were in complete darkness. All I could see were the lines and smudges on the back of my eyelids. “Dark enough for you?”

  “More than enough. Let’s hope it’s enough for our fairies.”

  “Okay, I’m walking toward you. One step, two step. Coming down.”

  The tiles underneath me were cold. I could hear Fiorenze breathing and feel the movement of air between us.

  Fiorenze breathed in sharply. “I just cut my thumb. I’m passing the knife to you, hilt first.”

  I took it from her and brought the blade across the tip of my right thumb.

  Nothing happened.

  “Are you bleeding?” she asked.

  “No,” I said, annoyed with myself. I tried again and managed to break the skin. I brought my thumb to my mouth but didn’t taste blood.

  “Hurry. My cut’s drying up.”

  I pressed the tip of the blade in harder and then drew it across quickly. “Ow!” I felt the air against the broken skin, and then felt the blood dripping down my thumb.

  “Okay,” Fiorenze said, grabbing for my hand and hitting my shoulder.

  “Here,” I said, grabbing her hand. Clumsily we pressed the two wounds together. “This is so undoos.”

  I heard the bowl shifting on the tiles. “Oh. The salt!”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ve got a handful. Now you.”

  I felt along the tiles for the salt bowl, careful to keep our thumbs pressed together, and got Fiorenze’s shin. “Sorry!”

  “Hurry up.”

  I found the edge of the bowl and then slid my fingers into the salt crystals. They were sharp and dry. I gathered as much as I could between my fingers, but couldn’t help remembering what it was going to taste like. My stomach contracted and my throat tightened. “Okay, I’ve got some.”

  “On the count of three shove it in your mouth. Don’t let your hand slip.”

  “Sorry.” I gripped her hand harder.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded. Then remembered the dark. “Yes, ready.”

  “One. Two. Three.”

  I shoved the salt into my mouth, pressed my lips tight together, and tried not to gag. The saltiness was so intense it felt like I was tasting it in my nose. It burned. My eyes watered. Then I remembered I was supposed to be counting to one hundred. I started at twenty. The urge to spit the salt out was so strong that I squeezed Fiorenze’s hand as tight as I could.

  What felt like hours later Fiorenze mumbled, “One hundred,” through a mouthful of salt.

  “We’re done?” I managed to squeak out.

  “Yes.”

  I leaped up, knocking the salt bowl over, turned the light on, my eyes watering at the insane brightness of it, then I spat the salt into the sink. Fiorenze spat after me.

  “Gah,” she said, turning on the tap and pushing me aside to fill her mouth with water, rinsing noisily and spitting again.

  I stuck my head under the tap in the tub and did the same. But no amount of rinsing and spitting was getting rid of that taste.

  “It’s so disgusting,” Fiorenze said, rinsing and spitting again.

  “Do you think it worked? Do you feel any different?” I maybe felt different, but I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that my mouth was a salt lick.

  She rinsed and spat again. “Don’t know.”

  I sucked in more water to swirl around my mouth and turn into ocean. “Maybe if we tried drinking or eating something with actual flavor? You know, rather than water?”

  “Genius idea. Hey, shouldn’t you clean up your thumb?”

  I looked at it. A flap of skin was hanging off the top and the cut was bleeding copiously. Pox. I had fencing again today. It was going to be fun holding a foil without making it bleed all over again. “Oops,” I said, thrusting it under the tap. “Pass me the Band-Aids.”

  Fiorenze rummaged around in the cupboard above the sink. “Here,” she said, grabbing my hand, dousing the thumb in antiseptic—

  “Ow!” It stung something fierce.

  “Hush.”

  She put a big wodge of cotton over the cut. “Hold that there till it stops bleeding.”

  I did and noticed the time. “It’s almost seven, Fio.”

  “Pox! We haven’t put the book away yet!”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “No! You might bleed on it.”

  “How long does it take you to get to school?”

  “Twenty minutes if Waverly gives us a lift and the traffic’s okay. I’ll go beg him and get ready. You can shower in here. I’ll grab your bag and some towels. Won’t be a sec.”

  “No worries,” I said.

  I put a fresh piece of cotton over my cut and held it in place with a Band- Aid. Then I went into Tamsin’s mirror room. Through my tired eyes I could see the halos of my fairies. The white was gone. In its place there was a healthy red halo and the same thin blue one of my proto- fairy.

  It had worked. I had Fiorenze’s fairy; she had mine. With any luck I would never ever hear anyone squeal for joy over finding a perfect parking spot again! I couldn’t wait to see Mom, her sisters, her best friend, Jan, and Nana and Papa crushed with disappointment as they trawled the streets of the city in vain, while I convulsed with laughter in the backseat.

  I would never smell of gasoline again!

  Tomorrow, or rather today, was going to be the best day ever. I spun around on my toes and screamed. I’d done it!

  CHAPTER 28

  Waverly Burnham- Stone

  Demerits: 6

  Conversations with Steffi: 9

  Game suspensions: 1

  Public service hours: 19

  Hours spent in Fiorenze

  Burnham- Stone’s company: 11.14

  Number of Steffi kisses: 2

  Days Steffi not talking to me: 2

  Fiorenze didn’t look any more like her father than she did like her mother, except around the eyes. He had a squashed nose, almost like a pug, which made me wonder if he’d been a boxer. His nose looked like it had been pounded long and often.

  He nodded when Fiorenze introduced us.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Burnham-Stone,” I said, resisting the urge to ask him about his nose.

  “Call me Waverly. And you’re Charlie? Fio’s told me a great deal about you.”

  She had? Fiorenze continued to shovel in her cereal without looking up.

  “All of it praise,” he said, staring at me almost as intently as his wife had. I joined Fiorenze in cereal shoveling, despite the fact that it tasted like salt. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Are you both ready to go?”

  We nodded. Fiorenze grabbed our plates and practically hurled them into the sink. I’d brush my teeth at school. Maybe that would make the salt taste go away.

  “This way,” he said. I wiped my mouth and slung my bag over my
shoulder, and followed as he led the way to the garage. It was every bit as large as I expected. Although it housed six cars, there was room for more.

  My nostrils filled with the sharp unpleasant reek of gasoline and my mouth with bile. Even if I didn’t have a parking fairy anymore, I still hated cars. I wished we were getting a lift to school in anything else. Why didn’t they own a helicopter? They were rich enough.

  Fiorenze’s father unlocked the smallest car and climbed into the driver’s seat. Fiorenze slid in back. I sat next to her and put my seat belt on. She hadn’t said a word since introducing us. As the garage door opened and he eased the car out and onto the driveway, I thought about asking her if she’d enjoyed the salty breakfast. And especially if she felt any different.

  I kind of did feel different. It was certainly weird being in a car that wasn’t going to automatically get a parking spot, or rather it was, but it wasn’t going to be my parking spot! That made being in a car not quite so malodorous.

  “How is your campaign to get into the basketball stream going?” Waverly asked as we pulled onto Cliffside Drive. “I hear they’re likely to hold a new tryout any day now.”

  “What’s that?” I spluttered. I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. How had Fiorenze known about that? The only people who knew were Rochelle and Sandra and Steffi. And why had she told her father? I glared at the side of Fiorenze’s head.

  “It would be quite the coup if you made it, wouldn’t it?” he asked. “I don’t believe anyone’s been selected in the middle of the year in a long time.”

  “Six years ago,” I said. “Tyzhe Xian was accepted into baseball.” It felt strange and wrong to be discussing my basketball aspirations with anyone other than Rochelle, Sandra, or Steffi. What had Fiorenze been thinking? And what had Rochelle or Sandra been thinking to tell her in the first place?

  I wished Fiorenze lived closer to school and we could’ve walked. At least there wasn’t that much traffic getting to the city. It shouldn’t be long before we arrived in the brand-new world of Steffi liking me again.

  “And she went on to represent the city, didn’t she? A lovely precedent. Didn’t she have a never- drop- a-catch fairy?”

  “That’s right. You’re a fairy expert too, aren’t you, sir?” I asked, hoping he would start talking about himself, rather than me.