Celia and the Fairies Read online

  Celia knew her parents wouldn’t approve. “How come your mom is letting you play this?” she asked, after being mutilated for the eleventh time.

  “It’s just while Aunt Vicky is here.” Paul kept his eyes on the screen and chewed his lower lip in concentration. “She’s paying us a lot of money to try it out and tell her what I like about it and what I don’t. My dad is taking most of it for my college money, but I get to keep some of it.”

  “Like how much money?” Celia asked, putting her controller down. She’d had enough.

  “One thousand dollars!” Paul said, his eyes widening. “And I get to have fifty of it all for me. Woo hoo!”

  Celia mulled this over. It was an outrageous amount of money just for playing a game. “Do you like your Aunt Vicky?”

  Paul didn’t answer, just shrugged his shoulders.

  “Is she nice to you?”

  “She’s okay, I guess,” he said. “My mom says that Aunt Vicky just isn’t a kid person.”

  Celia sat and watched Paul play. She’d never seen him sit so quietly. Usually energy shot off him. He’d hop from foot to foot or drum his fingers. Even when sitting, he usually fidgeted. Not now. This game had some kind of hold on him. It was impossible to hold a conversation when his eyes were like this—glazed and unblinking. Getting information about his aunt today didn’t seem likely.

  Just when Celia was thinking of going home, the door to the den burst open, making her jump. Vicky McClutchy stood in the doorway. Celia recognized her from a magazine picture but hadn’t known she was so tall. Vicky was a slender, pretty woman, who dressed like a lady in a catalog—gray pants and a burgundy jacket over a white shirt. Dangly earrings and shiny hair. Nothing like Paul’s mother, her sister.

  “I want you kids to clear out of here,” Vicky said, by way of a greeting. “I need to make a phone call.” She held up a cell phone. “I mean it, squirt,” she said to Paul, who hadn’t budged. “Vamoose. You and your little girlfriend need to leave. I have an important business call.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.” Paul looked up, annoyed. “This is Celia. She lives in the next house over.”

  “I know who she is,” Vicky said, “and I don’t really care. Do I have to call your mother and tell her you’re not listening?” She looked toward Celia and fingered a silver chain around her neck. Something shimmering and cylindrical hung off the chain. When Vicky pulled it out from behind the flap of her jacket, Celia’s mouth dropped open in shock. It was the other half of the flute.

  “Can’t you call in another room?” Paul whined.

  “No, this one has the best reception. Beat it, you two.”

  Paul reluctantly set down his controller and shut off the game and TV. Celia followed him to his bedroom, where he plunked himself down on the floor. He had the sullen look he got when things didn’t go his way. “She always ruins everything,” he said. “She even made my mom cry last night.”

  “She made your mom cry?” Celia had trouble imagining this. “What did she say that made her cry?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Paul admitted. “They made me go to my room after a while. There was talking and yelling, and my mom started crying. Then my dad asked my aunt to leave the house. He was really, really mad. That’s when Aunt Vicky said she’d pay me for playing the game, so they talked about it, and she gets to stay for a week.”

  “Wow,” Celia said.

  Paul looked down at the floor. “I asked my mom about it. She said it was nothing I should worry about.” Both of them were silent for a minute. If a parent said it was nothing to worry about, it was probably serious.

  “Sometimes I listen to my mom and dad at night when they think I’m in bed,” Celia said. “I find out things that way. You could do that.”

  “I tried that, but I didn’t hear anything. It’s about our house, though, I know that much. My mom told my dad that Vicky was mad she didn’t get the house, so now she’s going to make sure we can’t have it either. My dad says my aunt is a bad person.”

  “She’s not bad, just misguided,” Celia said, quoting Grammy.

  “Nope, she’s pretty bad. And selfish, too. She never thinks of anyone but herself.” Paul made a face. “She’s my worstest relative. I like my dad’s sister much, much better.”

  The two sat quietly for a minute, until Celia asked, “Paul, what do you know about that flute necklace your aunt has?”

  “That silver thing?”

  She nodded.

  “She just always wears it. It’s her good luck charm, she says.”

  “Does she ever take it off?” Celia asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. No, wait.” He rested his chin on the bed. “She puts it on the nightstand when she sleeps. I looked in and saw it yesterday morning when the door was open and she wasn’t up yet. How come you want to know?” He pulled out a tissue and blew his nose.

  Celia ignored the question and thought. She needed to get that flute back, but in the meantime she had to deal with poor Paul. He was a mess. “It’ll be okay, Paul. I’m sure she can’t get your house. You already live here, right?”

  “I guess.” He sniffled. Celia went across the hall to the bathroom and came back with a box of tissues. Paul blew his nose and looked at her gratefully. “Thanks, Celia. You’re really the best, best friend ever. I’m sorry I spied on you. Really, really sorry. Please don’t be mad.”

  “You spied on me? What are you talking about?”

  “Yesterday in the woods. I followed you and tape-recorded when you were pretending and talking about fairies, and saying my aunt’s name and stuff.”

  Celia felt the blood drain from her face. “Did you see anybody besides me?”

  Paul shook his head. “No, just you.”

  “What else? Did you hear anyone else talking?”

  “No, I was pretty far away.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Did you see the lights?”

  “Ouch, Celia, stop it. You’re hurting me.” Paul pulled his arm away. “No, I didn’t see any lights or anything. Just you.”

  “What did you do with the recording?”

  “My aunt played it when we got home,” Paul said sheepishly.

  “You told your aunt about it?”

  Seeing her face, he said, “Don’t be mad, Celia. She saw me out in the woods after you left. She made me tell. It’s not my fault, really. We listened to it, but we couldn’t hear much cause I was so far away. Really, we couldn’t! We just heard you say at the end that you didn’t know how to stop Vicky McClutchy. That was the only thing that came out clearly.”

  Celia gulped. “What did your aunt say?”

  “She laughed this really creepy laugh and said, ‘No one can stop Vicky McClutchy.’”

  Oh no, Celia thought. This was serious. Vicky had the other half of the flute, and now she had plans to take over her father’s company and Paul’s house. Something major needed to be done, and quickly. Before even thinking it through, she blurted out, “Paul, I need your help.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  When the kids left the room, Vicky settled back in the recliner and opened her cell phone. She usually had her assistant make her calls, but this was one she wanted to handle personally. By summertime this old ruin of a place, her childhood home—the house that really should have been hers—would be gone.

  She envisioned a wrecking ball swinging through the front window and smiled. She’d make sure her sister and that boring husband of hers had time to move out, of course, long before the new highway construction began. She wasn’t that coldhearted. They’d plead and beg, but she wouldn’t give in—if anything, they’d already had the house far longer than they deserved. And this was a fair deal. They’d wind up with enough money to go somewhere else and buy a different, better house. Hopefully far enough away that she wouldn’t have to see them that often. Especially the boy. If she had to hear that Paul whine one more time, she was going to strangle him.

  Vicky wanted to be there when her sister g
ot the official news, so she’d lied about her condo being painted and needing a place to stay. Of course, they believed it. Once she was there, she couldn’t resist dropping a hint about the upcoming demolition. The county was considering it, she told them, just wanting to see their reaction. She loved what she saw next.

  “They can’t do that!” her sister had shouted. “We’ll fight it. This is our home.”

  Her brother-in-law comforted his wife and glared at Vicky through his dorky glasses. “I think you should leave,” he’d said. Then they sent the kid to his room, and the whole thing had blown into a big deal. Vicky finally smoothed things over by saying it wasn’t for sure yet and she’d help them fight it. As if. Then she offered them a thousand dollars for the boy’s college fund. They took it, which was ironic because she doubted Paul would ever be accepted at any college. He didn’t seem bright enough.

  The main reason behind this whole project had been to destroy Jonathan Lovejoy’s house. Bulldozed right to the ground, that was the plan. She smiled. That’s what he got for snubbing her and turning down her offer to buy his company. You mess with Vicky McClutchy, you lose big-time. That was the lesson here.

  It had been a good day when she was appointed to the county board. The first woman who ever held that position, too. It was only local government and an honorary title, but it was a start. Once she started throwing her money around, she was practically running the place. Making decisions that affected the masses suited her all too well. The public was too stupid to know what was best for them anyway. It didn’t take long after she joined the board before she was completely in charge. Having control of the county board made her a powerful woman. Power and money, that’s what she wanted, and that’s what she had, thanks to her good luck charm.

  She fingered the flute necklace and smiled, thinking of the day in fourth grade when she’d stolen it from Jonathan. He himself had stolen it from his mother’s secret hiding place, so he wasn’t so innocent himself. He’d taken it out from underneath the floorboards in his room, he told her, swearing her to secrecy. She’d promised but kept her fingers crossed behind her back. After she’d left his house with the flute in her pocket, he’d figured out that she had it and came after her. He found her in the woods, looking for the fairies he always talked about.

  “Give it back,” he’d said, rushing at her. “It won’t work for you anyway.”

  He’d grabbed hold of her arm, pressing so hard it left finger marks. They’d struggled, but she held tight to the flute. He finally got a grip on it and tried to twist it out of her hand. That was when it snapped in half. Surprising, really, that such hard metal broke so easily. Jonathan fell back onto the ground and stared in shock at his half, which gave her a chance to run home. She heard him calling behind her. “It’s not yours,” he yelled, and she thought, It is now. She was going to give it back when he called and apologized, but he never did. She guessed he was probably still mad she’d told everyone at school he’d dreamt about fairies, as if that was any big deal. In any case, the friendship was over.

  Once in high school she went up to him in the hall and showed him the flute, which now hung around her neck on a chain. “Remember this?” she’d said. He gave her a blank look and claimed not to know what she was talking about.

  She was the one who had the last laugh, though. He said it wouldn’t work for her, and yet it did. Wasn’t she the richest, most powerful woman in the county? Maybe in the state. And it would only get better. There was no way she could have accomplished all this on her own. Even if she only had half the flute, she must have the magic part, since Jonathan hadn’t amounted to much by comparison. Yes, she had the better half.

  Vicky punched the numbers into the phone. “It’s me,” she said when the call went through to the county office. “Vicky McClutchy. Put the paperwork through and let’s get this show on the road. The sooner we get these houses demolished, the sooner we can start.”

  Jonathan Lovejoy and her sister would be sorry they’d ever messed with her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Deep in the woods, Mira stopped mid-flight and cocked her head to one side. “Shh,” she said to Jasmine, the fledgling who flew alongside her.

  “What is it?” Jasmine asked, her wings fluttering fast to hold her in place.

  “It’s the girl, Celia.”

  Mira’s face was squinched like she was thinking hard, but Jasmine knew that what she was really doing was getting a read on the people in her house. It wasn’t enough to watch them, Mira always said; you had to feel their emotions and sense their thoughts. Only then could a fairy give her people guidance. Getting assigned a house and a family was a big responsibility, and it was more complicated than Jasmine had initially thought. She’d been training with Mira for days and still didn’t feel nearly ready to take on her own assignment. “What about the girl?”

  “She found the other half of the flute and is working on a plan to get it back. If she succeeds, she’ll possess some very old and powerful magic,” Mira said. “Almost too powerful for one little girl. I hope she uses it wisely.”

  “Can’t you help her? Maybe get the flute for her?”

  Mira sighed. “You know that’s not how it works. We can’t get directly involved.”

  “But we already got directly involved, didn’t we?” Jasmine asked, her head tipped to one side. “Because the flute came from us in the first place.”

  Mira said, “You’re right, but it didn’t come from me. It was our boss, Trapeza, who gave the original Celia the magic flute after she saved my life. Trapeza told me the flute would only work for Celia or someone in her family. Otherwise, it’s just a piece of metal. Very shiny, pretty metal, but not magical at all. The magic in the flute has been passed down to young Celia, so she has to be the one to get it back.”

  “So this little girl has to do everything herself? That doesn’t seem fair. What if she can’t?” Jasmine said.

  “As I told you before,” Mira said impatiently, “it’s our job to encourage and guide, not to take over. This new Celia will have to figure it out on her own. It’s the only way. You know, doing the right thing is never easy, but it’s always right,” Mira said. “Are you getting all this, Jasmine? You’ll be taking over your new assignment very soon. It’s important to know all this. I’m not talking just to flap my lips.”

  “I’m paying attention, really I am, Mira. I want to do the best job I can for the family. I’ll make you proud, I promise.”

  Secretly Mira doubted Jasmine was ready to take on her own family, especially the challenging one she was being given, but it wasn’t up to her. Mira was only the regional fairy master, and the orders came from her superior. Boyd was being pulled from his assignment, thank goodness, and Jasmine would replace him. Normally fairies served a hundred-year term, but Boyd had failed to live up to his responsibility despite many, many chances. In fact, he had failed completely. There was so much unhappiness in his assigned house, it was a crime. The boy, Paul, was generally miserable; his parents, dull and tired.

  Yes, they needed help, and Mira agreed that a fresh new recruit was probably the answer, but Jasmine? She was such a fledgling, it was doubtful she was up to the hard work that needed to be done. Still, Mira knew it wasn’t up to her. The orders came from above. All she could do was train Jasmine and hope for the best. “Okay then, listen up. There will be a test later.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  When Celia got home from Paul’s, she had just enough time to give her grandmother an update before her parents were due to arrive home from work.

  “So Vicky has the other half of the flute? You’re sure?” Grammy asked, puzzled. She stood at the stove stirring a pot of beef barley soup.

  “I’m sure. It was exactly like mine.” The sight of Vicky McClutchy fingering the flute necklace was fresh in her mind. There was no doubt.

  “How could she have gotten it?”

  “I don’t know,” Celia said, “but Paul’s going to help me get it back. He doesn
’t like his aunt much at all. He said he’d take the flute off his aunt’s nightstand when she’s sleeping.”

  Grammy frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get Paul involved.”

  “I didn’t tell him about the fairies and the magic,” Celia said hurriedly. “I just said it belonged to our family since my grandmother was a little girl.”

  “Still, it’s not right to ask a friend to take a risk that will get him in trouble.” Grammy’s stern look made Celia feel small.

  “Would you help then? Maybe you could call and ask Paul’s aunt to give the flute back?” Celia asked, certain that Vicky would be more likely to listen to a grown-up.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Grammy said gently. “I had my time with the magic, but I’m past that now. Long past. Now it’s been handed to you and you alone. Not me, not Paul, just you.”

  “But Paul doesn’t mind. He wants to help,” Celia said.

  “No, it’s not right.” Her grandmother shook her head. “You’ll just have to think of another way.”

  “But there is no other way.” Celia wanted to cry. Oh why did her grandmother have to ruin her plans? She and Paul had it all worked out. “This is the best way, Grammy. Paul’s right there. It will be easy for him.”

  “It’s not Paul’s problem,” Grammy said. “It’s yours, and you need to handle it yourself. If there’s going to be trouble, you need to take responsibility for it. Doing the right thing isn’t always easy, but it’s always right. Remember that.”

  Celia didn’t argue, but she knew her solution was the only one. Paul was right there in the house. It would be nothing for him to go into his aunt’s room while she slept and take the flute off her nightstand. Then he’d give it to Celia and it would be done. Easy peasy. There was no other way to do it. For the first time ever, she was going to go against her grandmother’s wishes.