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“You belong to me,” said the boy, bringing his rubbery
lips close to the glass.
I sighed. Not this again. I slumped down to the
bottom of the jar and waited. Boys were notoriously
impatient and dull-witted, two qualities that had
undoubtedly kept fairies from going extinct. I could
wait this one out.
“Hey!” The neanderthal was knocking on the glass with
his big finger. “Hey, lightning bug!”
It took all of my reserve and self control not to
correct him. Human beings can’t tell a fairy from a
cat, much less a firefly. We are completely different
creatures, but there you go. Mother always told us,
steer clear of the suburban human areas, dears. There
is a preponderance of witless human young there and
they confuse our lights for a common insect’s. An
insect in the throes of a mating ritual, no less.
His eye was staring at me. I used all my
concentration to dim my luminescence. Maybe he’d
think I was dying and open up the lid.
“Kaitlyn!” I heard him cry, and my body went crashing
against the side of the glass as he got up and started
running. “I caught one! Look!”
Uh-oh. Kaitlyn sounded female. Female young were a
bit savvier than their male counterparts and I made
myself as small as possible to hide the brilliance of
my colors.
“Lemme see.” My cage was handed over sloppily. I was
feeling a little nauseous from all the movement.
This time, a blue eye surveyed me, then narrowed
slightly and I felt a twinge of anxiety. “This don’t
look like no lightning bug, Jeb.”
“It is!” He tried to grab me back and I held my
breath, rooting for him.
“It ain’t! Look!” She unscrewed the top, but before
I could escape, the jar was upended and I landed
gracelessly into a sweaty hot hand. Two faces were
peering at me intently.
“See?” said Kaitlyn authoritatively. “It’s a fairy!
You caught a fairy, Jeb!”
His eyes widened and he plucked me out of her hand,
holding me in the air in a most uncomfortable fashion.
“Holy God,” he breathed. “Are you a fairy?”
I didn’t speak. First rule of fairy defense. Do not
address your captors.
“Look at her wings, Jeb. They’re every color. Look!
She’s got hair!”
I closed my eyes tight.
“Hey, fairy!” It was the hapless Jeb, shaking me.
“Grant us a wish, fairy! Grant us a wish!”
Hmm...possibilities there, as I recalled from Fairy
Defenses 101.
“One wish,” I said, in as musical a tone as I could
muster. “But fairy wishes only work if fairies are at
least three feet away from all human contact."
I could almost feel Kaitlyn bristle beside me, but
Jeb, eager to please, nodded his head. “Okay, okay.
Three feet.”
“No, Jeb! It’s a trick! Don’t let that fairy go.”
“You’re just jealous,” he retorted, and I sent him
some validating energy to strengthen his resolve.
“That’s right,” I whispered. “Don’t listen to her,
Jeb. I’m your fairy.”
“She’s trying to get away,” said Kaitlyn. “Don’t be
dumb, Jeb.”
“I ain’t dumb!” yelled the dummy, and he placed me
clumsily in the grass and fell back a few feet. “Ok,
fairy –"
I pushed off, flailing my temporarily crumpled wings,
and rose sluggishly from the ground.
“Hey!” cried Jeb and I said imperiously, “No! Stand
back! Fairies need to be aloft in order to grant
wishes!”
“What’s aloft?”
“In the air, dummy. Don’t you read?” Kaitlyn was
approaching me speedily, her hand outstretched. “And
she’s trying to get away. She’s not granting you a
wish.”
My wings were recovering and I shot up out of reach of
Kaitlyn’s determined hand.
“Hah!” I cried triumphantly, hovering above their
heads. “I’m free! Listen up and tell all your little
friends! Contrary to what your storybooks say, we
fairies are not alive for the purpose of granting you
your addled and self-serving wishes.”
Jeb’s face was gazing up at me, his eyes dark, his
mouth open in protest. “That’s not fair,” he cried,
jumping up to try to reach me.
“Life isn’t fair, Jeb,” I called to him. “That’s
lesson number one.”
“What’s lesson number two?” he asked, abandoning his
fruitless attempts at capture and sinking to the
ground beside Kaitlyn.
I laughed and shot up higher into the air. “Never
trust a fairy!”
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