Pixie Sticks

I didn’t hear about it until Dela told me, but you have to take everything she says with a grain of salt. That’s what my Father says about my Uncle, because my Uncle owes my Father money, but my Father says he’s never going to get it back, because my Uncle can’t stay away from the racetrack, but he gave him the money anyway, because my Uncle is my Mother’s brother and when my Uncle shows up crying once a month, my Mother starts crying, and my Father can’t stand hearing grown-ups cry, or anybody cry, really, but he never has to put up with that from me, because I wouldn’t dream of crying, especially not over something like money, because Father always says that money is nothing worth crying over, and that’s why he just keeps loaning my Uncle money to shut him up and keep him away for a month.

Now I take what Dela tells me with a grain of salt, because she flits about so. Don’t you hate how she flits about? I like Migina, because her wings are heavier, so she doesn’t flit about as much, but she’s still very pretty.

Don’t you think Migina is so pretty?

I do, and I’m a very good judge of such things, because my Father designs dresses for a living that famous people wear, and that’s why I can’t bother him when he’s working, which is a lot, and that’s why he tells me to go play in the forest, which I do, and that’s why all of you get to spend so much time with me, and aren’t you lucky?

And lucky that you decided to speak with me, because I know you faeries don’t like talking to just anybody who comes around the corner. You used very good judgment talking to me, because I’m very good at keeping secrets. Like how I don’t tell anyone that I saw came upon my Mother cavorting with Mr. Fields, the gardener, in the pool house.

I learned the word “cavorting” from Tunder, because she only knows Hungarian, so she’s learning English as a second language, and I’m picking up little words and phrases from her along the way, like “cavorting” and “lethargies.”

Mother and Mr. Fields were only kissing, but in my opinion, kissing can be cavorting, and so that’s what I’m going to say they were doing if anybody asks, not that anybody will ask, because I don’t talk to anybody outside of you and the rest of the faeries, Poppy.

Oh, but there are so many of you!

And you all have so many secrets.

Secrets I would never dream of sharing with anyone.

...But I don’t see the harm in sharing faerie secrets with other faeries.

After all, you’re all one, big community, aren’t you?

And it’s not good to keep secrets from people in your community.

That’s why you’re so lucky I’m here to help you all keep up your transparency.

Why, as soon as I heard that Dela had her eyes done, I simply had to tell anyone who would listen. Because she shouldn’t need to get her eyes down. She’s perfect just the way she is. Mother had her chin done, and after that, she didn’t even look like my mother anymore!

For several weeks afterwards, I refused to hug her, and that’s why I was here in the forest so often, and that’s how Dela ended up telling me all her secrets, and that’s how I learned that she’d be getting her eyes done, and that Melody isn’t really as good a singer as you might think she is, and Ilayda can’t swim, even though she’s a water fairy, and everyone trusts Dela and tells her everything, but she’s really not very trustworthy, because she went and told me everything just because I’m a human and she thought that was exciting.

And I suppose it is rather exciting, although not for me, because I’m the human, and you all are so hard to catch and stick in jars, which I’d like to do, because when it rains, I hate coming out here to the forest, and so I’d much rather have a few of you in my room back at home, so I can play with you there, but you keep bringing up boundaries, and I find that to be very rude, as there shouldn’t be any boundaries if the whole point of you existing is to help me and make me feel good about myself and do magic for me.

Speaking of which, I’ve barely seen any magic since I started coming to this forest, and I’m growing a little impatient. At first, I was satisfied just seeing you all fly around my head like hornets, but now I’d like to see something transformative.

For example, could you turn Mother and Mr. Fields into two hedgehogs? Then perhaps I wouldn’t hate them so much, because how could anybody hate a hedgehog? They’re such delightful creatures. If it turned out I could hate hedgehogs because of how much I hate my Mother and Mr. Fields, I suppose I could always put on the boots Grandfather bought for me to go hunting in, and I could stomp on them and stomp on them until they’re dead.

But I hope I wouldn’t have to, because cruelty to animals is a sign of sociopathy. That’s what Father says. I would not care to be a sociopath. I’m not very sociable.

I’ve been meaning to ask, on the subject of transformation, since I know turning two grown-ups into hedgehogs may be asking too much…

Do you think you could turn me into a faerie instead?

I think I’d be a very good faerie.

I’m very attuned to the rhythms of nature and I love pretending to fly except for when I fall off the furniture and land at an odd angle and break my arm and my Father tells me what an utter failure I am and then apologizes later, but doesn’t seem to mean it.

But I’m sure he meant it.

If I was a faerie, I’m sure he’d love me, because my Father loves beautiful things, and if I were a faerie, I’d be a beautiful faerie, and he’d give up designing clothes for famous people and he’d design clothes for me, and only me, and once I grew tired of wearing one outfit, he’d make me another, and I could give all of you other faeries my discarded outfits, and that means we’d all have new outfits and be so happy.

My Father would let me fill the house with jars and all the jars would have faeries in them, and that way, we’d never have to live outside, even though I like trees, because I like being indoors better, and then, there’d never be anymore secrets, because you can always see inside a jar, and that means there’s no way to hide anything.

Doesn’t that sound so wonderful, Poppy?

And all you have to do is get all the faeries to use all their magic to make me one of them.

It’s the least you all could do considering how much time I’ve spent listening to your problems and worries and the things you don’t want each other to know.

Haven’t I been a very good listener?

I’m sure you know how nice I’ve been to do all this listening.

Why, sometimes I sit here, barely saying a word.

I bet most of the time you don’t even notice how quiet I am.

But I notice, Poppy.

I notice everything.