Wings

neither understood nor wanted to. After a couple of minutes, he shrugged and walked away.

With a frustrated sigh, the librarian turned to Laurel. “Yes?”

“Can I use the internet?” Laurel asked.

The librarian smiled, probably glad for a rational question. “That computer over there,” she said, pointing. “Log in with your library card number and you’ll have one hour.”

“Just one?”

The librarian leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s a rule we had to make a couple of months back. Had a retired lady who would come in and play Internet Hearts all day.” She shrugged as she straightened again. “You know how it is; a couple of crazies ruin it for the rest of us. It’s high-speed though,” she added as she turned back to a stack of books she was scanning in.

Laurel headed over to the carrel that held the only internet-enabled computer. Unlike the sprawling library Laurel and her dad had often visited in Eureka, the Crescent City library was hardly bigger than a regular house. It had one shelf of picture books and one shelf of adult fiction, and other than that, it was all old reference books. And not even very many of those.

She sat at the computer and logged in. After a quick glance at her watch, she started Googling.

Forty-five minutes later, she had found pictures of faeries living in flowers, wearing clothes made of flowers, and sipping tea out of tiny flower cups. But no mention of faeries actually being flowers. Or plants. Or whatever. Lame, she thought peevishly.

She started reading through a long Wikipedia article, but every two or three sentences, she had to look up a reference she didn’t understand. So far she was only a few paragraphs into the article.

With a deep breath, she squinted and started reading the article again.

“I love faeries!”

Laurel almost fell out of her chair as Chelsea’s voice sounded right in her ear.

Chelsea dropped into a seat next to Laurel. “I went through this phase about a year ago where everything I did had something to do with faeries. I have like, ten books all about faeries and pictures on my ceiling. I even found a pamphlet on some guy’s conspiracy theory about how Ireland is controlled by the Seelie Court. And even though his ideas were a little farfetched, he did make some valid points.”

Laurel closed her browser as quickly as she could, although the phrase too little, too late came to mind.

“Back in the Dark Ages, people used to think anything bad that happened was caused by faeries,” Chelsea continued, not seeming to notice that Laurel still hadn’t said a word. “Of course, they also blamed anything good that happened on faeries too, so I guess it evens out. Still.” She grinned. “So why were you looking up faeries?”

Laurel’s mouth went dry. She tried to think up some kind of excuse, but after trying to wrap her mind around dozens of conflicting faerie legends, she had nothing. “Um, I just wanted to find out for—” She barely managed to remember that Chelsea was in her English class before using it as an excuse.

Then she remembered David’s proposition.

“I’m going to the dance as a faerie this Saturday,” she blurted. “I thought I’d try to learn a little more about them.”

Chelsea’s face lit up. “That is so cool. I totally want to be a faerie. We should try to match.”

Oh, great. “Actually, David’s making me some kind of wings. He says it’s a surprise.”

“Oh.” Chelsea hesitated for just a second. “That’s okay. I should probably collaborate with Ryan anyway.” Her cheeks colored a little. “He asked me on Friday.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. He’s cute. Isn’t he cute?”

“Sure.”

“Good.” She looked lost in thought for a moment. “So you’re going with David?”

Laurel nodded.

Chelsea smiled, though it looked a little pained. “Well, you’ll be a gorgeous faerie. You practically look like a faerie anyway, so it’ll be perfect.”

“Do I?”

Chelsea shrugged. “I think so. Especially with your hair and skin being so light. People used to think angels were faeries, so faeries must be very light and fragile-looking.”

Fragile? Laurel thought, a little taken aback.

“You’ll look perfect,” Chelsea said. “I’ll wait for you by the door. I want to see your costume first thing.”

“Deal,” Laurel said with a forced smile. She didn’t like how she’d suddenly gotten herself locked into David’s idea. But it was better than telling Chelsea the truth.

“Why are you surfing here, anyway?” Chelsea asked. “Don’t you have internet at home?”

“Dial-up,” Laurel said, rolling her eyes.

“Really? Do they still have that? My dad’s a computer tech and he set up this whole wireless network in our house. We have high-speed internet on six computers. He’d just die if I told him you were still using dial-up. You should come to my house next time. Lots of bandwidth and I’ll lend you some books, okay?”

Laurel said okay instinctually, but there was no way she could go to Chelsea’s to research. Chelsea was too smart — she’d put the pieces together.

Assuming there were any pieces to be had. Laurel hadn’t found a single source that talked about faeries being anything like she was. The closest she’d found were dryads — wood spirits — and they were just the spirits of trees.

She was pretty sure she wasn’t a spirit.

“Well, I gotta go,” Chelsea said. “I have to do some real research.” She held up her history book. “I’m supposed to find at least three sources not including the net. I swear, Mrs. Mitchell is so behind the times. Anyway, see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, waving. “Tomorrow.” She turned back to the computer to run one more search. But when she opened her Web browser, her time had expired.

Laurel sighed and collected her sparse notes. If she wanted more, she’d have to come back another day. She glanced over toward the bookshelves where she could just see Chelsea’s bouncing curls.

Chelsea’s house would be more convenient.

Too bad convenience was way down on her list of priorities these days.

TWELVE

“STILL NOTHING?” DAVID ASKED WHEN LAUREL CALLED him Saturday afternoon, a few hours before the dance.

“Nothing. I’ve been to the library three days in a row and there’s nothing.”

“Not even hints?”

“Well, you can read any explanation into something if you really want to, but no descriptions of…” She lowered her voice. “…faeries that sound anything like me.”

“What about Shakespeare? A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“Actually, those are about as close as it comes. But they still have wings and seem very magical. Not to mention mischievous. I’m not like that…am I?”

David laughed. “No, you’re not.” He was quiet for a few moments. “Maybe the stories are wrong.”

“All of them?”

“How true are most legends?”

“I don’t know. It just seems like there would be some documentation if it were true.”

“Well, we’ll keep looking. Anyway, are you ready for tonight?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you at eight, then?”

“I’ll be ready.”

David showed up a few hours later with a large box that supposedly held the “wings.” Laurel answered the door in her blue dress with a shawl tightly wrapped around her shoulders.