“I simply can’t stand making another mess right now.” Scarlett’s glow had dimmed to a flicker, and her wings drooped. Her confidence had been badly hurt during the past few days. “I want to do something I can do well, but I can’t imagine what that would be.”
Bess thought hard. Scarlett needs to do something right — so I shouldn’t push her toward another talent yet — but it should be something creative.
She snapped her fingers. “We could use more paint.”
Confused, Scarlett asked, “More paint?”
“All art-talent fairies have to learn to make paints and plasters. You know, art materials. That’s not a talent; that’s something we teach each other.” Bess smiled.
Scarlett brightened too. “That must be very important.”
“It is! None of us could ever create if the others didn’t help make our supplies.”
Already, Scarlett was flapping her wings in anticipation. “How do we do that?”
“I’ll show you.” Bess took Scarlett’s hand. “Come on!”
They flew quickly over Pixie Hollow, laughing in the sunshine. Bess knew precisely what to look for, but not where to find it. She dipped down, and up, then down again, searching through the forest.
“Leo needs some dark green paint,” Bess called to Scarlett. “That means we need to find some Boing-Boing Ivy.”
“Boing-Boing Ivy?” Scarlett asked. “Why do they call it that?”
“You’ll see.”
Scarlett pointed to a few ivy leaves dangling from a nearby branch. “That’s ivy, isn’t it?”
“Don’t touch it!” Bess swiftly darted between Scarlett and the dangling leaves. “Yes, it’s ivy — but it’s Scritch-Scratch Ivy. If you get it on your skin, you’ll be itchy for a week!”
“I’ll remember that,” Scarlett said. She pointed to a nearby vine. “What about that? Is that Boing-Boing Ivy?”
“That’s a Cuddle Vine,” Bess corrected her. “Boing-Boing Ivy usually grows a little closer to the ground. Let’s fly lower.”
Sure enough, as soon as they got within a few feet of the ground, Bess spotted what they sought. There, creeping up the trunk of a large birch, grew a thick patch of Boing-Boing.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Scarlett said as they landed on the shady forest floor. She took one of the broad, soft leaves in her hand. “This is what we use for dark green? Do we pick the leaves?”
“The green dye comes out better if we don’t,” Bess explained. “We should pull the ivy off the tree, so that the vine and leaves are both attached. The vine is the most important part.”
“I understand,” Scarlett said. “Let’s get started!”
When Scarlett grabbed vines in both hands, Bess quickly said, “Be careful!” But she was a little too late. Scarlett pulled hard, until—
BOING!
The vines snapped back to the tree trunk. Scarlett tumbled backward onto the ground.
“Wow,” Scarlett said. “They’re very—”
“Stretchy,” Bess said.
“And slippery!” Scarlett’s hands were shiny with the slick Boing-Boing Ivy sap.
“We need to pull even harder,” Bess explained. “But the vines are so elastic that they’re hard to tug free. And of course, they’re slippery, so it’s easy to lose your grip—”
“Which is when the vines go boing!” With determination, Scarlett grabbed a twig that had fallen from her hair and twirled it back into place. “I see how they got the name. Is there any trick to it?”
Bess sighed. “We just have to keep trying until the vine finally pulls free. We’ll both fall down a dozen times while we’re doing this. It happens to everybody.”
That was the part that Bess found most comforting. She didn’t mind looking a little silly while collected Boing-Boing Ivy because everyone looked silly doing it. Surely Scarlett would be reassured too.
But Scarlett didn’t need anyone to make her feel better. “Pulling Boing-Boing vines sounds like fun! Let’s get started!”
They both grabbed handfuls of ivy. “Just pull slowly,” Bess said, tugging the ivy carefully away from the tree.
“I’m trying,” Scarlett said, grimacing as she pulled.
Maybe we’d make more progress if I pushed while she pulled, Bess thought. Quickly she slipped beneath the vine so she was on the other side, pushing outward. “Here we go. Take it easy, and — Oh!”
The ivy slipped from their hands with a BOING! The vine smacked into Bess’ tummy and pulled her backward with it. Bess felt herself zooming toward the tree, until—
CRASH.
“Bess?” Scarlett ran to the tree trunk. “Bess, are you okay?”
Bess groaned. She was pinned against the birch tree. “I’m fine! Embarrassed, that’s all.”
Finally sure that Bess wasn’t hurt, Scarlett started to giggle. “You did look funny.”
“I bet.” Bess laughed as she started to wriggle free. But she couldn’t quite tug herself loose from the vines. She pulled and pulled, but she couldn’t budge.
Scarlett said, “Bess? Are you sure you’re okay?”
Bess gulped. “I’m afraid — I’m afraid I’m stuck!”
9
“YOU’RE STUCK?” Scarlett clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, no!”
Bess tried one more time to free herself from the vines, but she couldn’t budge. The ivy held her firmly against the tree trunk.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I’m stuck.”
“Does this happen all the time too?”
Scarlett asked.
“No,” Bess admitted. “I think I’m the first fairy who ever managed to tie herself up with the ivy.”
She thought about what it would be like when Scarlett went for help. The others would set her free, but oh, they would laugh! They wouldn’t mean to be unkind, but who could help laughing at something like this?
Scarlett’s eyes widened as she looked at Bess’ face. “Are you embarrassed? You shouldn’t be. You were only trying to show me what to do.”
Bess’s glow turned pink. “I know you’re right, but I feel — well, pretty silly.”
“Trust me,” Scarlett said. Her expression became determined. “It’s okay, Bess. I’ll take care of it. Nobody else will ever find out.”
Scarlett grabbed the vines and started pulling. She tugged so hard that her wings beat faster than a hummingbird’s. There still wasn’t enough room for Bess to wiggle free. Scarlett pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and—
BOING!
She lost her grip and went flying backwards. After a couple of loops in the air, Scarlett landed flat on her back in the mud.
“Are you hurt?” Bess asked anxiously.
“I’m fine. What about you? Did it hurt when the vine snapped back?”
Bess shook her head. “Not a bit. Can you still pull with your wings all muddy?”
“I can use my feet and hands just fine.” Scarlett sprang up as though nothing had happened. “We’ll try again. This time, you push against the vines at the same time I pull. Ready?”
“Ready,” Bess said.
Scarlett took two fistfuls of vine. “One — two — three!”
Bess pushed as hard as she could. The vines were slippery against her hands. She grimaced, but she kept pushing, and Scarlett kept pulling, until—
BOING!
Scarlett went tumbling, head over heels. She somersaulted backwards until she landed, face-down, in the mud puddle again.
“Scarlett!” Bess cried.
But Scarlett clambered out of the mud once more. To Bess’ astonishment, Scarlett was grinning.
Scarlett held out her arms and feebly beat her mud-heavy wings. “So, how do I look?” She turned that way and this, as though she were modeling the latest creation of the dressmaking fairies. Instead she was only modeling a lot of reddish-brown mud.