Hudson’s mouth dropped open as he stared at me. “How did you do that?”
I put my hand to my head, then jerked it away with an “Ouch!” The sparklers were not only bright but also hot. This was bad. Nothing was burning my head yet, but that could happen next. Was I supposed to stop, drop, and roll, like I was on fire?
Then again, there is only one thing more freakish than having your head unexpectedly ignite with magic sparklers, and that is dropping to your kitchen floor and trying to roll them off your head. I couldn’t do that in front of Hudson, and besides, smothering the flames probably wouldn’t work to extinguish magic fire.
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But how did I get rid of them? I hurried to the bathroom in a walk that was somewhere between a panicked scurry and a don’t-fan-the-flames glide.
In the mirror, I saw a wreath of fireworks surrounding my head.
Worse yet, a message lit up like wording on a scoreboard: She’s lying!
The disclaimer tromped brightly across my forehead. She’s a blasted liar! She’s lying! She’s lying!
“Well, this is wonderful,” I said.
Hudson came up behind me. I saw him in the mirror’s reflection studying the lights. “Where did that come from?” I tried to bat the thing off and only succeeded in burning my fingers. What had Chrissy said about the lights? Were they permanent? I couldn’t go to school like this.
“You’re a ‘blasted liar’?” Hudson asked, reading the words.
My fingers stung from touching the sparkler hat, so I turned on the sink and ran them under the cold water. I should have used oven mitts.
Hudson was still staring at me.
“Okay,” I said, “maybe I am involved with Robin, but not romantically.”
As soon as I finished the sentence, the lights vanished. So the way to get rid of fireworks was to tell the truth. I let out a breath of relief and ran one hand through my hair, checking to see if the fireworks had scorched it. Thankfully, unlike my fingers, my hair was undamaged.
Hudson leaned up against the door frame, his eyebrows furrowed.
“So …,” he said. “That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.” The cold water wasn’t helping enough. My fingers still throbbed. I walked past Hudson, went to the kitchen, and pulled ice cubes from the freezer. Hudson followed me. While I put the ice cubes in a plastic 98/356
bag, he said, “I guess I can understand why you don’t like talking to the police. The fireworks would be distracting during an interrogation, wouldn’t they?”
I put my fingertips onto the bag of ice cubes. “If a fairy asks you to sign a magical contract, think twice about it. That’s all I’m saying.”
“A fairy,” Hudson repeated. He didn’t believe me. I could tell he was coming up with other excuses for what he’d seen on my head. He probably thought it was some gag Nick had worked up with his computer-geek friends.
“Look,” I told him, “I’ll take care of Robin Hood and the Merry Men. Really. Just tell your dad not to shoot any of them before I can work things out. Okay?”
The front door opened and Nick called, “I’m back.” He walked in-to the kitchen holding a bunch of PVC pipes and a sack full of stuff.
“I’m going to have one souped-up potato launcher for my project.” I didn’t say anything about my fingers or about how Nick had left Hudson in the house to make sure I didn’t sneak out.
Nick set his sack down on the table and turned to Hudson. “Hey, thanks for your help …” He glanced at me. “… With my homework. I think I can take it from here.”
“Sure.” Hudson glanced at me too and I knew he didn’t want to leave yet, not when he hadn’t gotten more information from me, but he picked up his books and slipped them into his backpack. “I’d better get home.”
Nick walked him to the door and out of my sight. Still, Hudson called to me, “See you later, Tansy!” Yeah, I bet he would. He’d be tailing me as much as possible from now on. “Good-bye!” I called back.
When Nick walked back into the kitchen, I fixed him with a glare.
“You left Hudson here to guard me?”
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Nick busied himself picking up his books from the table so he didn’t have to look at me. “Mom and Dad asked me to keep an eye on you. I didn’t want to break my promise to them.” He grabbed his sack, and slipped the handles onto his wrist. “Now I’m going to my room to finish my homework. See? I’m not guarding you.” He left before I could say anything else. A moment later, I heard his bedroom door close. I sank down on the kitchen chair and checked my fingers. Tiny white scorched spots had formed on their tips.
“I should have gone with the frogs,” I said.
A lyrical voice behind me chimed, “As the saying goes, if you play with fire, you end up with blisters.” I turned around and saw Chrissy.
Chapter 7
This time Chrissy wore a lavender-colored spandex top with a flowing white tutu. Her pink hair was piled up on her head in a bun and held in place with diamond-studded pins. She looked like a ballerina who’d wandered away from The Nutcracker.
“Chrissy,” I breathed out in relief. “Where have you been?” She walked toward me and minty-smelling bits of glitter swirled around her. “I’ve been busy. I told you I was looking for a new job.” She glanced at her watch. “I only have a few minutes before I start my tooth fairy shift, but I thought I would pop in and see if you were ready for your next wish.”
I stood up, not sure where to start. Now that she was here, the words tumbled out of my mouth in a nearly incoherent jumble. “The police are out looking for Robin Hood. They think he’s going to end up killing someone, and I’m afraid they’re right. He won’t listen to me, and I kept calling for you, but you never came—I thought you said you were going to watch over me.”
“I don’t need to watch over you the entire time.” She pulled a crisp white scroll from a lacy purse and held it up for me to see. “Look, I have the Tansy Sparknotes.” She unrolled the scroll far enough for me to read: Tansy Elisabeth Miller Harris: Context, Plot Overview, Ana-lysis of Major Characters, Themes, Motifs, and Symbols.
I gaped at it. My life was not only in print, but in Sparknotes.
“That is just wrong.”
Chrissy scanned the scroll. “Saturday you cleaned, snuck out of your house, and—oh wow—total make-out session with Robin Hood in Walgreens.” She put a hand to her chest. “That’s so swoon-worthy.” 101/356
“No, it wasn’t. He was robbing the place at the time.” She let out a wistful sigh. “A highwayman-and-the-lady sort of romance. Those are some of my favorite stories.” Smiling, she rerolled the scroll. “So it’s going well then?” I blinked at her in disbelief. “No, Robin Hood is out of control. He keeps holding up stores and stealing things.” Chrissy tilted her head questioningly, as though I weren’t making sense. “What did you expect him to do when you wished for him to come here?”
“I didn’t mean to wish him here. And I wanted his advice, not his rampages.” My fingers started throbbing again. I shoved them back onto the bag of ice. “I thought he was supposed to do good things and help people. In books he was always the hero.” Chrissy slipped the Tansy Sparknotes back into her purse. “Well, you can’t believe everything you read. After all, by definition, fiction writers lie for a living.”
“But …”
Chrissy’s wings fluttered in agitation. She looked like a teacher whose students had failed a quiz. “You need to learn how to analyze men better. For example, you might have noticed that in England people often drop the ‘g’ when saying ‘ing,’ so if someone’s name is Robbing Hood, well, you don’t meet many hoods that are upstanding citizens, now do you?”