Andrew:Human, 11

The new house is fine. Just fine. Nothing spectacular comes from it, It's just a new house. We moved in 2 months ago. Then there was nothing but spring rain, day after day after day. Now the air is hot and humid like sticky peaches. 

“Mom, I’m bored.” -Go explore the backyard. 

“So go explore the backyard.” -called it.

Ugh. I grab my backpack. Grey, just like this house, this lame old house. The glass door slides closed with the most awful creak. There’s nothing in the backyard. Just a bunch of weeds. They’re not even colorful ones. Just green and brown.

I start wandering around the fence of the backyard, clanking my stick along the metal wires. The neighbor's yard looks just like ours through the rusty holes. Weeds, and grass, the forest in front of me leading off into nowhere, and dirt, lots of it. I bend down, crouching on my ankles, looking at the garden, or what should have been the garden. All that's left are some old trellises. Woven in and out are an array of dry, twiggy plants, and weeds that seem to be doing much better. Suddenly, something grabs my attention. A single path, leading through the tall grass and weeds. It looks almost like an ant path, but there are no ants there. Instead, there are sparkles. Lots of them, as if someone sprinkled glitter along this one path. I don’t know exactly what it was, but I might have a slight guess.

The path is hard to follow, but it leads through the small garden, over the rotting wood barrier, and into the blackberry bushes lining the edge of the yard. Beyond them is the forest, and I don't really want to go there. I look into the blackberry bushes. At first, I don't see anything. But every time I look closer, I start to notice the details more. I notice the veins on the leaves, the thorns on the branches, how the bushes cast cool shadows as they arch over and through themselves. Then I notice something else. 

It can’t be bigger than four inches. A small wooden table. It looks just like any table, but it’s tiny. On it, I can see an even smaller wood bowl. Inside are broken blackberry seeds. It is so pretty I almost don’t notice the flash of butterfly wings. They were purple, or maybe blue. Small and dainty before it crawled back into the bush. I quickly formed a wild guess from the clues. 

-It couldn’t be, could it? Fairies don’t exist. They’re fake. But they do look kind of like butterflies. What are you saying? It was just a butterfly.

I know, I know it’s stupid, but something in me wants to test something. I reach in the pocket of my shorts and pull out a small bread crumb. I place the tiny crumb on the table.

“Andrew, come in for lunch. What are you doing in the dirt?”

“Coming, sorry.” I push open the glass sliding door on my way in. Lunch is leftover pepper and something. I sit at the cold wooden table. The perfect view of the backyard through the floor to ceiling windows lets me see a group of squirrels chasing each other across the canopy of trees in the forest past the bushes.

“Oh, by the way Mom,” 

“Yes?” 

“I was just wondering,” 

“Wondering what Andrew?” 

-would it be completely fine for me to poke my nosy face into a book at the library like the old ladies.

“Can I borrow your library card?” 

“Yeah, sure. It’s in the bowl at the end of the counter. “ “Ok” 

Lunch is finished quicker than quick. I jump up from the wood chair, forgetting that I'm wearing shorts during the summer. I grab a granola bar on my way out. It’s a straight shot, from the table, right past the counter, and back into the yard. My bike is sitting in the shed by the driveway. I grab my bike and head off to the library.

The library is one of those big old buildings. The ones where you aren't allowed to touch the floor, and breathing the air feels illegal. The one safe place is the children's library. Yeah, I'll admit it, I still like the children's library. But only because the rest of the library is a literal museum.

All I find are storybooks. Nothing I really want. The covers all look fake. Pink, and orange. Paper and plastic. Yellow, blue, blue, purple, pink, GREEN. 

A leafy green with gold floral trim. I can see one fairy on the spine, sleeping in the gold leaf. How to Find Flower Fairies. I pull the book out, much bigger than an ordinary picture book. I am mesmerized by the picture in the middle. Turn the book one way and there is a wooden door covered in leaves, turn it the other way and a small fairy with an acorn is there. This is the one. This is the book. I open the page. A full scene pops out at me. Oak leaves, and bushes, covered in dust. This is a pop-out book. The page describes what a tree fairy looks like, its hiding places, things to look for. Each page shows a different scene. Logs and mushrooms, full blooming gardens, ponds with lily pads, butterflies, and blackberry bushes. Blackberry bushes. Just like the ones in my backyard. 

I read the small notes on the page. Fairies’ wings resemble butterfly wings. They hide their windchimes in the branches of bushes. They love to play but are extremely shy. As I read more and more, I want to see one. To have it see me. I check out the book with the librarian and walk calmly and quickly out of the museum of a library. 

Back down the street, back up my road, back up my driveway, back to the back of the yard. The bread is gone. Whoever was there had taken it. It might have just been a bird. But in its place is a small piece of paper and a tiny bouquet of flowers. 

The paper is tiny, just like the bowl next to it. It sparkles, just like the path. On it is one word. Angala. Written just like that. It is so beautiful, and more importantly, it proves that there is something here. I pick up the note and the flowers. Tiny, only an inch or two high. The flowers are the blue weed flowers that sit by the driveway. I take the granola bar out of my pocket. Soft enough to break off a small piece of granola and set it on the table. In my other pocket, I find my math homework. I rip the edge as small as I can and write one word on it. Andrew. 

I go and sit a few yards away. I watch the leaves rustle, and a dog in the distance barks. Only a minute or two goes by before I see color popping out of the branches. Three fairies step out. They can clearly see me, and keep looking over. one with yellow wings walks over to the table and picks up the granola and the note. I see another flutter out from the bush and over to me. I bend down slowly onto my stomach to see her better. Her face is super pale and full of freckles. The wings are light purple, exactly like a butterfly. She smiles before flying back into the bush. I take the note, and head inside for the remainder of the day.

But I still want to do one thing. The next mourning is chilly, which is strange because it had been so hot the previous day. The morning sun is already heating the world, and I can see the bugs flying in the shadows. I walk quietly, deliberately, over to the blackberry bush. Far inside the branches, I pick two blackberries. One for me, and one for her. 

The water bottle I am carrying splashes on my hand as I rinse the blackberries off. I raise my hand toward the tree above. I pluck a small green leaf from the branch and hold it in between my fingers. I take half a scooch back and sit. Crisscross applesauce in the dirt. I know I’m scary, I am a giant for these fairies. I set the blackberry on the leaf, the leaf on my open palm. My palm rests on the ground, right next to the tiny table, half-hidden by the branches. I wait.

Silence, it is so quiet. I think about how calm it is. I think about the morning smell. The grass, and the trees, and the dew. Then, just as I am about to go crazy with how quiet it is, I hear it. The tiny jingle. Feet, or wings, or something, coming closer. It takes all of my might to remain completely calm. I don’t open my eyes, I don’t move. I do feel something. Something picking up the blackberry.

I wait an extra 10 seconds before opening my eyes. Back behind a branch is that fairy. The same one from before. In her hands is the giant blackberry. She seems unsure of me but then smiles. Looking down at the blackberry then back at me. I smile too. I show her that I also have a blackberry. Together we eat. Together in the backyard by the blackberry bush. It’s ok that we didn’t talk, because we shared in the same moment. I have a secret to keep now. A secret of a whole other world, hidden in the bushes of my backyard.

Angala:fairy, 349

I make my way down the garden path back towards the hideout. I’m careful to watch my step as I run with my bag holding water from the hose drip, and a sunflower petal under my arm. I know Grandel is watching from the window of the hut. I can see his yellow wings flash between the gap in the wall.

I make it to the bushes, looking over my shoulder briefly. It’s just a habit at this point. Make sure everything is safe, and no one has followed me back. “Oh good, you made it back without being squished like a bug.” I scowl, my freckles amplifying my message. “You weren't being reckless, right?” -Why do I even bother? I hear the familiar creak of the door opening.

“I’m going to see who it is.” 

“You better not-” But it was too late, with a simple flap of my light purple wings I am out the door. I weave in and out of the arching branches of the blackberry bush. I pass by friends, waving as I soar past them. At the edge of the bushes, Eve is sitting by a table, crushing blackberry seeds. Eve is quiet, but it’s nice to just stand in their presence. From here I can see the house past the blandly empty lawn. It’s the plainest most boring house now. All of the old vines have been ripped down, and the flowers that used to fill the garden to my right have all turned to weeds. Speaking of the garden, that’s where the boy is. -what is he doing? I think. I squint from my perch. He seems to be studying something in the garden. 

Shoot, he’s walking closer. The birds in the trees chirp out the warning to confirm my fears. -he’s following the path. “Alright, move it.” another fairy says from the shadows. We all grab whatever’s closest and hide. I sit, sandwiched between two leaves. No, no, no, the bowl of blackberry seeds is left out. A sure sign that something is up. My brain starts going through the motions already, packing my stuff, breaking down the huts, moving further into the dangerous forest. Outside, the boy is crouched down in front of the bush.

He’s so close I can see his face clearly. It’s young, and focused, just like the old lady that used to live here. I can sort of see similarities between the two. His hair is bright red, while hers was white. The light brown eyes, hidden behind glasses. Looking straight at me. AT ME. My wings have slipped out from the leaf. Abandoning everything I learned about mimicking nature, I crawl out the backside of the leaf and flutter away. Not in any specific direction, just into the darkness. Safely hidden, I peer back. I quickly sort out what must have happened. He saw the path, he saw the table and the bowl, he saw my wings. Now the question is whether or not he’s trustable with the hidden truth.

Eve comes out from behind a fallen leaf. They have a terrified look on their face. I can see their blue wings opening and closing to shake off the scare. “That wasn’t good.” 

“No,” I say, “no it wasn’t”

I look over at the boy running back to the house. I study what I remember of his face. It wasn’t mean, it was curious, soft even, like the old lady. I remember how it was to live with her. She loved to work small and would make us little knick-knacks. The table by the edge of the bush was crafted by her one year. I wonder if it would ever be possible to have that kind of relationship with this boy. 

“Angala?” 

“Hmm,” I snap out of my daydreaming and look over. “He left something on the table, am I going to have to push you to go explore it?”

We creep over to the table. Sitting right in the middle is a crumb. We stand there leaning on the edge of the table, looking at the crumb. We pick up the crumb and break it between us. It’s dry, but there are also pieces of cheese in it. We both look at each other at the same time. “Can we keep him?” 

We both scurry back to the hut. Grandel is waiting, just like I anticipated. 

“Ok, I can already tell by the way your faces are going to explode by those smiles, No. whatever it is, no!”

I look at Eve, Eve looks at me, we both look at Grandel. 

“Fine,” Eve says quietly as they reach for a piece of paper sitting by the wall. “You don’t have to come.”

Out the door, quicker than quick. One more set of wings this time. 

Out the blackberry bushes, out into the sunshine and the heat. Eve slips me the paper and flies off to find flowers. -ink. That’s what I need. I settle on the leftover pokeberry ink stuffed in the tree hollow just into the forest. Back into the blackberry bushes. I go in between the branches, past the hut, and past all of the ripe juicy blackberries hidden under the leaves. Right outside the back of the bush is the forest. The giant, dark, and scary forest. We would watch the raccoons, and giant deer walking further in the forest, as we stayed, protected by the neighborhood. I make it to the tree. The hallow is relatively small, but it makes the perfect hiding spot for our tiny jar, a gift from the old lady. I reach next to the tree and find an old blade of grass. After pondering for several minutes I finally decided what to write.

Letter in hand I head back to the entrance of the blackberry bush. The table was crafted so precisely from a tree trunk. I can still see the rings through the glossy paint on top. Eve returns just a minute later with a bouquet of tiny blue Veronicas. The blue of the flower matches the blue in their eyes. 

We smile at each other and set our gits on the table. Quickly and quietly we go and hide behind a nearby branch just in time. Grendel stands further into the shadows, watching the event play out. We three sit, crouched down, peaking out, as the boy runs up.

I think that I see something different in him. He is more focused, looking down as he picks up the card. He almost smiles as he looks at it, examining it. I glance over at Eve. they sit in wonder as the giant looks at the card, then at the flowers. I look over to Grendel, his eyes show fear, but also awe. I look back just in time to see the boy take something else out of his pocket. He sets it so gingerly onto the table. It looks like sticky cardboard, but I guess that's what they eat. Something else comes out of his pocket. A piece of paper. He concentrates as he writes as small as his big fingers can. There they sit. Together, just like our gift to him. 

He backs away, slowly, strategically, but he doesn’t look away. I look over as Grendel steps past me into the light. He stands by the table until we meet him there. They are mesmerized by the gift, but I am still looking at the boy. I glance over to see the note as Grendel holds it up. Andrew. This boy has a name. I’m overcome by joy, I fly out a few feet from the boy. I study his face again as he pushes up his glasses. His skin looks tanned from the summer, and his fingertips are covered in dirt, paint, marker. It makes me so happy. I fly back to the bush and the others. They’re both standing perfectly still, shocked that I actually did that. 

It was so almost perfect. Almost perfect, but it felt incomplete, like we were supposed to do something else. I sit on a high branch of the bush. Watching the world go by, thinking about yesterday, and hoping for today. I can see the boy off further down the line of bushes. I can’t quite make out what he’s doing down there. He seems to be looking at the bush.

I stand on my branch to get a better look. The branch sways as I shift my weight and I grab another above me to steady my balance. Andrew looks nervous as he sits next to the bushes. I flutter down from my spot up in the branches. I can see him as I look around a stem. I look in the bag I've been carrying to see the rolled-up gift from yesterday. The food is long gone, but this paper can stay with me forever. I almost get lost in thought again, but I'm surprised by the thump of a hand.

My first instinct is to run. I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings as the hand came down next to me. I catch myself three steps in and turn. The hand belongs to the boy. I walk closer and closer, over a pebble, under a branch. I make it to the hand. Sitting on top is a beautiful blackberry. I cautiously climb onto the table and reach over. At the edge of my reach, I can grab the blackberry, and I pull it to me. Lifting it from the hand.

I back away to the other side of the table. Andrew opens his giant light brown eyes. I can see the old lady, my old friend, sitting next to the blackberry bush. She loved us and kept us safe. I’m sure now that this boy will do the same. I smile at him, and he smiles back, holding up a blackberry. sharing in this experience, I dig into my blackberry. It is sweet and juicy. I only get through one seed while the boy ate the whole thing. But that’s ok. He is our friend now. He will keep our world safe and hidden in these bushes in our backyard.