Small Persons With Wings (21 page)

“Too bad. Your bed was full of mold and is now in a trash bag.”

“You're a young frog. You can sleep on the floor and give me your bed.”

“You're a clock. Good night.” I went upstairs and dragged my mattress into the hall. I'd spend the night by my parents' door, just in case.

When I looked in at them they were sleeping like babies. I felt a rush of love, mixed with longing for the way they used to be. And a healthy dose of terror, which I firmly tamped down. I couldn't afford terror. Terror was for kids whose parents were around to make it fun.

Before I went to bed, I rooted around in my costume box and found the elbow-length black gloves I'd worn last Halloween as a vampire. I put them on. If I didn't see my green hands in the morning and avoided mirrors, maybe I'd forget what I looked like.

Something drew my eye to the moonlight outside my open window. I turned off my lamp. Black gloves on, so tired I was almost relaxed, I settled on the window seat to breathe.

And caught my breath.

Durindana was lovely, graceful, silver light shimmering on her wings as she swooped and twirled outside my window. Fidius was with her, in his shirtsleeves, but his movements were stiffer than hers, as if he were still buttoned up in his velvet jacket.

Durindana had conjured herself a simple dress that allowed her to move her arms as her fancy clothes never could. She was riding the breeze as if it were waves at the beach, tumbling, wafting, gliding. Her dress rippled, her loose hair afloat, her face glowing with moonlight and pleasure, no more the pinched, pale Parva but a creature of the silvery air. Fidius was laughing, although his face, as usual, was impassive.

It was almost a dance between them, but hers was nothing like the stiff, formal dances of the Domus. He was the axis around which she swirled and swooped like ribbon on a breeze. Watching her cheered me up.
This is the way they're supposed to be, without all the fancy stuff.

Durindana's eyes were closed, so she didn't see when something below caught Fidius's attention. He halted in midair, darted to where he could see the front of the inn. His velvet vest and coat reappeared.

Durindana opened her eyes and bobbed in the air, watching him. He bowed to her, plumed hat in hand. She curtsied, watched him fly toward the sidewalk. Then she flitted off to a tree out back, disappearing among its leaves. I couldn't see her face. I wondered if she was sad.

I ran to a front window and peered down at the pub door. The door was in shadow, but here and there I saw a flicker that could have been wings, catching the moon-glow. What was going on? I was too tired to find out.
I'll ask Fidius tomorrow
, I thought.

In bed outside my parents' door, I didn't think I'd sleep. But it had been another busy day—chatting with a mannequin, getting turned into a frog, watching my parents go nuts, meeting my grandfather the clock. Anyone would sack out.

My parents stepped over me in the morning. I followed them down to the kitchen, where they put bowls on the table, sat down, and stared into them as if oat flakes would sprout all by themselves.

“Hang on.” I ran upstairs to get dressed. They were still staring into their empty bowls when I got back, so I poured cereal and milk and handed each of them a spoon.

“Eat,” I said. Obediently, they each took a spoonful or two.

“Mmmm,” I said. “Good, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dad put his spoon down. “Good.”

Mom burst into tears and ran from the room. Her footsteps pounded up the stairs. Dad sighed and got up to follow her.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Back to bed.”

“Dad, you only have to make it through today. Then the full moon comes and the elixir wears off and you'll feel better.”

“It wears off? Won't we see you as a frog again?”

“I hope not. We're working on that.”

“Okay,” he said vaguely and left the room. I followed him to make sure, and he did climb in next to Mom. She had her pillow over her head.

“Mom, Dad,” I said, standing at the foot of the bed, “Grand-père wants to give the moonstone back tonight. Is that okay with you? Gigi will get mad when she hears the plan, and I . . . I think she'll hear right away.”
Because she's Noctua
.

“Why are you asking us?” Mom's voice was muffled. “If he wants to do it he'll do it.”

“We all have to be there and we all have to say yea.”

“Yay.” Dad pulled the blankets up over his face.

“Look,” I said. “I can't get through this all by myself. You have to rally. You have to help me. You can't just lie there.”

They just lay there.

“Fine.” I sat down on the end of the bed and burst into tears. Not just tears . . . I was wailing, I was hysterical. This was coming from my gut. It was like popping a zit.

Nice one, Mellie
.
Way to make your parents feel better
. The thought made me cry harder.

When I'd calmed down to the sobbing and gasping phase, my parents were sitting up and watching me. My mom opened her arms. I flung myself at her and she rocked me, crooning. Dad patted me on the shoulder. “Worthless,” he said. “We're worthless.”

“Will you please stop saying that?” I bellowed into my mother's shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Dad said. I could barely hear him.

I sat up. “Mom, Dad, I know you don't believe me, but I do respect you. I like what you tell me—about growing into my grandeur and all that. You're fun to be with and I really, really listen to what you say. And I think your paintings are awesome. Really. Awesome.”

“You're lying to make us feel better.” Mom said. “I can tell.”

I was desperate. “Doesn't that at least mean I love you?”

They looked at each other. “Okay, now she's telling the truth,” Mom said.

“I know you're all depressed and everything right now. But you're going to be fine after tonight.” My throat closed up. Grand-père said he never forgot what the elixir showed him.

My parents would be different. They didn't have awful memories like Grand-père, they were nicer people. So they wouldn't be tortured for so long. Right?

Mom peered at me. “You have cheekbones.”

“Everybody has cheekbones, Mom.”

“I mean, your face is . . . different, it's longer, more angles. You're not my baby anymore.” She stroked my cheek. “I don't know why I didn't notice until now.”

I touched my face. It felt green and waxy. “Mom, we have to focus. You guys can stay in bed all day—just tell me this one thing about the moonstone. Is it okay to give it back? That's all I want to know.”

“We should give it back,” Dad said.

“Absolutely,” Mom said.

“Wh-what?” I'd been expecting a discussion, even an argument. A few dang-its.

“Mellie, look at us,” Mom said. “You're a human frog ... an extremely intelligent frog, but a frog nevertheless. We're basket cases. Your grandfather is a clock. This stuff will keep happening until we give the wretched thing away to somebody, and my choice would be the Parvi rather than that harpy with the stiletto heels. And she can't do anything real to us.”

“But . . . what about seeing through lies and stuff? And isn't the moonstone our legacy? Grand-père said it makes us special.”

“We aren't special,” Dad said. “In fact, we're a waste of space.”

“Not you, sweetie,” Mom said, her voice catching. “Us. I mean, what kind of mother lets her daughter turn into a frog and then goes to bed?” She flung herself down and pulled the pillow over her face.

“I guess we're done here,” I said.

I was sitting in the kitchen feeling sorry for myself when a pair of footsteps started up the stairs.
Oh sheesh. I never locked that door down there.

I couldn't move. All I could do was stare through the reception lounge to the top of the stairs, waiting to see a green-gloved hand on the railing, a bright blond head of hair.

Light brown hair. Freckles. And, seconds later, galaxy-gray eyes.
Never thought I'd be so glad to see someone from The Skinny Planet.

Timmo sniffed his shirt pocket. “What's the matter with you? You're all freaked out.”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just . . . everything.” I handed him the ring so he wouldn't have to sniff bleach all day. With my gloves on, and therefore no green hands, the world was almost normal. “Dad says it's okay to give the moonstone back, and they'll come to the ceremony.”

“Can I come too?”

He's earned it, I guess.
“I'll ask.”

“Cool,” he said, but then such a caterwauling arose from the cellar that neither of us could get in another word. The sound rose and fell in waves as we ran down the stairs to the sidewalk and tumbled through the pub door.

The place was writhing with little overdressed bodies, wings flapping, arms and legs beating the floor. Overdressed, but messed up: clothes ripped, wings bent, arms in slings.

Rinaldo flitted around wringing his hands. “What happened?” I called to him.

He hovered before my nose, wringing and wringing and wringing. “The Turpini must find a bigger home. There is not enough space here for the beautifully dressed Parvi Pennati.” A jeweled button fell off his coat.

“Why not?” Timmo asked.

“We are too crowded.” Wring, wring, wring. “We had a big, big fight last night and most of the Circulus left in anger, which they have done before but now they have not returned and our lovelinesses are fading.” Two more buttons fell off. His black velvet hair-tie disintegrated—powdered hair flopped all over his shoulders.

Sure enough, where the Circulus had been, six or seven sorry-looking Parvi circled grimly as bits of their attire disintegrated.

“Where did they go?” I asked Rinaldo.

“We do not know. And these sad remaining few cannot do what must be done for the health and beauty of the Parvi Pennati. The Turpini must find a bigger home so we are not fighting.”

“Forget that,” I said. “It's time to ditch the Circulus and take back the Gemmaluna.”

Rinaldo ceased the wringing activity and bobbed up and down in front of my nose. If he'd been bigger he would have been staring into my eyes, but since he could only handle one at a time he took turns, peering first into one, then the other. “You are meaning this? The Turpini will return our Gemma?” The plume on his hat curled up into a brown lump.

My stomach clenched. This was coming out much sooner than I wanted.

“A-i-i-i yi!” Lady Noctua whirred up to Rinaldo and slapped him so hard he flipped over backward, losing his hat. “You will end the Circulus? And what of me, your consort, who is so supremely skilled in the Magica Artificia? What of me, with no Circulus to be heeding my will?”

“
Ma chère
,” Rinaldo said, “the time of beauty has passed. We must face this together, you and I and our Parvi Pennati. Perhaps we may find other beauties, through hard work and our original Magica Vera.”

“
Tiens
! You betray me, Rinaldo!” Noctua lunged at him, missed, and flipped over herself, white-stockinged legs kicking in a swirl of petticoats. She righted herself and, weeping, zoomed out through the mail slot.

Rinaldo followed her. “Noctua!
Reveni!”
I think that means “come back,” but she didn't. After a minute or two he returned, shaking his head. “My poor Lady Noctua.”

“Tonight is the full moon,” I said. “We can give you back the Gemmaluna this very night.” At least Noctua wasn't around to hear the specifics.

Fidius appeared out of nowhere and hovered next to Rinaldo, waving his arms. “Turpini! Never do they listen to the Parvi Pennati!” His wings were turning brown.
Uh-oh
. “Melissa Angelica Turpin, you forget what I told you last night. We cannot take back the Gemma unless all the Parvi Pennati are present and answering ‘yea.' And in case you haven't noticed, our Circulus is not here to say ‘yea.' ”

“Oh. Right. I'm sorry, Fidius.” I reached for him with my gloved hand, but he folded his arms on his chest and turned his back, dark wings flapping.

“You must be finding our Circulus for us and be bringing them back,” Rinaldo told me.

“That's ridiculous. I wouldn't even know where to start.”

Durindana joined us, wings working hard to keep her aloft. “I know where to start.”

“How are you possessed of such information?” Rinaldo asked contemptuously.

“I was outside last night, enjoying of the moon,” Durindana said, hanging on to my sweatshirt sleeve to maintain altitude. Fidius's head turned slightly, but he kept his back to us. “Late in the night, I saw a great many Parvi Pennati entering a large black automobile. The driver was the giant walking
pupa
of which I told you before.”

Rinaldo was so surprised that he plummeted a foot or two. He shook his finger at Durindana. “Why did you not tell us this?”

“Maybe it's because you all laughed at her the last time she tried to tell you about that big doll,” I said. Durindana climbed my sleeve to settle on my shoulder in companionable fashion.

“What would this giant
pupa
want with our Circulus?” Fidius asked.

“Duh,” Timmo said. “She doesn't want you to get the Gemmaluna back.”

“Right,” I said. “I bet she took your Circulus so we couldn't have the ceremony tonight.”

“Then you, Melissa Angelica, must be finding her and bringing back our poor Parvi Pennati,” Rinaldo said.