Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [27]
Kerka frowned.
“No on the skirt, huh?” I said. I hung it back up and pulled on sky-blue velvet cargo pants instead. They had deep pockets into which I put my half of the Singing Stone. Then I tied an eggplant-purple kerchief on my head like a headband. When I saw the carved-wood wardrobe lady wink, I knew I looked good. But what I liked about the outfit was how the daisies on the shirt reminded me of Belle, how the color of the scarf reminded me of Mo’s house, and how the color of the pants reminded me of my old blue door back in Califa.
I checked myself out in the mirror. The purple scarf brought out the gold highlights in my hair. Redbird, looks like your hair’s on fire! I said to myself, remembering what my dad used to tell me when my hair shone in the sunlight. I smiled; even my braces didn’t bother me in this outfit. Finally, I threw a bright green velvet cloak over my shoulders.
Kerka came up beside me to look in the mirror. She had on nut-brown leggings and a tunic similar to the one I’d chosen except in a golden-brown color. Over the tunic, she had on a long medieval-looking brocade vest in night-sky blue, with a snow leopard embroidered on it in silver thread that wrapped from the front to the back. Her over-the-knee boots were dark blue suede with more stars.
“You look great!” I said. “Like a girl knight or something.”
“Why, thank you,” she answered, putting her nose in the air and holding her Kalis stick like it was a sword.
We heard a tiny bell ring.
“Are you ready?” Queen Patchouli called.
“We are!” Kerka and I replied together.
Kerka put on her backpack. Then we shut the wardrobe doors carefully. As soon as we did, the whole thing folded itself back up, one side at a time, bam ka-bam, until all that sat on the floor was my vintage suitcase. With a clip, clip, it snapped itself shut. Laughing at the wonderful magic show, Kerka and I walked out through the wispy willow branches.
The queen wasn’t there, but underfoot was a fresh path of yellow and orange flower petals that released their scent as we stepped on them. We walked over the petals through feathery willow trees toward the sound of voices and music. Finally, we pushed aside the branches of one last tree and stepped into a giant clearing that was a perfect circle. The sun was setting, spreading deep golden light across the whole amazing scene.
The place was filled with fairies. None of them was small, as I had imagined fairies would be. They were the size of humans—like Queen Patchouli. They all had gauzy wings and gorgeous outfits. Every one of them wore flowers, either tucked behind their ears, or woven into crowns, or as buttons up and down their clothes.
The fairies were busy, setting tables that were placed in concentric circles. The tables were piled with food and flowers. It was like being at a wedding for a movie star who was crazy about fairies.
Suddenly I felt eyes on me, and I noticed that many of the fairies were staring at me as they went past, carrying trays of food, or piles of silken napkins, or baskets of silverware.
Then Queen P. was beside us. “There you are!” she said. “Just in time. Come along.” As she walked through the fairy crowd, her people parted before her like waves.
I saw that Kerka had her own fan club of fairies watching her and whispering as we passed.
The queen led us to a small table in the center of the fairy ring that was on a raised circle of earth covered in growing grass. She went up the grassy steps to the round table, motioning for us to follow. There were only three chairs at the table, two woven of willow branches, for Kerka and myself, and a bigger willow chair festooned with roses that was clearly for the queen.
As we sat, Queen Patchouli rang a small glass bell. A delicate but piercing sound filled the air. The fairies went silent and all quickly found a seat at one of the tables around the circle.
“Now, this is Birdie Cramer Bright,” Queen Patchouli announced. “And Kerka Laine. This is the beginning of Birdie