Birdie's Book - Andrea Burden [28]
“Are you all fairy godmothers?” I blurted out, my curiosity having got the best of me.
“Heavens, no!” said the queen. “Fairy godmothers are human. We fairies have never been human and never can be.” Did I imagine it, or did a ripple of regret pass through the fairies? “We personally know all of the fairy godmothers, of course,” Queen P. went on. “And all of the fairy-godmothers-in-the-making.”
“So I’m going to be a fairy godmother?” I asked. “And Kerka?”
“Maybe you will be a fairy godmother, maybe not,” said Queen P. “We’ll see how you handle your first and most important quest. There are things you have to learn to become a fairy godmother. Things about yourself, other people, the way the world can be changed.”
I must have rolled my eyes, because the queen stopped and looked at me sternly. “I know that this sounds like lessons to you, but consider that anything you do, anything at all, makes you learn and discover. Do not underestimate the power of experience, Birdie Cramer Bright.”
The queen’s intensity was a little scary. I took a deep breath and nodded. It was so strange that I couldn’t quite believe it was happening to me. I hoped I was up for whatever was next.
“May I ask a question?” I asked.
“You just did,” said Queen P. “But yes, ask a question.”
“If I become a fairy godmother, what will I do? Do I have to, like, find someone like Cinderella and help her?”
The fairies all broke out in laughter. I could feel my cheeks getting red. Queen P. finally had to ring her bell again to get the fairies to stop. Then she said, “Birdie is not completely wrong. Fairy godmothers do help people.” She turned to me. “But the people you will help won’t always know what you are doing. You will have a magic in your world that can make a difference, not just to people but also to the world itself. And in your case, your family—those of the Arbor Lineage—has magic that helps the green world the most.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t really know what to say. I hoped that Mo would be able to help me understand exactly what I was supposed to do back home, assuming I succeeded in this quest. I looked at Kerka; she shrugged at me (which seemed to be her answer to everything).
The queen put a hand on each of our heads for a moment and smiled down at us. Then she took her hands away and waved them at the fairies. “Now let us eat, fairies of Willowood and fairy-godmothers-to-be—the night is just beginning.”
The sun had set when we finished eating the amazing meal. (I wished that I hadn’t had all that fruit on the way there!) I had never eaten so much in my life and was feeling a little sleepy. Kerka and I talked to the fairy queen about our families … well, mostly I talked, for once.
When the last of the glass plates was cleared, the queen rang the little bell again, and silence fell. From beneath the blossoms of a lone magnolia tree to one side of the fairy ring, a fairy all dressed in spring green approached, holding something bulky—it was The Book of Dreams! Rose and lilac petals fell like snow as she headed toward us and handed the book to Queen Patchouli. The book was as yellowed and tattered and mysterious as it had been when it appeared on my mom’s old bed.
“Let us begin, shall we?” said Patchouli, laying both hands on the book. “Everyone close your eyes, except Birdie. You too, Kerka.” Patchouli lifted her hands from the front cover, and the book opened by itself, flipping page after page until it stopped. “Here we are. Emma’s dream,” she said as she slid the book over to me.
My mother? I thought in amazement.
“She wrote this many years ago,” said the fairy queen, as if she’d heard my question. “It will begin your understanding of why you are here and what you must do.”
Queen P. rang the glass bell, and as the sound rang out, a shimmering lavender mist gathered over Kerka and the fairies. I smelled lilacs.
I looked down to see my mother’s own handwriting on the page of the book, but it was curlier, more artistic, as if she had been