Myka Finds Her Way Page 2

  All in all, Myka thought, flying back to the Home Tree, Pixie Hollow is calm and quiet. And that’s what counts.

  “Hello, Myka!” Lily flew past, holding a bunch of flowers in one hand and a watering can in the other.

  “How pretty!” said Myka.

  “I’m going to put the flowers in the courtyard,” Lily said, “so everyone can enjoy them.”

  Fairies and sparrow men were all heading home for the day. The sky filled with fluttering wings and cheerful voices.

  “See you in the tearoom,” called Bess.

  Myka smiled at her friend. She fluttered lower, into the Home Tree courtyard.

  Suddenly, she pulled up short.

  There, up ahead! In the shadiest corner, a snake slithered around a rock.

  Danger! Danger! Myka’s senses cried. Fangs! Fierce! Fairy-catching!

  “Watch out!” she shouted. “Yellowbellied whipsnake!”

  SCREEE! SCREEE! MYKA blew her whistle to sound the alarm. “Snake!” she cried.

  All around the courtyard, fairies skidded to a stop. A fast-flying fairy braked so suddenly, she lost control. She bumped into Lily. Lily dropped the flowers and the watering can, spilling petals and water everywhere.

  Fairies and sparrow men panicked.

  “What’s happening?”

  “A snake is in the courtyard!”

  They fell into one another, slipping on petals and puddles. They shouted, then flew, then ran, then shouted.

  “This way!” Myka tried to herd the fairies out of danger. But no one was listening.

  Tweeet! A sharp whistle cut through the noise. Trak hovered over everyone, waving his arms. “Fairies! Sparrow men! It’s all right! There is no snake!”

  Right away, everyone quieted. “What?” Myka swung to face him. “It’s only a tree branch,” Trak said. Myka flew to the rock. Trak was right. The soft branch bent around the rock like a coiled snake. Its yellow bark shone in the sunlight.

  “No need to panic,” Trak went on. “Just go to the tearoom. Dinner is ready.”

  Trak glanced at Myka, shaking his head. Her glow flared bright pink.

  “Well, well,” Iris said under her breath as she passed Myka. “That was a lot of excitement…for no reason.”

  Usually, no one paid attention to Iris. She was a garden talent who didn’t even have a garden. She just had a plant book filled with little-known facts about flowers and plants. But now, the fairies around her nodded in agreement.

  “I’m still tired from this morning,” a dusting-talent fairy said pointedly.

  The fairies fluttered past Myka. Some whispered. Some cast sideways looks at her. She heard phrases like “Scouting problem. Don’t you think? False alarms. Two of them.”

  Nettle passed and gave Myka a funny look.

  Myka groaned. Make that three false alarms, she thought.

  Then Tink said, “It’s okay about the coin, Myka. I don’t really need one.”

  And now Tink didn’t think she could find a silly half-penny!

  Myka slipped into the shadows. Part of her wanted to disappear. But another, stronger part decided to face everyone. She stood up straight, determined to stay calm and in control. Wasn’t that part of being a scouting talent, too?

  Trak flew to her side. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “The matter?” Myka repeated. “I made some mistakes. It could happen to any scout.”

  “Maybe.” Trak shot her a look of concern. “Or maybe something is a bit off with your eyesight.”

  Myka’s glow turned pale. “Shhh!” she hissed.

  A few fairies still milled around. Had anyone heard? Did anyone else think that, too?

  Myka squared her shoulders. So what if they had heard? She was still an expert scout. “That’s just crazy, Trak,” she said. “Nothing’s changed.”

  Trak raised his eyebrows. “If you say so. I just thought I’d ask.” Then he flew into the Home Tree without a second glance.

  “Well! Let that old scout think what he wants.” Myka humphed. “It doesn’t bother me.” She almost convinced herself that it was true.

  Bess touched her arm. “Are you okay, Myka?” she asked.

  Myka blurted, “Trak thinks something’s wrong with my eyes. Imagine! Telling a scout something like that! It’s like…it’s like…telling an art talent she can’t paint! You just can’t say that!”

  “So what do you think?” Bess asked.

  The truth was, Myka didn’t know what to think. Was her eyesight failing? Or, as she’d told Trak, had she just made mistakes? Very big, very embarrassing mistakes?

  Myka sighed, annoyed. Either way, she’d lost everyone’s trust. And without trust, how could a scout keep scouting?

  Myka had to prove herself—just like a newly arrived fairy.

  Myka paced back and forth in her room. Her pussy-willow moccasins barely made a sound against the floor.

  “Okay,” she said. “I have to prove myself to everyone. I just have to be the first scout to spot the next danger.”

  Of course, Myka didn’t want anything horrible to happen. But maybe a small hawk could circle the Home Tree.

  Then she could step in. She’d warn the others and help the animal talents come up with a plan.

  “I’d save the day!” she whispered.

  But if there weren’t any hawks around? What then? It could be a wasp. Or anything, really. She just had to spot some kind of trouble.

  In all of Never Land, there had to be something happening. Right now.

  Myka jumped into the air. She’d fly to her lookout at the eucalyptus tree. The sun was going to set soon. Already, the light was dim. But surely she had enough time.

  Without wasting another moment, Myka darted outside. She flew quickly, feeling confident. That corner of Pixie Hollow was always chillier than the other three. The wind blew more strongly there. Myka felt the breeze whip her hair. She’d be at the lookout any second!

  Wait a minute.…There was Havendish Stream. And she was flying over a thick forest. In her haste, she’d flown right past the eucalyptus. That had never happened before!

  Chuckling a little nervously, Myka wheeled around. A vine brushed her cheek, startling her. She gulped.

  Everything looked so dim. She couldn’t tell the shapes from the shadows. The wind gusted. Branches swayed. She could barely see a thing!

  But the breeze carried a scent—that medicine-y smell of eucalyptus leaves. She sniffed. Over there! It was coming from that direction!

  The scent grew stronger as Myka neared the tree. At last, she settled on a leaf. Now all she had to do was fly to the top and find the lookout!

  Staying close to the trunk, Myka made her way up. A dark shape loomed in front of her. The lookout! Panting, she scrambled onto the platform. She leaned back to rest. Bit by bit, her breathing slowed.

  Whew! Myka had to laugh. What kind of scout couldn’t find her own lookout?

  “A tired scout,” Myka told herself. And now that she thought about it, she really was worn out. Her eyes felt gritty. She could barely see the tree twenty wing-flaps away.

  Why had she been in such a hurry? Tomorrow was another day. She’d head back to the Home Tree now. Get a good night’s sleep. She’d find danger in the morning, when it wasn’t so dark.

  THE NEXT DAY, Myka woke at dawn, as usual. Right away, she knew she wouldn’t be scouting. Her eyesight hadn’t gotten better, not one bit. If anything, objects looked dimmer. The sunlight seemed less bright.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Myka told herself. So she wouldn’t go out on patrol—at least not today. There were plenty of other ways to be a scout. Plenty of ways to convince everyone she could be trusted. She’d just have to start smaller. And she knew right where to begin.

  Myka flew down the Home Tree hallway. She poked her head into the sewing room. “Anyone here?” she called out. Already, sewing talents were working busily. They sat in a circle, stitching a tablecloth. Scissors snapped. Needles flashed. Fairies chattered.
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  “I came for a visit!” Myka called more loudly.

  Most of the sewing talents didn’t look up. Others glanced at each other, but nobody met Myka’s eyes.

  Myka frowned. This was annoying!

  How could she help anyone this way? Well, she’d just have to do her best.

  Myka sidled up to Hem. The other fairies shifted away. “That’s a lovely cross-stitch,” she told Hem.

  “Actually, it’s a butterfly stitch,” Hem corrected her.

  Myka cleared her throat. “Well, it’s still lovely.” Then she raised her voice. “Anyone need some scouting help this morning? Anyone need a new supply of silk thread? Maybe some angora?”

  The fairies bent their heads closer to the tablecloth. No one answered.

  Myka plowed on. “How about you, Hem?”

  Hem shook her head.

  “Come on,” Myka said in a jolly voice. “I’m sure you can think of something for me to do.”

  Hem sighed. “Okay,” she said at last. “I lost a needle a few days ago. Right in this room. I searched and I searched, and I can’t find it. Can you?”

  Now it was Myka’s turn to sigh. What a dull task! She didn’t even need to leave the room! But it was something to do. And a way to show everyone that she could still scout.

  “Sure!” she said loudly, so that everybody could hear. “I’ll get right on it!”

  Myka fluttered low to the floor—so low, she stubbed her toe. Even there, she couldn’t see much of anything.

  She sank even lower. She bumped her nose on the ground. “Ouch!” she whispered. Covering up the pain, she sat down.

  “Double ouch!” She’d sat on something sharp. She reached down and pulled out the missing needle.

  “Aha!” she cried. She really had gotten right on it!

  “I found it!” she called.

  “Wow,” said Hem. “That was fast!”

  “What was fast?” Dulcie flew into the room. She carried a basket of muffins for the sewing talents.

  “Myka scouted out a lost needle, quick as a running stitch.”

  “It was nothing.” Myka bowed her head modestly. “It’s easy, when you have my sharp eyesight.”

  “So.” Dulcie pulled her aside. “You had a successful search. But what about those false alarms?”

  Myka shrugged. “All in the past. I’m in fine form now.”

  “Good! Just in time to help me!” Dulcie said. “Could you search out some bellflowers? I’d like to use them as dessert dish covers. They’re shaped just like bells, I hear.”

  This was slightly more exciting than looking for a lost needle. At least she’d be out of the Home Tree. Even better, Dulcie trusted her.

  “It’s for my four-layer maple cake,” Dulcie added.

  Myka’s favorite!

  Myka rushed to Lily’s garden. Bess was sitting in one corner, sketching a clump of violets. Iris was next to her. “The petals should be more round,” she advised. Myka flew over to them.

  “Iris,” Myka said. “Just the fairy I wanted to see! I need to search out bellflowers for Dulcie. Can you help me?”

  “All right,” Iris said grudgingly. She opened her plant book. “The bellflower grows in all sorts of places—”

  “Here,” Bess broke in. “I can copy the picture for you.” She began to draw.

  Iris went on and on, telling Myka more about the flower than she’d ever need to know. “And finally,” she wrapped it up, out of breath, “there are three hundred different kinds, from blue to purple to white to pink.”

  “There!” said Bess, finishing her sketch. “All done!”

  Myka grabbed the leaf paper. “Thank you…both! I’m off!”

  Minutes later, she was circling a field on the edge of Pixie Hollow. In one hand she held a balloon carrier to carry the flowers. In the other hand, she held the picture—right under her nose, so she could see it more clearly.

  I can do this, Myka thought. Iris said these flowers grow all over.

  She wrinkled her brow and squinted. No, there weren’t any bellflowers in that field. Or in the meadow. But along the banks of a small, clear stream, she found a patch of white and purple flowers. They hung from their stems like perfectly shaped bells.

  “Got them!” she cried.

  Myka gathered the flowers. Carefully, she placed them in the balloon carrier. Then she flew back to Pixie Hollow, losing her way only once, when she mistook a rock for a bush. At the Home Tree, she unhooked the basket. Then she left it—flowers and all—outside the kitchen.

  Dulcie peeked out. “Just right!” she said. She brought in the basket, leaving Myka alone.

  Suddenly, a wave of dismay swept over Myka. The thrill of finding the flowers and making her way home had worn off. Now she had to admit the truth. After searching so long and so hard, she knew for sure.

  “Something is definitely wrong with my eyes,” she said out loud.

  Myka quickly looked around. No one was there. Good. It was one thing to admit it to herself. It was quite another for someone else to hear.

  “THERE YOU ARE, Myka.”

  Myka was still standing outside the kitchen window, thinking. She heard Trak’s voice and looked up.

  “I hear you found a missing needle.” He glanced into the kitchen. “And also those dessert covers for Dulcie?”

  Myka nodded.

  “Well, then. Ahem.” He coughed. “I guess I was wrong about your eyes.”

  Myka squinted at Trak. His edges were blurry, and she couldn’t see his face very well.

  “How about we do some group patrols?” Sera suggested, joining them.

  A group patrol? Myka couldn’t do that! The other scouts would surely realize she couldn’t see.

  “I’d love to,” Myka said in a rush. “But I have to, ah…ah…I told Bess I’d look for a landscape for her to paint.”

  Before her friends could say a word, Myka darted inside. She passed Tink’s workshop. Tink waved from the door. At least, Myka thought she waved. Really, she wasn’t even sure it was Tink.

  Myka pressed close to the Home Tree walls. She hid behind the tall plants in the corners. She didn’t want anyone to see her…or where she was going.

  Myka paused in the hall. She looked left and right. All clear. Quickly, she opened a door and slipped through. The sign by the door read Infirmary.

  Inside, a nursing talent placed twig-splints in neat piles.

  Myka took two steps toward her. “Oof!” She tripped over a stool.

  I didn’t even see that! she thought.

  “Myka?” The nursing talent hurried over.

  “Oh, Clara. It’s you.” Myka recognized the voice. She heard Clara setting the stool upright.

  “Now, what brings you here?” Clara spoke in a brisk, no-nonsense voice.

  “You haven’t heard?” Myka asked hopefully. “About me having any sort of problem?”

  Clara busied herself with a birch-bark clipboard. She flipped over a sheet of leaf paper.

  Myka had never been to the infirmary before—she’d never had any reason to visit. But she knew that each fairy had her own clipboard, filled with information. Her Arrival Day. Her talent. Her hair and eye color. Where she lived in the Home Tree.

  Finally, Clara spoke. “Oh, Myka, nursing talents don’t listen to gossip. We examine each fairy with an open mind. It doesn’t help to think we know the problem before we do a checkup.” She pointed to a sign written in Leaf Letters.

  Myka could barely see the letters. But at least she could tell that the sign was in the ancient writing. “I can’t read old Leaf Lettering,” she said honestly.

  “‘First, keep an open mind,’” Clara said. “It’s our nursing-talent motto.”

  Clara washed her hands with a piece of soapstone. “Now, let me check your eyes.”

  Myka grinned. She almost said, “How do you know something is wrong with my eyes? Have you been listening to gossip?” Instead, she sat on the stool and opened her eyes wide.

  Clara’s glow fla
red as she peered first at Myka’s left eye, then her right.

  “Hmm,” Clara said. She scribbled on her clipboard. “Now, when did this trouble start?”

  Myka thought back. “I guess the other morning. When I thought there was a thunderstorm? I scouted all over Never Land.”

  “Where exactly did you fly?” Clara asked.

  As best she could, Myka went back through her flight. Pixie Hollow. The forest. The meadow. The field. The lagoon. Clara nodded along.

  “Can you read this eye chart?” The nursing talent pulled down a rolled-up leaf paper hanging high on the wall.

  Myka shook her head. She could barely see the chart!

  Clara put down the clipboard. “Myka, I’d say you’re having a vision problem.”

  Myka gritted her teeth. Any fairy could have told her that! Still, she said nothing.

  “But I’m not sure why. You’ve been working hard. You might have just strained your eyes,” Clara said.

  “What does it mean?” Myka was growing impatient. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing much.” Clara wrote a note on Myka’s clipboard. “Just rest your eyes. They should heal by themselves.” She handed Myka a pile of mosscloths. “Cover your eyes with these.”

  Good news, bad news, Myka thought. Good news, she’d be better in no time! Bad news, she had to rest her eyes. A scout couldn’t really do that!

  “Listen, Clara.” Myka spoke in a low voice. “Could you keep quiet about all this? I really don’t want this sort of thing to get around Pixie Hollow.”

  “Of course I’ll keep it quiet.” Clara pointed to another sign in Leaf Letters. “We take a privacy pledge. Anything that happens between a patient and a nursing talent is strictly hush-hush.”

  Myka was a patient? She’d never been sick a day in her life! But if it would keep Clara quiet, then she guessed it was fine.

  Myka went to her room. She covered her eyes with cool mosscloths. And she waited, tapping her toes impatiently on her bed’s footboard.

  Hours passed. Finally, she heard the flurry of wings in the halls. It was time for dinner.