“Sorry,” they said.
“Well, sit down, just mind you don't sit on anyone's house,” the faerie said indicating the grass around the faerie ring.
Tamara dropped to the ground, pulling her hoodie tightly around her. The ground was cold and it radiated through her body making her shiver. Hayden sat down next to her and pulled her close to him. She leaned her head against his shoulder and looked to the faerie.
“The town of Central Glade shouldn't be here. This land doesn't belong to you humans, but you've always been a silly lot,” the faerie began, “This land has always belonged to us, the fair folk or faeries as you lot call us today. We tried to convince the settlers not to found their homestead here, but they ignored us. So naturally we retaliated. We curdled their milk, busted their eggs, well, the ones we didn't take to eat ourselves, and lots of other things.
“Some of them started blaming one another, which was delightful, if I say so myself. It's always fun to turn you lot on your own. Though, I'll admit it's a tad too easy most of the time. Well, it wasn't long until some of your lot started crying for a witch hunt, because who, besides a witch, would do these things? Well, most of them were dumber than a grub worm to say the least, but one of them had a brain. Some guy named Bedwyr, you know after the knight of King Arthur's round table. Well, anyway, this guy Bedwyr caught on after awhile and just in time to stop the witch hunt.
“He made a deal with us. He said that your lot, you humans, would pay us for the land and out help. In the beginning the statue sat in the middle of Central Glades's town square and not a day would pass by without someone bringing us something. Soon though, as your lot is prone to do, you humans forgot about our agreement. Bedwyr willed the statue to the school and through the years different groups have left us our dues. It worked out well enough until you two baboons came along and stole our apples as part of your date!”
“We're sorry,” Tamara said, “We thought Greg and the others were just crazy.”
“You lot,” the faerie sighed, “always finding fault in others. It's amazing your race hasn't died out yet.”
“Is there something we can do to make things right?” Hayden asked.
“Now you're catching on, human boy,” the faerie grinned.
“What do you want?” Tamara asked.
“Nothing much, but we have put together a list of demands,” the faerie said, pulling a flower petal from her pocket as she spoke, “In exchange for our forgiveness, the wee folk of Central Glade request the following: a rocket ship, one cat whisker, candy apples—a whole package, don't be cheap—some of that sour grape lip gloss, and three candy bars.”
“That's it?” Hayden asked.
“Where are we supposed to get a rocket ship?” Tamara asked.
“Yes, that is it,” she said, “and you figure out where to get a rocket ship. Brave thieves such as yourselves shouldn't have any problem obtaining one.”
“We're not thieves!” Tamara called out, but the faerie was already gone.
Chapter Twelve
“What the hell does she mean they want a rocket ship?” Tamara asked, sliding into the passenger seat of Hayden's car.
“Don't think so literally. Think social network rocket ship.”
“I don't social network,” Tamara frowned, fastening her seat belt as Hayden started the engine.
“Let's say you did,” Hayden said, “and you posted that you were in the mood for, something, I don't know, let's say sweet and sour pork.”
“What does that have to do with rocket ship?” Tamara asked, tapping her foot against the floor board.
“Don't be so impatient,” Hayden said, “I'm getting there. After you posted that a bunch of people would respond with a bunch of different pictures of sweet and sour pork.”
“Why would they do that? It's not like I can eat pixels!” Tamara said throwing her hands in the air.
“Don't get distracted,” he chuckled, “this isn't about sweet and sour pork. It's about rocket ships.”
?
??So we can take a photo of one?”
“Or a toy rocket ship or something. They'd probably love it, if they could eat it.”
“True,” Tamara nodded, “they're obsessed with food. Do you know anyone with a cat?” Tamara asked.
“Yeah,” Hayden chuckled, “me.”