Winter, Faerstice Read online

  Winter, Faerstice

  Charm Against a Sudden Stitch

  Kevin Lawler

  Epigraph

  Wið færstice

  Stod under linde, under leohtum scylde,

  þær ða mihtigan wif hyra mægen beræddon

  and hy gyllende garas sændan;

  ic him oðerne eft wille sændan,

  fleogende flan̄ forane togeanes.

  Epigraph

  Charm Against a Sudden Stitch

  I stood under a tree, under a light shield,

  where mighty women proclaimed their power

  and, yelling, they sent spears;

  To them another I wish to send back,

  a flying dart against them in return.

  excerpt, Old English, from the 10th century manuscript Lacnunga (Remedies)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Act II

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Act III

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Acknowledgments

  Contact

  Chapter 1

  In the annex of the little girl’s birthday party Winter adjusted her princess costume. The boning poked her in the armpit. Every time she hiked up the bodice was a reminder she had sewn it wrong. These space princess costumes were hard to get right.

  Brooke’s little brother was also in the annex, in his pajamas, racing Hot Wheels over posable wrestlers.

  Winter checked the blonde wig in her compact. Her elaborate princess eyeshadow was still in place. Maybe she should try this look on Grant. Loud vrooming noises.

  “If you go into the living room you can see the Space Princess Leonie show,” she said to the boy in pajamas.

  “Princesses are gross,” he said from the tiny hole in his Spiderman mask.

  “Even space princesses?” The expressionless mask looked at Winter.

  The door from the living room opened knocking aside two stray balloons. Brooke’s mom poked her head in. “I think they’re ready,” she said to Winter. “Go get some clothes on,” she said to her son.

  Winter went through the door. Yikes. In front of a stack of wrapped, mismatched presents on the back wall were two rows of girls. Only the littlest ones seemed interested to see Winter. Most of these girls were about two years too old to be having a princess party. This wasn’t what the mom had said. Maybe she should call this off. Winter could rescue this with a spell maybe, but that seemed to give her hangovers now. No need to get fancy, play it straight then collect. Winter started into her introduction.

  Some of the oldest girls were talking over her and Winter had to shush them.

  “The princess at my party was prettier,” one of them said.

  Ow, thought Winter. She did her best to remain professional.

  The youngest girl there, maybe four, was dressed like a miniature version of Winter. “Leonie, do some magic!” she said.

  “I can’t,” said Winter, “I’m too far from my home.” The girl looked dejected.

  Winter finished her intro and started setting up for ring toss.

  A door at the back of the house opened. Brooke came into the house in her two-piece. Winter looked in her duffle bag, er, royal toy carrier, for the missing ring. With the door open Winter could hear voices from outside and the sound of what must have been a young man cannonballing into the pool.

  “Mom! Moooom!”, Brooke said.

  “What is it, Brooke? You’re dripping water everywhere,” said her mom.

  “Where are the hot dogs?”

  “In the freezer in the pool house. Did you even check? You and your friends are going to have to thaw them.”

  “Can’t you do it? We’re swimming.”

  Brooke caught sight of Winter and scowled.

  “The party outside is invite only,” she said.

  “Brooke,” said her mom.

  Brooke’s boyfriend Reid came in the door behind her. He was dripping wet and water pooled on the tile under him. He spotted Winter.

  “Hey, Trailer Moon! Don’t steal anything, OK? Brooke, do you know where the hot dogs are?”

  One of the younger girls tugged on Winter’s dress.

  “Can we play the game now?” she asked.

  Several of the girls had decided they were too old for this and stood along the wall with their arms crossed. Winter let the line of younger girls go through twice and then a third time by request.

  She set the ring toss posts aside. When she went for her paints she saw the mini-Leonie had already found them.

  “What’s Trailer Moon?” she asked. She had green paint on her hands and dress.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Winter. She took hold at a clean spot on mini-Leonie’s forearm and ushered her into the kitchen.

  The kitchen area was filled with mothers chatting. There was a mess of fruit by the blender and many of them held frozen tropical drinks.

  “Could I get some paper towels and maybe some Club Soda?” Winter asked Brooke’s mom. She looked in the cabinets and got a fresh roll down. She wiped the bottom of her purse, which was soaking up fruit juice on the counter, and then delivered the roll to Winter. Winter started on cleaning mini-Leonie in the kitchen. The paints were washable but you had to get them out quick.

  “We see a storm like this every couple of years you know,” one of the conversations said.

  “...and then I told him if you can’t overcoat the deck correctly then I’m just going to have to get someone who can,” said another.

  Winter struggled to get the paint off mini-Leonie.

  A tall woman with red wine with pineapples floating in it who was talking to Brooke’s mom came over to Winter while she was cleaning.

  “Oh, this is darling,” she said, reaching out to touch the shoulderpieces Winter had made, “And all the makeup, too.” She reached for Winter’s cheek but Winter pulled back.

  “Thank you,” said Winter, dabbing green paint off mini-Leonie’s cheek, “I’ll pass on your kind words to the Neptonican royal tailor.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to play with me, where’d you get it?” she asked, “At Jo-Ann’s? Michaels? I got my niece a tiara playset from there.”

  Winter motioned with her eyes to mini-Leonie, and then with the back of her head to the kids in the room, like, come on lady.

  “There’s no need to be rude, little miss” the tall woman said, “I told Gwen I could do this princess thing myself. Better in fact. You should see my prom photos.”

  Winter finished wiping out the green paint on the front of mini-Leonie’s dress before letting it fall to the floor. Feeling herself freed Mini-Leonie sprinted into the living room.

  The tall woman looked at Brooke’s mom. “Gwen is your old dress back there? Get it, I’ll wear it.”

  “Please don’t,” Winter asked.

  Brooke’s mom was on it, thankfully. “Sorry,” she mouthed to Winter. She took the tall woman by the arm. “Don’t stress about it, Susanne, you can do the next one. Let’s get you a refill.”

  Winter returned to the living room. The little ones had gotten the rings back out. The older kids seemed angry. A curtain laughed where a little girl had wrapped herself in it.

  “It’s about time you got back,” sai
d one of the older girls. Why did she care? They weren’t enjoying it anyway. “We want you to do some things we want.”

  “Why don’t you dance for us?”

  “Why don’t you go make us some cookies?”

  “I want to see your Space Princess magic or I’ll scream.”

  “If you’re a real princess, why did you have to drive here yourself? And why is your car so beat up?”

  “It’s a rental,” Winter said, “Very hard to find a suitable royal carriage on Earth. Also, good gas mileage. All Space Princesses learn how to save.” Mini-Leonie nodded, taking this in.

  “I think you’re an imposter.”

  Winter picked two chairs from the room and set them facing each other. Then she got her paints ready.

  A man came in the door. “I’m here to get my daughter,” he said. One of the girls ran over to him.

  “Make sure you get a party bag from the other room on the way out,” Winter said over her shoulder.

  He had his daughter by the arm. He looked around at the party then at Winter. “You know, maybe I’ll get a drink and stay for a minute,” he said.

  The girls fell in line and facepainting went a little better. A lot of dolphins and rainbows at this party. Mini-Leonie’s turn came and Winter had to talk her out of her first idea.

  “A princess wouldn’t paint her whole face green,” Winter said, “How about a butterfly?”

  Mini-Leonie nodded. Winter dabbed the brush into the row of paints and put the edge of a butterfly wing on Mini-Leonie’s cheek.

  Winter held up the mirror. Mini-Leonie grabbed it appreciatively and then jumped off. The line had grown while she had been painting.

  The ominous sound of shuffling fabric came from the hallway and Winter turned.

  “Greetings from Neptonica,” Susanne said, flush, “I didn’t find Gwen’s prom dress but look what she had extra from Halloween.” It was the store-bought Leonie costume, the very expensive one, from Williams-Sonoma or some other overpriced imprint probably. But it was hard to beat. The detail around the neckline was machine stitched with exactly the rose orbit pattern from the cartoon.

  “Wow, a real princess,” said one of the older girls.

  “Are you coming to help paint?” Winter asked.

  “Oh, no, you can handle that,” Susanne said. She went towards the kitchen with her empty drink, peeling some of the kids off with her, including mini-Leonie. There was a roar from the kitchen as she turned the corner.

  “Oh my, Susanne!”

  “I told you.”

  Winter went back to painting bumblebees.

  The man who had come for his daughter spoke up. He had taken a chair in the corner. “I think you look better in your outfit,” he said.

  One of the girls came up and whispered in Winter’s ear, “I knew you were an imposter,” she said.

  Winter’s performance not going over well. Maybe she could rescue it with a spell. A little embarrassment was better than a hangover, though, she reflected, and something had felt weird about her spells lately, like she was exposed.

  Brooke was on her way out the door, spinning a ring of keys around the tip of an oversized car fob. She came up to Winter.

  “Listen, my mom said I had to apologize before I went. I just wanted to say that I think it’s great that you get to dress up with little girls if that’s what you want to do...”

  “Thank you,” said Winter, “That’s enough.”

  “...especially if you need the job, and there’s not supposed to be anything wrong with that, so, great. Bye.”

  Susanne in the store-bought costume came back out of the kitchen holding a cup. “Girls,” she said, “Who wants to see some real magic?” She winked at Winter.

  Her fingers were cradled around the cup without touching it. She moved her hands and the cup appeared to levitate inside of them. From Winter’s angle she could see Susanne’s thumb poked into a hole in the back of the cup. Womp womp.

  “Ooo,” said the crowd.

  “Why can’t you do that?” a girl asked Winter.

  “That’s nothing,” Susanne said. She disappeared into the kitchen. When she came back the cup was gone and she was gripping two mandarin oranges in one hand and a kiwi in the other.

  “Give me some room,” she said, and she started juggling the three fruits.

  “Ooo,” said the crowd.

  Winter didn’t wait to see if she was any good. She got up and went to the annex to put her things away. “Get the lights,” she heard someone say. They were setting up for the cake. Winter checked the clock. It was time to settle up. She went to Brooke’s mom to let her know the situation.

  “Look, I know we agreed to one amount,” Brooke’s mom said, “but I’m not sure I got my money’s worth. Susanne was right, she could’ve done that. I think a third of what we agreed to is fair. Don’t you?” Brooke’s mom held up a third of what they had agreed to in bills.

  Winter angrily grabbed the bills out of her hand without arguing. She turned and went into the kitchen. Brooke’s mom’s purse was there. The oversized bag sopping up juice. Winter stuck her hand in the top and searched for the billfold. It was also oversized and full of receipts. Finally in one of the sections she found the pouch with US bills. She took out the stack and put the billfold back. Brooke’s mom saw her as she was replacing the billfold.

  “Hey,” Brooke’s mom said, “You can’t do that.”

  Winter muscled her way through the crowd into the cake room. “Excuse you.”

  She walked up in front of Susanne, Leonie to Leonie. Winter could feel the crowd watching her, sensing the impending confrontation. Winter quickly crossed her arms in front of her and flicked her fists open. Neon confetti, made purely of light, shot from her hands, largely toward Susanne’s face, but filling the entire room. Susanne flinched back, horrified. The lucent confetti twisted as it fell, all the colors of the neon rainbow. The girl blew out the cake and the lights came on.

  Susanne tried to rip the royal epaulets off Winter’s costume but they wouldn’t come off, and Winter broke free and went out the front door and slammed it behind her.

  In the front yard Winter could see Brooke and friends pulling out of the driveway. There was a surfboard and beach gear strapped to the top of their car.

  She could feel a spell coming on, one she didn’t know, and she was not in a mind to stop it, and so she let it fly. She swung her arm down like she was signaling the start of a race. There was a loud explosion. The front of the car’s hood dented from the inside. And from where it had been going straight on the road it began drifting off to the side. It crossed from the road onto the grass easement and slammed into a tree at moderate speed. It stopped there smoking. The front was dented well enough. Brooke and her friends got out yelling at one another. Reid had been driving and Brooke got in his face.

  “I just got this one,” Brooke said.

  By then Winter had finished walking to her own car. She opened the door and sat down. She put it in drive and watched the wreck pass by from her window. She pulled off the blonde wig and let her dark, dark brown hair out.

  Winter held her brown, brown hair in a ponytail as her empty stomach heaved at the toilet. She hadn’t eaten anything the night before and so nothing was coming up on purpose, but she held her hair anyway. There was another party for her to perform at today and she knew there was a good chance she would be here again tomorrow before school.

  When her stomach calmed down enough for her to stop retching Winter went to the sink and leaned over it and tried to open her eyes again. They peeled open, too dry. “Aaaa,” she moaned pathetically. She was dehydrated, hungover from yesterday’s spell. Her eyes were scratchy and she shuffled to the sink in the bathroom to fling water on them. The headache was piercing and throbbing. She had to catch her breath. With every heartbeat she could feel it behind her nose, in her brain, and at the top of her head. “Unnnhhh,” she said. She drank from the tap.

  She went down the stairs in her nightcloth
es, water slooshing in her belly, her face wet from where she had splashed it. She wiped her face with her sleeve and then caught herself on the hand rail before she fell over. At the bottom of the steps her Boston Terrier Oatmeal was bouncing around waiting for her.

  Winter walked over to the couch, dodging Oatmeal, and sat on it upside-down, her head resting on the carpet. Somehow the blood rush improved her headache. Oatmeal was licking at her face, but she was in another world. She opened her eyes and saw Oatmeal bouncing around inverted.

  “I know what you’re doing,” her mother said accusingly from the kitchen. She meant drinking. Winter let her think that. Her mother peered around the corner with an all-knowing look.

  Winter let her legs roll forward off the couch. She bumped into Oatmeal coming down. “I’m sorry, boy,” she said.

  “Your food’s cold,” her mom said. Winter stood over the plate and looked. Scrambled eggs, cold, one too many strips of bacon, and a biscuit, cold. Winter pushed her finger through the top of the biscuit. It was the cheap kind she didn’t like. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but since Dad had gone Mom had given up on breakfast. She would’ve never let her sleep through before.

  Winter took a piece of the bacon and nibbled it. The tile was cold on her toes. Oatmeal walked over and sat, waiting for a bite of bacon. Winter held on to the table and tried not to think about her headache.

  Her mom inspected Winter’s right-side-up morning hair. She frowned. “You’re supposed to tell me when you stay out late,” she said, “I worry.” She crossed her arms and looked concerned.