Friends Forever Page 2

  Can’t you hear me? Please help! I’m in the wood!

  Twink gasped as her eyes flew open again. She hadn’t imagined it. The voice was really calling to her.

  Heart pounding, she sat up and looked out of the window. There were still stars in the lightening sky. No one would be up for a while yet. She had time to go and find the wasp, if she hurried!

  Twink started to push back her covers. Then she saw Bimi’s sleeping figure, and hesitated. Bimi wouldn’t understand. Nobody would.

  Help . . .

  The voice came again, fainter this time. Twink made up her mind. Taking care not to wake the others, she hastily pulled on her clothes and pushed her pillow under her covers, in case Mrs Hover glanced in.

  Easing the door open, Twink slipped out of Daffodil Branch. A moment later, she was spiralling down the dark trunk of the school, passing silent branches full of sleeping fairies.

  Midway down, Twink paused, hovering in place. How was she going to get out? The great front doors would be locked now! Suddenly she remembered – there was a broken window latch in their Flower Power classroom. Miss Petal had complained about it just the other day.

  Twink plunged down into the darkness, turning sharply to dive into a branch corridor. The Flower Power branch was halfway down, jutting off on its own. Oh, please don’t let the door be locked! Landing on the ledge, she wiped her hands on her daffodil skirt and tried it.

  The door slipped open easily. Twink let out a breath and sped into the moonlit room, half-flying and half-running.

  Which window was it? Twink glanced at the row that marched down the branch. There, that one! A moment later she was tugging gently at its wooden latch. It hadn’t been fixed yet, and the window swung open. Cool night air swirled into the room.

  Twink gulped. Should she really do this? Leaving the school at night was a serious matter – she and her friends had got into awful trouble for it last term. Then she thought of the voice again, and knew she didn’t have a choice. She flitted up and squeezed through the narrow frame.

  Suddenly Twink was hovering outside, halfway up the school. The wood crouched darkly across the fields.

  ‘All right,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know where you are, or how I can help you – but I’m going to try!’

  Taking a deep breath, she flew towards the wood as fast as she could.

  The wood seemed to grow darker and more forbidding the nearer she got to it. Twink stopped on its edge, biting her lip. How was she ever going to find one wasp in a wood this size?

  Help! Help me!

  .

  .

  Twink turned in the air, listening hard. Yes, he was that way! She dived into the wood, flying fast, darting around trees and undergrowth.

  The voice led her to the very deepest, darkest heart of the wood. Suddenly Twink remembered what Bimi had said, and her wings felt cold. Had the wasp lured her to this remote spot for some treacherous reason?

  Help me!

  Twink spun about, peering at the trees and bushes around her. It was coming from under that fallen log! She swallowed, staring at the dark space. Did she dare? What if her friends were right?

  Then she heard it: a tiny sobbing sound. Twink’s eyes widened. The wasp was crying!

  Sympathy rushed through her. She swooped towards the fallen log, landing neatly in front of it. ‘Hello, are you there?’ she called. ‘Please stop crying! I’ve come to help you!’

  There was a soft snuffling noise, and a rustling. Suddenly Twink saw it crawling towards her in the moonlight: a little baby wasp with a broken wing.

  ‘Oh!’ gasped Twink. She knelt beside the wasp. ‘You poor thing!’

  The wasp nuzzled at her hand, humming slightly. Twink could feel his relief as clearly as if it were her own. And in that moment, she knew she had lost her heart completely. The wasp was her responsibility now, and she would never let it down.

  ‘But what am I going to do with you?’ she whispered, stroking his head. ‘I can’t just leave you here!’ She glanced at the sky. It was lighter now. She had to get back to school before everyone woke up!

  ‘I’ll hide you somewhere close to school,’ she told the wasp. ‘I think I know just the place. Then I’ll see what I can do about healing your wing.’

  .

  .

  How could she heal him on her own, though? She was only a First Year! Pushing aside her doubts, Twink wrapped her arms around the wasp and picked him up.

  He gave a buzz and clung to her with his spindly legs, flapping his good wing in alarm. ‘Shush!’ Twink told him. ‘It’s OK. I just have to get you back to school.’

  The wasp quietened, and Twink took off, skimming quickly back the way she had come. When she reached Glitterwings, she saw with relief that the school’s windows were still dark.

  Shifting the wasp in her arms, Twink flitted around to the back of the school. There was a small dell here, with an abandoned tree stump that she and Bimi had found one day. It used to be a caretaker’s cottage, but no one had lived there for years.

  The tree stump was half-hidden by long grasses. Pushing her way through them, Twink flew through the doorway.

  Inside it was dark and run-down, but dry, and cosy enough. With a sigh of relief, Twink placed the wasp on the mossy bed in the corner. ‘There!’ she said. ‘You’ll be all right here, won’t you?’

  The wasp curled up contentedly, humming to himself. Looking around, Twink saw an old walnut-bucket. ‘I’ll be right back!’ she told the wasp.

  She grabbed the bucket and flew hastily down to the pond. Filling it with water, she returned to the stump and placed it beside the wasp. He drank gratefully for a long time, flapping his good wing, and then curled up again with a satisfied buzz.

  ‘Right,’ said Twink. ‘Let’s look at your wing!’

  She inspected it carefully in the faint light, and her spirits sank. It was badly broken. The wasp watched her anxiously as she gently poked and prodded.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I can fix that!’ said Twink, trying to hide how worried she felt. ‘I just need to – to do a bit of research, that’s all.’

  The wasp seemed relieved. Humming, he climbed into Twink’s lap. The faint dawn streamed through a hole in the ceiling, showing his yellow and black stripes.

  .

  .

  Twink stroked his soft back. ‘You need a name, don’t you?’ she said. ‘Or do you have one already?’

  The wasp stopped humming and looked blankly at her. Twink grinned. ‘All right, let me think . . . I know! I’ll call you Stripe.’

  Stripe seemed to approve of his new name. He buzzed loudly, tickling Twink’s face with his good wing. She laughed. ‘Stripe it is, then!’

  Suddenly Twink realised that it wasn’t as dark inside the stump as it had been. Oh, wasps, it was almost daylight!

  She leapt up. ‘I’ve got to go – I’ll be back later with some food!’

  The wasp looked at her with a worried expression. ‘It’s all right, I’ll be back,’ said Twink. ‘But I’ve got to go now.’

  Had he understood? She couldn’t tell. With a final hasty stroke of his back, Twink flew from the stump. Pausing only to pull the grass back over the entrance, she zoomed back to school as fast as she could.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about our project,’ said Bimi at breakfast. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘We could do a tapestry.’

  ‘Um . . . a tapestry?’ Twink gazed at the oak-leaf platter of seed cakes with a worried frown. What did wasps eat, anyway?

  ‘Yes, it’ll be glimmery!’ Bimi poured herself some fresh morning dew from the almond-shell pitcher. ‘I thought we could do a sort of history of fairies. I mean, nothing brainy like Pix is doing – just a story in pictures, with lots of glitter and sparkle. What do you think?’

/>   ‘Hmm? Oh! Yes, that sounds great.’ Twink tried to look as if she had been listening to every word. Across the table, she saw Sooze drizzle honey on to her seed cakes. Of course! she thought with sudden relief. Wasps liked sweet things, didn’t they?

  Bimi’s wings tapped together. ‘Twink . . . is everything OK?’

  Twink jumped, and nodded vigorously. ‘Fine!’

  Bimi gave her a funny look. ‘You seem sort of distracted.’

  ‘Oh, I’m just tired.’ Twink’s lavender wings fluttered as she gave a wide yawn. She didn’t have to pretend much. She had only just managed to slip back into her bed before Mrs Hover came into Daffodil Branch to wake them all up.

  ‘Oh.’ Bimi looked down at her lap. ‘Well . . . I just thought I’d tell you about my idea, that’s all. I guess it’s probably not very good.’

  Feeling bad, Twink squeezed her friend’s arm. ‘No, it’s great! Honestly, Bimi, a tapestry sounds like a wonderful idea. We’ll have loads of fun doing it!’

  A shy smile crept across Bimi’s face. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea? I mean, really?’

  ‘Really!’ Twink assured her warmly. ‘It sounds completely glimmery! It’ll be the best project of all, wait and see.’

  Eyes shining, Bimi nibbled on her seed cake. ‘Well, where do you think we can get the materials from? I thought Mrs Hover might be able to help . . .’

  Twink tried to forget about the wasp as she chatted with Bimi about the tapestry. It wasn’t easy. Her thoughts kept straying to him, alone and hurt in the old stump. Had he understood that she was coming back?

  A river of brightly coloured butterflies swept into the Branch, stirring the air with their wings. Twink rose with the others, trying to look casual as the butterflies began clearing the tables. Pretending to finish her last swallow of dew, she hung back, heart pounding.

  When she was sure no one was looking, she quickly grabbed the honey pot and tucked it into her petal bag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she flitted across to where Bimi stood with the others, queuing to take off. Phew! She had done it.

  ‘Feeling hungry?’ drawled a voice.

  .

  Chapter Three

  Twink started. Mariella had sidled up beside her.

  ‘I – I don’t know what you mean!’ gasped Twink.

  Mariella raised a silvery-green eyebrow and looked at Twink’s bag. ‘Whatever. I don’t care what you get up to. Why should I?’ With a pointed smile, she turned away and whispered to Lola.

  Bimi stared at them. ‘What was that about?’

  ‘Who knows!’ Her face on fire, Twink pushed ahead and flew out into the trunk. Never mind, she told herself as they flew to their Creature Kindness class. Mariella could think whatever she liked. The important thing was that she had the honey for Stripe.

  ‘Shall we go and talk to Mrs Hover during our free period?’ said Bimi. ‘She might have some scraps we could use for our tapestry.’

  ‘Um – maybe later,’ said Twink. ‘There’s something I’ve got to do.’

  Bimi glanced at her in surprise. ‘What?’

  ‘I – oh, just something.’ Twink felt a flush creep up her face.

  ‘Oh.’ Bimi looked hurt for a moment, and then shrugged. ‘Well – maybe we can talk to her after dinner, then.’

  ‘Great!’ agreed Twink with relief. They landed in their Creature Kindness classroom.

  Unlike the other teachers, Mr Woodleaf didn’t have any drawings or decorations in his branch. Instead, it was filled with all sorts of animal paraphernalia, and even animals themselves. A large green moth sat on top of a bark cabinet, and a pair of grey woodlice lay curled up in a corner.

  Twink and the others perched on their mushroom seats, waiting for Mr Woodleaf to finish setting up their lesson. As this seemed to consist of coaxing four fidgeting ladybirds to stand in a straight line, it looked as if they’d be waiting for some time.

  ‘Now, don’t you wander off,’ muttered Mr Woodleaf, prodding one of the insects back into place. At the same time, two more ladybirds trundled off across the table. The class giggled.

  ‘Right,’ said Mr Woodleaf finally, clearing his throat. He glanced nervously at his class. ‘These are, um – some very worried ladybirds.’

  Twink craned forward with the rest of the class to look at the bright red and black insects.

  ‘See how they keep pacing, and trying to get away?’ Mr Woodleaf licked his lips. His green hair stood on end like a hedgehog’s spikes where he had run his hands through it. ‘They’re, ah – nervous wrecks, poor things.’

  Twink held back a giggle. She thought Mr Woodleaf looked a bit of a nervous wreck himself! Everyone knew their Creature Kindness teacher was terrified of his students.

  ‘What are they so worried about, sir?’ asked Pix.

  Mr Woodleaf swallowed, and rubbed his wings together. ‘These ladybirds have all been captured by humans, and ah . . . told to fly away home, because their house is on fire and their children all gone.’

  A stunned silence fell over the class. ‘But – that’s horrible!’ cried Sili. ‘Why would the humans say such a thing?’

  ‘For a joke,’ said Mr Woodleaf. He nodded grimly at their shocked expressions, and seemed to gain confidence. ‘Humans have strange ideas sometimes! And now, these poor ladybirds are all convinced that if they don’t keep racing home to check on their children, they’ll lose them in flames.’

  Twink stared at the fidgeting ladybirds. How awful! The poor ladybirds!

  ‘But sir, how can we help them?’ burst out Sooze. ‘We can’t just leave them like this!’ The lavender-haired fairy’s fists were clenched. She looked ready to fly at the first human she saw.

  Mr Woodleaf paled and took a hasty step backwards. ‘No, no, of course not!’ he stammered. ‘In cases like this, the first thing to try is a . . . a soothing song. And, ah – with any luck, they’ll forget the terrible story they’ve been told.’

  Fumbling in his pocket, Mr Woodleaf brought out a reed whistle and blew a comforting note. ‘Now, then, girls – after me.’ Turning to the ladybirds, he started to sing:

  .

  Oh, little ladybirds,

  Don’t be blue,

  Your houses are safe,

  And your children too!

  Don’t be nervous, don’t feel sad,

  Dance and frolic – let’s be glad!

  The class joined in enthusiastically, beating their wings in time as they chorused ‘Don’t be nervous! Don’t feel sad!.’. Twink sang along with the others, watching the ladybirds eagerly.

  The ladybirds’ antennae perked up as they listened. Slowly, they stopped fidgeting and seemed to relax. One or two of them began to tap their feet along with the music. By the time the fairies had sung the tune several times through, all four ladybirds were dancing on the table, flapping their wings merrily.

  Mr Woodleaf stopped, a shy smile on his face. The class burst into applause. ‘Well done, sir!’ called Pix.

  A ferocious blush swept up their teacher’s face. ‘Yes, well . . . you see how it works. Let’s, ah – set the ladybirds free now!’

  .

  .

  The class gathered at the window to wave goodbye. The bright red and black insects flitted away without a care, dancing on the breeze.

  ‘Glimmery!’ breathed Twink. She and Bimi looked happily at each other.

  Once they had all perched back on their mushrooms, Mr Woodleaf coughed for attention. ‘Now, girls – the, ah, thing to remember is that similar creatures respond to similar treatments. So if you had another insect, a worried bee, for instance, or a nervous butterfly, you could calm it with the same sort of song.’

  Twink’s pointed ears pricked up. ‘What about wasps?’ she blurted out.

  ‘Wasps?’ Mr
Woodleaf gaped as though he hadn’t heard her right.

  The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare at her. Mariella’s eyes narrowed. Twink swallowed hard. ‘Never mind,’ she mumbled. ‘I was just – thinking of something else.’

  Mr Woodleaf shook his head. ‘Yes. Well . . . let’s continue, shall we? Who knows what to do about a grumpy earthworm? Zena?’

  Twink’s mind raced as the lesson went on. Similar creatures responded to similar treatments! So if she could just find out how to heal an injured bee, then maybe she could help Stripe.

  ‘Twink, you’re not still thinking about that wasp, are you?’ whispered Bimi. Her blue eyes were anxious.

  ‘No, of course not.’ Twink didn’t look up. ‘I was just curious, that’s all.’

  Bimi looked doubtful, but didn’t say anything else. After class, Twink grabbed her things and flitted for the doorway. She had to get to the library!

  To Twink’s relief, the wasp ate the honey eagerly, licking the pot clean. Once finished, he touched Twink’s hand with one of his thin legs and rubbed his stomach with another, his eyes shining with contentment.

  ‘I’m glad you liked it!’ laughed Twink. ‘Now, let’s do something about your wing.’

  Opening the petal book she’d found in the library, Twink read the brief entry in The Fairies’ Guide to Helpful Insects again, her pink eyebrows furrowed.

  .

  .

  Bees rarely injure their wings, though sometimes the wings of older bees can become frayed with age. When this happens, a soothing salve of honeysuckle nectar, fresh morning dew and dried buttercup flower can be most effective when combined with a healing song.

  Twink’s mouth tightened worriedly. Stripe’s wing was injured, not ‘frayed with age’! Would the salve still work? And what sort of healing song, anyway?

  ‘I guess I’ll just make one up,’ she decided.

  Stripe’s large eyes watched her as she carefully prepared the salve in an acorn bowl. The fresh morning dew had been easy to get, and with a bit of searching, she had found the other ingredients in the cupboard of her Flower Power classroom.