Page 2 of The Cursed Kingdom

She imitates what Abby was doing, planting her palms into the sides of the slide and using her feet to climb. It’s not nearly as complicated as Abby makes it seem, and after only a few minor slips, Lillian curls her fingers around the plastic edge on top and crawls onto the gray platform.

Abby peers at Lillian from the bottom of the slide, her brown eyes narrowed into thin slits. “How’d you do that?”

Lillian knows she should probably lie, but she really wants to be friends with Abby.

“I’m a faerie.”

***

Abby cocks her head to the side.Lillian’s a faerie? That makes sense, and that’s probably why her brother and Tommy Knocker like her so much. Aaron’s taken to calling Abby a troll whenever their mom isn’t listening, and she hates it. She doesn’t want to be a troll.

“I’m a faerie, too,” Abby decides.

Lillian throws herself into the slide. Her shoes squeak against the hard plastic, and Abby steps to the side just in time to avoid getting hit as Lillian reaches the bottom.

“No,” Lillian says, landing on a pile of woodchips. “I’m arealfaerie.”

Abby climbs back onto the slide once Lillian’s out of the way. The violet-eyed girl made it look easy, further fueling Abby’s desire to climb to the top. Everybody else can do it.

“I’m a real faerie, too,” Abby argues.

She doesn’t wait for Lillian’s response as she begins another attempt up the slide. She paid close attention to every one of Lillian’s movements, and despite her slightly shorter legs, it seems to have helped, as she makes it almost three-quarters of the way up before losing her footing and falling.

“Try putting your hands closer together,” Lillian suggests.

Abby doesn’t want help, but desperation has her giving it another attempt.

She’s willing to admit the closer hand position makes climbing slightly easier, but once Abby reaches the halfway point, her shoulders start to burn. Her right palm slips, the first sign of trouble, but a small hand presses against her butt before she falls.

“Come on.” Lillian grunts, supporting Abby’s weight. “Keep going.”

Abby peers between her legs. Lillian’s red in the face as she pushes against Abby, giving just enough of a boost for Abby to regain her grip and continue climbing. The other kids usually get frustrated when they’re behind Abby, and some of the meaner ones go as far as to grab her ankles to try to trip her up. Lillian only helps.

Abby sweats, her heart pounding as she completes the climb of her life, and she feels nothing less than sweet, sweet victory as her fingers finally curl around the top edge of the slide. She groans, pulling herself onto the top platform.

***

Lillian follows, climbing up behind her. Abby kneels at the edge of the slide and offers a hand, which Lillian doesn’t hesitate to take. She lets Abby pull her to the top, and she beams as they both collapse on the top platform. This is a step toward friendship.

Abby clutches her chest, struggling to catch her breath. It takes Lillian a second to clock the action and also pretend to be winded. Climbing the slide isn’t easy, but it’s not nearly as tiring as the humans make it out to be.

The human realm doesn’t have magic, but the delysum tea keeps Lillian strong.

Her mom can’t say the same thing. She tries to hide it, but Lillian sees the signs of exhaustion taking root. Her mother’s once-vibrant white hair now appears a dull gray, and her bright-violet eyes are tired. Even her body shape is changing, her once-perfect posture replaced with a slouch and her confident stride slowly transforming into a slow shuffle.

Abby lolls her head to the side and peers at Lillian. “I have popsicles at home.”

It takes Lillian a moment to remember what popsicles are. She’s still adjusting to the food the humans prefer to eat.

“Can I have one?” she asks.

***

Abby jumps up, nodding. She wants to show Lillian her newest treasure. It’s a bracelet-making kit, the same one all the girls at school have. Everybody at school has been exchanging them, but Lillian doesn’t have any.

“You can have one popsicle,” Abby says, brushing woodchips off her pants. “But the blue ones are mine.”

It’s her favorite flavor, and she’s not willing to share.

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