Fairy Circle by Johanna Frappier Read Free Book Online Page A

Shallot.
    The sun was already at least a foot over the ocean. It floated bright and glaring in a bath of humidity. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple. The coming weeks would become unbearably New England hot, and in two months, this early in the morning, she would freeze if she didn’t bring a sweatshirt.
    Better not to wait too long to pick the berries. Some of the fruit, too far gone, crushed and bled in her fingertips. Her hair hung heavy in the wet air, straight down her back like a copper stream. Once in awhile it became tangled in the berry vines; at which point Saffron swore while she tore herself free. She munched on her bagel and chugged on her juice. When the basket was filled half way, she decided it was enough. She was drenched with sweat and it was just too damned sticky.
    She genuflected to the sun and flopped down on the tablecloth, arms thrown up over her head. A hot breeze came and blew a corner of the tablecloth over her face. She leaned over to stretch it back into place, then left her outstretched arm across the fabric so it wouldn’t happen again.
    She tried to dredge the memories from last night, but they wouldn’t come without effort. Instead, she worried about the mundane things she always worried about. Although high school had been horrible daily to endure, at least it was somewhere she had to go, something she had to do. Even though she could hardly bear to get on that bus every morning, at least it provided better comfort than this going nowhere life that scared her with its big, open maw of choice.
    Her cousin, Mindy the Beautiful and Proud, told her the other kids at school had called Saffron, “The Wax Doll,” because she was always staring off into space and her skin had such a “faux” look to it, “like shiny and plastic.” They said she walked around like she was dead already.
    And now Saffron was an adult. She hadn’t even kissed a boy. She winced. A Boy. It dawned on her that she had missed her chance. That another part of her childhood, of her life, had disappeared. When high school life was happening, she just wanted to get it over with. But right now, the ache of what could have been was sharp. The lower limbs of the pines were bones bare of needles. They clacked and cracked when the wind picked up.
    She wouldn’t be kissing any boys; they were men now, weren’t they. She hadn’t held hands with a boy, or talked to one since third grade. Nothing. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. With each opportunity she had just seized up and moved her automaton-stick legs down the hall.
    It was an undeniable force, this thing that made her act the way she did. Even on a good day, she felt the pressure of something guiding her. Her mother thought she was slightly retarded, no doubt. And Derek, the most wonderful of all of Audrey’s not-lovers, helped her to the best of his ability. Although he wasn’t quite clear on what he was helping with most of the time. They talked a lot, but she sensed he was suspicious of her.
    She fell asleep.
    Her mind woke, sharpened, while her body lay in hibernation. She sat up, looked down, and saw a fair face lost in dreaming. For the brief moment before she realized what was happening, before she realized she was looking at herself, she thought the girl below her was so beautiful with her soft hair that rolled like copper waves.
    When Saffron realized she was looking at herself, she saw a zit by her lip and the way her skin was becoming oily in the ever-rising heat. She turned from her sleeping self and looked into the woods.
    He was standing there, lounging as if he had been there for some time.
    Her slumbering, physical self made a noise, a light moan as it lay flushed under the sun.
    She looked at him again and he smiled. She couldn’t help herself and smiled back. She felt different now, being alone here with him. She ached for him as she had ached a thousand times before, for the dream lover that couldn’t possibly be real. She looked away