Water Steps by A. LaFaye Read Free Book Online Page B

I’d been
living inside a beach ball and someone sucked all the air out and left me with just a shrunk-up blob of plastic. All the possibilities of fairies and pixies and pookas just shriveled right up. That’s why I preferred real, honest, taken-from-life pictures that showed what a person can see, hear, and touch. They captured the real world.
    And that’s what I wanted from Mem and Pep—the real truth about their childhood. But instead I get to learn the ins and outs of fairyland. They can keep it.
    But Tylo seemed like the type of kid who’d still clap for Tinkerbell to say he believed in fairies. He stopped and squinted at me. “Does that mean you don’t believe in any imaginary things?”
    I walked past him. “Why would I, if they’re imaginary?” That’d be like waiting up to catch Santa eating the cookies you’ve left when you could be eating those cookies yourself.
    â€œWhat’s just make-believe to some people is real to others, like those people who can see ghosts.”
    â€œMediums?” I laughed. “They’re just pretending.”
    â€œPeople aren’t always pretending when they see imaginary things.”
    I kept walking, searching for a birch tree, so it took me a minute to notice that he hadn’t followed
me. I turned to see him standing there with the bag on his shoes, his head down, his shoulders all droopy like he’d just found out Santa Claus was a hoax.
    Sad feelings are like a shrinking potion. When someone I like, even a new friend like Tylo, feels bad, it shrinks me up inside.
    â€œOkay.” I shrugged. I didn’t really believe him, but I had to say something to cheer him up. I thought about the article I’d seen on silkies in the town paper and I blurted out, “My parents say there are silkies in this lake.”
    You’d think I’d lit a rocket in his shoes the way he came rushing forward all shouts and laughter. “They do? That’s what I think, too! Lots of people around here joke about them. But I saw one three nights ago. Tried to take its picture, but the picture didn’t turn out. If you used your camera and that film you’re talking about, we could get one on film!”
    His words blew up a balloon of laughter in my mouth, but I couldn’t let it out. He’d know I thought he was a goofus.
    Silkies? Even my leprechaun-loving parents didn’t really think they lived in that lake. Those were just wacky stories people tell. Tylo probably just saw fish
jumping in the water, not a ship-guiding seal. I coughed to let my laughter out, then said, “If you want that film, you’d better talk to your brother.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œThree teeth won’t get you enough money to buy it.”
    His eyes got so big his head kind of flopped back like they made it too heavy. He thought I was serious. A total goofus.
    But I liked goofuses. How else would I put up with Pep? Giving Tylo a shove, I said, “Just kidding,” then headed on to find more leaves.
    â€œWell, I’ve got to get that picture.” He shook his head. “My brothers just won’t shut up about me seeing a silkie. They keep calling me ‘Gully.’” He turned to me. “That’s for ‘gullible,’ as in a kid so dumb he’d believe the moon is made of cheese.”
    He kicked a tree. “I don’t think that.” Picking at the bark, he said, “I saw that silkie, Kyna. I really did.”
    His sadness seeped inside me and felt familiar. The kids at school made me feel that way all the time. What with my aversion to anything watery and a bobbing-for-apples mishap that I’m too ashamed to even think about, I knew the soul-squashing feeling of having kids tease you. I had to help Tylo prove to his brothers that he had seen something in that lake.
Maybe not a silkie, but something. So I said, “I could take the picture if we get the