Whether because of the water pistol or Mr. Otter, I didn’t find the fairy that day or the next, and I couldn’t take it to school. So I tried the other tactic.

I baked up a batch of from-mix brownies and added cayenne to them. They were actually quite good – I was an indifferent cook, but any idiot can handle brownie mix, tweaked or otherwise. I hoped Mr. Otter had been telling the truth about them being good to trick fairies with.

Ironic. Brownies to trick fairies. I put the tin in my room then stuck a couple in my bag for the next day. Well, after eating one while they were still hot and gooey.

They really were quite good. School, though, felt worse than usual. The teachers were droning, sounding even more bored with their subjects than the students. Nobody wanted to be there. Barry wanted to teach. I thought he was crazy. But then, it was steady work and steady money, and who didn’t want that?

I wasn’t sure I did, but I was pretty sure at this point that I constituted a very special case indeed. I had other work to do and making money would have to be a sideline to that. Just enough to survive.

I could probably do what Thea did, if I was honest with myself. Or some sort of modeling, anyway. Maybe not fetish gear, which made me uncomfortable.

Something.

The fairy showed up at lunchtime. I was even more certain it had waited until I was unarmed. I casually left one of the brownies on my plate as I munched through my tasteless lunch.

“I see you brought dessert,” Prue noted as she sat down next to me.

“Mine,” I quipped.

She tugged out a two-pack of chocolate chip cookies and winked at me.

And while we both ate, the fairy showed up and stole one of the cookies. Dang it! It was supposed to steal my lunch.

“Did you…”

“Must have been one of that group of kids that walked past,” I lied, and then made a show of protecting my brownie.

Then I heard an eepeepeep! There was a bit of brownie missing. The cookie abruptly reappeared, fortunately when Prue wasn’t looking.

Eepeepeep! The fairy wasn’t laughing this time. I was, silently. It had deserved it, after all, and I didn’t get the feeling it was hurt. Just surprised, annoyed, and a little bit appreciative.

Next time, I resolved, I’d think of the prank myself, even if Mr. Otter had decades of experience on me.

Prue was giving me an odd look, then the cookie, then the missing bit of brownie. Then, to my surprise, her eyes narrowed. “What did you put in the brownies?”

“Cayenne,” I admitted. “Try a bit. They’re actually good.”

Prue knew? Or at least she’d seen enough to work it out? I stored that up for later. Maybe she could be somebody I could trust.