She blew out a long breath and her shoulders slumped forward. “He said I’m a faerie,” she whispered.

David was quiet for a moment before he held up his hand, thumb and finger about three inches apart. “A faerie?” he said dubiously.

“Well, obviously I’m a little bigger than that,” Laurel scoffed.

David just smiled.

“What?” Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she didn’t apologize.

“It just…well, it kinda makes sense.”

Laurel’s hand went to her hip. “Some crazy guy claims I’m a mythical creature, and that makes sense to you?”

David blushed now and shrugged. “If I had to pick one person who I thought reminded me of a faerie, it would be you.”

Laurel had expected David to laugh and tell her it was silly. She had been depending on that. But he kind of believed it. And even though she knew it was irrational, it made her angry. “Can we go now?” She turned and started back down the path.

“Wait.” David ran to catch her. “Doesn’t it make you curious?”

“No, David,” she snapped. “It doesn’t. It makes me want to go home and go to sleep and wake up to find that all of this is a dream. That the flower, the bump, even public school never happened. That’s what it makes me want!” She turned without letting him answer and jogged down a random trail. She didn’t care where it led. She just had to get away.

“What scares you more, Laurel,” David yelled after her, “that he’s right, or that he’s wrong?”

Laurel ran all the way home and stood panting in her driveway for several minutes before she made her way up the curving walk to her front door. The days were getting shorter, and already the sun was beginning to set. She collapsed onto the front porch with her arms wrapped around her knees. It was that magical time when the clouds were purple, tinged with a fluorescent orange. Laurel loved this time of day. Their new house had a big, west-facing picture window where she and her mother would often watch the clouds flush bright purple, then fade slowly to lilac as the orange of the dying sun overcame them.

Tonight it held no beauty for her.

Laurel looked out into her yard at the white dogwoods that lined the front walk. If Tamani could be believed, she had more in common with the trees than with her living, breathing parents waiting just on the other side of the door.

She looked down at her feet. Without thinking, she had slipped out of her flipflops and pushed her toes into the crumbly dirt of the front flower beds. She took quick, shallow breaths to stave off her panic as she dusted the dirt from her feet and returned them to her shoes. What if she went into the backyard, buried her feet in the rich dirt, and lifted her arms to the heavens? Would her skin slowly harden into tree bark? Would she bloom with more petals, maybe from her stomach or the top of her head?

It was a terrifying thought.

But Tamani had looked normal. If he was really the same as her, did that mean she wouldn’t change? She still wasn’t sure she could trust anything he’d said.

The front door rattled, and Laurel shot to her feet and turned as her father’s head poked out. “I thought I heard someone,” her dad said with a smile. “What are you doing?”

Laurel paused, trying to remember what had made her stop and sit in the first place. “I was just watching the sunset,” she said with a forced smile.

He sighed and leaned against the door frame. “It is beautiful, isn’t it?”

Laurel nodded and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“You’ve been very quiet the last few weeks, Laurel. Are you all right?” he asked softly.

“Just stressed about school,” Laurel lied. “It’s harder than I thought.”

He joined her on the porch step. “Are you handling it okay?”

“Yeah, it just takes a lot out of me.”

He smiled and laid his arm across Laurel’s shoulders. Laurel stiffened, but her dad didn’t seem to notice that or the thin petals separated from discovery by a mere millimeter or so of fabric. “Well, we’ve got a lot of peaches to keep your energy up,” he said with a grin.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Come in when you’re ready,” he said. “It’s almost dinnertime.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Was I…different from other kids when I was little?”

He stopped, saw Laurel’s face, then joined her on the front step again. “What do you mean?”

She considered confiding in him but quickly changed her mind. She wanted to find out what he knew first. “Like the way I eat. Other kids don’t eat like me.

Everyone thinks it’s weird.”

“It is a little different. But I don’t know anyone who eats more fruits and vegetables than you do. I think that’s healthy. And you haven’t had any problems, have you?”

Laurel shook her head. “Have I ever been to a doctor?”

“Sure. When we were finalizing the adoption, a pediatrician came over to the cabin to make sure you were in good health.” He paused. “Actually, this is a funny story. He checked you over and everything looked good.” Her dad laughed. “Except that your knee wouldn’t do that kick thing when he hit it with his little mallet. He was concerned, but I didn’t think it really mattered. Then he pulled out his stethoscope. That’s when things got weird. He kept moving his stethoscope all over your back and chest. I asked him what the problem was, and he told me that I should go get your mom. He wanted to talk to both of us.