D.J. McPherson: Fairy Hunter

Ari whistled. She had been reading over my shoulder. "Maybe we should have some type of layaway plan."

"Yeah," I said softly. I felt terrible. I didn't want any kid thinking I wouldn't help them because they didn't have the money. I'd worked for free before. "These fairies seem to be getting worse."

They'd used to stick to child's play—destroying homework, writing on walls, ripping clothes, tying hair to headboards—but Meghan was right. She and her family could have been killed.

Ari shook her head. "I don't know, Laney. This may be more than one fairy exterminator can handle."

I was afraid she might be right.

I sent the girls home because I needed to speak to Sally, my private investigator. I had hired her (well, I guess I shouldn't say "hired" since I never actually paid her) to help me find my mother. There was always something different about me, and I needed to know where I came from.

Sally had found my mother, Katrina Shaw, living in Washington D.C. with her new family. I had two brothers  a sister, and a stepdad. Sally had called Katrina once, and my mother was surprised that I was still alive, which I found weird.

I gathered my things and headed to Sally's office. I knew my way around downtown. Her office wasn't too far from the library.

"Where are you going, kid?" a girl asked as she leaned against a fence. She looked as if she was maybe thirteen or fourteen.

"None of your business." I didn't chat with strangers, and there was something weird about her. I continued down the sidewalk and the girl began to follow me.

"Can I help you?" I asked, turning around.

"Yeah. Let me hold a dollar."

I looked the girl up and down. She had light brown skin, and her short black hair was pushed back into a ponytail. She wore a black T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. This girl looked a little rough around the edges.

"I don't have a dollar," I lied. I had plenty of dollars, but I wasn't giving any to her.

"What's wrong with your hair?"

"There's nothing wrong with my hair."

The girl laughed. "Yes, it is. You got that funny-looking stripe."

I put my hands on my hips. "It's my birthmark, and it gives me super powers, for your information."

"What's your superpower? Being super-ugly?"

There was no one else on the sidewalk, but several cars were passing us. I wondered what would happen if I punched the creep in the stomach.

I wished Marcella, my other foster sister, was there. She was sixteen, almost seventeen, and could take on anybody. She would put this girl in her place.

The girl was getting impatient. She stepped toward me, holding out her hand. "Five bucks. Let's go."

I took a step back. "You just said one!"

"No, I didn't. Hand it over."

One thing I was—besides being a fairy exterminator—was street smart. I knew what was going to happen next. The girl was going to rob me in broad daylight, and no one around would help.

My money had been stolen before—by my awful foster dad, Mike—and I had no intention of letting that happen again. Since I was afraid to leave money in the house, I kept a little in my pockets, some in my backpack, some in my boot, and most in my left sock. There was a chance the girl could get away with all my money.